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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE FOUR || CURSE WOMB MUST DIE

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + ryomen sukuna + ijichi kiyotaka from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + violence + mention of blood + mention of poison + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 23 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 6.1k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : girl of steel

↳ next episode : curse womb must die II

↳ barista’s notes : i am back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ i hope you guys haven’t gotten bored with this whole series, to be honest i forgot how long they take to write since it is a whole epsiode i am trying to retell with a new character in ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ ALSO i have created a masterlist for it as well as future stories i might write in the future! are you excited? ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho : 3:26-3:34

Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku : 3:03-3:07

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

Shutting your dorm room door closed, you carefully wrapped yourself in the thin white cardigan you had brought out with you before quietly making your way outside the Jujutsu Tech dormitory wanting some form of fresh air due to your incapability to sleep for the time being.

As you began to walk around aimlessly, you quickly looked down upon your phone - nearly blinded by the brightness of the screen - to find out that it was exactly 2 am making you come to the conclusion that everyone was probably asleep and that no one would find you out for the time being.

To be honest, it wasn’t a surprise that you couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t like you never had these types of nights before. Although, they were becoming a bit more common than what you would have liked during your lifetime, especially at the age you were now where sleep was essential.

Finally making it to the track field (where you were supposed to be in the next few hours for training), you slowly crouched down to take a seat on the stone steps that lead to the tracks itself before cuddling into the warm cardigan since the light winds were slightly colder than what you have imagined.

‘It’s such a drag knowing that I have to be here, later on, to train with the second-years,’ you thought to yourself for a second before letting out a sigh of frustration, while running your hand through your hair as if it was some coping mechanism for the pending stress that was about to explode anytime soon.

“How long has it been?” you quietly uttered to yourself before looking onto the field as if there was something interesting insights or someone was going to answer your rhetorical question.

“A week? Two?” you continuously questioned yourself, before gently placing your hand on your upper arm as if you still felt the linger cursed technique you had used during the battle you had with him.

‘You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?’

“Maybe,” you whispered your answer, before going back to the electronic device you had in your hand to open Spotify as you decided you needed something to fill up the silence with hint sounds of the wind, grasshoppers and passing cars that were surrounding you.

However, before you could press play on the chosen song you deemed was quiet enough to play out loud, there was a sudden presence your felt from behind causing you to raise your index finger to hit them with some sort of curse spell to warn them only for a familiar voice to call out.

“It’s just me”

Turning your body around, you found a tall male with erratic hair standing behind you with a non-expressive face before looking down at the dog that was right beside him with what some people say a happy grin on its face.

Turning back around, you shut your phone off before placing it in the pocket of your black joggers that you wore to bed, allowing the shikigami sorcerer to sit beside you with a gap while his divine dog took the opportunity to sit between the two bodies as it processed to rest it’s head on your shoulder, which you allowed since it was adorable not to deny.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked Fushiguro, as you processed to look onto the field while raising your hand to pet the dog’s head causing it to let out a happy sound before further resting itself upon your shoulder.

“Yeah..same for you?” Fushiguro then questioned, leading you to let out a hum in agreement to tell him you were in the same situation before silence took over between both you and him once again.

To be honest, the silence between you both wasn’t awkward at all, it surprisingly felt natural. Although, even if it was comfortable between you and Fushiguro, you both still have questions for each other, well rather Fushiguro had more questions for you than you had for him.

He just didn’t know where to start.

“L/N?” Fushiguro called out quietly (so quiet that some people might not be able to hear), leading you to turn your head towards his direction while his divine dog’s head covered your vision slightly. “How strong are you?” he then asked, causing you to express a confused look before turning back to the track field in front of you as if you were trying to find the right response to answer his question as if it wasn’t an easy one to reply to.

“Not that strong,” you replied in a nonchalant tone, leading Fushiguro to look at you with widened eyes as your returned response didn’t make any sense to him.

It really didn’t at all.

However, he didn’t have the strength to question your answer.

If he had listened to you back then, would your other classmate be alive with you all right now?

“Fushiguro?” you now called out causing the sorcerer to give you a hum informing you that he was listening in to what you had to ask or say.

“How long has it been since that day?”

ꕥ

The rain was currently pouring. However, it wasn’t too heavy nor was it too light but it was enough to make the mission that you, Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki were assigned to be eerier than it considered to be.

“Our window verified the curse womb three hours ago,” a man, who you recalled was named Ijichi Kiyotaka, mentioned before continued with, “once ninety per cent were successfully evacuated, they made the call to seal off the centre, citizens within a 500-metre radius has been evacuated, as well”.

