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babybatscreationsv2 · 3 years

Text

Reputation pt2 (End)

Marvel | Winterstarker

Peter doesn’t mean to count cards, he really doesn’t. He’s just a natural at it. The problem is that he can’t seem to stop himself and Bucky isn’t going to let a little card cheat steal his boss’s money.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings under the cut

Part 1

Warnings: noncon, crying, rough sex, face slapping, degrading language, bondage

They dragged him through the casino and into the back. The walls were bare and gray. They passed a dozen doors, some marked with things like 'storage' or 'maintenance' others just blank. They pushed open one of the unmarked doors and hauled him inside.

Peter struggled as he took it all in. Along one wall was a big couch. It was a deep red fabric with a matching ottoman in front. On the other wall was a big bed in matching red. In the middle of the room were two floor to ceiling stripper poles. Nothing in this room offered Peter any comfort.

Completely naked, they forced him to kneel on the ottoman. He was blindfolded and tied with his arms behind his back, wrists tied to his ankles. Bucky warned him to keep quite and not to move.

He heard movement around him. There was some quiet discussion about work schedules. No one was terribly concerned with him and that both gave Peter time to calm down and reason for worry. How often did they just kidnap and rape people? What was Tony Stark going to do to him?

After a while, he heard the door open. Someone came in and others went out. Someone sat down on the couch in front of him. He flinched as a hand touched his chest, feeling along his pectorals and down his ribs.

"You are a sweet one aren't you?" said a man. He had this satisfied sort of purr in his voice as if Peter were a buffet he were indulging in. He shivered, goosebumps rising all over his skin.

A hand curled gently around his throat. With his thumb, he tipped his head back and side to side, examining his face.

"Incredible find, Buck."

"I'm right here," Peter spat. "I'm not a toy."

The man chuckled. Then he slapped him hard across the face. Peter gasped. He nearly fell over but rough hands caught his shoulders and sat him upright.

The man, it must have been Tony Stark, continued to run his hands over his body. "You're whatever I say you are, pretty boy. You're mine now. Do you know what happens if I decide to slit your throat and dump you in a river?" His finger traced a line over his throat. "Not shit," he laughed.

"When your body washes up, the police will say it was an accident. I could carve my confession into your skin and it wouldn't make a difference. Just another tragic cold case." He shuddered as he lightly traced the line of his jaw.

"You'd better be on your best behavior, Peter. I'd hate for anything to happen to you. You're so awfully pretty."

Two fingers touched his lips and Peter opened his mouth obediently. He sobbed as Tony pushed his fingers inside his mouth. He gagged at the taste at first, but the feeling passed. He pushed into his throat and Peter's face heated as the man fucked his mouth with his fingers.

"That's right. I knew you could be a good boy," he purred. "Do what you're told and you get to keep your beating heart."

He removed his fingers from his mouth, dragging them over his lips. "Keep your mouth open," he ordered. Peter did. Fear made him feel cold and sick, but he could be obedient.

Wet fingers dragged over his nipple. Peter whimpered. His nipples were sensitive and just a small touch made his body crave more. He could practically feel the excitement in the air at his response though no one said anything.

Tony traced his nipple with one finger. His dragged his nail over it. Peter squirmed and gasped. He felt his cock throb. Drool dripped from his open mouth. Even though he was blindfolded, he squeezed his eyes shut. The more Tony played with him, the more his cock ached. He was getting hard, fast. Tony teased and lightly pinched. Then he leaned in, Peter could feel his hot breath, and his mouth closed around the little nub.

Peter screamed in pleasure. Those hands grabbed his shoulders again holding him still. He whimpered and panted and moaned. Tony was sucking on his nipple, running his tongue over and around it. Then his teeth grazed over it.

"Ah, ah," he whined. "Please."

Tony chuckled. "Please, what dear?" He sat back and Peter frowned. He wanted more. Then he started to come back to himself. Tears welled up in his eyes. He felt awful, like a disgusting whore. He shouldn't be enjoying this. He didn't even want to be here.

"Oh, poor thing," Tony teased. "Were you enjoying yourself?"

"He's gone all soft, boss," said Bucky who stood behind him.

"Well we can't have a soft slut. Where's the fun in that. New rule okay, baby? Daddy will make you feel good and you don't feel guilty about it. Got it?" He tapped Peter's cheek and he nodded.

"I don't actually care what you think, but I won't have you making me look bad by going soft on me."

Hands touched his face and he heard a thoughtful hum. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, boss."

"Afraid I'll fall in love?"

"Kinda," Bucky snorted.

"Well now I have to." The blindfold slipped off his face. Peter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he adjusted to the light. He blinked as his vision recover.

"My God," the man whispered. "He wasn't that pretty on the camera..."

"Told you," Bucky laughed.

"Keep on. I'll put you in the corner while the rest of us have play time."

Peter looked at the man in front of him. He was pushing fifty and handsome as hell with dark hair and warm eyes. He could have at least had the decency to be some fat old pervert, but no. They just looked at each other for a moment.

"You two gonna get married or what?"

Tony shot him a look. Then he looked back at Peter. He wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Oh, there's gonna be plenty more where that came from."

He went back to toy with that same nipple only now it was sore and becoming raw and Peter hissed when he touched it. He squirmed and Bucky held him still. Tony smirked. With two fingers he pinched hard and Peter shrieked. Tears spilled from his eyes again.

"That's it, baby," Tony said softly. "Pretty, red, wet eyes. Put him down on the floor."

Bucky picked him, grabbing him by the waist. He kicked the ottoman aside and set Peter down at Tony's feet. He watched as Tony unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. He stood and grabbed Peter by the hair. He tried to pull away but Tony jerked his head.

"Remember what I said about dumping you in a river?" he warned. Peter opened his mouth. "That's a good boy."

He slipped his cock into his open mouth. Peter could taste it as it slid over his tongue. He shuddered. Tony groaned as he pushed down into his throat. Peter gagged and struggled, but he didn't stop until his nose was pressed painfully against his abdomen.

Peter gagged and tears poured down his face. Tony watched him with hungry eyes. He held him there, with his cock in his throat, unable to escape, until Peter's lungs were burning and his eyes began to flutter shut he struggled to stay conscious. Then he pulled back.

Peter gasped, dragging in a ragged breath. His lungs and throat hurt. Tony didn't give him long to recover. He fucked his throat, pulling all the way back and letting spit run down his face just to slam back in. It was painful and he couldn't breathe and he made the most humiliating noises. His own spit dripped down onto his half hard cock humiliating him even more.

Bucky sat down on the couch, stroking his frankly monstrous cock while he watched. It was a miserably long time before Tony stopped. He pulled back, breathing heavy, spit connecting the end of his cock to Peter's open mouth.

"Ass up," Tony commanded. Bucky scooped him up again and put him on the ottoman. With his arms and legs bound, he could only lie on his face with his ass in the air.

Tony cock was sloppy wet with spit when he pushed into his ass. He was still slick from being fucked earlier. He wasn't as big as Bucky so it wasn't as painful, but he fucked hard and fast leaving Peter whimpering and shaking beneath him. He grabbed his hips and pushed in deep, spilling his cum with a low moan. He stopped and panted for a moment.

"Gotta hand it to the little cheat, he's a good fucking lay."

Bucky laughed.

Tony grabbed him around the middle and picked him up. With his cock still buried in Peter's ass, he sat down with Peter in his lap. His arms pressed against Tony's chest and his knees on the couch.

"Ready to dump another load?" Tony asked Bucky.

He grinned with a smile that made Peter shiver. "After a show like that? Course I am."

"A good performance deserves applause," Tony chuckled.

Bucky stepped up and Peter sobbed as he grabbed his chin. Reluctantly he opened his mouth. Bucky's cock was so big he felt like it would break his jaw. It was almost a mercy that he didn't fit down his throat. Still it hurt for him to fuck his face, hitting the opening of his throat, making him gag and cry and shake.

Tony pressed little kisses along his neck. He nibbled and sucked on his ear lobes. Peter closed his eyes and it only made everything worse, but when he opened them he had to look at Bucky's pleased smirk.

"Swallow," Tony warned in his ear. Then Bucky came in his mouth, much of it hitting his throat and making him gag. He barely swallowed fast enough as it slid down, slimy and thick, on its own. Bucky wiped his wet cock off on his cheeks.

"What a good little cock hole you are," Tony praised.

"Yeah, thanks for the fuck, pretty boy," Bucky agreed. Tony chuckled.

"Please," Peter's throat hurt and speaking only made him cough. The words came out rough and broken. "Let me go, please."

"Aw, poor baby," Tony cooed. "Is it too much for you? I'm not the kind of man to let a partner go unsatisfied. You at least have to cum before you go."

His hand wrapped around Peter's cock. He shivered and whimpered, but he was too tired to argue. Peter hated that he actually got hard.

"That's a good boy. Let's see you cum. I know you must need it after all that."

Peter whimpered, but he let he it happen. He panted, rapidly reaching climax, then finally he came, cum spilling over Tony's fist. It felt so good after so much pain and stress. Only Tony didn't stop when he needed him too and it hurt. He squirmed and whined.

"Please, stop. I came like you wanted," he pleaded, throat burning.

"Oh pretty baby," Tony cooed. "A bottom has to cum at least as many times as their tops. That's just good manners. Two more and then we'll let you go."

"I can't- please," he sobbed. His cock was too sensitive, his body was screaming, he couldn't stop whining and crying and pleading. Then it started to feel good and much too quickly he was cumming, but it only felt good for a second before he was again oversensitive.

"Please," he cried, his voice totally broken, only coming out as a whisper.

"All that squeezing is getting me hard again, you know that?" Tony said. Peter sobbed. He shook his head, begging him to stop, but he couldn't speak.

Tony rolled his hips, holding on to him so he could rock forward and back. He kept stoking his cock and his whole body shook in pain. But Tony's cock moving his in ass felt good and Peter moaned, too. He didn't know if he wanted him to stop or to keep going anymore. Then Bucky was prying open his mouth and fucking it again. As Peter screamed and came, body spasming and shaking, they both came filling his ass and coating his face.

"Oh dear," Tony said. "I guess that's two more for you."

The rope holding his arms and legs came undone, but Peter was too tired to do anything about it. Bucky picked him up and laid him down over the ottoman.

"I think he's all tired out. Look at that." He looked Peter over. His fingers carded through his sweaty hair and gave a tug that made him whimper.

"We'll just have to break out the toys," Tony said.

Peter couldn't do anything more than breathe. Then he was screaming as Bucky put a vibrator against the head of his cock.

Tony moaned. "You're gonna get me fucking hard again, sweetheart."

Peter wasn't sure anymore what was pain and what was pleasure. His whole body shook. He cried, gasping for breath. Then his next orgasm was forced out of him. Bucky held the vibrator against. Peter thrashed and screamed and they both had to hold him down.

"Please, Mr. Stark- please- I'm sorry," he sobbed.

"One more, baby. Gotta give us one more."

"I can't," Peter hiccuped.

"If you take too long, I'm gonna have to fuck you again and we'll have to start all over."

"No, please!"

"Dammit he's pretty," Bucky mumbled. He turned up the speed of the vibrator and Peter screamed, raw and open like he'd been shot. He came, shooting cum onto his skin.

The vibrator slowed, then turned off. Peter's legs felt like jelly.

"That's a good boy," Bucky pet his thighs. His hand touched his cock and Peter screamed, sobbing again. It was too sensitive to be touched.

"We'll he's not gonna cum again that way."

"I have an idea," Tony grinned. He took the vibrator from Bucky and turned it on. Peter watched in horror, too tired to move. Tony brought the toy down and touched the tip of it to his abused nipple.

Peter shrieked, this time in pleasure. It felt so good. Then Bucky was there, sucking on and teasing the other one. Peter panted and whined. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything more than take it. Pleasure built and his balls drew up and he didn't know how he could possibly cum again, but he did, this time dry and screaming, back arching, and finally he passed out.

He woke up in the bed, feeling hazy. He groaned and sat up. Tony and Bucky sat at a table playing cards. Peter was pretty sure he wasn't ever going to play cards again.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Bucky smiled at him.

"Can I leave now?" Peter said. He coughed. His throat hurt so bad he thought it might be bleeding.

"Well the thing is, sweetheart," Tony smirked. "When you were sleeping we just couldn't help ourselves. So you're gonna have to cum another seven times for us before you go. I have a reputation to uphold."

#marvel #winterstarker #starker #nonc*n #dehumanization #rough s*x

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secretsniper2 · 3 years

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Part 3: New Home

You wake to the sound of an engine, and the strong hum from the toys lodged deep in your body, your still waking up after finally passing out last night but your well aware, when you completely wake up you'll be back on the edge of more orgasms and can barely move a inch to show your desperation. Moaning loud you don't expect to be heard over the combination of the engine and the device your sealed inside, clamped shut your body lays flat in the form, externally it looks like a sleeping woman with her arms by her side, inside your not sleeping, and your far from willing either. Muscles tensing uncontrollably in your pussy and ass and even the muscles in your urethra, you didn't know those muscles could shake so hard till now, but it only serves to push more of you down on the buzzing toys.

Rocking back and forth as the ride bucks you around in your rigid cast you can feel your body shift to a weird angle, your driving up a hill now. Even with your body shaking from the motions of the car, your holes shake far more than you would want them to. After what seems like hours, locked inside this hot cocoon covered in your own sweat, the engine stops and you catch your breathe as you barely hear movement outside your confinement. your eyes slam shut as a helpless “MMMPPPHHHH!!” is wrenched from your throat as fresh juices gush from your abused pussy as your body fully awakens to the savage stimulations you have been assaulted by, your mind locked only on the possibility of having a orgasm, you have been on the edge of a massive orgasm for a full day now, with no rest or stop in sight not that you could see very far with these contacts stealing your vision.

A sudden movement jolts you out of your overstimulated haze as your cruelly rolled around onto your chest, breasts pushing hard against the lid of your prison, continuing on your glad to at least be on your back again, breathing would have been hard with your breasts squeezing your lungs, feeling your body lurch forward your encased feet dig into the ground. turning on your heels your pulled by the head of your case at a uncomfortable angle, too far back to lay on your back and not up straight enough to stand, you resort to ramming your lips with your knees a few times but due to the tight fir your only able to pathetically tap against the lid, barely audible and likely would only make the sick fucker laugh at the attempt.

“How much longer will he drag me?” and “where the fuck am i?!” are the only 2 questions you want answers to right now as you continue your journey to nowhere good. At long last your placed on the ground, your thankful he didn't just drop you to the hard ground, a few clicks and your greeted with a bright light, even with your contacts dulling your vision, your straps are loosened and your eased out of your prison and set, shakily on your toes, still having your toe crushers locked to your poor feet, you teeter on the stones you stand on. Having a collar and leash locked around your thin neck your pulled forwards while you squint, desperate to recognise even a small detail that would clue you in to where you are now, you can make out a large building ahead. “Welcome home slut!” he says with a slight laugh, repulsing you at your very core, your home was a beautiful place, with everything you wanted and needed to get by, now your forced to walk in the only item you actually own.

Pushing the door open your pulled inside by the neck as you stumble to keep your balance as best you can, for what you can see, its dark and has a very foul odour, you take a light breath through the tube in your mouth, the filthy air moving over your tongue and makes you gag a little, shuddering you resort to breathing through your nose, however unpleasant it may be. Pulled suddenly your led around a corner and the man pushes a bookcase aside, revealing a door which you are then led down. The man is having a easier time walking down the stone stairs than you are, for 1 he is wearing boot and your walking on your toes, Eventually landing on a flat surface your leash continues to tug at your neck as you follow in the darkness, your eventually left to stand alone in a dark room in a house you cant escape, in heels you can barely walk in, the stairs behind you would tear your legs muscles apart if you tried to run up them. A arm wraps around you from behind, he grips your firm breast with 1 of his large hands as his other hand trails down your exposed back and rests on your ass, you involuntarily shake your ass in fear as he now has you at 2 ends and is happy with your condition.

“i hope you enjoyed the ride down, I'm sure you did in 1 way at least” he remarks as the hand cupping your ass moves between your legs and slides through the juices you likely trailed through the house till now. “i guess i don't need lube for here, I'm really going to enjoy fuck this tight cunt!” he says in your ear, shaking your head weakly as he speaks results on your nipple being seized hard and squeezed painfully forcing a gagged “mmmpppphhh nnnnnnhhh” from your mouth, the strap between your legs serving its purpose as the toys are held in deep, your womb shaking as the toy vibrates inside. Rocking your head back as your pleasure hits another peak without release your captor pushed you from the small of your back as well as pulling from your nipple, your directed further into the darkness, your contacts making sure that even if this mans eyes can adjust to the dark, your will never be able to. Your knee bumping into something hard your pushed forward as you scream out in fear, only to be caught by a bed, landing face down in its embrace you inhale deep in surprise only to regret in mere seconds later as the bed itself makes upstairs smell like a thanksgiving roast!

Holding your head into the mattress you gag uncontrollably now as your forced to keep breathing the revolting scent, feeling his hot breath against your ear he whispers “yea, that's right, your not the first cunt to be fucked down here, but i like you so much you'll be my last, at least for the next few years!”. Eyes open wide as he puts his weight down on top of you your forced further into the bed, its still damp in some places! “i fucked a nice young cunt on this very bed, i think it was 2 days before i saw you actually! she's gone now though, don't need to worry what happened to that slut, i know she enjoys her new life wherever she is!” he grunts into your ear, “this bit here” he pushes your face directly on a particularly wet spot, “this is where i finally broke the bitch, she came harder than ever and it all soaked in right here! you can practically taste her pussy cant you!” he says as he rubs your face into the wet spot before pushing you onto your back and up the other side of the bed. At least your not being forced to smell the other poor girl, but now your face is looking up as he reaches behind your head and unclips your gag, pulling it out of your mouth your ungagged for the first time “HHEEEEEEELLLLPP MEEE!!” is all you manage before your mouth is covered by his hand. “really pointless move there cunt, were deep underground in a private house in the middle of nowhere, and even IF your voice made it out of the house there wouldn't be another person around to hear you!” he whispers in your face, tears streaming down your face.

Your leash is attached to the top of the bed and the man pushes your legs open, not really having much strength to fight after your constant edging, you feel your crotch strap loosen and your vibrator removed from your pussy. it takes little effort on his part to pull his cock out of his pants and even less to push his hard cock in your flooding pussy, thrusting straight to your womb you blink back tears as he continues to hold your mouth closed, lowering his head to suck on your rigid nipples as he thrusts inside. Uncovering your mouth you whimper as he continues pounding your abused pussy with no care for your needs, your little button desperate for a touch, 1 touch to cum is all she would need in this state, but where every thrust would slam his body on your button, the shield now blocks that, constant denial is all you get as he cums hard inside you without stopping or even slowing down.

Seems like a lifetime passes, but its only been a hour, a whole hour of him ramming your sore pussy with load after load pumped directly inti your womb, “don't worry about the mess, i got something to clean you out every day, your going to love it!” he says with a laugh at the end which makes you believe otherwise, your going to hate every second of whatever he has to clean you with which only serves to make you clench in a mix of fear and anticipation oddly.. The man returns with something in each hand, dropping a cold metal thing on your chest you hear him open a can, “id offer you a drink but i don't have cum in a can, ill pick some up for you tomorrow though.” he says as he takes a drink of his beer. “this thing here is a shower head, its going to be inside your cunt when i turn it on, you'll be a waterfall for me every night!” he says with a loud laugh and all you can do with cry out “p-please don't..” which only serves to make him laugh more and answer with a “keep begging slut, your making me harder than diamonds!” causing more tears to run down your face.

Sitting on your hips the map begins to unstrap your straightjacket, pulling your weak arms from the bindings its quickly strapped in leather wristbands and locked to the top corners of your “new” bed your arms now lay against some rather sticky stains you shudder to imagine what it is.. laying on the bed your ass and urethra continue to hum madly inside you, “please let me cum” you manage to say through a sore throat, “i need to cum” to which he looks at your shielded clit and taps the case, “you want me to play with this little thing don't you” he says, clearly pointing at your covered button, nodding furiously at his question. “be a good little slave and i may make you cum on Christmas!“ the man laughs as he slaps your pussy harder than ever, “its all about me down here, you got that? i don't give a shit if you don't cum, your cunt is keeping itself all lubed up and ready for a fucking anytime! why would i ruin that so you can have a fucking orgasm??” the man was clearly not going to let you cum its as simple as anything could be.

Pushing your vibrator back inside your throbbing pussy he rams it back into your sensitive womb and walks away, leaving you to the mercy of the 3 powerful toys pulsing away inside you. “PLEASE!! PLEASE LET ME CUUM!!” you scream as you hear a door close upstairs. your all alone again with your holes filled with strong toys, held on edge once again but at least your mouth isn't gagged, but if what the man said was true, there isn't anyone around for a long time and you don't know how far he took you in his car! your just laying on this seedy rape bed while your only form of clothes would be your toe crushers still adorning your feet. Hearing the door open once again the man returns to your bedside with a hose in his hand, “i think I'm going to put your cunt to sleep early so i think ill clean it out now, while pumping you full is on my mind!” he laughs as he connects the hose to the showerhead he mentioned earlier, removing your vibrator he lines up the long, cold metal dildo and slowly pushes the freezing cock into your pussy. “Stop PLEASE IT COLD!!” you start to scream as the man continues to push it slowly inside you, your womb swallowing the tip greedily, betraying you.

Getting the dildo in as deep as it can go your rewarded with a blast of freezing water in your womb! cramping ever muscle you have your pussy clamps down hard on the metal cock as the man begins to brutally fuck you with it, pumping constantly as freezing water gushes from your pussy, the pain and numbness setting in as fast as the water flows, the tap it turned off and the water stops. its over for now.. but you remember he said this was your new daily routine.. “please don't.. not again!” you manage to cry out only to be met with laughter, “if you don't shut up its going in your ass next! how long till the water runs out your pretty mouth i wonder!” your mouth slams shut instantly at those words, you don't know and you never want to know… Hearing him stand and turn he call to you as you lay on your bed, legs and pussy covered in freezing water, muscles all over your body cramping constantly, “now gets some sleep cunt, your going to need it!” as he closes the door, leaving you alone again to do as he said.. your eyes close and you drift to sleep quickly, clearly exhausted after a day like this with tomorrow only promising fresh new horrors.

#Stories #Custom

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maevemarethyu · 3 years

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The Pack (1/?)

(Not my GIF)

(Bucky Barnes x Reader)

The Night Wolves. New York’s most prolific and secretive gang. Always watching yet somehow always out of reach. Always slipping through the Avengers grasp.

Until they got you.

You were a street rat. A grunt working for the most gruesome group of criminals New York had ever seen.

Captain America wasn’t expecting much when they brought you in, he certainly wasn’t expecting you and his best friend to get along so well. You were a courier, nothing more.

Or so they thought.

Warnings: Violence, Cursing, Talks of Murder, Actual Murder, Talks of Abuse, Kidnapping, Depictions of Abuse, Crude Humor, Sexual Humor, Bucky Barnes (because he needs a warning all in himself), Sad Boi Hours.

The fact that all you could do was pretend to work while Flora and Maeve handled the complete uprooting of your business pissed you off to no end.

Every day for the past four days, you woke up, went for a morning run, went to Mr. Miller’s shop (Surprise, Mr. Miller doesn’t exist), meandered there until closing time, walked home, ate dinner, and went back to sleep.

All while the Avengers thought they were invisibly following you. Day one had been Barnes. Day two was Wilson. Day three was Rogers. Today is was the Scarlet Witch; Wanda Maximoff. You’d think that they would have better disguises than a baseball cap and blue zip-up but, it would appear that was their I’m just a civilian look.

You couldn’t even go to your house. Instead you were forced to stay in the dummy apartment you’d set up when you first got the Wolves up and running. It came in handy, obviously, but it still sucked.

The sat phone goes off in the freezer and you rush to answer it.

“Please, for the love of Bucky Barnes’ thighs, tell me you found me a way out of this hell.” You whine and Maeve laughs on the other end.

“Is that what your praying to now? The Winter Soldier’s thighs?”

“Focus Maeve.”

“I’m not the one praying to a pair of limbs.” She teases before taking on a more serious tone. “We have the new location set up but, it’s going to take time to get everyone transferred.”

“I figured. Please tell me you got us set up in the Maldives. I’d love you forever if you did.”

“Ha Ha. You know I burn easily and, for that, you all must suffer. As for the escape. Flora had an idea.”

You groan at the thought. Flora was smart as a whip and was a tactical genius but, her ideas were taxing to say the least.

“She thought it’d be easier for us to avoid those pesky Avengers if we had eyes on the inside. Ya know, just someone to find out how much they really found out about us and, since you’re already such good friends with them, we figured you’d be the perfect candidate.”

“You do realize I’m the one in charge right? You guys want me to infiltrate the Avengers.” You ask with annoyance. Not because wouldn’t work but, because it would. You already had rapport with the Captain.

“Fine.” You pout. “Use the Mr. Miller cell to call mine and ask me to pick up something in Hell’s Kitchen. I’ll wait until its dark and purposefully go into a dangerous area because I care. I’m willing to make this sacrifice.”

You hear a snort on the other line and roll your eyes.

“Is Paul good? Looks like setting up a fake family tree wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.” You ask and faintly hear Flora yell I told you so in the background.

“He’s fine. The Avengers have him holed up in some five-star cabin up in Maine. The lucky bastard.”

Lucky bastard indeed.

“I hope you’re ready for this Alpha. Your life is about to get a lot more complicated.”

You’d been wandering around Hell’s Kitchen pretending to be lost for almost twenty minutes now. Honestly, who did you have to suck off to get mugged around here? Your feet were starting to ache and there was a knot in your back thanks to the lumpy mattress back at the apartment.

A knife against your back puts you on high alert and you have to hold back a grin because, about damn time.

“Give me your wallet.” The man whispers in your ear and your nose scrunches at the scent of cigarettes and cheap booze.

Tears spring to your eyes and you hold up two shaking hands.

“Please don’t hurt me. I-I’m lost and I just want to go home.” You cry. This wasn’t exactly what your mother had in mind when she made you sign up for drama club in school but, hey, at least you were using your skills.

“Your wallet. Now.” The knife presses deeper into your back and, before you can let out a perfectly believable whimper, pressure is gone. You turn to face your attacker only to see he help in the air by the back of his shirt by none other than Bucky Barnes himself. There was no shy smile on his face tonight, only a fierce scowl as he throws the mugger into a wall and you can’t help but think how good it looks on him.

Thick Thighs and Bucky’s Eyes was about to become your new life motto if he wasn’t careful.

“Are you okay?” He turns to you, eyes canvasing you for any injuries. Mr. Hyde to Dr. Jekyll in the blink of an eye.

“I-I’m okay. Geez I’m so stupid. Mr. Miller said he needed me to pick something up from Lucky’s Pawn Shop and I got all turned a-around. D-Do you think he works for the Wolves.” You whisper the taboo name and add a shiver for good measure.

His eyes dart to the man lying in a crumpled heap and back to you with a frown.

“I don’t think so but, I’d feel better if you took Steve’s offer of staying at the compound. You’re a target now.” He sighs and it’s so nice you’re not sure if you want to jump him or puke.

“I-I think you’re right.” You mutter, looking at the man then back into Bucky’s blue cotton candy eyes; sweet enough to make your teeth rot. “Thank you Sarge. Who know what would have happened if you weren’t around? What were you doing in Hell’s Kitchen so late?”

His eyes dart away from yours as he leads you to his car.

Busted.

“Steve may or may not have had us keep eyes on you for your own protection.”

Sure. Your protection.

Instead of a scoff, you blink up him with owlish eyes. “You mean you’ve been watching over me since I left the tower?”

You don’t think anything you do will ever top the fact that you just made Bucky Barnes blush.

“Not just me. We each took a day to keep tabs on ya.” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He escorts you to an inconspicuous car and opens your door.

What were guys like Bucky called on the internet again?

Right. A Himbo.

Incredibly well intentioned and polite but, not the most observant… Maybe you were being cruel but so was he by just looking that fine all the time.

“Thank you.” Your whisper sounds like a shout in the silent car and, once again, you can see red creeping onto his cheeks whenever a streetlight illuminates the vehicle.

Phase one complete.

“Steve had a room set up for you. Are you hungry?”

The living quarters of the compound were not what you were expecting. It was… homier. High class definitely but, not cold. Every Avenger had their own room but, their kitchen was shared, and the common room was jam packed with bookcases and entertainment systems.

You were in heaven and no longer jealous of your fake father Paul.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You mumble, adding a bit of shyness to your voice to really sell it. “I just want to lie down.”

With you preferably but, we’ll get to that another time.

“Oh, right. This way.”

Bucky leads you down a hall lined with doors; stopping at the one at the very end of the hall and motioning you to go in.

“Holy shit.” You gasp and it’s real because your room is phenomenal. The bed looks big enough to fit an elephant and soft enough to drown in and you couldn’t wait to collapse into it. Floor to ceiling windows give you a view of the city you could never get from your real house. Simply beautiful.

“If you need anything, my room is down to the right and Wanda’s is down to the left. She left for a mission earlier but, is excited to meet you when she gets back.”

You’d heard stories about the Scarlet Witch and her telepathic powers so, you knew to be careful around her. You had enough secrets to drive anyone mad and put you behind bars for several lifetimes.

“The Wanda Maximoff can’t wait to meet me?” You gasp, finally relenting and flopping onto the bed like an ungraceful starfish. “This could very well be the best day of my life. You know, aside from the almost getting mugged part.”

You turn your head towards him just in time to see a chuckle pass through his seashell pink lips. A very good day indeed.

It was a good tactic but, you saw straight through it. The Avengers were still wary of you and believed putting you in proximity of the two members that you were most likely to trust would cause you to slip up; unintentionally let your guard down so they could read you like a book.

You wanted to say something about them thinking you’d be that naïve but, that would only diminish the reputation you had begun to build: a sassy yet timid and troubled girl who had gotten herself mixed in with the wrong crowd. You garnered sympathy and sympathy led to loose lips.

You honestly deserved an Oscar for this shit; Flora definitely owed you a dinner and, once everything got back to normal, you’d wring those street rat’s necks for not doing their job.

“You’ll be safe here. No one’s breaking in to steal your purse.” He reassures and it melts your heart a bit; he really is a nice guy. A really nice guy with a really nice face and a really nice ass.

“Thank you Sarge.” You sigh sincerely. You may be on opposite sides of the law but, you admired him and the other Avengers for what they do. They protect people from people like you. They’ve seen the worst the universe has to offer and none of them turned away. If you were in Barnes position, the next time someone told you the world was ending, you would have told them to put you back in the freezer.

“If you need anything, just ask the AI; her name is FRIDAY. Goodnight Valerie.” He shuts the door with care, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts and a bugged cellphone. This was already going much more smoothly than you had anticipated and you didn’t know whether to be grateful or suspicious. You were leaning towards the latter.

You were being paranoid but, who wouldn’t be in your situation?

You sit up on the bed and observe your new home for the foreseeable future. Would the holier than thou Avengers bug an innocent woman’s room? You liked to think they wouldn’t but, you could never be too sure.

You make a mental note to see if you’d be able to pick up some of your clothes from the apartment as you walk into the bathroom and strip off your jeans that smell more like the streets of New York than the citrus scent you washed them with.

Funnily enough, Stark had the same shower as you did at your real home so, you have to pretend to figure out the various knobs just in case. After fiddling for a good five minutes, you set it to just how you like it and hop in with the plan to wash the stress of the past few days down the drain. By now Flora and Maeve should have moved the tier of enforcers to the new location along with a good chunk of your liquid assets to a new offshore account.

A month at the minimum. That’s how long Flora told you this would take and you knew better than to complain about it. This was a very stressful situation for all of you; for everyone involved.

Once you feel thoroughly cleansed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel and exit the bathroom.

A plate on your nightstand catches your attention and the hairs on the back of your neck raise as the smell of delicious lasagna reaches your nose. The note next to the plate says it’s from Sam Wilson and, if you were a normal woman, you’d probably think his effort was thoughtful.

“FRIDAY?” You announce curiously.

“Yes Miss Mason?” She answers and you roll your shoulders. You’d have to get used to having a Stark AI instead of your trusty MARVI.

“Please don’t let anyone into my room when I’m unable to answer the door.”

Tags: @cherryblossomskye @hollarious

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #marvel

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serararku · 3 years

Text

Dancing in the Sand Pt 1

"Okay, here's another good one." Mizuna started. “I run without feet, have a bed but never sleep, and a mouth but cannot speak. What am I?"

Era didn’t even skip a beat. “A ghost!”

“Ghosts may not have feet but they don’t run either. Plus they can definitely talk. Try again.” The Raen woman gently guided the chocobos by the reins, making them slightly turn along the path through these dry Thanalan wastes; fortunately it was overcast so the blazing sun wasn’t slow-roasting them in what would otherwise be the equivalent of an oven in this midafternoon heatwave. Era fell silent, for a time, as her eyes darting back and forth along the road. The cogs in her head were spinning so fast she almost had sparks flying out from her ears.

“Uuuhhh…” She rubbed at her temples. “Is it… a… mmmn… Thalen, what do you thi-”

“It’s a river, darlin’.” He finally chimed in, sitting on the other end of the driver’s bench with his dented and weathered flask in his hand. Mizuna turned to give him a disapproving look-- riddles aren’t any fun when the answer is just blurted out. But she saw the look in his eyes while his gaze darted along the outer edges of the crags to their right. Despite trading with Miqo’te for years Mizuna has only recently begun to catch on to their expressions and giveaways; his ears weren’t flat against his head but they were certainly lowered, his brow was furrowed but he wasn’t outright scowling, and his eyes darted along the crags above on the right side of the wagon as if he was searching for something-- or someone. There was no doubt in her mind; Thalen was on edge.

Era on the other hand lit up like a firework once she connected the dots. “Ooooohhh… I like that one!” She clapped excitedly and stifled a giggle, reminding both Thalen and Mizuna that beneath the scars and short temper remained a little girl barely old enough to be considered an adult. “I need to tell Zevs that… but he would probably get it right away. He’s really smart…”

“He’s a forest Miqo’te. The river riddle’s the oldest one in the book as far as we’re concerned.” Thalen grunted in between swigs.

“Are you alright?” Mizuna couldn’t hide her concern any longer. “You seem tense…”

He crossed his arms and slouched in his seat. “Bah, I’m fine Doc. Just a lil’thirsty, is all…”

“Vahli isn’t going to lay a hand on you, Thalen.” Era assured, leaning over the railing to give him a warm smile. “I’ll make sure of that.” All he did was grunt at her in response.

This was the furthest Mizuna had ever been within the Zu Tribe’s territory, and the difference between their lands and the vast majority of Thanalan was night and day. Even from the shady seat on the front of the wagon, she could spot rare and valuable herbs partially hidden in the cracks along the cliffside. Crimson Gloomroot, Tifa's Tears, Faded Glory, and even some Dusklotus shimmered in her peripherals. It's little wonder why so many merchants risk their lives to travel through these untapped lands; perhaps on the way back she could pick some for a nice profit… and for her patients, of course.

"Alright, we're here." Era sat up once the wagon ground to a halt. The two chocobos clicked their beaks and hummed lowly; they could sense the danger they were in. She took a few sharp breaths and cupped her hands around her mouth before turning to squint at Thalen. With an obnoxious belch he clamped his hands over his ears and began to hum loudly, just as he said he would. "Ku-WIIIIP! Ku-WIIIIP! Ku-WIIIIP!" Her sharp voice carried far across the wastes, echoing off the crags and distant hills. “Okay… let’s go meet them, nice and slowly.”

Mizuna knew she heard sounds differently than the other races, what with the fleshy holes in the sides or top of their heads. Her horns were sensitive to sound vibrations, true, but she still didn't pick up that high of a frequency; Miqo'te whistles were truly something else. "So now that we're waiting…" She started, glancing around for any sign of her tribe. "Is there anything I should know about your people?"

"Mmmn…" Era made her signature half-hum, half-mumble, while tapping ponderously on her chin. "Well, they don't really know what personal space is… the tribewives and kittens in particular. They're very curious, only the warriors have ever seen an Au Ra before, so… expect them to get close and touchy. And I cannot express this enough-- no magick! If they discover you can cast spells, then-!"

"No magick." Mizuna repeated calmly. The nervous chocobo began tugging the wagon along from the gentle flick of their reins, causing Thalen to stiffen and sit up once they turned the corner.

The warriors of the tribe were first to greet them. Women adorned in stained furs and mismatched pieces of plate armor salvaged from their prey all turned to stare in silence once the wagon was in clear view; squatting along the cliff high above was none other than Yhaba, who looked ready to leap into the air and land on the wagon at a moment's notice. She rose to her full height and began walking alongside Era and the outsiders, as several warriors began to trail the wagon from behind.

Next came the huntresses, who were far more relaxed than their battle-sisters, at least. Some wore leather hoods, others were completely bare chested, but all of them were covered in tribal paint to bless them during their hunts. They were perched on the old trees along the path, with most of them too busy inspecting their weapons to notice or care about the wagon. Except for Chaje of course, who nodded with approval at Era when they passed her. Yet the chocobos were terrified-- two giant zu birds stared at them from their nests, salivating at the chance at tasting them.

Last but not least was Vahli Nunh and his harem. He sat along the slope at the mouth of Valhaas Barrow, surrounded by his wives and armed with his mighty glaive. He even wore his battle harness, complete with his iron-clamped bracers, his warpaint complimenting his ritualistic tattoos and scars, and a thick cloak made from the rugged hide of a black Hrothgar.

"Wow…" Mizuna spoke in a low whisper to her two companions. "That is the biggest Miqo’te I've ever seen in my life…!" She and Thalen exchanged weary glances, but Era couldn’t help but smile; it would seem Vahli went all in to make a lasting first impression, an effort she found more endearing and cute than anything else. When the wagon finally stopped, she was the first one to hop down into the dust, and he rose to his feet to greet her.

“These are the outsiders?” He asked, spinning the glaive around in his grasp before resting it on his shoulder. “I do not trust the scaleborn woman with our kittens… and what is this Tia doing here?!”

Thalen took one last swig of his flask before slipping it into his pocket. “I’m the scaleborn’s bodyguard. I owe her a debt and this is my payment.”

Vahli snarled and bristled when he spoke, and it wasn’t long before he moved around Era to stare Thalen down face to face. “You lie! You have come to challenge me and take my wives for yourself!”

“No, he hasn’t!” Era butted in, quickly stepping alongside them before glaives were swinging and bullets were flying. “What he says is true-- he is only here to ensure her safety. When she is done tending to our young, they will both leave. You have to trust me, Vahli.” Mizuna simply watched the three Miqo’te purr, hiss, and whistle at each other; she didn’t speak a lick of Huntspeak but she knew aggression when she saw it. With luck this encounter wouldn’t turn violent, or she would have to give Ms. Slater the bad news.

Both Thalen and Vahli didn’t budge an ilm. The Nunh’s biceps were larger than the Tia’s head, and he was nearly a fulm and a half taller; but Thalen remained as still as stone, his gaze unblinking and his ears flat against the top of his head. If they were destined to fight, it would happen at any moment-- the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Are you done with your staring contest?” Era’s mother Yuun called out from the entrance of the barrow. “Set aside your pride and bravado and let the lizard woman inside. You two can kill each other after our daughters are cured.” Her tone was sharp and devoid of patience, which was enough for Vahli to blink and angrily grunt before turning around to return to his harem. Era and Mizuna both sighed in relief, as Thalen slowly let go of the firing pin on his revolver, and took his first breath in what felt like a whole bell. It would seem he would have to keep one eye open around this brute, especially after their jobs here were finished.

“Dr. Kusakari.” Era beamed, speaking in Eorzean again. “Right this way!”

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv @osric-slater-ffxiv (for Edalene)

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lilyharvord · 4 years

Text

Song of the Pheonix Part 8

Hey guys, sorry this took so long to get out. It was super hard to find time to write this lately. Also I was having a hard time connecting plot points. I think I finally got this set up though. It's a little shorter than all the previous chapters, but it gets the important work done. The support for this fic is so uplifting! You can also find it on AO3, and any kudos and comments there are super helpful!

AO3 Link

Find the rest of the parts here:

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7

Enjoy!

(/Coriane/)

It’s surprisingly cold when the sun begins to rise. Doria snores softly in her chair, while I sit huddled in my mass of blankets. For two nights I’ve sat like this, watching my jailor nod off in the early morning. If I wanted to escape, that would be the time to do it. To combat the cold I could take a blanket, and I’d slowly been stashing away little bits of food that was brought to me. I had enough for maybe two days if I rationed it. I can’t leave without Mare though. At least, I feel like I shouldn’t leave without her. Would we even make it out of the hundreds of miles of plains to return to Ascendant? I don’t even know which direction the city is in, let alone how we’ll climb a mountain to get to it. And if she’s in the same state I remembered, I would have to carry her. I know for a fact that I’m not strong enough to do that. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there though.

Doria snorts and then shakes awake, drawing me out of my thoughts. Her bleary eyes blink into focus as she searches the tent wildly for me. When she finally sees me, almost hiding underneath my pile of blankets, she rubs at her eye with her palm. “Need coffee.” She grumbles before rising from the chair. I watch her pull her hair into a messy tie before asking, “Can I have some?”

Her eyes narrow until she says, “Get up.”

I push the blankets off of me and stand. She looks me over, and her lips curl as she takes in the same robe I’ve worn for three days now. Tapping her point finger to her thumb, she says, “Stay here.” She pushes the flap aside, only to pause and look over her shoulder once more. “Try to leave, and you won’t make it passed the third row of tents.”

“Why would I try and run through hundreds of miles of plains dressed like this?” I grumble as I sit on the vanity stool. Doria’s brow raises at my tone, only for her lips to curl up in a smirk as she leaves the tent.

Outside of the tent, the sounds of the early risers preparing for the day begin. Guards grumble as they switch shifts, alerting each other to potential obstacles. I strain my ears, hoping to catch a hint of Mare’s location. No one discusses her though. Squeezing the loose fabric of my robe in my fists, I try to wait patiently. I doubt Doria will bring me anything back, but I can hope. Coffee does sound nice, regardless of where I’m getting it from.

The tent flap opens, startling me, and Doria enters before stepping aside to reveal Proteus. Raising my chin as he lets the flap close behind him, I say, “You are not coffee.”

He chuckles, completely in control of his expression now. He looks me over before saying, “They’re scouring the mountain for you and Barrow. I have half a mind to leave two animal carcasses for them to find.”

My blood runs cold, imagining what that could do. Blood would run down the mountain in waterfalls if he does that. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I whisper, “Don’t. You’ll have to send more men and women to die if you do that.”

His expression hardens, and he closes the space between us to say, “You don’t know the first thing about what my people would do for their goal.” “Show me, let me try to help you. My son—“

“Your son is a middle rung on a ladder. He forfeited his right to sway anyone’s decision when he abdicated.” Proteus waves my words away with his hand. “I can get more out of killing you and Barrow than I can from trading you.”

My stomach rolls, and I spot Doria finger the knife on her belt behind him. My fingers twitch in my lap and I breathe, “Please. You can achieve more than you think through negotiations.” I would sing if I could, but Proteus avoids my eyes contact expertly. I should have never told him how to prevent me from singing. Beating myself over that mistake won’t help me now though. Besides, if I sing him into a stupor, I’ll have to figure out some other way to handle Doria. I can’t sing to them both.

He keeps his eyes on the floor as he says, “There is no negotiating with Montfort.”

“They’ve been in negotiations with the Lakelands for years now… with Norta, with Piedmont. They can be negotiated with!” I shout as I rise to my feet. Doria takes a step forward and I glare at her, and the song comes before I even mean to release it. “Leave.”

She freezes, her expression going slack as her eyes glaze over. Raising my chin, I sing to her again. “Leave us, he can handle—“

Proteus’s hand closes over my mouth, while his arm wraps around my middle. His fist presses into my diaphragm until the air leaves my body is a pathetic wheeze. Doria stumbles backwards, reaching up to grab her temple as Proteus throws me into the corner of the tent. My head hits the ground so hard my teeth rattle. I try to rise to my hands a knees in a daze, certain that this is now the only chance I will have to escape.

A wave of water hits me though, and I choke as it surrounds my head in a cocoon. I reach up with desperate hands, and try to claw at it. It simply rushes past my fingers though. Through the swirling froth, I can make out Proteus, who sweeps his hand in small circles, controlling the orb of water.

He’s a nymph.

My vision begins to tunnel as I drop my hands. My lungs burn for air, and through the wisps of my hair ripped from their braid by the force of the water, I can see Doria urging Proteus on. Her eyes are murderous and I don’t need to guess why. I made her weak for a moment, and if Proteus doesn’t finish me here, she will do it.

I open my mouth when I can’t take it anymore. Water rushes in and I fall forward, my vision going dark. The cocoon collapses and I swallow gulps of air, coughing on the remnants of the water as I do so. Doria’s muffled cries of surprise and fury echo on the edge of my vision. When I crane my neck from the ground, I spot Proteus leaving the tent, his expression pale and his hands shaking. Doria chases after him, leaving me alone in a puddle of mud.

(///)

The blankets do little to warm me after my near brush with death. But Doria and Proteus do not come back. I’m sure they left a new guard outside my tent. I’m willing to risk it though. Scrambling to gather my food in a little makeshift bag I made from the blankets, I try to make a plan. I was never a strategist, but Tibe used to try to tell me about his battle plans when we were first married. I try to channel him in this moment, thinking about what he would think about.

I edge toward the tent flap and curling a finger around it, I lift it just enough to look out. There are no guards, only a few children playing with a ball outside. They giggle and shout as they chase after it, kicking up dirt as they do so.

My heart pounds in my chest and I step out into the sunlight. Already I can feel my hair drying under the burning sun. I waste no time scurrying past the children and toward the center of camp. Maybe that will surprise them. After all, who would be dumb enough to escape through the center of camp? I hope that I’m thinking this through correctly. I doubt it, but if this is my one shot at escaping, so be it.

My next step is to find Mare. The fact that no one has tried to stop me makes me bold, and I pause for longer periods of time to try and locate the Shed where they took her.

I’m listening in on two women washing sheets when a cold hand grabs my arm from behind.

“You do have a death wish.”

I try to throw a punch, but Proteus catches it easily. Spinning me so my back is to his chest, he pins my arms to my sides and says, “But you do have the makings of a decent spy.”

“Let me go!” I spit at him, trying to stamp my heel on his foot. He simply turns it out to side, avoiding easily. I throw my head back to catch his nose in response, but he tilts his head to the side, and ends up with his nose buried in my neck. I tense at the feeling as he breathes against my skin.

“Not a chance. You and I have things to discuss.”

He drags me out of the camp then, passed the tents until we’re standing under the shade of a dying tree. He finally releases me so that I can spin away. Panting for breath, I stalk around him in a circle, trying to look imposing. He raises a brow at my posturing and then chuckles at it.

That makes me pause, and choke, “are you laughing at me?” 

“You’re worse than a child. Did no one teach you how to fight?” He laughs when my face falls slack, and steps forward to grab my wrist again. Pressing his thumb into the tiny bones of my wrist he drags me close to him so he can whisper to me. “You’re going to help me end this war with Montfort. Whether you like it or not.”

I struggle against his hold, fury boiling in my stomach. It’s iced over by fear though when he says, “Do as I say, or I’ll find a nice hole to bury Mare Barrow in.”

“Why not bury me and use her?” I spit. His brows draw together then, and his eyes look me over for a moment.

“The Premier of Montfort wants all the Living Dead she can get her hands on. Barrow may be important to a number of people, but she’s not important to that snake of a woman. You are.”

I strain against his hold, desperate to put some distance between the two of us. I had underestimated how handsome he was the first time I saw him. My traitorous eyes want to observe him, compare him to other men I remember. It doesn’t help that he smells like lavender and something else, something earthy and clean.

“Where is she?” I manage to get out when I stop pulling against him. He drops my wrist and I stumble backwards and land on my back in the dirt. He stands over me, blocking the sun for the most part. I glare until he huffs.