‘Only ninety per cent? That means either the other ten are missing in there…..or dead’

“Ijichi-san, question,” Itadori stated before raising his hand as if he was in a classroom asking a teacher a question, “what’s a ‘window’ here?”

“A window is a member of Jujutsu Tech who can see curses, they aren’t sorcerers, though,” Ijichi explained as his arms were behind his back in a professional manner.

“Oh, okay,” Itadori muttered, as he understood the explanation that was given to him.

“Let’s continue,” Ijichi quickly stated as it seemed he had more information to be given to all four of you.

“Detainee Block 2, at present, five detainees remain there with the curse womb, if this curse womb is the type that metamorphoses, we predict it will become a special-grade cursed spirit,” Ijichi announced in a serious tone causing you, Fushiguro and Kugisaki to express a stern look upon your faces.

‘Special-grade? Wouldn’t they make a special-grade sorcerer take the job instead of us? Unless….’

“Hey, so...I still don’t really understand what ‘special grade’ means,” Itadori expressed with an innocent face as he looked at the three of you leading Fushiguro and Kugisaki to give him the fed-up look, while you just shifted your eyesight at your classmate since you understood why he didn’t understand any of the terminologies that were thrown at him, your adoptive father wasn’t the best teacher when it came to non-practical work after all.

“Then allow me to explain it so even idiots can understand,” Ijichi stated as if he was calling Itadori an ‘idiot’ causing you to zone out of the quick lesson to look at the detention centre that was in front of everyone right now. From what you could sense, there was an overwhelming presence beginning to loom over from the building that the other sorcerers didn’t seem to feel causing you to look at Itadori will a worried expression since you knew he didn’t have control of the newfound cursed energy he had gained from eating Sukuna’s finger.

Looking around to make sure no one noticed you, you quietly went up to Itadori from behind before hovering your hand over the back of his neck before using your cursed energy for the spell you were trying to prepare for him in advance.

‘This should protect him for one hit if we come into a surprise attack, but there is nothing else I can do without the other’s noticing’ you thought in a frustrated mindset before silently taking a step back to where you were previous to make sure no one noticed that you had planted a protective spell on your classmate.

“That’s real bad!” Itadori shouted, causing you to zone back into the conversation that was in the process.

“Normally a jujutsu sorcerer on par with the cursed spirit would take on the mission. On a day like today, that would be Gojo-sensei,” Fushiguro explained into further detail, while Kugisaki seemed to now paint a worried expression on her face.

“I-I see,” Itadori stuttered as he looked at the erratic-haired sorcerer before looking around as he then asked, “so where is Gojo-sensei?” which made sense since none of the sorcerers in front of you had ever fought with a special-grade from what you could sense.

“Away on business,” Fushiguro answered in a serious tone, which caused Itadori to give him a confused look as he then stated, “he’s not someone who should be loafing around that school in the first place,”.

‘But that doesn’t explain why four first-years have been sent to deal with this situation...”

“Unfortunately, we’re constantly short-handed in this business, you’ll often have to undertake missions beyond your power,” Ijichi expressed as he pushed up his glasses. “The current case, however, is an abnormal one, and most urgent. Do not fight under any circumstances, if you encounter a special-grade, your options are to either run or die,” Ijichi then stated with a serious tone leading you to internally scoff at the warning he gave.

‘That’s easier said than done’

Even though you knew he cared about the safety of everyone that was preparing to go in, it was ridiculous to say to any sorcerer not to fight since once you knew once you encountered a curse, there was no way of getting out of the fight at all, you knew that from experience.

“Please just listen to your fears, do not forget that your mission here is strictly the verification and rescue of survivors,” Ijichi repeated.

“Sorry, but as we are talking those ‘survivors’ in there are most likely dead, there is only a one to five per cent chance that there are any survivors,” you commented with a straight face causing all three of your classmates to look at you with a surprised expression on what you just said, but before anyone could deny your statement.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, where’s Tadashi?!” a worried voice cried, causing everyone to look, only to find a woman waving her hand while guards tried to push her back, preventing her to come any closer to all of you.

“Is Tadashi...Is my son Tadashi all right?!” the woman asked in a panic, leading you to give her a sympathetic look before you slowly walked up to her with a calm expression on your face.

‘If someone asks if someone is okay at the beginning of the mission, take it like a way a doctor calms down a patient or how a police officer informs the public about a case, dear. Imagine it from your perspective, you would want to know if I was okay, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yeah, I would mother’

“Ma’am, we are going inside to see if there is anyone else in the building, if we find your son, we will inform you as quickly as we can, is that okay with you?” you gently asked the worried mother since you needed to calm her down in the worst-case scenario that you, your classmates and she had to prepare for.