“Will you stop struggling if I take you to her?”

I squint, wondering if I should even trust him. He did cut my bonds, and instead of killing me like Doria obviously wanted him to, he dragged me out here. I definitely don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, not that that would be very far. But do I have any other choice?

“Show me her.”

(/////)

The shed truly is a shed. It’s made of a few beaten up pieces of tin, and stands alone in a field. It’s a lonely, horrible place. And Mare is locked up inside. The heat is enough out here to make me sweat walking the few steps from the transport. I can’t imagine the temperatures inside that metal box.

The guards standing outside it, straighten from their slumped positions as Proteus approaches. He waves away their respectful salutes. They share worried glances before one of them reports, “she’s been quiet all day. Not a peep from her.”

“Good.” He says before steps up to the lock. The guard closest to the door waves a hand over it. It clicks and falls open with a rusted creak that I can feel in my bones. I wouldn’t have been able to get her out if even if I had escaped from the village. I didn’t have the strength to deal with the guards, and I would have needed a magnetron to open the door. I would have done all the work to get here, just to hit a road block at the finish line.

As the door swings open, a wave of sweltering air washes over my face. It’s hot enough in there to cook an egg in the dirt. Ignoring it, I hurry past Proteus to do a quick sweep of the room. Are they giving her water? Has she already died of heat exhaustion? It's shadowy in here, but I can feel the heat pressing in on me from all sides. I imagine when the door closes it's very similar to suffocating.

Mare’s huddled form in the corner draws me like a beacon. I drop to her side, cringing at the silent stone net before throwing it off. Proteus doesn’t bother to stop me as I roll Mare onto her back and whisper to her. “Mare? Mare are you awake?” She doesn't respond, and my heart beats faster in response. "Wake up Mare, show me you're alive."

Her skin is flushed like she has a horrible sun burn, and she’s soaked in sweat. A low groan escapes her, and I glare at Proteus over my shoulder even though relief washes over me. “Get her some water.”

He shrugs at my demand. “Promise to help me end Montfort.”

“Get her some water.” I grind the words out through my teeth. I’ve never been so furious in my life. Even in Norta we had never treated political prisoners like this. This was barbaric and inhuman. “Get her water and cool towel.”

Proteus doesn’t move. It’s a stalemate then. Hissing under my breath, I turn back to Mare. Gently pulling her hair back from her face, I start to tame it into a ponytail of sorts to get it off her neck. “It’s alright,” I coo to her as she groans again. Her skin boils under my hands. Not good. I know a dangerous fever when I see it.

My robe is much thinner than the heavy duty clothes she is still wearing. I make up my mind quickly. Stripping her of her shirt I wring it out as best I can. Even though my entire body recoils at what I’m doing, I carefully exchange it for the top of my robe. The shirt immediately sticks to my skin, and I want to be sick.

I swallow the bile, before going for her pants. We’re roughly the same size, but I’ll need a belt to keep the pants on. “Relax,” I whisper to her as I put myself between her and Proteus, trying to give her a sense of privacy. She probably couldn’t care less about it right now, but I won’t let that happen. Underneath my hands her skin feels slick like butter. I can barely get her clothes off. They stick to her like a second skin. She was in here for days. How is she not dead yet? I can't imagine being put through this.

Once I’m wearing her clothes, and I’ve adjusted enough to the feeling of them on my skin, I slide my robe on her. “Everything’s going to be okay.” My words a pathetic and they probably dont come close to comforting. Does she know that I might have to leave her in here again?

She groans again, and grabs my wrist in a grip that is so weak my stomach flutters. I shush her softly before looking at Proteus again. “Get her water and I’ll do what you need.”

“Swear your loyalty to my cause.”

“Are you really going to split hairs right now? She’s dying.”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing she doesn’t deserve. She’s killed more of mine than her life could repay a hundred times over.”

“<em>Get her water now</em>.” I sing it this time. His eyes glaze over, and he snaps to attention to complete the order. But the song wears off quickly. I’m too close to the silent stone, and its effects are washing over me as they radiate out.

He stumbles back and grabs at his temple. With a glower in my direction, he says, “Stop doing that.” “<em>Get her water.</em>” I sing it again, determined to push beyond the nauseating effects of the silent stone. He turns his eyes away from me though and my words are just a pretty melody that bounces off him. The guards arrive at the entrance after hearing the commotion I'm causing.

I throw myself to my feet and rush him, repeating the song over and over again. He catches me and pins me to the wall by my throat, making the tin rattle. I wheeze and claw at his wrist in response. I feel like a feral cat that has been caught. I'll gouge his eyes out if have to if it means I can get Mare out of this place.

Grimacing at the headache I’ve probably given him by trying to hammer my will home over and over again, he catches my wrist with his other hand. “I’ll take her back to the camp if you swear your loyalty to me, right here, right now. Does that appease you?” He pants in my face. I can’t get a breath of air passed his fingers to reply with words. Can I agree to this? If I do, will I be betraying the people who took me in initially?

But Mare is going to die in this horrid place if I leave her here. I won’t put her blood on my hands.

Nodding, I crane my neck to gasp for air. “Get her out.”

He drops me to the floor and turns to the guards with an order to bring Mare to the transport. They blanch at him, and try to argue but his next words are sharp and biting. They leap to action, rushing for Mare who has fallen silent again.

On the ground, I massage my throat and try to get air to my aching lungs. I watch them pick Mare up though. Her eyes, which are finally open, fall to me. I can’t even muster a smile for her, or another reassuring word. I have a horrible feeling I’ve just tied myself to a group that will use me as a shield against the people I actually trust. Have I doomed her and me? Probably. But she's alive, and she's out of here. Maybe we can come up with a plan together now. Relief washes over me as they carry her out into the sunlight. Proteus looks down at me with a condescending eye as I glower up at him.

"There may be a soldier in you yet." He breathes before grabbing my arm and dragging me to my feet. I have no idea what he's talking about, but I'm exhausted from using my ability so much in such a short time and I willingly let him drag me out to the transport too.

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #mare barrow #coriane jacos #song of the phoenix #SotP #song of the phoenix has been on my mind a lot lately #my writing #my fanfics #(((:#all support/comments/likes/kudos/reblogs are appreciated!

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spidermilkshake · 3 years

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Isolated Element--Part 1: Captoptromancy

Welp, I'd best post writing on the hellsite too. What better place for the unhinged fanfiction that spills between my brain's cracks?

IP: Kingdom Hearts (powerfully headcanon'd)

Genre: Fantasy, Mystery+Suspense

Word Count: 2,400+

TW: Unreal/derealized dream states, mild body horror

(Next)

1: Catoptromancy

It had been a few years since she had last come this way. Already, nothing was at all like she remembered. Years back, Traverse Town didn’t even have its proper name; it was only known as the settlement cobbled together from Gaia’s refugees—from Radiant Garden to Corel to Nibelheim—a hybrid of survivalist shelters and shanty-town as more and more hunks of unfortunate Worlds materialized in the outskirts, sometimes bringing hundreds of new people with them. A few years ago there weren’t quite five thousand folk crowded in here, getting by on salvaged bits and crisis aid given by the Elveshmean military and the Elvaan Źduhace (the Elven Dragoon Order). If not for the work of Radiant Garden’s more progressive intellectuals, Gaia’s ties to Elves and even fellow Human nations would not have been so strong, and if not for these ties, the alarm at the sudden radio silence would not have been so swift in onset. If not for this, Traverse Town would likely have remained a guttering, suffering den of survivors—languishing and on their own.

Aqua sympathized.

As she disembarked the transport cruiser into a grey, stale-smelling rain she noticed immediately the place’s changes. She pulled the sides of her hooded poncho together, pausing by the platform’s railing to look out over the newly-constructed bell tower, and the mis-matched buildings surrounding it. Formerly, this area had been half-built and strewn with piles of salvaged rubble. The wrecked hulk of an Interspace-Airship hybrid, the Highwind Mark IV, had lain propped up on blocks, its engines burst and drained of power. It had since been moved—or taken apart, likely to go towards the Mark V. Shaking the oil rivulets dripping down her hood away, Aqua brought herself back to the present. Traverse Town was now equipped with signs; she began following some, scanning the terraced levels and built-into underpasses for signs of nightly lodging. A warm, elevated porch caught her eye—its swinging sign lit up with a covered manatech lantern, the orange glow making “Bedknobs+Broomsticks: Food—Rooms—Entertainment—Vacancies Available” legible through the weather. She climbed the stairs to the entrance, taking a moment to shake the rain from her poncho again, to not drip a soot-marred trail all through the place. The least she could hope for was that this one wasn’t already grimy, and without her griming it up for the proprietor.

It did turn out to be clean inside, mostly. A few active spiderwebs decorated the high, out-of-the-way corners, but a polished oak bar-top was well-shined, and a row of recessed booth seating looked to be mostly clear minus some spice containers. It was a tiny place, a staircase and a cramped elevator entrance intruding halfway into the diner-like area. Clearly, most of the establishment was on ascending floors and this scant hole-in-the-wall was the only important thing besides cheap beds. At first she assumed she was alone on the floor—some clanking in the doorway behind the bar area implied one distracted kitchen worker only. A sound like sheafs of silk rubbing together turned her head, and the slight, constant movements caught her peripheral vision.

She jolted, instinct forcing her to grip thin air after a Keyblade that would no longer come to her. After all this time, she’d assumed she would be used to the full range of weird entities roaming the Three Realms, but apparently this… entity, was still a surprise.

He was wedged into the outermost side of the closest booth, in the shadowy corner. His feet were propped up on the table and half-crossed, but it was not their electric-green claws and webbed toes the color of “drowning victim” that was so terrifying: The rest of him was by far more strange. Tall, slender, with swept-back pointed ears and some of his dark reddish hair braided into an Elf-Knot identified his species—and the bustling array of mutations he bore brought that species into question again. Above the protective gloves and bracers he wore, his forearms were that drowned-blue color, and slithering with several large tentacles each. His ripped jeans were a similar story at the hip joint—and even more sprung from a point near his shoulder blades. The deep V-neck of his shirt allowed a travesty of more subtle issues to be on display: His shoulders and across his collarbones had stubby, green quills protruding from them, the veins of his neck close to the surface were a green hue too and hideously engorged. On second glance, Aqua suppressed a shudder of revulsion as she saw the veins on his arms and even one faintly popping from his temple were the same. A moment passed in which this Grey Elf paid no attention to her—engrossed with a ratty-looking, thin book propped open against one knee—but then, vivid purple eyes flicked over to the onlooker.

“Well, well, cydezé,” the twisted elf greeted her, gaze flicking over her from the Keybearer’s Chi-Rho emblem on her chest to the lacing ornaments over her corset and spur-stabilizers on her boots, landing at last on her muted blue hair and bright eyes. “They say it’s rude to stare, stranger.”

“Sorry, I, uh…” Aqua stalled her movements by force of will, as instinct was sending her creeping backwards. “I couldn’t help but look.”

“’Swhat they all say!” He snickered, snapping his book closed. She couldn’t be so sure of this relaxed, humored response; her eyes lingered on the tentacles as they coiled back over themselves. “No offense taken at all, eh, miss..?”

“I’m Aqua,” she suppressed a flinch, especially as one of his eyebrows raised in intense interest.

“Aqua, eh?” Finally, he slid the mutated pair of feet down from sight. “Excellent. I’m named Oppidimy—though some call me the ‘Octomancer’. Or a walking accident.” He chuckled again, grinning.

“Now we’re introduced, at least—so! You didn’t come in here after me, I’ll assume, but surely you’re looking for someone.”

Aqua’s brow twitched as it was tempted to furrow, “What makes you say that?”

“You have that ‘looking for someone’ quality,” he smirked, tipping a hand towards the scene outside, “It’s a safe assumption. Most who come here are, in fact, trying to find people.”

The young Keybearer half-bit her tongue; appearance aside, she was unsure of how wise it would be to make even a guarded mention of her goals. Oppidimy was clearly a mage of some sort: What kind was as uncertain as how he’d come to be half-elf, half-aberration. And what kind of magic-user he was made all the difference.

“Actually, I wasn’t looking for someone,” she chanced it. She figured she could downplay the importance it had, leaving little clue that the lost item in question was the sacred Keyblade. “Something, actually. Several somethings.”

“Lost some stuff?”

“Actually… more like stolen.” She sucked in a breath, reigning in the residual outrage that lingered even years later, “A sword, and a set of plate armor. They were very important to me and I don’t have much idea of who took them from where I last saw them.”

Oppidimy clicked his tongue, eyes hooding in a disgusted expression as he nodded.

“That’s cute—people really are out there like that. World’s in the process of ending and they’ll still try robbin’ you blind.” Aqua blinked hard at the statement, but he carried on overtop of her visible bewilderment, “Odds are, the culprit’s one of a short and nasty list; the only types who would be out to steal anything that wasn’t provisions, these days.

“I might be able to help y’ out,” a slow, crooked smile spread over his pointed features, and his gloved fingertips settled together into a triangle of scheming thoughts. “At least, if you’ll have me. At the very least I could help rule out some of these skeezballs.”

“And how would you accomplish this?” Her voice turned suspicious, and the Rurcelan mutant obviously cottoned on. He disbanded the triangle of wicked contemplations with a series of assuring waves, shaking his head and chuckling.

“Ah, ah, I know that tone—relax! My methods are one hundred percent legitimate, completely moral. Even though I blend in quite well with society’s villains and monsters, the ‘look’ was not exactly intentional. But, if you’ll take up my offer, you’ll see how it serves to my advantage.”

As Oppidimy began to stand and tuck his book amongst the grips of the tentacles issuing from one elbow, Aqua tilted her head:

“…So you specialize in espionage?”

The elf raised a gloved finger to his lips and the quills on his bare shoulders went rigid, suddenly looking grim and serious.

“Not so loud,” He slid past her, the Keybearer wearing a stone face even as she cringed internally at the tendrils coming inches from brushing by. Stepping towards the stairs, he turned back to call over his shoulder, smirk returned: “Come see me some time if you need a hand, yeh? I’m in 32. I’d suggest giving that old office door a knock so you can get a room of your own before it gets too late.” He began to cackle, “Owner’s a bit narcoleptic, so knock hard!” His laughter echoed, becoming cartoonish as he ascended the narrow stairwell and the raucous noise faded out. She paused a few seconds just to breathe.

Never had she encountered someone quite so exaggerated—it felt like a front—or a trap. She could be the intended victim, but just as easily the intended bait, a lure to draw in the unsavory targets he’d referred to. Only further investigation would bring that to light.

-------------------------

As suspected—the place was a cheap joint for cheap beds. The need in town was high, and the cramped room she was assigned was, at the very least, livable. Crumpled under the stiff, rough-textured outer sheet, every attempt to calculate the dubiousness of the elf’s offer, versus the likelihood she could finally close in on her lost Keyblade, set her sleep back another hour. And another. But slowly, surely, sleep and Aqua arrived at an uneasy truce.

She had the dream again. Different—and clearer.

The vision of that round, white, metal-plated room, the gaps in this armoring (or acoustic featuring?) showing faint glints of pipes, cables, and other hints at underlying manatech. It mocked her. She was for a second so infuriated at its recurrence that she almost missed the new features: Insignias in a stark black marked the walls, familiar but strange. It was much like the Keybearer’s Chi-Rho—or the Heartless Emblem, itself very much a cheap plagiarizing of the order’s sign—upside-down, so that the spikes forming the “Chi” took the peak position.

The miasma of her unconscious half-lucidity swam around her as she struggled to turn around and face the raised central area. She had already seen what was arranged there during the prior dream states. Her armor, and her Keyblade, where she knew it last. If the passage of time was to be believed, someone had been keeping it tidy and dust-free.

The chair was new. Aqua’s jaw hung in silence a moment, unable to react, as she faced its occupant. Outside of this recurring hallucination she knew she was asleep—and she wondered if he, within the dream, was also. His dark-toned skin and wildly-arranged silver hair were uncomfortably familiar, and his face itself also so but for different reasons. His ears were slightly-pointed as a half-elf’s would be, but since his eyes were closed she couldn’t tell if he possessed the mish-mash of colors and features she dreaded. She had seen this man before, she was sure this was… but somehow, her mind refused to let her assume this was the same person. Or persons, technically. He had to be, and yet… she was sure this quietly seated man was another entirely.

Her frown began to appear, giving some control of her face and voice back. Whoever this dead-ringer for Terra (and Xehanort) was, there was no likelier suspect for the role of the one who had relocated this Chamber—her Keyblade with it.

“Where are you?”

Aqua nearly jumped, though her dream-self felt far too sluggish for it. Exactly as and exactly what she had been gathering up energy to say the man with closed eyes had asked in a low murmur, devoid of feeling. Though, this she supposed could be from him truly being asleep—mumbling and aware of her regardless.

“No,” she barked, “You tell me. Where are you? And who are you?”

The man paused, eye movements flickering behind their lids. In painfully slow motions, he began to shake his head.

“I cannot answer you. You must tell me first.” He was still almost deadpan, with a hint of tired annoyance creeping in now.

“You can’t force me to tell you, and you can’t do anything to me. This is a damn dream-state. So, if you want anything, you first.”

He huffed, his brows twitching, and the sleek black fabric that made up his gloves straining as his grip on the armrests tightened.

“No,” he growled. “You don’t understand. I cannot answer you first because I have no answer. I don’t know who I am.” He let silence return to the humming void around them, becoming neutral in expression, “But perhaps, if you tell me your name, I can know more.”

A spike of hope softened her expression; the frustration and the intonation was so like his, melded neatly with the rigid aura of calm he imposed on himself—two traits so Terra-esque and incongruous with each other they seemed unlikely to be performed. And very un-Xehanort, in this way.

“I’m Aqua. Do you have a name, by chance?”

“I do,” he nodded, brows knitting slightly, “But it would mean nothing to you. It is a chosen name, taken after the time you seem to recognize me from.”

“Are you Terra?” She forged ahead, prepared for a let-down.

“I am aware of who that name belongs to, but I do not think so,” he surprised her, “Before you ask: I am equally aware of the one called Xehanort. I am not him.

“You have seen this Chamber before, haven’t you?” A dim inkling of curiosity entered his soft tone, surprising her alongside the change of subject. “Years ago I began to see this place. In my dreams at first, and then, every time I closed my eyes. I suspect you saw these visions. You saw the way into the room, hidden in what is left of the bastion of Radiant Garden.”

“How did you figure that out?” But, already guessing the answer, her eyes wandered to the sections of her armor propped on the central dais.

“I have memory I can’t explain,” he began. “I remember the name of the one this Keyblade, and its armor manifestation, belongs to. Aqua.” Sudden, jarring, he seemed unable to resist letting his eyes snap open and zero in on her with their bright, orange intensity, “This belongs to you, doesn’t it?”

An immediate shock came over her—but not only from being eye-to-eye. As soon as it happened, a spell broke. She felt roaring in her ears; the Chamber of Repose winked out and she was filled with the sickening sensation of half-awake, confused floating just above one’s body. Psyche-wise, she felt slammed back into her self as she bolted awake, still curled under the cheap inn’s terrible sheets, the room quiet and empty.

She sat up, waiting for some soreness that never came. A vivid dream. Not exactly, but closer than really being there. For a minute she just listened; a few muffled clangs of activity echoed from some lower floor, and she could hear through razor-thin walls the sounds of folk opening and shutting doors, exchanging bleary greetings, and going about the act of “morning”. A sliver of weak light creeping in between shut curtains confirmed the early, small hour. She collected her wits, and stood. She wasn’t getting any more sleep now anyways.

To Be Continued

#fan fiction #fanfiction #fantasy #mystery and suspense #kingdom hearts #heavily headcanon #headcanon #aqua #birth by sleep #isolated element #xemnas #oc #oppidimy #traverse town #chamber of repose #sfw story #sfw fanfic #captoptromancy #I too name my things weirdly but I generally do so with a theme apparent and not just to sound cool hAHAHah

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floofiestboy · 4 years

Text

Haruhara Live Q/A Session via Text

Translations of past question corners:

- Question Corners #1-10

- Question Corners #11-20

- Question Corners #21-30

- Question Corners #31-40

- Question Corners #41-50

A couple days back, Haruhara asked people subscribed to his channel to send him questions via email. These are the answers.

Haruhara’s comments:

In this article, instead of a live Q/A session, I answer all the questions I got via email in text form.

Just like in an actual live session, I’ve answered the questions without carefully double-checking my notes and past chapters, so please take this as entertainment. Treat it as non-canon. Anything I haven’t explicitly talked about in canon shouldn’t be treated as such.

Senyuu has technically ended, and so now that’s it’s been over ten years, I’m even answering questions that made me think before, “If I answer this, it’ll affect how they read the main story...”!

Treat it separately from canon! These are just backstories, settings!

source: ch.nicovideo.jp/haruhara-ch/blomaga/ar1939122

Q. I love the BGM on the chapters on NicoNico, so I was wondering who composed them?

A. I don’t know either. Similarly, I don’t know who designed the logos either. But they are nice songs, aren’t they?

Q. Has Alba’s father been journeying since he was young? Did he live apart from Alba?

A. While he’s always been journeying, he came back regularly. If I compared it to a modern-day job, he’d be like a long-distance truck driver or a fisherman.

Q. Does Rchi still have her Mark of a Demon Lord? Do Rchimedes and the Second have the same mark?

A. She still has it, but since I keep on forgetting to draw it, I’ve decided it only shows up when she prays for it to appear. Rchimedes and the Second do not have it.

Q. What sort of job does Justice do in the Demon World?

A. Her job is to be cheerful. Since she’s strong, she has no problems living the way she does. Since the Demon World is still kinda a lawless land, being strong is enough to keep on living on.

Q. Are there only three Four Great Demons?

A. Yes, I just wanted to do a joke where there were a fewer (or greater) number of actual members than a title would make you think.

Q. Is the hole in the world still there?

A. To be honest, when I said that a hole had opened up in the world, what I actually wanted to say was “Something strange happened to the world.” I hadn’t thought about what the hole would be or anything. I bet a giant gate or something opened up for a moment, and monsters and stuff came over here from there. In that case, the hole would’ve closed already.

Q. Please tell me how demons age!

A. It really depends on the demon. Since demons are a race created by Rchimedes going like “Eh, whatevs”, their characteristics aren’t really consistent between each other. I think that demons have long lives because somewhere deep inside Rchimedes, he hated the idea of death and losing loved ones. Though he did play around and had demons fight each other and stuff. While on the surface level, it may have seemed like he fell into despair and raised havoc, I think he really did grieve about losing loved ones deep down.

Q. I’d like to hear more about the Loli 12 Organization and Loli Master the 5th (Master Go Rori).

A. To be honest, I just wanted to say gorori (T/N: onomatopoeia meaning ‘to lie down’). I’m sorry!

Q. Can we no longer see the BL route?!?!!?!

A. Huh?! What do you mean?! - was my first thought, but ah, I remember now. You’re talking about when I drew Ros getting jealous of Alba sleeping with Grandpa during season 2. Since you’re asking if you can no longer see it, I’m guessing you mean that you can’t? I myself have forgotten where I drew it and don’t have the file anymore.

There was a time in the past when I was super into AUs - I drew anything that hit my mind. But then I realized that readers tend to take anything the creator draws super seriously, so I stopped really doing it.

Though lately when I still really want to draw something AU, I always make sure to put a disclaimer stating “This is unrelated to canon!” before it.

(T/N: Please tell me someone has the drawing mentioned here saved somewhere I need this I beg of you.)

Q. In Senyuu Season 2, Rchi keeping information about Creasion from Alba was treated as a joke and kinda just skipped over, but now that I think about it, unless Rchi had told Alba about it, Alba would’ve basically never found out about Creasion. (Since it was pure coincidence that he ended up in the Demon World and found out about it.)

I was wondering if Rchi really intended never to tell Alba about it even though they were working at saving Ros.

If there are any such reasons, I would like to hear about how Rchi was actually planning to tell him once some more time passed, or about how she had some other reason and was really planning never to tell, etc.

A. Ros being the Demon Lord’s son isn’t directly related to saving Ros (via finding a way to free the Demon Lord.) Even if Alba found out the reason why Ros couldn’t defeat the Demon Lord, there wouldn’t have been anything he could’ve done about it. So since knowing the truth would just give Alba more to worry about, I think that Rchi decided it would be better to just stay on their journey and keep looking for information. I don’t think she had any particularly strong desire that would make her really want to tell him.

Q. In F5 Ep. 11, I loved how Alba believed in Ros so easily, and how Ros declared with a smile, “The only person I punch for no reason is you, Hero-san!” How much deeper has their bond become since their early days?

A. How much deeper... how much deeper, I wonder? I feel like bonds aren’t the kind of thing you can measure in words. But I guess, compared to their early days, Ros trusts Alba enough to still be violent towards him even though he’s begun to realize that hey, “It isn’t really good to be violent.”

Q. How do you decide on the characters’ hair and eye colours? What do you use as reference when you draw their clothing and accessories?

A. Honestly, it’s always just whatever comes to me. Aside from the first few characters, I draw new characters vaguely at the storyboard stage, then draw them in properly at the manuscripting stage. For eye colours, in Senyuu I’ve decided that “people who can’t use magic don’t have red eyes.” That’s just something I’m trying to stick to, it doesn’t mean that “Everyone with red eyes in the Senyuu universe can use magic.” Cecily can’t use magic, after all.And there’s random citizens with red eyes out there too. I feel like people’s eyes turn red when they obtain magic because Rchimedes’ feelings towards Cecily were the trigger for magic’s discovery, even in Elf and Alf’s world. Cecily is an important character even though she hasn’t done anything.

Q. Elf and Ros haven’t really gotten the chance to really talk to each other thanks to their respective situations, but now that they work at the same place, I was wondering how close you think they are to each other. If you could expand on how their thoughts and impressions towards each other since their first meeting have changed, I would be really happy.

A. Elf used to think of Ros as someone to be pitied, but nowadays he’s realized that being pitiable isn’t something a bystander should decide, so he doesn’t think that any longer. The two of them aren’t particularly close, but they do chat normally. They’re like classmates who get along pretty well at school but never hang out on the weekends.

Q. If you have any thoughts on scrapped characters like Soldier Rosicks, the Season 2 Alba with the large sword on his back, cat-eared Rchi, etc., I’d love to hear them.

A. It’s less that I “scrapped” those characters and more that I just drew their appearances while I was drawing out all sorts of ideas, so they don’t have any particular backstories or settings associated with them. I’m the type to decide on things like settings as I move the characters around on a storyboard, so when I draw simple illustrations, they’re just empty shells.

Q. I’d like to know more about what happened with the first and third year Hero Academy students after Season 3. Also, how much do Sochi and her classmates know about “Lake’s little brother”?

A. I haven’t really thought about it, so if you’d like me to think about it I’d like to have at least two days for it, but I can’t take two days to think about this question, so the answer is “I haven’t really thought about it.” I’m sorry. Sometimes I can just think up answers on the spot, but I’d feel sorry to push entire lives onto characters based on ideas I thought up on the spot. So I’d like to think about what happens to characters “after” properly. Though I’ll decide things on the spot when it comes to random mob characters and aspects I don’t care about.

Q. The reason why Alba and Salt, who both obtained enough mana to affect the world around them, were able to leave prison was because they became capable of controlling their mana, not because their knowledge reached the level of say, Ros or Elf - would that be the correct interpretation? Additionally, what level of knowledge have Alba and Salt reached by F5, considering that they were getting 0% on even simple multiplication tests before?

A. Alba was released because he became capable of a certain level of control. His level of knowledge has not reached the levels of Elf and Ros. He hasn’t caught up to them, so unlike Elf and Ros, who’d use their knowledge and little tricks to turn 100 bits of mana into 200, Alba uses the bare minimum amount of knowledge to use 500 bits of mana as only 300.

I’ve forgotten most of what I intended for Salt back them, so I apologize if I’ve given a different answer before which contradicts the one I’m about to give. Salt obtained great power, but he had no talent in keeping it within his body, so the mana was gradually released from him. I think he became so incapable of using magic that he was no longer an exceptional case, so he was eventually released.

Q. I have a question about the differences between Main Quest and the original canon. There are scenes in Main Quest that weren’t in the original canon, such as Rchi and Alba’s discussion in Part 2 Volume 4 Chapter 41, “Alba Expresses His Gratitude”, and Chapter 50, “Alba Is Stupefied”, where Mortmorte the 2nd offers to be sacrificed. I was wondering what your thoughts were when you added these extra scenes in.

A. While it isn’t as though I thought carefully about every new addition, when I drew Main Quest, my thoughts were along the lines of “Let’s go a little deeper into things.” I think that’s what I was thinking when I put in new lines. Also, typically I had a set number of pages I needed to draw for, so I think I moved around lines and expanded scenes as needed to fit the pages.

Q. I have a question about Teufel. In Season 1, Teufel only shows up in the extra chapters, but did you already intend to use him as the “Soul Manipulator” during the fight with Rchimedes in Season 2? Or was this something you decided as you got through Season 2.

A. That was something I planned from the start! If you’d like to know why Teufel appeared early, please read Filled It With My Feelings! There’s even a PDF version!

(T/N: *shills Haruhara* Filled It With My Feelings (Digital): hiaruron.booth.pm/items/2329424 Filled It With My Feelings (Physical, only available to order until midnight JST Sept. 3rd): tckc-ch.net)

Q. “The world isn’t at peace or anything! He isn’t! Meta Ros isn’t smiling!” So anyways, Meta Ros hasn’t appeared since the last episode of Senyuu+, but is he happy? Is he having fun with Meta Alba?

A. Honestly, I haven’t really thought too deeply about it since he’s just a joke character. But since he’s just a joke character, I’m sure he’s off doing his own thing somewhere, free and unrestrained by anything.

Q. Since Lym is a demon and Lake is from a thousand years ago, they don’t have last names, but does Salt have one? He is from modern times. If he does, what is it?

A. He does. I’ve also thought up names for Rchimedes the Second and his wife, but the thing is with manga is that you shouldn’t include everything you think up. It’s more interesting to the readers if you just include the information they need to know. Like how if you introduce yourself to someone in real life, you don’t tell them your whole life backstory, like- “My name is Tanaka Tarou! My father is Tanaka Katsuo. My mother is Tanaka Hanako, my grandma is-” You just tell them what they need to know, right? That makes things go more smoothly. Yeah.

So anyways, about his last name, I did think of one. Yeah. But I don’t remember where I wrote it down, and I can’t remember the name at all right now. I mean hey, even in real life, sometimes you forget people’s names when you just call them by a nickname all the time. It’s like that, etc., blah blah.

Q. Why was Ros the only one to be released from the seal even though he was sealed together with Rchiemdes? Who broke the seal?

A. Wasn’t it Elf who released the seal in order to give Alba some stimulus? Though Alba and Ros’ first meeting itself was a coincidence. Elf wanted to release Ros, or rather, the Demon Lord into Alba’s time in order to give Alba some stimulus, and to achieve that goal he teamed up with Dezember... wait, was this something I scrapped? Did I never write about it? I remember everything until Season 4 pretty well, since I drew a lot until there, but when I reached Season 4 I started feeling that sense of relief like “It’s all over~” and remember absolutely nothing...! I’d need to completely re-read Senyuu to know for sure... every, please re-read it for me! If there was something like that in canon, then I’ll go with that. If there wasn’t, then I must’ve scrapped it, or else I just had to cut back some parts that I wanted to draw.

...Now I’m starting to feel like I scrapped it after all... because I thought that having Elf doing everything wasn’t a good plot device... I don’t know...

Anyways, for now the answer to the question is “Wow, it’s really quite strange... I wonder who did it~”

Q. Foyfoy said that Ros was “a soldier from a country who doesn’t know war.” What kind of environment did Foyfoy grow up in?

A. While Foyfoy’s hometown is peaceful, Foyfoy spent time as a mercenary in wartorn countries in order to make money. It’s never been shown in canon, so it’s basically just a little backstory that was thought up at some point in the past.

Q. There’s other countries in SQ, but if there’s other countries in canon would Alba be seen as a threat?

A. There are other countries. But the King of the country that collected all those heroes is so powerful, Alba being a wonder of nature isn’t as important. If we say that Alba’s country is Japan, the neighbouring countries are on the scale of the Fukue Neighbourhood in Kurashiki City of Fukushima Prefecture.

(T/N: You can see the exact scale on Google Maps by searching “岡山県倉敷市福江”, but essentially, incredibly tiny in comparison.)

Q. Is the King’s right-hand man Maine (Minister) still working at the castle?

A. He should be. He is.

Q. Crea awakened to his magic through contact with the Mana Maker, but can he no longer use it?

A. Crea doesn’t know how to use magic so he can’t. There’s no longer a Mana Maker in his body as well. There may be some mana left behind in his body, but he has no idea how to draw it out, so he can’t use it. At the start of Season 3, he tries to make a flower bloom with magic, but fails, after all.

Q. Hasegawara and Grandpa returned to their youths - did they continue living like that?

A. Since they did technically achieve their goal, they should’ve gone back to their original lives.

Q. In The Hero of the Port City, Guilty Justice says that she came because she sensed Creasion’s mana. What was she planning to do?

A. She probably came to fight him because she sensed some rare mana. Considering canon, it’s strange for Justice to appear in a place like that, isn’t it?

Q. How is Alf and Cecily’s relationship at the moment...?

A. They don’t have one.

Q. Back in his Originia era, Crea was an orphan, so how did did he survive?

A. Back then, orphans weren’t uncommon. The villagers helped raise him - he lived a happy life.

Q. The princess from ‘Tis Time for “Torture”, Princess and Hime-chan have the same birthday and a similar hairstyle - are they related in any way?

A. The reason why their birthdays are the same is that when I went to write about the princess’ birthday, I thought, “Hm, did I decide on her birthday? Oh right, March 3rd.” and accidentally remembered it as Hime-chan’s birthday. The princess’ hairstyle is entirely Hira Kei-san’s design, I had no hand in it, but I don’t think it’s that similar to Hime-chan’s?

Q. It seems like demons have long lifespans, so does the Demon World have problems with overpopulation?

A. In order to birth a new demon, you need to have a fair amount of mana and a good amount of skill in manipulating it. Alternately, you need to meet someone who you’re really in perfect sync with. Because of that, their population doesn’t increase that much.

Q. I really really love the “three burrs” hairstyle - will Ros never wear his hair that way again?

A. That hairstyle was something done by the first hairstylist he went to after he was unsealed, so unless he goes to that exact hairstylist again, he won’t have that hairstyle.

Q. What is Dezember and Justice’s newlywed life like? Is Dezember the househusband after all?

A. Though Justice was getting things going with the wedding, Dezember ran away so their newlywed life hasn’t begun. Their dynamic is kinda like the one in Urusei Yatsura.

Q. Rchi is now over 12. How does Rudolf feel about this?

A. I thought that Rudolf was good with anyone below 13? Was it only until 10? But even if she grows past Rudolf’s age ceiling, he won’t really stop being kind to her. He would stop spoiling her so much though, in how he used to do whatever she asked with no strings asked. He would instead start saying that it’s important to try things out yourself too. That’s the only thing that would change.

Q. F5 is a regular manga, so are there any plans to release a physical volume for it?

A. Not in the slightest.

Q. Cecily and Lake were living alone together before reuniting with Ros, so how did their neighbours react to a young teenager Lake having a younger brother in his 20s?

A. Their neighbours don’t think of Ros as the younger brother - they more just think of him as Cecily’s son who came back home from afar. I think updating the family registry wouldn’t have been hard with the connections they have in the government.

Q. I would like you to tell me how Januar got into ninja and tomato farming.

A. He got into ninja because they’re cool, and he got into tomato farming because tomatoes are yummy.

Q. Elf and Alf were time travelling in Season 4 - I would like it if you made a detailed timeline of what they and other characters did. (For example, Alf erased Elf’s memories during X time, at this time Rchimedes and Creasion were doing Y, etc.)

A. When I was writing Season 4, I did make a timeline, but I’m not sure where it went... what Elf and Alf did is all written in the article before this one, “My Memos”. I don’t think things have changed much from the timeline there for Elf and Alf, so please figure things out from there!

(T/N: I’ll consider translating that article at some point... it’s a lot of text... and it’s all disjointed...

Though I guess this Q/A is also a lot of text, I’m already at 3.5k words.)

Q. In the extra chapter in Season 2, “Right Before Episode 60″, Foyfoy asks if Marl wants to come to the castle with him, but do the two of them actually live in the castle itself? Or do they live near the castle?

A. Marl does live in the castle because she thinks it’s cool to live in a castle.

Q. Why are Elf and Alf not returning to their original time (ignoring the new future timeline after their changes) and are instead working at Alba’s research center?

A. Because they look up to Alba and want to help him out.

Q. Do you have any thoughts on how Alba watches over all kinds of worlds out there?

A. I do think, “That seems rather dangerous, doesn’t it?” But I also think, “Well, it’s Alba-san, he’ll be fine.”

Q. Personally, I feel like Senyuu. has a lot of whiplash between comedic scenes and serious scenes. Is there any particular scene you drew while specifically considering this whiplash?

A. Senyuu, is a work I drew as an amateur out of sheer willpower alone, so it isn’t that it has a lot of whiplash between comedic and serious scenes - it’s just that I didn’t understand a thing. “Woo hoo! This seems fun!” was the only thing on my mind. As a bystander, you may wonder, “How can he zoom right into that corner at that speed?” while watching me cruise along in my vehicle, but in reality, you just didn’t know that I was unaware of the fact that zooming into that corner at that speed could result in death. If I wrote Senyuu. the way I am now, I think it would end up being a much tidier manga, much easier to read as well, but I doubt it’d have that same speed and power to it.

Q. I had a question about Rchimedes the First’s character design. Did you give him black and white hair because you personally thought it was really cool? And then you thought it was too cool for him so you made his clothes super lame as a compromise?

A. It was all just from powering through drawing him. I did think “Wow, his clothes are lame!” but I immediately ignored it and continued drawing.

Q. Somewhere along the line, cellphones have spread among the masses - does Ros have one? And really, who’s making them?

A. From the very start, I planned for Senyuu. to be unconstrained by the chains of fantasy and include technology. Even in the start of Season 1, there’s a picture of Ros holding a DS at one point. Since it’s a manga, I completely intend to ignore real-life technological development timelines.

Q. Ros has pretty lax shifts - six day weekends and only needing to come in from the afternoon. Does he really only go to work once a week?

A. He doesn’t even go to work once a week. He does no work but wanders over to the research center to loiter around when he feels like it.

Q. In Senyuu+, Alba seems pretty tired sometimes. Is working at the research center actually pretty bad? As in, does it require a lot of overtime?

A. It isn’t bad, Alba is just going ahead and doing the work he wants to do, then going ahead and getting all tired because of it. From the perspective of the government running it, even just having the world’s hero Alba owning a research center they manage is good enough. It would be fine even if Alba never showed up at the research center at all and never did even one iota of work. Alba is just doing his best for everyone’s sake. Lately, he rests properly.

Q. Boss seems to have accessories and clothes other than his hoodie. Does he buy all of them himself?

A. Yes, he does. I talk about this in the doujinshi Filled It With My Feelings as well!

(T/N: If you enjoyed reading any of this tidbits, please consider supporting Haruhara by purchasing the original article on his channel: ch.nicovideo.jp/haruhara-ch/blomaga/ar1939122)

#senyuu #senyu #senyuu spoilers #haruhara robinson #haruhara robinson channel #senyuu content #my translations

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secretsniper3 · 3 years

Text

Part 3: New Home

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years

Note

Hi there! Congrats on 300 followers! May I please have a matchup? One for IkeSen, and one for IkeVamp if that’s okay! 💖 A little about me: my pronouns are she/her, I’m a Leo, and my MBTI is ENFJ! I like to think I’m confident in myself, so I hate asking for help. I love to learn, but I also love to help others learn too. I enjoy getting to try new things, especially with others! I’m pretty extroverted, but still appreciate days where I can lounge and take time for myself to recharge 😌 1/2

Thank you✨ Here ya go, sweetie~

I match you up with... Comte!

Comte has a terribly weak spot for strong and indipendent women who can hold their own, so upon meeting you he can already feel his heart going at full speed when he feels your aura. It takes the self control he has learned in who knows how many years throughout his immortal life not to directly ask you to step on him each time you show him your leadership skills and self confidence.

He's basically whipped from the beginning, but he won't be making a move nor show his true feelings (aside from very light teasing remarks here and there) unless he sees some type of interest on your part, too. The moment you correspond his feelings he's on cloud nine, as he tries not to think too much about the future and all the obstacles you'll have to overcome

He respects your natural autonomy, and knowing how difficult you find it to rely on others, he'll try to give you as much space as possible; as soon as he sees you slightly more tired or stressed than usual though, he immediately steps in and helps you out while softly scolding you for not relying on him

If you love reading AND learning then rejoice! Comte's library has books so rare and old that you ask yourself whether he directly got them from the library of Alexandria before its burning. You can sit on the super soft sofa in his room and read one or snuggle his neck as you stay on his lap while he tells you stories and legends. It's a great way of combining the things you like the most while also not doing anything too energy consuming! Honestly it's actually a top tier date, and knowing that he trusts you enough to let you that close to him does things to your heart.

Good thing you like shopping! A little less good that you don't like it when he spoils you too much. That will always be a recurring "problem" in your relationship, being part of his love language, but maybe you can convince him to spoil you with cuddles instead and leave the gifts for important occasions only! The moment you convince him (he won't always stick to this, mind you), your relationship will go smoothly. With Comte there are no fights and little to no misunderstandings since you're both people who prefer to talk things over before jumping to conclusions and he tends to be quite compliant with your every request.

The only other problem that may emerge between the two of you is your eventual vampirification. Unlike Leonardo, our mama pureblood has no issue with biting you, and he actually plans on doing it at one point or another when and if you ever feel ready to take such an important step. He loves you so much that it is only natural for him to live a part of eternity with you, but in the eventuality you refuse to do so, he will respect your choice and won't mention it again

Your extroversion is something he's pretty grateful for. You don't have any problems attending balls or other types of public events; it's an easy task for you to entertain guests and dodge tricky or too specific questions in a way that doesn't let others in on your past and real identity.

It's a win-win situation for both on multiple levels. You get to witness real 19th century clothes, people and behaviors while experiencing things you could have only dreamed of back in the present, and Comte gets to enjoy your bright smile whilst maintaining his reputation

On the overall, you're truly the perfect example of what people call a power couple, and everyone in the mansion knows not to mess around with you unless they want to get a more-violent-than-usual spank session with the pureblood

Second choice: Masamune

What a peculiar lass he has stumbled upon! He chases anything that sparks some kind of interest in him until all the surprise and excitement is completely squeezed out till the last drop. What makes you so special though, is that you never cease to fuel his amazement; no matter the situation, you always react unpredictably, and he adores that. You're strong-willed, and not even Nobunaga can order you around when you set your mind on something.

Bold and indipendent, you're quite the rare sight among other women in the Sengoku period, you'd surely make a great warlord! Masamune takes it upon himself to show you around and explain you how things work; keep in mind that he's no Hideyoshi nor Mitsunari, so his explanations can involve more a practical approach which isn't always the safest way. Wanna learn how to ride a horse? Masamune raises you up to sit between his arms and almost flings you both off a cliff. Want to learn more details about formations and how soldiers live? He takes you on the battlefield. Once he gets an earful from his fellow warlords, he tones it down a bit, though he's pleased to notice that none of those experiences broke your enthusiasm.

Slowly he realizes he's fallen head over heels for you, and he knows all too well that this is not like his other short lived crushes. His flirting turns more purposeful and daring, but the moment he sees sprouts of mutual interest he takes your relationship to the next level. No one's really shocked about the news (aside from Mitsunari, who was oblivious the whole time), and even you two seem to be pretty chill with it.

When it comes to you, PDA is frequent, but it's so smooth and natural that barely anyone notices, but Masamune always seems to make a big fuss about it, either to tease you or annoy Ieyasu. All in all it's pretty funny to see him getting worked up over nothing, and this routine of yours brings you the certainty that your lover will always welcome with open arms whatever form of affection you have for him!

In private, goodnight and goodmorning kisses are a tradition, along other pecks and tight hugs in-between breaks or whenever you happen to see each other. At least once a day he'll come to your room with some snacks to chat over tea and cuddle together.

As a couple you do not only reign over the Tohoku region, the kitchen was the kingdom you loved ruling over together the most. Dates, dates and even more dates, you spend endless hours messing around with recipes trying to recreate a modern day cake or traditional sweets. When duty takes Masamune away from you for a couple days, you make sure to have a freshly baked plate of his favorite sweets waiting on his desk the moment he comes back. He absolutely adores knowing that you always think of him whenever he's gone, so he makes sure to make it up to you for his absence with love, affection and a nice dinner.

Since you come from two completely different worlds, your knowledge, point of views and opinions are bound to be like day and night. Where other couples might stumble and fight, you and the Sengoku hottie use your contrasting characteristics to strengthen your bond even more. You're more than eager to ramble about the modern day and tell him about mind blowing discoveries made in the western continents, whereas he finds himself complying with a loving smile whenever you ask him to teach you something. He thinks you're kind of like a black hole for knowledge, similar to Mitsunari (though you're far more cuter). You want to learn about his smooth calligraphy? No problem, he already has white sheets and ink ready! Now you'd like him to teach you how to cook zunda mochi? He has already bought all the ingredients!

You two make a great couple with many points in common but also quite the number of dissimilarities. For example, during the first steps and months of your relationship, he didn't seem to know the meaning of "I'm tired". Being the ball of endless energy he is, he dragged you off by the wrist with him whenever he had the chance to, and when you snapped and told him that you needed time to recharge, he was left dumbfounded and he decided not to approach you for a couple days. Everyone in the castle is on your side because obviously there's no one able to keep up with the hyperactive samurai. After this experience he learns to read you better, he observes with a keen eye your expressions, your movements and the light in your eyes.

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dholwrites · 4 years

Text

All The Little Things

Notes: Commission piece for @dialga Relationship: Crystal Exarch x Female WoL (Na’na Niall) Rating: G - General. (Very high fluff content)

Ao3 Link

4 sweet moments between a knight and her prince after the return of the night.

1 Stars and the Moon

The stars danced before his eyes on the backdrop of a pitch sea. They sparkle together with the full moon, hung high and clear as the sun. Ever since Na’na returned the night to Lakeland, he couldn’t resist the way it pulled his eyes upwards. The way the tower walls glowed under the moonlight tugged at the memories of his youth; moments when he would hide out in high corners to read a book, discuss theories with NOAH, or catch himself daydreaming about Na’na. G’raha quietly chuckled to himself. It had been a while.

“There you are, I was wondering where you disappeared to,” a sweet voice called from behind him. Na’na had climbed up the stairs into his hiding spot, her footsteps barely letting out a sound. How she knew to look up here, he would never know. The sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears as she moved to sit down next to him. His gaze lingered on her profile, captivated by the way her hair and ribbon played in the wind, a smile on her lips and excitement in her eyes. Thankfully, she was too distracted by the constellations to notice his staring. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? You can see all the stars from up here.”

“Yeah...” He trails off before turning his gaze back towards the sky. “It reminds me of the skies in Mor Dhona. I wish I could see them again.” With you. Those words fell at the tip of his tongue like lead, yet his heart flutters at the mere thought of being so balant about his affections.

‘It’s not as lovely as you.’ Would that be too cliche? Perhaps ‘you’re more beautiful than every star in the sky,’ would be a better choice?

“Oh, Raha, you silly prince.”

“Prince?! But- I- I’m- wh- w-wait a moment!” His heart leaped with joy at the nickname. His cheeks grew warm as words tumbled out of his mouth before he could catch them. Did his words slip without him realizing it? His train of thought came to a halt at the sudden warmth on his hand and side. Na’na had slid from her spot to be right next to him, resting her head against him. G’raha could barely calm his frantic heart before it leapt out of his chest at the soft hands taking his.

His gaze begins to drift back towards her eyes as they light up at every constellation she can find in the night sky. Then to her lips, captivating him by how soft they look. Surely they would feel just as soft when he kissed her. His eyes continued to travel until they found their way to their intertwined hands. They felt so small compared to his own. His mind whispers to hold onto her, to keep her close even if she needs to leave. That still hadn't changed since he last saw her centuries ago.

“Raha?” He snaps back into reality at the sound, blinking owlishly when they lock eyes again.

“Apologies, I can’t help but get lost in thought. I couldn’t help but think about the Source.”

Na’na lets go of his hand to wrap her arm around his back, pressing herself to his chest. “Even if you are here in this world, we can still see the same sky. Remember, no matter where you are and who you become, you will still be my ‘Raha’.”

With her simple words, a realization dawned upon Raha; if Na’na Niall hinted at wanting to touch a star, he would gladly put the entire galaxy into her hand.

“You look at me like I’m a star in the sky,” Na’na jokes, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.

G’raha lets out a small laugh, “Because you are.”

2 Sharing a Meal

G’raha lets out a sigh at the sight of books piled high around him. Most of them were books borrowed from the Cabinet of Curiosity, while everything else he brought from the Source. Hopefully, at least one of them would help him find a solution to the Scion’s predicament. He owed it to them for causing this when he first summoned them here. Yet his mind started to wonder every time he attempted to pick up a book and start his new task.

Days flew by in a daze after their stargazing date, and G’raha had gotten even clumsier since then. Lyna had more than once saved him from tripping down the stairs, pulled him aside from running into a lamppost during an inspection, and made sure that he was actually paying attention to what he was reading. The captain had become increasingly distressed over all the accidents, despite his best attempts to assure her that he was definitely not getting sick. The source of his mishap is much more... personal. No one needed to know that he’d been daydreaming about the Warrior of Darkness, especially not if there was a chance that word would get back to her.

His thoughts come to a halt when something sweet gets shoved into his mouth.

“ Rarararahaaa~” A familiar voice cooed from behind him. Not a moment later a piece of cake carefully balanced on a spoon appeared before his eyes, this time offering it for him to take it instead. Na’na had moved beside him with two slices of cake balanced on the other hand. “Say ‘Aaaaaaah~’”

“Aaaah,” he hesitantly opens his mouth and allows himself to be fed, the warmth of his cheeks coming back twofold. G’raha took the extra time to savor the piece, the sweet and fluffy cream with an equally light and soft sponge, the cake baked perfectly. “Did you get these from the market downstairs? They are perfect.”

“You can thank me by finishing a slice.” Na’na had already scooped another piece into his mouth, letting out a huff as he obediently chewed. “You shouldn’t be overworking yourself! I was hoping that you would take it easy now that the First isn’t in danger, but then I hear from Lyna that you’ve shut yourself in the study for hours again. You need to take breaks too, Raha.”

“I was just researching on how to get the Scions back home.” Well, at least he should have been. He’s been watching her go about her day, sometimes talking to the Scions and other times fending the weak from monsters. The way she moves, interacts, and fights captures every bit of his attention. And there is nothing he wants to change about it. “You told me that Krile believes that their lives could be at stake because I poorly summoned them to the First. I need to work to get them back to the Source before something bad-.”

“That is not a good excuse! You’ve been holed up here for the past few days without a break and I refuse to let you continue this until you get some sleep.” She shoves another spoonful of cake into his mouth without warning, only when she was sure that he finished did she take it back. He could feel bits of sticky cream coating his lips. “Since you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, I’m going to do it for you.”

He barely had time to hide the grin that wormed its way to his face. G’raha felt almost a little giddy with joy as she worried about his health. It would be much easier to simply agree with what she says, but hearing her words always made his heart flutter.

The miqo’te finally closed the book in his lap and set it aside. “Na’na, since I have fused with the tower, I do not need to sleep anymore. It does not affect my health to stay up for hours to get what I need done.”

There was angry look that flashed across her eyes, one sharp and dark enough to kill a Primal. G’raha barely managed to suppress his laughter behind his hand; all he sees is the pout she is trying to hide behind the facade.

“You leave me with no choice.” A pair of lips meets his. Her lips. Her lips are sweeter than cream and softer than cake sponge. His breath caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed as he returns the kiss. He could feel the drumming of his heart in his chest, his thoughts giving way to his senses. A delightful shiver runs up his neck when she pulls away and gently brushes his lips with her own. His focus remained at her lips. He felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

“Can I have another?” is his only hushed reply.

3 Stories

G’raha had taken a break from his studies to see Na’na before she headed off on her next adventure, but the scene before him made him hesitate to join in.

“Miss Na’na! Can you tell us another story? Another one about the knight!” A flock of children swarmed around her, their joint efforts managing to lure her to the grass patch beside the building where more children were playing. Many of them had stopped their games to join the crowd. “But I wanna hear about the big monsters she fights!”

Among the crowd, a red haired mystel child stood out to him. Their short hair is much darker than his own, but the red shine is unmistakable under the sun. Would his child look like that? Heat burns at his cheeks at the thought, but he is reluctant to stop. A mystel child with red hair and golden eyes would be the heart of the Cystarium, and he had no doubts that their child would be doted on by everyone.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you, Raha?” G’raha jumps back at the sudden voice. He would have tripped over his robes if Na'na didn’t catch his hand in time. She pulls him towards her, allowing him to use her as support to regain his balance. Once she was sure that he’s fine, she bows down to peek under his hood. Their eyes catching each other and causing her to break out into a grin. “Careful, I don’t think the Crystarium would be happy if they found out that their Exarch got injured on my watch.”

G’raha was going to wave off the children’s concern, only for Na’na to take his hand and drag him over. Some of the children scrambled up to their feet to greet him. Before he knew it, he was sitting at the front next to Na’na with her head resting against his shoulder. He could feel the curious, innocent stares directed towards them by the children, with some of the kids even whispering to each other. He made sure that his hood was still pulled up and over his head to provide him a refuge to hide his expression.

His tail flicks and curls nervously, with the tip occasionally peeking out at the edge of his robes. G’raha had entertained these children before, yet now he wasn’t so sure what he should do, not without attempting to move away from Na’na. Luckily, she had already begun to spin her stories, one tale after another of the places and things she’d seen. A large plain where tribes of Drahns roam, where they would battle each other to claim the right to rule over all others. A kingdom of knights waging a war against dragons in a frozen tundra, and their descendents finding peace after a hundred summers. A princess that lives underwater, giant owls that protect books, and talking fish too.

He knows each and every story like the back of his hand, but hearing it being told by Na’na herself allows him to see it more vividly before his eyes. Be it the cold nipping at the end of his fingers and tail, the chatter of Reunion in his ear, or the ache of traveling in his bones. G’raha perks up when a fluffy tail suddenly brushes against his own, carefully stroking up and down before wrapping around the end of his own tail. A hint of who it is comes from the shaking of stifled laughter rumbling at his chest and the squeeze of her hand on his knee.

“Na’na,” a voice calls from a distance. G’raha turns his head towards the source to spot a hyur approaching them. He’s dressed in dark armor with a bastard sword strapped to his back. He looked almost apologetic for interrupting her during her storytime, but clearly there are more important matters. “I need a bit of assistance with something.”

Na’na gives him a quick nod before slowly rising to her feet. G’raha went along with her, his hand lingering in her hold and reluctant to let her leave so easily. He watches as she apologizes to the kids for cutting the story short. The children quickly chime in with their complaints about the abrupt ending, also getting on their feet to complain. They only stop and start to split off into their group of friends after she made a promise to share more stories the next time she was free.

“Looks like I’ll have to cut our time short as well, Raha,” she whispers to him as they follow the Hyur towards the main gate, their fingers still intertwined with each other. Na’na tugs at his hand to pull them to a stop just a few steps away from the gate. She was tapping her cheek with her finger, her eyes staring ahead without seeing.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. You’ve already saved the First, surely everything else can wait.” It was a poor excuse to get her to stay, they both knew it. She had always been able to see through his words and find what he really wanted to say. Na’na gives him a wave of her hand, claiming that it would be quick. He wished he could go with her, to leave his duties behind for a moment and enjoy the adventuring life with her; taking down enemies side by side, spending nights cuddling each other around a fire, and hearing the rise and fall of her chest when they finally retire to bed.

“Na’na, next time, would you mind if I join you?” The words slip out before he can stop them. His entire body froze at the realization before his eyes slowly moved to see her reaction. Her own eyes widen at the question, ears perking up and shoulders stiff as if she doesn’t quite believe what she is hearing. Her gaze darts back and forth between him and the entrance. A lapse of intense regret crawls up the back of his neck in her silence. It’s enough for him to feel the cold sweat starting to form under his hood.

“You want to come on an adventure with me? Of course!” He lets out a sigh of relief, the tension slipping from his shoulders. Only for him to be pulled forward by his hood, Na’na’s lips colliding with his. A kiss that he returned back, returning her affection with as eagerly. Just as quickly as it started, she was gone. Out of his arms and already making her way towards an unknown destination. Her hand waving at him from a distance as she calls out, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon!”

G’raha could see the end of her tail was wagging with excitement that she wasn’t even attempting to contain. He bids her farewell, standing at the entrance of his great city until he can’t see her anymore. Only then does he turn around and make his way back to the Tower. His fingers reached up to trace where she had kissed and wished that he could feel them once more.

Perhaps when she returns.

4 Running a Dungeon

He could feel it. The aether tingled under his skin and brimmed with energy. Every healing spell sealing cuts and healing bruises as he got them, yet they continue to come even when they are hurrying to the next nest of enemies. It struck him as odd, surely Na’na of all people should be able to tell? Still, he didn’t question her judgment and pushed on.

Days leading up to their departure, Na’na poured over maps to figure out the best place that would best match both their skills. When he told her that any place would be fine, she was quick to point out how well he was doing when he was in Kholusia. She was blunt about making sure that she doesn't take him too far from the Tower. G’raha couldn’t help but let out a chuckle to himself, the one thing that is his source of power only turning out to be his greatest weakness. In the end, it’s worth it when he gets to see how much she frets over the little things. Yet, that doesn’t explain her healing.

She settled with the Rak’tika Greatwood, it is close enough that he won’t feel sick

Ancient trees scattered around with their branches stretching towards the sky and their roots cemented into the ground. The sun rays filtered through their leaves, giving the place an otherworldly glow. The only sight back in the source that might even compare would be the Black Shroud in Gridania, yet even then they couldn’t come close to how large the trees were here.

Before long, the moon had replaced the sun in the sky. The warmth of the makeshift campfire and sweet aroma emitting from the mug in his hand was more than enough for him to regain his strength. His other senses were more focused on the wisp of space between him and Na’na. The fire casts its soft light on her face, framing her portrait in a loving glow. Her eyes shone like amber in the morning sun. It felt like for a moment the world had stopped to marvel at her. He would gladly sit there for eternity if he could.

He finally mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind since they had set out earlier. The small worry had bloomed into a huge concern, as she had been excessively healing him all day but still refused to rest. Even when he suggested they take a break. “Na’na, you were healing me for quite a bit today. Are you feeling alright? Is something wrong?”

Na'na smiles at him apologetically and moves in her seat on a large fallen branch to turn towards him. G’raha slides close enough for their knees and thighs to touch, even his tail moved to brush against hers, almost wrapping them together in an attempt to ease what nerves she might have. Was something troubling her? Has he done something wrong? Wait, what if his tanking skills need some work and she’s too sweet to tell him to improve? Had he been bad enough to warrant overhealing? He was slowly spiraling further into his mountain of worries, only for the gentle brush of Na’na’s hand to startle him back into reality.

“I have a Dark Knight stone. It’s not mine, at least not from the beginning. It was N’hect’s.” Her voice becomes softer and softer with every word, her gaze turning up towards the stars glittering in the night sky. His ears perk up at the name, one that sounds strangely familiar but he can’t remember from where. Her grip on his hand brought his attention to her sheepish smile. “He was my first knight, the one that showed me that chivalry can and still does exist in this world. When he… fell during the war, I decided to take up his job.”

Na’na shifts in her spot to pull out a small pouch from her pocket and drops its contents onto an open palm. It was her stone, a yellow rune carved onto the deep red background. He had only ever seen drawings of them in books as a way to pass down specialized abilities. This one was worn at the edges, and a few nicks and cuts showed its age. “During the war, we fought side by side. I got careless… It was a blow that neither of us expected and he was able to react first.”

She closes her fist around it, eyes brimming with unshed tears as she tries to keep herself together. Her voice becomes small and tight as she tries to keep the emotions from leaking through. His own heartaches alongside her as she continues. “He lost his life to save mine.”

“I have already lost him.” Her eyes tearing up looked like wells of gold, and he could see her pure love and honesty. Her hands dropped the stone to squeeze his own before she lifted it to cup her cheek. Her head turned slightly to brush her lips against his palm and melted his heart in turn. “I don’t want to lose you too. You gave me hope. You gave me the hope that the world is worth saving. When we met, I was questioning if it was really worth all the pain that I was going through. Your kindness, your thirst for knowledge, and all the little things that make you so genuine. I’m scared that I will lose you one day too.”

“I know that you have been working yourself to death and you’re not alone anymore,” Na’na whispers to him like it was her best-kept secret, she reaches out to cup his cheek and turns him to face her. “Remember when you told me that you thought of me like a star in the sky? I don’t want to be, I don’t want to be somewhere out of reach. I want to be beside you. Instead I want to believe that the stars have led us together again, and I want nothing more than for us to remain that way. Taking one step after another, together. For the rest of our lives.”

G’raha attempts to blink away his unshed tears, but she continues to whisper sweet words. “My princeling, my Raha. You give me the hope to continue fighting this fight. That this world I fight for holds someone like you.”

“I love you.”

Her hand reaches up to twirl a strand of his hair, her eyes fluttering closed and forehead pressed against his. G’raha finds his own eyes closing and feels the tension in his shoulders starting to break away at her words. Words that he never knew he needed so much. “At the end of my legends and stories, I want to be together with you. No matter what becomes of the Warrior in everyone’s eyes. I will find myself coming back to you, my beloved Raha.”

Na’na laid bare her heart to him, every word causing his tears to slip until they were all running down his cheeks. G’raha takes in a shaky breath to calm his racing heart. Despite knowing how much she loves and cherishes him, his heart would flutter and his body grows warm whenever she said those 3 words.

“I want to be with you through all your adventures. Fighting alongside you, sharing meals around a fire, and sleeping beside you under a starry sky.” He finally found his words, opening up the deepest part of his heart for her to see. His palms feel sweaty and a creeping feeling of embarrassment comes up his spine to cover his face with a blush. Still, he shakes his head out of shame and leans forward, pressing his forehead against her. The world fell away once he felt her breath on his lips, and it was taking all his self control to not kiss her senseless.

With lips just ilms apart from meeting, he whispers out his confession. “Not just that, I want to see your smiling face to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I fall asleep. I want to see kids running around with my hair and your eyes, to be the shoulder you lean on, to be the person you seek out in a crowd.”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you and only you.”

#writing commission #commission #G'raha Tia #fanfic #ffxiv fanfic #FFXIV #comes back late with mcdonalds

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niqhtlord01 · 5 years

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Humans are weird: Space Pirates

A Pirate’s Perspective.....Part 2 (part 1 here https://niqhtlord01.tumblr.com/post/186975300276/humans-are-weird-space-pirates ) Amelia gazed up at the mechanized helper bots. Each was as large as a shipping container on tread tracks and with grappling arms designed to lift the weight of three containers at once; and she was looking at a dozen of them... Their red lenses turned towards her and she could feel the operators behind them grinning as they made them roll forward. She rolled aside just as a massive grapple arm smashed down towards her caving in the deck like a tin can where she had been standing. As she got up she saw the rest of her crew idling in the entry port, watching the whole struggle like it was a Saturday morning cartoon. “Well don’t just stand there you fraking idiots!” she shouted as she rolled away again as more of the helpers converged on her. “Start shooting something!” “FOR GOLD AND GLORY!” The pirates raised their guns and fired as they darted into the cargo ship after their captain. The small arms fire bounced off the plating of the helpers but it was enough to draw several of them away from Amelia to face this new threat. The hold quickly devolved into chaos as the pirates circled round the helpers and continued firing at them from all sides, climbing several of the storage racks to shoot down at them. Despite being greatly outnumbered by the pirates, the dozen mechanized helpers began quickly evening out the odds. Their grappling arms swinging left and right in a frenzy, catching the occasional unlucky pirate and flinging them into a nearby wall and turning them into a bloody art piece. One of the mechanized helpers reached into the storage racks and pulled out a cargo container. Grabbing it with both hands above their head the chucked it at the pirates higher up, taking several of them at once. Amelia had finally got tired of rolling around like some pansy video game character and drew her side arms. Unlike the rest of her crew, these guns were custom designed with enough stopping power to blow a hole through any locked door. With a weapon in each hand she began calmly side stepping around the nearest mechanized helper while unloading round after explosive round into its head casing. The shells began denting the casing as the unit turned and began rapidly advancing on the pirate captain realizing she was the most dangerous threat in the room. The bark of her pistols drowned out the surrounding battle until Amelia’s world was nothing but her weapons and her target. The units advance began to falter as it brought its arms up to protect its head as the shells streamed out one after another. *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* The unit lowered its arms to see that the pirate captain’s weapons had run dry and quickly resumed its advance before she had time to reload. To the unit’s surprise Amelia threw away her weapons and pulled a second pair of pistols from her combat mesh. She smiled as the shells found their mark this time, breaching the head casing and detonating inside the brain cortex. The mechanized helper lost control of itself and powered past Amelia and smashed full speed into the wall. Without bothering to admire her kill Amelia turned to see Mr. Fig sprinting into the hold and leap on to the nearest mechanized helper in a single bound. With a gurgling roar he opened his jaw larger than should have been physically possible and latched on to the head before biting down. As Mr. Fig began ripping the head off Amelia was greeted to a sight of tearing metal, snapping cables, and a shower of sparks before the entire head was detached and spat away. “As impressive as that was Mr. Fig, I doubt that’s good for your teeth.” Amelia called out as she sought a new target. Mr. Fig turned towards her and to her surprise smiled, showing that every tooth in his jaw was now either missing or broken. A strange crunching sound started coming from his jaw and to her surprise an entirely new set of sharpened teeth began forcing their way through his gums dripping with blood. “That’s alright captain, I’ve got plenty more.” “And here I thought my dreams had enough nightmares.” Mr. Tipples waddled into the room tinkering with a small metallic disk.”Just about set captain.” She turned around to see her crew were getting the ever living shit kicked out of them. At least the ones still alive were she noted, finding a few more nauseating living murals now plastering the walls and floor. “go now!” she shouted waving Mr. Tipples forward, “While we still have a crew at all!” Mr. Tipples finished his tinkering and placed the disk into a pouch on the front of his clothes. Dropping down to all fours, Mr. Tipples suddenly began charging into the room, dashing between the clumsy smashings of the mechanized helpers. Their massive bodies now turning against them as they could not hit such a small target without first hitting each other. As Mr. Tipples neared the first helper he threw the small disk at the head unit and with a magnetic click it latched on. Shortly after the head unit turned into a shower of sparks as the power dampeners inside the disk activated ans sapped all of the units power at once leaving it a dead husk. Amelia watched as Mr. Tipples continued darting between the over-sized grappling arms and treads while throwing disks left and right. Mr. Fig, not wanting to be outdone, ran after him and with sheer force ripped off an entire arm of a helper and using it as a club proceeded to beat it out of commission. Seeing the situation now under control she turned to the surviving crew. “We’ve still got a ship to take, get moving!” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After the battle at the boarding tube the rest of the assault went rather smoothly. The crew of the cargo ship appeared to be a skeleton size and largely unarmed. Mr. Tipples and Mr. Fig’s teams ran into some resistance but the crew were using metal pipes and tools to defend themselves. After one was foolish enough to take a swing at Mr. Fig with a metal bat he caught it in his jaw and snapped it in two the crew began surrendering. The last group on the bridge held out only slightly longer. They had sealed the doors and refused to open them, stating that they were strong enough to withstand any explosive device. Not wanting to be slowed down any longer, Amelia ordered the charges to be placed on the wall section beside the door instead and blew a hole straight through the wall and then proceeded to storm the bridge. All captives were brought to the main hold and gathered outside the sealed loading doors. Unlike the rest of the ship, the central hold was designed to withstand the destruction of the entire ship while keeping the cargo safe inside. The designers had placed more worth on the cargo than the rest of the ship so blasting it open was not an option. Amelia was beginning to wonder if she would need to start torturing the captives to get the cargo ships captain to unlock the hold when Mr. Tipples finally cracked the code and unlocked the central hold. As was her law, she had first pick of the loot before the rest was divided up among the rest of the pirate crew. Amelia was unlike most pirate captains as they would claim the largest share of loot for themselves and the scraps were then divided among the crew. Not many things ever interested her enough to value wanting and so she only picked one item for herself. Additionally, by offering her crew the larger share she ensured that they would remain loyal to her any potential mutineer would have a tough sell against such generous terms. Amelia had Mr. Tipples and Mr. Fig stand guard outside over the captives while she entered the central hold alone. The inside was dark and cold, the only source of light coming through the opening in the door Amelia stepped through. She reached into one of the mesh pockets and withdrew a small sphere. She pressed the sphere’s activation, but when nothing happened she pressed it several more times before resigning to shaking it violently in the palm of her hand. Finally the sphere started emitting a strong light and hovered just above her head, following her as she continued walking between the cargo containers. The hold was eerily silent with only the echoing of her prosthetic leg resounding in the chamber. The central hold was truly massive, running nearly the entire length of the ship from just under the bridge to the engines. There were other cargo holds inside the ship that surrounded the central hold that were by far easier to access, but the goods held within them would be of little value compared to what was in the central hold. Smiling as she saw that the entire hold was stacked from bow to stern with containers packed three high Amelia picked one at random to inspect. The container was standard issue just like the ones she had been fighting between mere hours before but she had to start somewhere. She figured she would be searching through several or several dozen to see if there was anything she wanted before letting the crew in. The first sign something was wrong was when she inspected the doors to the container. Usually, valuable cargo inside central holds would have state of the art locking mechanisms per container. Instead, Amelia was met with a thick metal chain with a large padlock holding it together. She approached the door and pressed her ear to the container listening carefully. She waited for what felt like an eternity before she heard a soft rustling sound. She stepped back from the door and smiled. Most likely there was something alive in there and might be some form of exotic animal. Rich traders paid millions to decorate their trade offices with such creatures to flaunt their wealth and she had found her pet Hydra in one such shipment. She drew a pair of pistols and with a swift motion blew the lock clean off, the chains falling to the ground soon after echoing out loudly. Grabbing hold of one of the doors, Amelia hauled it open carefully just in case something rushed her.The inside of the container was pitch black but she could clearly make out rustling sounds now, the familiar jingle clinking of chains. Despite not being able to see inside the container she clearly could smell something was alive as she was hit by a wave of rancor that would have made lesser men throw up constantly. Amelia was a pirate captain and was used to such odors aboard her ship, so she only coughed violently. She took hold of the glow sphere and gently pushed it inside of the container, her pistol aimed inside. The chain rattling was getting louder now as the sphere went deeper inside the container and Amelia was sure she was about to lay eyes on her prize. As the light neared the back of the container she did indeed see what twas chained. Several strands of metal chains were welded to the ceiling of the container holding up the ragged husk of people. As the sphere cast more light Amelia saw that it wasn’t just adults. Longer strands of chains held what she could only assume were children, every chain locked around a bulky metal collar. They were humanoid in shape but as Amelia took a closer look she saw that none of the figures chained to the walls had mouths and their eyes were a light shade of pure blue with no iris. Their clothes were torn and dirty, covered in fesses as there was no place to use the bathroom. The smaller aliens clumped together behind the larger ones who were standing between Amelia and them, protecting them from a potential threat. As if this scene of barbarity was not horrific enough Amelia recoiled in horror as she saw that some of the larger aliens chained were not moving at all. They had died were being held up by their metal collars. Amelia’s mind was racing now, unable to fully comprehend what she was seeing. She unsteadily took a step back but her prosthetic leg slid in something and she tumbled over. She blinked her eyes as she fell and as she opened them she saw the larger aliens rush her. The comforting feeling of her pistol was still in her hand she fired off a warning shot into the ceiling of the container. The rush of aliens stopped and they quickly retreated back to the far end of the container and watched as Amelia slowly rose to her feet, wiping off portions of shit that still clung to her. She had risen to her feet again when one of the smaller ones broke from the group and approached her. The others attempted to stop her but she pushed past them until she was as far as she could go, the chain of her collar pulling taunt against the wall holding. The alien was not barely up to the height of Amelia’s knees and gazed up at her. Without saying anything they held out their hand. “I...” Amelia’s brain was rapidly throttling by this point. “I.....I don’t...” She slowly backed out of the container back into the central hold and vomited, her composure all but forgotten at what she had just witnessed. She vommited for a minute before wiping her face and calming down. The glow sphere now was hovering above her saving her from the sight of such horror, but she could still here the aliens chains rattling from inside. A sudden horrific realization struck her and she immediately stormed over to the next container. She blew off the lock and threw open the door without hesitation. The sphere’s light casting inside showed a similar sight as before. Alien figures chained to the sides of the container. She went to the next container, blew off the lock, then took a look inside. Then she repeated it again for the next one, and the one after that, and then again for the one after that. She searched some twenty containers, all of them filled with chained aliens either dead or on the verge of dying. it could not be denied that she lived outside the rules of the law and was a criminal by all means. But there were some crimes that even she could never forgive, nor leave unpunished. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Amelia emerged from the central hold and gazed over the captives. Mr. Fig and Mr. Tipples looking startled and relieved at her return as it had been nearly a half hour since she entered the hold. “Jesus captain. A little warning next time before yo-” Amelia glared at Mr. Fig and the sudden look of raw hatred and anger on her face silenced him. Jenka noticed the other pirates take a cautious step backwards as if they knew something that look meant and were just as terrified as the Predatoria. Amelia moved towards the captain of the Morbis Ulta, not bothering to wait for the other captives to move out of the way she merely shoved them violently out of her path. At reaching the captain she grabbed him by the collar and lifted him to his feet, her eyes glaring like knives into his soul. “Did you know what you were transporting?” The captain stuttered as he struggled in the surprisingly strong grip of Amelia. She slapped him across the face sending him flying back to the floor. “Did.You.Know?” Her voice was as sharp as a knifes edge as she looked around at the rest of the crew. The captain didn’t have to say anything, his body language betrayed him. He knew........... Without saying another word Amelia stamped her leg three times and once again the Hydra appeared at her side. She gestured to the cowering captain on the ground and spoke only one word. “Feast.” All five mouths of the Hydra shot open and the creature surged past Amelia. The captain began screaming as the five heads latched on to him and began biting off chunks of flesh one at a time. He cried and shouted for help as he tried to crawl away only for the Hydra to tear into his legs and pull him back. Several other captive crew members rushed to their captains side to protect him but the Hydra turned on them just as rapidly. Teeth latching on to throats before ripping them wide open and leaving the gasping crew members bleeding out on the floor. Amelia watched the dying captain for a moment. There was no grin on her face, no witty remark about the captain’s demise, only grim satisfaction. She then turned and walked over to Mr. Fig. He didn’t look surprised at the his captain’s pet viciously devouring another living creature, but he knew his captain and he did show concern as she was not one prone to overly violent and cruel actions. “Captain, what did you find in there?” he asked. She looked up at him, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to find the right words to describe what she had saw; but her silver tongue failed her. “Evil.” she simply stated. She glanced back at the remaining captives who were all now recoiling from the Hydra as it finished eating their captain. Mr. Fig followed her line of sight then looked back at her. She motioned for him to come closer and he leaned down for her. “None of them make it off this ship alive. Finish it, then have the crew enter the holds.” With that Amelia left back into the holds without another word. Mr. Tipples looked up at Mr. Fig in confusion but with one glance something was communicated between the two of them. Mr. Tipples nodded and then followed after Amelia into the hold as Mr. Fig turned to the pirate crew. “Aim for their legs. No kill shots. Captain want’s her pet to have its meals alive.” Without further orders the pirate crew hefted their weapons to their sides and began firing into the captives. True to their orders none of the shots killed anyone but sent them sprawling to the floor with cries of pain on their lips from the weapons fire. As the Hydra began moving from one injured captive to another Mr. Fig motioned for the more pirates to follow him into the hold. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the end the pirates discovered that every container aboard the two of the three transport ships they raided were full of chained aliens. Not all of them were the same species, some were even human to Amelia’s surprise. Amelia was in the process of deciding on what to do with them when the boarding crew for the third and final transport came in. It seems that some of the slaves broke out of their cells and had rioted, killing the crew and taking controller of the ship. What really caught Amelia’s eye was that from the report the breakout was started by a small human child and a Predatorian. “What are your orders captain?” Amelia looked up from the report and saw Mr. Fig and Mr. Tipples looking at her on the command deck of the Liberty Jewel. She reclined in her chair and looked upwards, her mind still not fully grasping how civilized peoples of the stars could rely on such barbaric practices of slavery. She had worked herself into a depressing mood when she felt her Hydra nuzzling up against her. She scratched their heads and she perked up some. “Transfer all of the slaves to the third ship. They can take it and go where ever they want.” “And what about the our crew?” She looked down at Mr. Tipples. “They were expecting a cut from the cargo, but now we are letting the cargo go?” Amelia stood up and descended the steps from her command throne to stand over Mr. Tipples. She gazed him in the eyes, any notion other than disgust present on her face. “They are people Mr. Tipples. People are not cargo. I would suggest you remember that.” He felt the anger swelling up from her and cautiously took a step back. “Yes captain, sorry captain.” he said as he bowed. She gazed at him for a few moments longer before looking to the viewport. “Tell the crew that we’re taking the two remaining cargo ships and we can sell them back at the cove. There’s always someone looking for a large transport to move questionable goods.” She watched the third cargo ship power up and begin floating away through the asteroid field. There was nothing more than to suppress this entire day’s adventure from her mind so she went about the process. “Mr. Fig, have our sister ships latch on to the cargo ships. Mr. Tipples, ensure that the locking is secure. Once that is done we will begin the journey back to the cove.” With that Mr. fig and Mr. Tipples moved to begin issuing orders while Amelia returned to her throne, already planning her next raid and hopping her prize will be more of a profitable variety. Good deeds were all well and good, but a pirate craved profit and glory, and Amelia was pirate first above all else.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #space pirates #pirate #story

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thewritewolf · 5 years

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Inseparable Chapter 12: Tears

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

@ladynoirjuly2019

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“Rumors abound about these new heroes,” Marinette read aloud from the Ladyblog article. “Sources confirm that no akuma was seen yesterday, making their appearance at the ice cream parlor all the more mysterious. Eye witnesses claim that the heroes were wearing merchandise of Paris’ famous protectors, suggesting that these might be fans who are trying to follow in Ladybug and Chat Noir’s foot steps.” She had to stop as Chat Noir laughed. “The criminals of Paris are sure to be a little more paranoid knowing that our favorite superheroes could be around any corner. More as it comes. Stay connected!”

She exited the article and closed her yoyo, grinning at Chat as he got his laughing fit under control. He wiped away a tear, her heart soaring with pride when she saw the bracelet she made for him on his wrist, reminding her of the mirrored weight she felt on her wrist. “Well, she isn’t completely wrong. They really are big fans of yours, LB.”

“Big fans of us both, kitty. We’re both pretty claw-esome.”

Chat collapsed back into a heap of giggling and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh along with him until they were both red in the face. She hadn’t thought their disguises were that good, but apparently they were good enough to fool all media outlets that had picked up the story. Maybe she should give them some slack - after all, at most ten people saw them at the shop, and no one took pictures. They could hardly poke holes in their disguise from secondhand sources.

Master Fu returned with steaming tea that he set in front of each of them. He frowned as he stroked his beard. “I do not understand your levity, young ones. This news is surprising. Even common criminals are not so easily dispatched as has been described. I fear more miraculous are in play.”

“Master,” Marinette managed as she calmed down, “we were the vigilantes.”

“Ah.” Fu took a sip of his tea. “Then why were you at that shop? I did not hear of any akumas that night, and it was not on one of your patrols.”

“We, uh, we were just… hanging out.” Chat rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hanging out,” Fu repeated slowly. “I see.” Another sip. “While I approve of you two becoming closer, this is not quite what I had in mind. I urge you to be cautious. Unnecessary attention being drawn to you is not ideal, though I understand your reasons in this case.”

Across from her, Marinette saw Chat staring contemplatively at his cup of tea as he held it. “Something on your mind, chaton?”

“Yeah… What are our vigilante names? I was in the Ladybug stuff so maybe something like…” He struck what Marinette was sure he thought was a badass pose. “...Manbug!”

Marinette snorted and even Master Fu chuckled. Seeing his pouting, she smirked at him. “Sure, Chat. You can be Manbug if you really want to.”

“Well, what about you?” He huffed. “Let’s see you come up with something better.” He drank some of his tea.

“Hm… a Chat Noir theme name… What about… Ladynoir?” Chat’s eyes widened and he choked on his drink. She crossed her arms as he spent a minute or two coughing and recovering. “Is there something wrong with Ladynoir?”

“Oh, I don’t have any problem with Ladynoir, Lovebug.” He pulled out his baton and did a quick search. “But it might really sell the idea that you’re a big fan girl of us.”

He showed the results of his google images search for Ladynoir and she blushed at the fanart of the two of them. When she met his eyes again, he was grinning and waggling his eyebrows.

“Okay, fine, no Ladynoir,” she grumbled.

Master Fu cleared his throat. “I believe we are here for a different purpose than this?” Despite the sternness in his voice, there was a wrinkling around his eyes and a faint smile at his lips. He stood and pulled the mats over. “Shall we get started?”

This session of meditation went much more smoothly than last time, partly because Marinette was more focused on it and partly because she refused to open her eyes and see what her partner was doing. And she was sure he was doing something because, well… he’s Chat Noir. Being distracting is his job description, or at least he acts like it is. After a few minutes, she’d managed to put all thoughts of Chat aside and focus solely on her breathing. Not long after, her mind was emptied of all thoughts.

I hope she isn’t mad at me.

The words were tinged with worry and entered her mind in Chat’s voice. Her eyes flew open and she winced from the lights. Where they always that bright? When her sight adjusted, all she saw was Chat Noir sitting opposite her, eyes closed and body still. It was at that point she realized that in hearing the words, her ears had been bypassed entirely. She looked at her partner, eyes wandering as she tried to make sense of what just happened. As she stared, the designer part of her brain idly noted that black suited him.

Her partner grinned and opened his eyes. “Well, I’ve always thought so. But I’m glad you see it too, bugaboo.” She winced at the sudden noise that hurt her ears.

Master Fu furrowed his brow and looked between them. “Am I missing something, young ones? Is this another… reference that I do not know about?”

Confused, Chat tilted his head with a bemused smile. “What’s the matter? LB just said black suited me. I happen to agree.” He stood and stretched, which reminded Marinette of the stiffness in her own joints. A glance at the clock revealed why - two hours had passed during their meditation.

“She... said nothing. Correct?” Master Fu turned to her.

“Y-yeah. Not that I wasn’t thinking that but-” She looked at Chat flatly when he waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Admire my beauty all you want, LB. I am gorgeous for the people.” He struck a ridiculous pose which drew a surprised giggle out of her.

Master Fu simply stroked his beard as he watched the two of them. “Is there anything else that happened?”

Chat shrugged. “No, not really.” His face split into a grin. “Although if I get to hear more about what my lady really thinks of me… well, I won’t be too upset.”

“You might find yourself regretting that, chaton.” Getting to her feet, she rolled her shoulders and stretched out her legs. She’d need to be limber to get home. “Well, master, it’s getting late. Are we okay, or is it just something from the meditation?”

“Do not concern yourself with it for the time being.” Master Fu smiled. “I’m sure it is nothing to worry about.”

Marinette had the suspicious feeling he knew more than he was letting on, but she was starting to feel more and more exhausted by the minute. Besides, it was hardly the first time Master Fu had left them in the dark for vague reasons. After they said their goodbyes, she and Chat parted ways outside the little shop Master Fu called home.

The way home was practically memorized by now and before she knew it, she landed on her balcony. She fell into her room and dropped her transformation in one movement and just as she started getting ready for bed, her stomach growled. The noise was echoed by the growl of a much tinier stomach.

Tikki giggled beside her. “Sorry. Want to grab some midnight snacks?”

Marinette crept down the stairs, but relaxed when she heard her mom snoring. Marinette was surprised - mom must be really out of it to be snoring so loud she can hear her through the door. She shook her head and walked into the kitchen, rummaging for any bakery leftovers to tide her over until the morning.

Naturally, it didn’t take long for Tikki to track down the cookies. As she passed by the fridge, she saw a note taped to the fridge. No doubt one of her dad’s reminders to himself - pretty common when they receive a special order since he could get a little carried away sometimes. Out of curiosity, she read the note. What she read made her nearly drop all the goodies she’d collected in her arms.

“Remember: Agreste Fashion Show, one week from now. Catering, more macaroons.”

A smile slowly dawned on her face as she went back upstairs. After how well she did last time, maybe she could convince her parents to let her help out again? Not only would she get to see Adrien at work, she’d get to see a Gabriel brand fashion show for free!

Between her tiredness and her excitement, she never noticed that she had managed to walk through her house without a single light on to guide her, completely at ease in the near pitch black conditions.

#Miraculous Ladybug #LadynoirJuly2019 #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Master Fu #Tikki #Ladynoir #ml fanfiction #my writing #Inseparable

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frauleinsmaria · 5 years

Text

The Facebook Flub (3/4)

Summary: When Emma accidentally sends a friend request to the wrong person, she doesn’t expect much to come of it. But maybe this accident is the best decision she’s ever made.

Rated T

Part 1: AO3 | Tumblr |

Part 2: AO3 | Tumblr

Part 3: AO3

A/N: Hi, yes, I know it's been a while. Sorry about that. All I can say is that retail management is hard and has taken quite the toll on my energy and my muse over the past few weeks. The good news is that things are starting to look up, and I expect to have the fourth and final chapter finished soonish. (Yes, it's four parts now instead of three. I can't believe I expected this to be a one-shot for a while there.)

Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, much thanks to @ultraluckycatnd for providing beta duties <3

The first week or so after Killian’s return to London went by too quickly for her to fully absorb his absence. Between tracking down a high profile skip, dealing with a leak in her water heater, and helping David and Mary Margaret prepare for Leo’s upcoming birthday party, she had little energy at the end of the day for more than a brief conversation with him before going straight to bed.

As expected, her brother hadn’t been thrilled to hear from his wife that not only had Killian spent the weekend staying with her, but that they were now more than friends as well. She did think it helped that Killian had met David and gotten on his good side before any of this development happened. Emma would just tell Killian to bring up the Orioles if David ever tried to be intimidating again.

It wasn’t until things returned back to normal that Emma’s guilt began to sink in. She and Killian had made the decision to try being long-distance just days ago, and she already felt like a horrible girlfriend. (The term still seemed weird when referring to herself. A good weird, though, a weird that made her heart skip a beat and her stomach swoop whenever it crossed her mind. She hadn’t been anyone’s girlfriend in years.)

She shared as much with Killian during a phone call on the first night she had both time and energy to hold a coherent discussion. “Are you sure you’re still up to make this work with a girl who’s barely talked to you in over a week?”

“Love, I know you’ve had quite a few things to keep you preoccupied lately. Besides, I’m in this for the long haul. Even with your disorganized cabinets and liking for overly processed breakfast pastries.”

Emma didn’t have to question his statement to know it was true. He really was all in as long as she was willing. “Good to know. Although I’ll never understand what Pop Tarts have done to you to deserve such wrath.”

“Do you truly not pay attention to the taste while you’re eating them, Swan? It’s like chewing sugar-coated chemicals.”

“And I love them.”

Their routine soon went back to what it had been before Killian’s visit: late night calls, Netflix binges, a FaceTime session when he tried to walk her through a lasagna recipe for dinner at Ruby’s. The only difference was the sense of longing that inevitably set in after being together and then apart from the person she’d come to care for more than she’d thought was possible.

It was so different before. She hadn’t known what it was like to look him in the eyes, to share space with him, to kiss him and feel his skin against her own. Emma often had to remind herself to take just one step at a time. While their relationship might have been a long time coming, it was still new and they were only just beginning to figure out the specifics of this thing between them. Of course it felt normal to miss him, but she was making an effort not to be one of those people who spent every waking moment thinking about their significant other. Some days were harder to do that than others, but it didn’t hurt that she had a job and family and friends to keep her busy when they weren’t spending time with each other.

Killian gave her the news at the beginning of October. It was a Tuesday that felt more like a Monday- her coffee pot had kicked the bucket that morning, she had fallen while chasing a skip later that day and torn a hole in her favorite pair of jeans, and she’d been dealing with cramps from hell all day.

She was relaying all of this to Killian over the phone when she arrived home that evening. Upon entering her apartment, she’d dropped her bag and coat in the hallway and made a beeline for the freezer, her phone tucked between her chin and shoulder as she dug out the pint of Phish food she’d been saving for a special (or particularly awful) occasion. The only thing she’d eaten for lunch was a salad with stale crackers, so it felt like she earned this.

“So, basically, I just wanna eat my ice cream and watch Netflix and ignore the rest of the world unless it has good news for me.”

“I’m sorry you had such a rubbish day, love,” said Killian. “Although I do have something to share that you might consider good news.”

“Please, I’m all ears.”

“Well, I suppose I should ask first if you’re doing anything the last weekend of the month?”

Emma glanced up at the calendar hanging on her fridge that she haphazardly scribbled appointments and birthdays on from time to time. Nothing was written down for the days he’d mentioned. “I’m all clear.”

“Good. I was hoping you might be up for having company.”

It took her a moment to process his words. “Wait, seriously?!”

“Aye. Liam and I finally got a chance to discuss those vacation days I mentioned to you before I left. Luckily enough, this seems like the best time to use them before everything picks up for the holidays.”

Killian was right, he had mentioned trying to visit again sooner than later on that morning she’d taken him to the airport. She’d known he was serious, but hadn’t expected him to work things out quite so soon. “So I can have you to myself all weekend again?”

“Indeed. We can make cupcakes again if you want.”

“So you’re staying at my place again and expecting to get lucky? Making me chocolate cupcakes is the least you can do, Jones.”

Their routine saw little change over the next few weeks aside from the excitement of knowing when they would get to see each other again. Of course some things were still tricky, especially when there would be an unexpected change in their work schedules or social lives, but the distance and time spent apart were a bit easier to deal with by a glance at her calendar and the red circle she’d marked around that particular weekend.

Emma was at the bathroom sink getting ready for bed when a Voice Calling request from WhatsApp popped up on her phone screen. It wasn’t a surprise to see Killian’s name since he was the only person she used the app to talk to, but she hadn’t expected to hear from him so late the night before his flight to Boston.

She finished washing her makeup off and quickly patted her face dry with a towel before answering. “Killian?”

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Emma, happy birthday to you.”

“Barely midnight and I’m getting serenaded to already? Twenty-eight is off to a great start.” She knew Killian would be gloating if he could see the grin on her face. “Thank you, Killian. But why are you awake? Insomnia aside, it’s five in the morning for you, and you have a flight this afternoon.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane. Besides, I’d feel like a sorry boyfriend if I wasn’t the first person to tell you happy birthda-” the sentence was cut off as she heard him yawn through the phone.

“Uh huh. Argue all you want, but I think you need to sleep now.”

Killian sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, love.”

“Of course. Either way, it’s my birthday; being right about everything is part of the territory.” He knew better than to object. “Thank you again for calling, but seriously, go to bed. I’ll see you at the airport this afternoon.”

“I’ll be counting the minutes, my love.”

Emma never would have pictured herself to be the kind of person who ran through a crowded airport to throw her arms around someone. (She’d probably made fun of people who did as much on occasion.) Yet that’s exactly what she did the moment she saw Killian enter the waiting area that afternoon. The excitement of being with him again drowned out any rational thoughts as she bolted towards him and nearly knocked him over with the impact of her hug.

She heard his bag drop to the floor beside them as he pulled her close. “Bloody hell, this is quite the welcome.”

“Sorry.” She quickly pulled back. Her face burned with the realization of what she must have looked like, all but throwing herself at a man she’d been dating no more than a month. Was she going to make him regret coming to see her before they even made it out of the airport?

“Hey.” She’d glanced down, but Killian placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up until their eyes met. “I’m not complaining. It’s nice to see you apparently missed me as much as I did you.” He leaned in to catch her lips in a quick kiss, chaste considering the location, but enough to leave her head spinning. “Happy birthday, Swan.”

“Thank you. Even if there’s not a song to go along with it this time.”

“I could still sing for you if you want. Who knows, someone might record it and we could go viral.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m content with living in anonymity for now.”

“Suit yourself, love.”

They headed back to her apartment where Emma suspected they would remain for the rest of the day. Killian had insisted on taking her to do something for her birthday while he was there, but she’d suggested they at least wait until Thursday- he would have denied her claims if she mentioned it, but she could tell he was exhausted, whether it be from jet lag, overall lack of sleep, or both. There were noticeable lines around his eyes and she knew he yawned quite a few times on the drive home when he thought she wasn’t looking.

But any evidence of his fatigue was gone the moment they entered her apartment. As soon as the door shut behind them, Killian captured her lips in a kiss that made her head spin, his hands going to her waist as he pressed her up against the wall.

The kiss was somehow soft, but not without the burning passion she’d felt the last time they’d kissed, really kissed, brief, chaste moments at the airport not included. This time, she wasn’t worried over her feelings for him or getting ready to tell him goodbye. He was there, he cared about her, he wanted her, and they had each other to themselves for the next four days. Emma’s hands went to his shoulders and she sighed happily against his lips.

She broke the kiss when the need to breathe became unbearable. “Wow. I guess I really was missed.”

“You have no idea. I wanted to do that at the airport, but, y’know, public indecency and all,” he smirked.

“Good thing we’re not in public anymore then.” She kissed him again before he could respond.

They didn’t make it to her room this time, all but collapsing onto the couch and coming together, the culmination of their time apart and anticipation over finally being reunited again. It wasn’t unlike the kiss they’d just shared, soft and tender yet providing the realization that no one had ever been able to set Emma’s pulse racing quite like him.

“Yeah, maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t kiss me like that at the airport.” After, she and Killian had both changed into sweatpants and settled in front of the TV. He had chosen one of their favorite episodes of The Office and she laid curled up against his side, her head pillowed on his chest.

“I told you, love.”

The episode was halfway over when he asked, “Why am I feeling as if we’re a middle aged couple who does nothing but sit in front of their TV?” He attempted to fein concern, but she could tell he found it funny.

Emma laughed. “Because that’s usually what we do. TV is easy to bond over. I have a few things in mind we can do this weekend since you won’t have work stuff though.”

“Aye. I like my job, but I must admit it’s nice to not have to worry about it for a few days.”

“Yeah, you have me to take up your time instead.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The rest of their evening saw no differences other than ordering a pizza for dinner, and Killian nodding off on her shoulder just after eight. It was all Emma could do to pull him up off of the couch and guide him down the hall to her room in his half-asleep state. He collapsed onto the bed without ceremony, snoring before his head hit the pillow. She couldn’t help but smile as she snapped a picture for him to see later before crawling under the covers to join him.

Killian’s reaction to her alarm the next morning was not unlike his feelings toward his own the morning after their first night together. “Make it stop, love,” he groaned, voice thick with sleep as her phone rang incessantly.

She rubbed her eyes and reached over to grab her phone from the nightstand, disabling the alarm. The noise abruptly stopped. Killian let out a sigh of relief, then groaned again when she made to get up. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back down to him. “C’mon, Swan. Five more minutes?”

Emma rolled her eyes at him. (Or she thought she did; in her caffeine-deprived state, she couldn’t be sure of anything just yet.) He sounded more like a child than a grown man in his thirties. “Uh uh. I know how this works: five minutes turns into fifteen, then thirty. Next thing you know, I’m an hour late for work.”

“Aye, but don’t you technically make your own hours?”

“Most of the time, yes. But I need to go in and take care of some things for this case so I won’t have to worry about it over the weekend. Trust me, I have no desire to work today either, but this afternoon, I’ll be all yours until Sunday.”

“Good to know. If I recall correctly, we still have a birthday to celebrate.”

“Sure do.” She leaned over and kissed him before finally getting out of bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower, so why don’t you try to go back to sleep? I’ll make sure to come tell you bye before I leave.”

He yawned and mumbled something that sounded like, “If you insist,” before rolling over onto his side. His breathing had evened out again before she left the room.

She left her spare key on the kitchen counter for Killian for when he became tired of sitting around in the apartment. It wasn’t much of a surprise when she received a text around lunchtime.

Hello, Swan. I hope your work day is going smoothly. I’m going for a walk around the city to get some fresh air and caffeine. Anything you’d like for me to bring back?

Just yourself. Something tells me I’m going to be ready to leave for a good meal as soon as I get home tonight.

No Granny’s this time?

Nope. I love Ruby, but there’s no way I’m giving her an opportunity to invade this time.

Good point.

She left work as soon as she could and went back to the apartment to get ready for the birthday dinner Killian had talked her into. They still hadn’t decided on a restaurant, which Emma realized would probably come to be a problem if they tried to go somewhere popular without a reservation beforehand. She wasn’t all that concerned about it though. The main thing was getting to celebrate with him, and most of her favorite restaurants in the city may not be likely to draw a huge crowd on a Thursday night.

Killian was on the couch flipping through her battered copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone when she entered the apartment. “Nice choice. But I assume you’ve read that, like, a million times being English and all,” she commented, plopping down beside him and pressing her lips to his cheek.

He was wearing a black button-down shirt and jeans. Emma found herself wondering yet again how such simple colors suited him so well. (So well to the point that she almost considered suggesting they stay home for the evening.)

“Oh, I’d say I’ve read them about half a dozen times at least. I was simply curious to see if there were any significant changes to your addition, other than the whole “sorcerer’s stone instead of philosopher’s” thing.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

“Eh, most of the fundamental aspects are the same. The only thing I’ve really noticed is a few English terms they changed for the American edition- nap instead of lie-in, elevator instead of lift. And taking the “u” out of words like “color” and “favorite”.”

Emma didn’t think she’d ever get over the way American terms sounded coming from him. She’d always had a thing for accents, and Killian’s was no different. Not that she planned on giving him the satisfaction of saying as much.

“As much as I actually want to sit and hear more about this, I’m starving. Give me a bit to get ready and I’ll be good to go.”

“Take your time, love. Any idea where you’d prefer to go yet?”

“I’m thinking Italian. There’s a place nearby that makes this really great margherita pizza I haven’t had in awhile. It’s great.”

“Sounds like a plan...as long as you’re not one of those people who likes pineapple on pizza. I may have to consider this whole relationship if that’s the case.”

“Have a little faith in me, Killian. I’m not that weird.”

“Just weird enough to nearly cook an oven mitt and confuse parsley with cilantro?”

He chuckled as she whacked his arm with a couch cushion before standing and heading to her room to get ready. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

After a quick shower, Emma changed into jeans and one of her nicer blouses. She hadn’t felt like taking the time and effort to wash her hair, so it was hastily styled into a braid that fell over her right shoulder. The only makeup she bothered with was mascara and lip gloss, taking advantage of her skin being clear that day.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she told Killian, entering the living room after she’d pulled on a pair of ankle boots and her red leather jacket.

She would have sworn his eyes lit up a bit when he looked up and saw her. Despite his constant physical and verbal affection since they’d gotten together, it still came as a surprise at times that he truly wanted her and shared her feelings. It was enough to make her feel like she could melt into a puddle right there on the living room floor.

(Or maybe not. They’d established during his last visit that making big messes in her apartment was a bad idea. The melting would have to be kept to a minimum.)

Killian set the book to the side and stood, pulling on his own leather jacket that had been draped across the coffee table. She walked over to him and he kissed her softly, taking her hand and giving it a brief squeeze. “You look stunning, Swan.”

“Thanks.” Emma ran her hand up and down his arm, the material of his jacket surprisingly soft. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“I know.” He smirked and she whacked her arm playfully against his chest.

“Looks like modesty isn’t one of your biggest traits.”

He considered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps not, but I make exceptional cupcakes.”

The way his eyebrows waggled almost made Emma reconsider going out after all. But the restaurant didn’t deliver, and she wanted her damn birthday pizza. They had almost three days left to hide away in the apartment and test his cupcake making abilities.

They opted to walk to the Italian place she’d chosen. She knew better than to try looking for a parking spot downtown at that point in the evening, and there was no need to call an Uber to drive them a handful of blocks away.

Much to Emma’s relief, the restaurant wasn’t busy when they arrived, the typical after work dinner crowd already come and gone it seemed. The waiter gave them a table in the room’s front corner, a choice that both gave them a bit of privacy and allowed them to observe anything happening on the streets outside.

She didn’t hesitate to order the biggest margherita pizza on the menu. Killian had already told her earlier that’s what he wanted too, and it was her birthday. Well, technically not anymore. But that wouldn’t prevent her from acting like it was all weekend.

While they waited, Emma told him how she’d discovered the restaurant with her friends a few years earlier. “It was Mary Margaret’s bachelorette party. We’d been at the bar, but I got us kicked out when some creep tried to get handsy with Ruby and I stepped in and punched him. Yes, the owner cared more about defending the guy more than he did the fact that he’d harassed her,” she added at the disturbed look on Killian’s face. “Anyway, we were all tipsy and pissed off and hungry when we left, and somehow ended up here and ate our weight in pizza until about two in the morning.”

“It sounds as if your evening ended on a pleasant note at least. Although I hope both of those blokes got their arses handed to them later.”

“Oh, that’s the best part. The bar closed down due to bankruptcy a few months later, and not long after, I got to drag the other guy in for not showing up at his court date.”

Killian barked out a laugh. “Good riddance. You are incredible, Swan.”

He laughed again at her giddy reaction when the pizza was brought out a few minutes later, even snapping a picture on his phone when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Judge all you want.” She pulled off a slice and took a rather generous bite, savoring the taste of mozzarella and tomatoes. “You know food makes me happy,” she added, the words muffled through the pizza.

“Aye, that’s why I took the photo. I happen to quite like seeing you happy, about food or otherwise.” And he meant it. Emma had always been the type to deflect compliments or nice remarks from men, instead questioning what it was that they hoped to get from her in return. But she’d never felt the need to do that with Killian. Everything he said to her was honest and genuine, and for the first time in years, she was in a relationship where she felt truly at ease.

(Did she love him?)

“You make me happy.” It was the closest she could get to summing up her thoughts without overthinking it. Maybe she did love him, if she was being honest with herself, but that didn’t mean she needed to blurt out the words over pizza when they’d barely been dating a month.

Before she could overthink things, Emma quickly changed the subject to his job and the projects he and Liam had been working on. If she were being honest, she didn’t fully understand what the company did outside of the basic facts, but she still enjoyed listening to him talk about his responsibilities and the business deals they made. Maybe she was biased, but she knew without a doubt that Killian was great at what he did based on his knowledge of the basic mechanics of ships and the effort he put into his responsibilities. He was pretty fantastic, and yet somehow, he wanted to be with her.

(Yeah, she loved him. It was pointless to tell herself any different. She was a goner, and had been for awhile now.)

Dinner was followed by gelato from an ice cream shop down the street and a walk around the neighborhood, their fingers intertwined as Emma pointed out a few things and places she hadn’t shown him during his last visit. It occurred to her that the two of them probably looked like one of those couples from a Hallmark movie that she’d rolled her eyes at countless times before. Now, it only made her smile and give his hand an affectionate squeeze. How had she become such a romantic now?

“Have you enjoyed your evening, Swan?” Killian asked when they returned to the apartment later.

Emma kicked off her boots as soon as the door shut behind them. “Of course. Hot guy and good food, what’s not to love?”

It was hard not to laugh at the expression on his face when she made no move to pick up her shoes. She could almost see him itching to grab them up off the floor and put them in their designated place on her shoe rack. (As if she had a shoe rack. More like a shoe pile at best.) The irony of someone like her dating a neat freak was not lost on Emma. At least he was a good sport.

“I’m glad to hear that. Which reminds me, I have something in my suitcase for you.”

“You do? Why?” She dropped unceremoniously onto the couch and propped her socked feet up on the coffee table, Killian following suit.

“Honestly, love, did you really think I was coming to help celebrate your birthday without bringing you something to commemorate the occasion?”

Frankly, yes. Hadn’t he already gone to enough trouble just by taking the time off and flying out to Boston? She told him so and he shrugged. “I wouldn’t call that trouble. I wanted to see you, after all.”

“Still,” she insisted, “you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. I think you might get a kick out of it too.”

“Okay, you’ve got my attention now.”

“In that case, I might as well show you. Just a moment, love.”

Killian disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a square white box in his hands. “I hope you’ll forgive me for the lack of festive wrapping; I worried it would look worse for wear after being tucked in my suitcase.”

“Considering I don’t even try to wrap presents that aren’t Leo’s anymore, you are forgiven.”

He handed her the box after sitting back down. Emma quickly pulled off the lid and let out an excited giggle when she saw what was inside. “Is this what I think it its?”

It was a Funko Pop figure of Goose from Captain Marvel, the cat she’d mentioned her liking for during their first conversation via Facebook. Except this version had its mouth wide open with Flerken tentacles protruding from it.

“Aye. I remembered Goose being one of your favorite things about the film and couldn’t pass this up when I came across it online. Of course they have a version that makes him look like an ordinary cat, but something told me you might prefer this one for its, how would you say it, badassery?”

Emma laughed again at the sound of the word coming from his lips. “Badassery indeed. Thank you, Killian. This is great.”

“You really like it?”

“Of course I do. You’re so ridiculously thoughtful. I love you.”

It took her a moment to realize what she’d just said, the words leaving her lips without restraint. She quickly looked away from Killian, but not soon enough to see the way he stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted, clearly just as surprised.

Oh boy. She’d gone and blown it now, and just when things were going so well. Just because she’d started to accept the extent of her feelings when they were at the restaurant earlier didn’t mean she needed to turn around and tell him all of this so soon.

“I, erm,” Emma stammered, trying to hide her embarrassment. “I just meant-”

She was cut off as Killian leaned in to kiss her. This must be a good sign, she thought as his hands cupped her face softly.

“Did you mean that, Swan?” he asked when they pulled apart a moment later, his forehead resting against hers.

Emma felt the corners of her mouth turn up just the slightest bit. “Do you really think I would have said it if I didn’t?” she teased. “Yes, I meant it. Maybe it’s too soon and you’ll think I’m crazy for it, but it’s all starting to hit me now, how kind and funny and sweet and thoughtful you are, not to mention insanely hot even when you are infuriating. So yes, I love you, Killian.”

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face almost sinful. “Insanely hot, eh?”

She rolled her eyes and acted as if to pull away from him when he reached over and took her hand in his. “Bloody hell, Swan. I’ve known I loved you for longer than you’d know. Possibly even when you sent me that first Facebook message all those months ago asking how we knew each other.”

“You loved me when all you knew was that I had decent taste in movies?”

“Something like that can be a dealbreaker. What if I didn’t have high standards and found myself stuck with someone who made us watch Transformers for the rest of our lives?”

The “rest of their lives” comment didn’t go unnoticed, Emma’s pulse picking up speed ever so slightly even as she gasped dramatically. “In that case, I’m so glad I saved you from a life of Michael Bay productions.”

“And I’m immensely grateful.” He brought their still joined hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “In all seriousness, though, I do love you, Swan.”

It was still hard for Emma to comprehend how a simple mix up on Facebook had changed so much about their lives. “And I love you. Even more so if you hand me the remote from the end table so we can see what’s on Netflix.”

“As you wish, my love.”

Thanks to her having the rest of the weekend off, she and Killian’s agenda on Friday consisted of little besides hiding away in the apartment in front of her TV (occasionally watching whatever was on, mostly distracted by other sorts of enjoyable activities.) Saturday would have been no different had Mary Margaret not called and insisted the two of them come over for lunch.

“We haven’t done anything for your birthday yet. Plus, David and Ruby both got to meet Killian during his last visit. It’s only fair I get to this time,” her sister-in-law had insisted.

“He’s been in town for more than two days; I’m surprised you’ve waited this long to make plans with us.” Part of her had expected a request like this the minute Killian’s flight had landed.

“Well, I had every intention of trying earlier, but David was afraid we’d catch you at a bad time so soon after he arrived with you two not seeing each other in so long and everything.”

Remind me to get David two Christmas gifts this year Emma thought to herself as she and Mary Margaret finalized their plans. Although maybe she was being too hopeful. Her brother hadn’t exactly been easy on Killian the first time they’d met, and that was before their friendship had grown into something else. (She made a mental note to have Killian bring up the Orioles as much as possible.)

“Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?” Emma asked him as she parked the bug outside David and Mary Margaret’s building. “I mean, I already know you’re going to say yes because of what kind of person you are, but they can be ridiculously overbearing.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Swan. I’m glad for the chance to spend time with people who mean so much to you.” He chuckled and added, “Besides, I know Liam would be the same should our roles ever be reversed.” Killian’s brother was his hero and someone he brought up often in their conversations, whether it be pertaining to their jobs or otherwise. She had no idea if going to London to visit him would be within her means any time soon, but the thought of meeting Liam and the other members of Killian’s family like he was about to meet hers made Emma smile.

“Here goes nothing,” Emma said once they’d exited the car. “Remember-”

“I know, Swan. Heavy on the baseball talk, light on the innuendoes.”

“Bingo.”

Much to her relief, the afternoon went over well. Mary Margaret adored Killian right off of the bat, and Leo was so insistent on keeping his attention that neither she nor David managed to get a chance to interrogate him or make comments that could send him running back across the pond.

“I gotta say, he seems to be a decent guy.” Emma and David were in the kitchen washing dishes after lunch while Leo performed whatever he’d learned in gymnastics that week for Killian and Mary Margaret. Thankfully, he spent enough time with his own nieces and nephew that the four-year-old’s antics didn’t seem to phase him.

“He’s great. And thanks for not going too Protective Big Brother on him again today.”

He was silent for a moment, lost in thought as he scrubbed at a plate and passed it to her to be rinsed and dried. “Admittedly, I think I did enough of that the last time. Plus, Mary Margaret made me promise to be easy on him.”

“Good for her.” Emma glanced over her shoulder and saw her sister-in-law laughing at whatever Killian had just said to charm her. “I think she loves him about as much as I do.”

She saw David raise an eyebrow out of the corner of her eye. “So it’s really serious then? You love him?”

“I do. I know it’s crazy with how we met and things are still new and we’re still figuring out how this is gonna work with an ocean between us. But, yeah. I love him.”

“In that case, I’m happy for you, Emma. I really am.” She knew he’d be wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead were both of his hands not submerged in dish water. “But if he ever hurts you-”

“I know, you’ll make him swim back to London.”

“Darn right.”

The last part of their weekend flew by as quickly as the first, much to both of their chagrin. “I swear it feels like I just picked you up from the airport,” Emma murmured against his shoulder when they woke up on Sunday morning.

“I was just thinking the same. What’s that they say, time flies when you’re having fun and all?”

“Mhm,” she sighed. “Something like that.”

“I’m so glad I got to come see you again, though. Especially without work and meetings taking up so much of my time.”

“And you came out of family lunch unscathed too,” she pointed out. “I think Mary Margaret intentionally kept you preoccupied with her and Leo so David wouldn’t have a chance to do any interrogating.”

“I would have sat through an interrogation regardless just for that apple pie.”

“It is pretty incredible,” she agreed. “Don’t tell Mary Margaret, but I think David would have married her for that alone.”

“It wouldn’t be difficult to believe.”

With Killian’s flight being earlier in the afternoon, they didn’t have as much time to themselves left as both of them would have preferred. After grabbing breakfast (or brunch realistically at that point) at a cafe near the airport, Emma found herself telling him goodbye in the parking lot again.

“You’ll shoot me a message when you land?” she asked when Killian had retrieved his things from the back of her car.

“Aye. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to talk sometime tonight if my estimated arrival time doesn’t change.”

Emma nodded. “I’d like that. But if it’s late, go on to bed when you get home. You know your sleep schedule is going to be more discombobulated than it already is for the next few days.”

“Worth it.” Killian flashed her a smile and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m not exactly sure when I’ll be able to visit again. The holidays always complicate things at work a bit, and it won’t be long before Liam and Belle begin informing me of all the events and family gatherings I’m expected to attend.

“Of course. It wouldn’t be Christmas without Uncle Killy.” She pulled back and snickered at the exasperated look on his face. He’d mentioned in a previous conversation that Liam called him that from time to time and he hated it.

“For the last time, Swan, they do not call me that.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t take an opportunity to tease you about it.” Emma stood up on her toes to kiss him softly. “We’ll figure something out though, okay? Maybe bail bonds will be good to me soon and I can afford to come across the pond for a few days. I’ve always wanted to see cars drive on the other side of the road.”

“How very American of you.”

“Maybe so. But you love me for it.”

“I do.”

Thanks to Killian’s flight proceeding as scheduled, Emma found herself on the phone with him later that night. Spider-Man: Homecoming played on both of their respective TV screens while she gave him her unofficial lecture detailing why Tom Holland was the best actor to date that the franchise had cast in the title role.

“I mean, look at it this way: Tobey MaGuire was a fine Peter Parker. He had the acting skills to play the nerdy kid who was just struggling to get through high school, but he just didn’t have that level of confidence you need to play a superhero. Then you have Andrew Garfield, who was the complete opposite. Sure, he’s got the wit and the confidence to be Spider-Man, but his Peter comes off too much like one of the cool kids. And as much as I love him, Peter Parker is not considered all that cool. He wouldn’t be bullied constantly if that were the case.”

“And Tom Holland manages to find a happy medium between the two,” Killian finished.

“Exactly!”

She heard him chuckling through the phone. “I’m glad we agree on this, love. Otherwise, I worry you may disown me.”

“Eh, I’m not sure I would go to that extreme. But it would put an awkward strain on things considering the MCU is pretty much a third party in this relationship.”

She and Killian did sort of owe the franchise for being the reason they met. Sure, Emma probably would have noticed him on her Facebook page sooner or later and reached out to inquire about who he was, but their first interaction stemming from Captain Marvel was special to her. It didn’t hurt that she now had Goose in Flerken-mode sitting on the shelf above her TV to remind her of him.

Not only was she turning into a romantic, he’d gone and made her all sentimental now too.

Over the next handful of weeks, they tried to keep up the same routine they’d had before of regular calls, texts, or FaceTimes. But, just as he’d predicted, Killian’s obligations and responsibilities both in and out of the office began to increase as they got further into November.

To her surprise, so did Emma’s. She rarely struggled to find work in bail bonds (no matter what happened, there was always someone evading the law.) But while crime rates usually tended to remain the same if not decrease during the colder months, the list of skips on her radar had grown considerably. The added work wasn’t a problem since she could use the money it brought in, but the change in pace on both sides, not to mention the time difference, meant planned phone calls and FaceTime dates were often missed for one reason or another.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, it had been almost a week since they’d had a legitimate conversation outside of brief texts sent whenever they had a moment to themselves. Of course problems like these could only be expected with an ocean and a five hour difference between them, but Emma hadn’t been prepared to face them so early in their relationship.

The whole thing was on her mind when she and her girl friends had their own version of Friendsgiving at David and Mary Margaret’s place the night before the actual holiday. They’d ordered Chinese takeout and were eating in the living room, Mean Girls quickly forgotten while they updated each other on their lives.

“What about you, Ems?” Ruby asked when Elsa had finished sharing the details of her upcoming trip to Norway. “I know there’s gotta be something to share about that British hunk of yours.” She shot Emma a wolfish grin. Of course this would be Ruby’s first question; she’d been asking for regular updates on Killian since the day she ran into he and Emma at Granny’s.

Emma shrugged. “There’s not much to share lately. One of us is always busy when the other’s not, so we haven’t really talked or anything nearly as much as we would have liked to over the past few weeks.”

“Will you get to see him for Christmas or New Years?” Elsa asked, a kind smile on her face. While Emma loved both Ruby and Mary Margaret, she appreciated knowing Elsa was asking because she genuinely cared, not because she wanted all the juicy details on her love life.

“Probably not. Even with me taking on extra work, a ticket to London is still kind of out of my budget, and Killian will have work stuff and plans with his brother’s family.” She failed to include that Killian had hinted around at opting out of his plans so he could visit, but she’d shut that idea down right away. The idea of taking him away from his family at the holidays seemed selfish, even if he’d been the one to make the suggestion.

“I’m sure everyone in a long distance relationship has these kind of issues from time to time,” offered Mary Margaret. “Hopefully things will slow down again after the first of the year and you two can go back to normal.”

Emma decided not to tell her sister-in-law just how far off the first of the year felt. There wasn’t a chance, though, since her phone began to vibrate where she’d left it on the coffee table. She knew before looking at the caller ID from WhatsApp that it was Killian.

She swore under her breath. Either she hadn’t mentioned her plans tonight to Killian, or it had slipped his mind. “Great timing. Sorry, guys. I’ll tell him it has to wait.”

“No!” all three of her friends exclaimed in unison.

“Friendsgiving be damned. You see us all the time, Emma,” said Ruby. “Now take the chance to talk to your boyfriend while you’ve got it.”

She drove a hard bargain.

Emma stood from the couch and slipped into David and Mary Margaret’s kitchen. She tapped the answer icon and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, Killian.”

“Hello, Swan.” He sounded tired. If she could see him, Emma knew he’d be rubbing his eyes while trying to hold back a yawn. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m with the girls, but they can survive without me for a bit.”

“Oh, bloody hell. You did say something about having plans tonight, didn’t you? I’m sorry, love.”

“Yeah, but it’s really not a big deal.”

Killian sighed. She almost wished she had told him she was at home instead just so he wouldn’t feel guilty about calling when he did. “I still feel like a prat for interrupting. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back to your friends? I can always try again for tomorrow night.”

“Killian, don’t beat yourself up about it. I love my friends, but in the words of Ruby, I see them all the time. I’m gonna take advantage of time to talk to you while we can.”

“Aye, well, as long as you don’t feel I’m intruding.”

Emma had always appreciated how considerate he was, but sometimes he could be so polite it was almost infuriating. “You are most definitely not intruding. I’ve missed you. Now tell me about your day- is that new guy with the bad attitude still driving everyone up the wall?”

Taking a seat at David and Mary Margaret’s kitchen table, she sat and listened for the next fifteen or so minutes to his recap of everything he hadn’t gotten the chance to fill her in on yet. Of course it was just a typical work week for him, with no one on his end taking time off for Thanksgiving and Black Friday. She pointed out as much to Killian.

“Ah, that’s right,” he commented. “I presume you have plans with David and Mary Margaret tomorrow?”

“I’m just having brunch with the two of them and Leo. They invited me to dinner with Mary Margaret’s family, but I always feel like I’m imposing whenever I go to something of theirs. That-” she paused and turned to make sure her sister-in-law was preoccupied in conversation before continuing “-and her stepmom kind of freaks me out. You’d think she was the queen or something by the way she talks to people.”

“I suppose it’s best you to keep your distance then, although I wish you didn’t have to spend the rest of the holiday alone. Perhaps I can plan to finish up a bit early at the office and we can watch something together? Or, well, sort of together. Something like that.”

Emma nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” It wasn’t what she really wanted- to see him and have them there with her again- but some things they’d have to make do with for now.

It felt as if the first three weeks of December had come and gone in a heartbeat. A thick blanket of snow covered Boston, as did the myriad of lights and decorations in various shades of red and green. Five days before Christmas, Emma found herself in a corner booth at Granny’s drinking eggnog, surrounded by everyone in their friend group and then some. Ruby had somehow gotten permission to close the diner early for their annual party rather than attempt to crowd into someone’s apartment for a few hours.

The night had been a success so far. Almost everyone Ruby invited had come, and there was more than enough food and alcohol to go around. (Not to mention the entertainment of impromptu Christmas karaoke that was a result of said alcohol.)

Emma enjoyed spending time with her closest friends and reconnecting with ones she hadn’t seen in awhile. One thing she couldn’t help but notice, however, was the amount of couples in the room.

There was David and Mary Margaret, of course, who only had eyes for each other more often than not. Anna and Kristoff were in town for the holidays and had come, and were busy chatting with Graham and his boyfriend, August. (It turned out he was the bartender Graham had been so infatuated with the night she met Killiam James.) Ruby’s on again, off again relationship with Dorothy was clearly on considering the two were not so subtly making out in the restaurant’s back room.

The only other person who seemed to be flying solo was Elsa. She walked over from the bar and took a seat across from Emma, who was now alone in the booth as David and Mary Margaret were (badly) serenading “White Christmas” to each other by the jukebox.

“I’d forgotten what alcohol does to them,” she told Elsa. While she loved her brother and sister-in-law, their duet was a far cry from Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney.

Elsa giggled. “Tell me about it. And Mary Margaret’s going to have the worst hangover tomorrow; they’re both such lightweights.” She turned back to Emma. “I’m more concerned about you looking so lonely over here by yourself though.”

“I’m not lonely,” Emma protested. “I’m just…” she trailed off, not wanting to voice what was really on her mind.

“Missing Killian? I thought so.”

Leave it to Elsa to be so perceptive. She somehow always knew what Emma was thinking about. “I know it’s silly. I mean, I just talked to him earlier and we haven’t been together long enough to where it feels like I should be moping about not spending a holiday with him. But yeah, I miss him a lot.”

“And I doubt the amount of couples in the room does much to help.”

“Oh, good. So I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“Definitely not,” Elsa assured her. “And your feelings aren’t silly. Sure, maybe you haven’t been together as long as couples like David and Mary Margaret or Anna and Kris, but you two had been close for months before you started dating. There’s no timeline your relationship has to follow either. Some couples are engaged after a month, and others wait years before deciding to take the next step. Relationships can be so different for everyone.”

Emma just nodded. Her friend had made too many good points for her to object. “And by different, you mean some people can accidentally meet on Facebook and bond over superheroes.”

Elsa flashed her a grin. “Exactly.”

“I know everything you said is true. I just can’t help but wonder how long this arrangement is going to work out. He’ll only have so many opportunities to come here, and even with me trying to save and cut back when I can, it could be months before I can afford to visit him.” She had considered trying to fly out for his birthday in the spring, but the cost of living in Boston plus a number of repairs to her car were making that idea seem less and less likely.

Her friend was quiet for a moment. “Or we could send you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“David will hate me for telling you this, but we were going to go in together to cover the repairs on the bug since we figured you would appreciate that than something to unwrap. But I have a feeling you’d appreciate getting to spend Christmas with your boyfriend even more.”

Elsa couldn’t be serious. Could she? “That is incredibly sweet of you to offer, but I can’t let you do that. Even if you did go in together, a plane ticket still wouldn’t be cheap, and I’m not sure Killian’s family wants me crashing their holiday plans without notice.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elsa objected. “If they have any sense, they’ll be thrilled that Killian has you there to celebrate with him. Give me two minutes to see what we can work out.” She was out of the booth and running over to David and Mary Margaret before Emma had a chance to react.

The idea was unexpected, and even a bit ridiculous if she were being honest.

And yet, the morning before Christmas Eve, Emma found herself being dropped off at the airport by David, just as she’d done for Killian twice now. She’d managed to keep her last minute visit a surprise from him so far. Mary Margaret had somehow gotten in touch via Facebook with Belle, who would be picking her up when she arrived in London.

“I gotta say, I’m surprised you were so willing to agree with Elsa’s idea,” she told her brother as his car pulled into the parking deck.

David shrugged. “The alcohol helped,” he admitted. “Plus, I knew how much getting to do this would mean to you. And to Killian. As much as it would have pained me to admit it at one point, you two are good for each other.”

She leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you think so. Although I’m never gonna be able to make it up to you guys.”

“Don’t worry about making anything up. I wouldn’t mind an autograph from the queen though.”

Emma barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that.”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au #cs mc #cs fluff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #meredith writes

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nelvana · 5 years

Text

In which the mountain of fire is explored

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which those at home do what they can Previous: In which two foes begin to journey together

“I shouldn’t have left you to guard us for the night.”

Nelvana watched as Gengar shot awake at her statement, rubbing his eyes at the rising sun’s light before glancing over at the cubone.

“Hm?”

“You fell asleep,” Nelvana pointed out in a matter-of-factly tone of voice. “I thought ghost-types didn’t need sleep?” she continued, raising a brow at him.

“They… usually don’t,” Gengar muttered, “what difference does it make anyway? There was no reason to be on guard; there is no one but us out here!” he added.

“How would you know that? You fell asleep and weren’t on guard,” Nelvana snarked, turning away. “Well, if anyone did come by, I probably would have woken up, so at least there’s that,” she sighed.

Gengar rolled his eyes and stood up, stretching briefly before looking back at his escort again. Nelvana had turned her attention to the firepit, no longer with a lively fire burning in it, and swirled her club around in it, spreading apart all the coals before hitting them with her club and swirling them around again.

“We don’t have any water to drown this with, so hopefully this will do the trick and we won’t end up starting a wild fire,” Nelvana muttered, tapping her club on the ground a couple times to rid it off the ashes before meeting Gengar’s gaze. “Anyway, let’s eat and then we can head on over there,” she said.

“Great.”

Nelvana had found that muffins were in fact easy to pack and good for a quick morning meal, so that was what they had prepared. She instinctively checked the rest of their inventory, satisfied to find all their dungeon supplies and other snacks and items still where they had been left in the bag. After drinking some water to finish off their breakfast, the pair was back on the trail again.

Being so close to the mountain already, it didn’t take long for the temperature to start rising. It was then that Nelvana realized that Gengar was a heat sink. Just by being around him and where he had been instantly gave off a cold feeling, as if there was just a hole in the hot air giving away to a chill.

“Are you aware that you’re a walking heat sink?” Nelvana asked, poking a foot tentatively to where Gengar had just walked, feeling where there was still a cold spot left behind.

“I am,” Gengar huffed, “you aren’t the first one to point that out.”

“Hm, I suppose not,” Nelvana murmured, “that will be useful here. Not in Frosty Forest, but at least here.”

“I’m not going to be your cooler,” Gengar told her sharply, rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking for that,” Nelvana replied, “I happen to be able to handle this fairly alright, but the fact of the matter is that this quirk will make this part of the journey a bit easier.”

Gengar only turned away again, his ears lowering slightly. Nelvana let out a sigh, taking the lead again and continuing their path over to Mt. Blaze. It wasn’t long after that short conversation that their walk began uphill; up and round as the path began winding around the mountain. The rocks were rough and warm under Nelvana’s feet, but her claws were built for an earthier terrain so she was able to continue on alright. Gengar seemed to struggle a bit more, though he kept his mouth shut about it, only the rocks tumbling behind him and a quiet curse under his breath gave away that he was having any difficulties.

With the storage statue in her sights up ahead, Nelvana sprung up the rest of the path over to the chest. While she didn’t expect much new that they would need to be stored in there, there would at least be some more water and possibly food, so it was worth checking out. Sparing a glance back to Gengar before opening the chest, Nelvana found the predicted extra water and snacks, as well as the unpredicted piece of paper sitting on top. She handed the items over to the one with the bag before taking the note, recognizing the handwriting on it as Alex’s. Seeing as Gengar would likely be uninterested in this, Nelvana read it silently in her head.

‘Hey Nel, this is Alex. I’m writing this after you had sent your message to us with the badge, so hopefully you should get it by the time you start Mt. Blaze. If Keahi didn’t mention it in her reply, she decided to stay the night at her family’s place. She had to forward us your message, and then we didn’t know what to do with it after that. Anyway, I figured I should leave this note and some extra water and food for you guys anyway. I’m not sure if Gengar eats more like Edgar or like the rest of us, but it’s always for the best to not let your client faint; from hunger especially. I do hope he isn’t causing any trouble there. You said that he had been pretty quiet, but Gah, I hate writing letters like this… just, good luck out there, and do keep your eyes out for Moltres. There’s always the chance that they’ll turn up again.’

“Are we heading in now, or what?” Gengar questioned impatiently, glancing over Nelvana’s shoulder.

Nelvana narrowed her eyes, hugging the paper close to her so that Gengar couldn’t read what it said, “we are going in, just give me a moment,” she growled, “I thought you’d like the break anyway considering how many you took yesterday.”

Receiving no response, Nelvana turned her attention back to Alex’s note. She scrawled in a quick response before placing the paper back into the box. She was about the close the box when she remembered the mobile scarf still wrapped around her knuckles. She couldn’t help but wonder how Gengar hadn’t actually noticed it yet. Deciding to lower the chance of it being noticed even more, she took the fabric off her hand and set it loosely around her neck with her actual scarf. Then, she closed the box with a small pat. After staring at the statue and chest for a few moments, a question clicked into her mind and she turned back to Gengar.

“Did you have to collect everything out of storage before disbanding your team?” she asked curiously.

Gengar scowled at the question, but began to speak anyway, “yeah. Almost had to fight the other two for the good stuff though. I only really managed to snag what I had when I first showed you my bag.”

“You had to fight them?” Nelvana repeated.

“It was mostly just a lot of shoving. Not many actual attacks where used since most of us resist each other’s moves. There was no good way to divide everything evenly, so of course they all just wanted the best stuff,” Gengar scoffed, “they actually wanted to just leave me with a couple oran berries, but I wasn’t having that.”

“Why did you disband Team Meanies, anyway?”

“I… I just stopped agreeing with the team’s actions and goals, alright? I didn’t want to be apart of that anymore, and didn’t want to just leave Ekans and Medicham to fool around on their own with the title. Can we just head in the dungeon now?”

“…Fine by me.”

Part of Nelvana hadn’t been expecting them to even be able to walk inside the dungeon. After the earthquake that had torn apart the ground to the lava around it… she had been worried that that was permanent. However, as they walked into the cave, she found that nothing had changed aside from the layout of the tunnels and rooms. It was as if nothing had been damaged in the first place, and despite her previous worries she couldn’t help but wonder if it shouldn’t have fixed itself so efficiently like this.

Regardless, she kept these thoughts to herself and silently lead on through one of the tunnels leading off the first room. The first dungeon pokemon awaited on the way, and she let herself slip back into a more serious mentality needed for a mission like this. Without her team, she would have to handle all this without messing up. Gengar fell back to silence again, and Nelvana couldn’t help but be thankful that he didn’t break her focus.

At least, until they had reached the fifth floor. After knocking out a numel and watching it disappear from sight, Gengar seemed to no longer be able to keep silent like this.

“Hey, if no one lives out here, how are there so many pokemon with dungeon sickness?” he asked, “it’s kind of spooky…”

“These pokemon don’t have dungeon sickness,” Nelvana answered, “they’re just dungeon spawn.”

“Dungeon… spawn? That’s a thing?” Gengar questioned, “what’s the difference, anyway?”

“Dungeon spawn aren’t alive,” Nelvana responded somberly, “they’re just created by the dungeon and then their energy is recycled for more spawn when they’re defeated.”

Gengar’s eyes widened, “wha… how?”

“It starts with the dungeon sickness, if you’re in there for long enough, then the dungeon claims you. Once the dungeon starts learning what energies the different pokemon have, it can begin replicating that and even modifying it to be better at fighting. Trapping any travelers in here so the cycle continues,” Nelvana explained, “here, let’s use this dungeon for example. This is just full of dungeon spawn. And… let’s use that numel we just saw for this example too. Once upon a time, there was likely a whole village of numels living in this area. They would cross the mountain maybe just to explore, or even to visit Moltres. One day, a dungeon pops up, and no one notices right away. A few numels head in, get lost, and get infected. It takes awhile for anyone to take note, but eventually they send a search party. If the first few are strong enough, they can take out the search party too and keep building their numbers that way. Clearly by the fact that no one lives in this area anymore means that enough of them got stuck that the rest of them had to leave, or the rest of the village got too intimidated by being near a dungeon in general. And even if just one of those original numels that got stuck stay in there long enough to completely lose themself to the dungeon, the dungeon will know what they’re like. As the dungeon gets stronger, it will start creating its own numels,” she continued, “that’s why there are usually the same kinds of pokemon in each dungeon. Those are just the pokemon that the dungeon has learned to remember and replicate.”

This explanation struck Gengar silent for a few moments, but he gathered himself and spoke again, “where… did you learn all this? I’ve never heard of that before, and I was on a rescue team. Is it rare?”

“It’s not… rare, but I suppose most people are used to a rescue team being able to rescue everyone before the sickness gets that far,” Nelvana murmured, “Keahi didn’t know either. Alex, Tsuki and I had to explain it to her… hm, I wonder if Edgar knows then… this isn’t a fun topic to have to explain.”

“So, you and Alex know from… that dark future you’re from, right? Did more people lose themselves to the dungeons then?” Gengar clarified.

“Where did you hear about the dead timeline?” Nelvana snapped back.

“I was there after you guys destroyed the meteor! How else was I supposed to get to you so quickly in the spirit realm? So… I heard your explanation to Edgar,” Gengar told her.

Nelvana sighed, “alright, yeah… fair enough,” she muttered, “and before you ask, Tsuki knows too despite not being from the dead timeline because she is from the Frosty Forest, which is similar to here in that there is no one else around and the dungeons just have dungeon spawn at this point. I suppose if you want to know about that specifically more, you’ll have to ask her.”

“Okay…” Gengar mumbled, “what is the difference between pokemon with dungeon sickness and just dungeon spawn? Like… physically. How do you tell the difference?”

“Why are you asking?” Nelvana questioned.

“Because! I’d rather be hitting the ones that aren’t actually alive harder than the ones that are just normal pokemon being trapped!” Gengar answered, “they all just look like dungeon pokemon to me.”

“Fine. Do you happen to have a stun seed with you then?”

“A stun seed? No… I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Looks like we have to do this the hard way.”

Before Gengar could ask what the “hard way” was, Nelvana had begun wandering off across the large room that they had found themselves in. A magby come in from one of the tunnels and spotted the cubone, beginning to snarl and spit fire at her. Through a couple swift movements, Nelvana leapt behind the pokemon, grasping her club in front of them with both hands before pushing it back against the magby’s throat and lifting it off the ground.

“What the-“

“There, I got one, come on and look!”

Hesitantly, Gengar headed over to Nelvana and the captured dungeon pokemon. The magby struggled in her grip, clawing at her arms and kicking about; thick black smoke sputtering out from their mouth with bits of embers.

“You can come closer. They can’t spit fire like this, and them clawing won’t hurt you; since you’re a ghost-type,” Nelvana continued, “and if you’re concerned for them, this doesn’t hurt. I’m just restraining their ability to spit fire is all.”

“I’m… what about you? Aren’t magbies like, 1,100 degrees? And they’re clawing at you!” Gengar sputtered, waving his arms at the cubone. “How are you so calm about doing this?”

“First of all, that’s a myth. They aren’t that hot,” Nelvana huffed, “and second of all, they aren’t cutting that deep. An oran berry would even be much for something as little as this,” she continued, “anyway, it will be easier to point things out if you come a bit closer.”

Gengar slowly stepped closer, “alright, if you say so…”

“Okay, good. Now, if you want to be able to tell the difference between dungeon spawn like this and just pokemon with dungeon sickness, you’ll usually have to do it at a glance because they’ll both just immediately attack you. However, it’s easier to point out differences up close so that you know what to look for,” Nelvana began, “if you do get a chance like this to look at them up close, you’ll see that their eyes are slightly glazed over, and will always carry only ferocity in them; if you’re someone that tries spotting emotion.”

“Eyes are the gateway to the soul…” Gengar muttered, “okay, got it.”

Nelvana blinked, seemingly a bit surprised by this attentive response, but she continued regardless, “the bigger thing to note is that dungeon spawn are built for the dungeon and for battling. Starting with that second point, you’ll see that this magby for example has sharper claws and teeth, and they seem to spit more embers, though I’m not one hundred percent certain about that last bit.”

“Yeah about that… How are still just treating this like nothing? It’s starting to get fire on your club.”

“Now, as I said, they’re built for the dungeon as well. Again, with this magby, they have had to be strengthened for this volcano dungeon. As you can see, their lower body almost resembles magma, and that likely helps it resist fire more so that it can run on the lava,” Nelvana continued, ignoring Gengar’s comment.

“Run on lava? That’s actually a thing?” Gengar asked.

“Kinda. You have to be constantly moving on it or else it will just start acting like normal lava, and of course you’d have to be a fire-type. Keahi tested that when we were here; she didn’t like it that much. Said it burned her feet. Obviously here the dungeon has taken that into account and has made it easier for dungeon pokemon to run along it,” Nelvana explained, “anyway, to recap… you mostly have to keep an eye out for those which look stronger and fiercer than average, and more adapted to the terrain. Alright?”

“Yeah… I think I’ve got it,” Gengar mumbled, looking over the struggling magmar.

“Great, because this guy is really wriggly,” Nelvana responded.

With that, she tossed her head back before knocking it against the magby. They slumped upon impact, disappearing in a beam of light a couple moments later. Arms free, Nelvana rubbed away some of the blood on her hands before leaning her club against her right shoulder and looking up at Gengar.

“Yo, that was really hardcore,” Gengar whispered.

“You know, you could help with some of these battles,” she pointed out.

“That wasn’t really a battle,” Gengar replied.

“My point still stands. Maybe this is a bit strong for you, but it would be nice to at least get a little bit of help. You’ve been in a rescue team; you are capable of battling,” Nelvana said.

“Fine… I’ll see what I can do,” Gengar sighed, looking away.

They found the stairs to the next floor in the room right beside them, and easily made the climb up. While Gengar continued to simply follow Nelvana around for that entire sixth floor, he seemed to finally gain enough confidence to try battling on his own, shown as he stepped forward when a torkoal showed up.

“That’s dungeon spawn, right?” Gengar asked.

“I mean… all the pokemon here are, but yes,” Nelvana responded, “are you offering to fight it, or-“

Nelvana’s question was answered before she even got the chance to finish speaking, cutting herself off midway as she spotted the attack that Gengar was preparing. Purple sparks crawled up his arm, charging around his fist before he punched the air with that energy. Over by the torkoal, a ghostly fist appeared, harshly hitting the fire-type. Nelvana flinched at the sight, and in a haze, she barely registered that Gengar used the shadow punch on the torkoal again to knock it out.

“There, I did it!” Gengar cheered.

Nelvana shook her head, trying bring back her focus and calm herself, “y-yeah… good job.”

Gengar frowned, “you know, if you’re going to act like that each time I use that move then I might as well not bother,” he huffed, “you acted like that in Sinister Woods too-“

“I know! I know, I know… Look… do you maybe have… have another move you can just use instead?” Nelvana responded, finding herself wrapping her arms around herself and looking away.

“Why would I do that? Shadow punch is my best move, it never even misses. It’s the most useful,” Gengar replied, “what’s even your problem with it anyway? It’s just another move.”

“It’s…” Why was it only now that the air burned her throat? “It was used by a bad person. I’m not used to having that attack not be used against me or my team,” she managed to answer.

“Well that’s silly. You know I’m helping you here. You shouldn’t be judging just based on the move I’m using,” Gengar snarked.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Nelvana muttered, storming off through the rest of the dungeon, hoping that Gengar wouldn’t notice that her hands were still shaking.

Gengar didn’t help Nelvana in battle for the rest of Mt. Blaze. She didn’t comment on it again though. In fact, they had gone back to their silent way of traveling for all of the remaining floors of the dungeon. At least she knew that she would be able to handle these pokemon on her own. While help could still have been nice… she didn’t bother. It didn’t feel worth it.

After another six floors, they had arrived at the special floor. Its Moltres statue still stood the same as before, though Nelvana didn’t pause to examine it closely like she had before. She only broke their silent streak by asking for the bag so that she could have some of the water and a quick snack, and then they headed onto the next floor.

The next two floors passed on as the ones before, aside from Gengar being spooked by the fact that there were arcanines in this dungeon. These larger pokemon, especially with their added dungeon spawn traits, as Nelvana was quick to point out, were quite the intimidating surprise. Fearows startled him as well, but less so knowing that his typing would partially protect him. Nelvana defeated both of these pokemon regardless without much other comment from her about it.

Finally, they arrived to the peak of the mountain. Nelvana wondered if she should mention to Gengar that Moltres could be here… and while part of her considered not bringing it up at all and letting Gengar be spooked again, she reconsidered and spoke up.

“In case you’ve forgotten or never heard, this is the home of Moltres. They are awake and might try swooping by, so don’t freak out,” she muttered, more dryness coming off her voice than intended.

Gengar nodded, his gaze turning upwards to scan the smoky sky in an attempt to spot the flaming legendary. Nothing did show up at first though, leaving them to wonder if they would get all the way across this last floor and down the mountain without any other interruptions.

That thought was suddenly halted when the flapping of wings could be heard in the distance. The pair stopped their walk to wait for Moltres to arrive, which only took a few more moments. Moltres landed in front of them, bowing their head slightly to show that they weren’t here to fight.

“Hello again… human,” Moltres greeted.

“Hello Moltres,” Nelvana replied courtly.

Moltres didn’t respond for a few moments, avoiding looking at the pair as if they were trying to work up the right words to tell them.

“I… I have to admit, that I was wrong. About you. And the legend,” Moltres finally uttered, “I apologize for that, and for attacking you and your friends because of it.”

“I accept your apology,” Nelvana responded politely.

What she wouldn’t say was that she didn’t forgive Moltres. Attacking a trio of teens just because they were under the assumption that one of them was dangerous was a flimsy explanation at best. However, she still appreciated that they had come forward and apologized when they could have just ignored her passing by. And of course, she knew that she should be polite with legendaries regardless.

Moltres nodded in return, sitting up straighter now that that was out of the way, “thank you. Now, what brings you and this stranger through my mountain?” they questioned sharply.

“This, is my client, Gengar. We were just passing by to visit Ninetales about the legend again,” Nelvana told them honestly.

Moltres’ beak opened, and then closed again with a click; again, considering something. Eventually anger flashed in their eyes, which narrowed as they reared back and flapped their flaming wings.

“Gengar? You… You wouldn’t happen to be the one that started that rumor in the first place?” Moltres accused, “I cannot allow someone like that to pass through my home!” they spat, “Why does he walk through here; with you? He should not walk at all!”

Nelvana narrowed her eyes, hitting her club against the ground, “calm down! He isn’t here causing trouble; I’m making sure of that. He needs to speak with Ninetales though, and we intend to break that curse that the legend spoke of,” she snapped, “let us pass.”

There was yet another pause, and the pair couldn’t help but wonder if Moltres was going to just disregard Nelvana’s words and just attack them. However, the large bird seemed to slowly let the tension out of their body again.

“Go then,” they hissed.

Gengar happily obliged, hurrying away from Moltres and back towards the path down the mountain. Nelvana glanced at both pokemon, before following the ghost-type away from Mt. Blaze. Not long after she had caught up, Gengar let out a shaky breath and made eye contact with her as they walked.

“You… you defended me,” he gasped, “why…?”

“I wasn’t going to just let them attack you like that, even if you are a jerk,” Nelvana responded, as if the answer has been laying out as clearly as the rocks around them. “No one should be attacked because of that kind of judgement.”

Gengar only blinked back at her, and Nelvana managed one of the few laughs of that day.

“What? Did you think I was just going to say that I only did that because I need you to bring back Gardevoir?” Nelvana chuckled, “while I suppose that is partially true, that wasn’t my reasoning for that. That would just be selfish. There was no way I was going to have Moltres kill you in cold blood for that.”

Leaving that response to hang in the air, Nelvana continued her way down the path. Gengar, however, had his pace slow as he was left to think that over. Why… after everything; her first answer wasn’t for her own gain.

“Hey, when we get to where we’re setting up camp, could we have another campfire?”

“Sure, but we won’t get there for awhile…”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which those at home do what they can Previous: In which two foes begin to journey together

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