Looking at you straight in the eye, she timidly nodded at you causing you to present her with a small smile to help calm her down further. “Please, I need you to step away for the time being since there is a possibility that someone has spread a poisonous gas throughout the centre, but I can not give you any more detail than I can offer,” you explained to her causing the mother’s expression to turned into a shocked one before dropping onto her knees as she grew numb.

“Please find my son,” she begged quietly as tears flowed down her face.

“We’ll try our best ma’am,” you answered her before turning back to your classmates as they looked at you with amazed faces since it seemed like you had done this a million times before - like a profession.

‘Let’s hope that one to five per cent change is in your favour’

“Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Gojo, we’re gonna save them!” Itadori announced in a determined tone causing everyone to turn to him with a determined expression on their faces.

“Of course we are,” Kugisaki answered.

ꕥ

All four of you were now walking towards the entrance of Eushi Detention Centre’s Detainee Block 2 after you have given your black cloth bag that was holding your katana for Ijichi to hold since there was no need to hide the weapon anymore.

“Be careful,” Ijichi said, before raising his fingers to prepare the sleeve that was needed to consume the detention centre, so the outside world didn’t see what was going on inside.

Suddenly, a dark blue aura was cast onto the middle of the sky before slowly descending on all sides like a dome covering a plate of food causing the sky to darken to Itadori’s surprise.

“It’s becoming night!” Itadori shouted as he took a full preview of what was going on, leading Fushiguro to take a glance behind him to inform his obvious classmate that it was the veil Ijichi was placing.

“There’s a residential area nearby, so the barrier conceals us from the outside world,” Fushiguro explained, leading Itadori to express his amazement while Kugisaki gave him the irritated look as well comment since it was basic sorcerer knowledge to know what a veil was.

Suddenly, you heard a loud clap that echoed around the area causing you to look in the direction on where you heard it, only to see Fushiguro’s hands be in a position that was familiar to you.

“Demon Dog!” Fushiguro said before a shower suddenly took form from his to summon the white divine dog that you knew so well from the first time you met him to appear as it howled in response. “He’ll let us know if the curse gets close,” Fushiugro informed you all as the dog looked in his master’s direction.

“Oh, I see!” Itadori said in a light tone before he made his way towards the shikigami to pet it’s snow-white while chanting ‘good boy’ to it as he then expressed his gratitude for its support. However, it seemed like the dog was interested in something else as it stood up on its back legs to make its way towards you before whining as if it wanted something from you.

Looking down at the dog that was now staring at you with its yellow eyes, you couldn’t help but rub its head leading it to relish your affection that you were giving it as it moved it’s head further into your palm as if it can get more out of you.

“I think it’s time to go to Fushiguro don’t you think?” you asked the dog in a light tone, causing it to whine for a moment before going back to its master so it was prepared for the mission that it was about to undertake.

Pushing the door open, Fushiguro and Itadori were in front while Kugisaki and you were behind as everyone prepared themselves for what they were about to go into. “Let’s go,” Fushiguro stated before taking the first step leading the dog to follow in next as well for the rest of you.

However, before you took one step closer into the building you realised something was not what it seemed. From what you can recall, according to Ichiji, the building was said to be a two-story dorm and not the one, you were standing in front of right now, there was no possible way, it was too high up.

‘It’s not a maisonette, it’s too advanced for that,’ you thought as you continued to analyse the surroundings before concluding what you had dreaded, ‘it’s an incomplete Innate Domain, meaning the curse has already fully developed!”

“Hold up!” you shouted at the three sorcerers behind you causing them to pause before turning to look at you, only to find you staring up which led them to do the same leading them to realise why you had halted their movements in the first place.

“Right now, we’re in the middle of the development of an Innate Domain! Is there a door behind me?” you asked in a panic, causing everyone to look at you, only to discover the door had disappeared.

“Th-The door’s gone!” Itadori mentioned in a surprised tone causing you to look at him with widened eyes before turning around to only discover he wasn’t lying to you at all.

‘Shit! How the hell am I going to get everyone back safely? They don’t know how to deal with a special grade from what I can tell, let alone an incomplete Innate Domain’

“How?! We just came in through here, didn’t we?!” Kugisaki mentioned in a stutter as she pointed at the direction where the door should have been while Itadori nodded at her with a few cold sweats dripping down his face.

“What do we do? Ah, what do we do about this?” Itadori and Kugisaki sang as they danced in circles, in a way trying to ease their stress and the tension that came along with the whole situation nearly causing you to giggle at the sight.

“It’ll be fine, the dog remembers the scent of the entrance,” Fushiguro interrupted as he looked annoyed at the two dancers, while the mentioned dog looked back to check on everyone.

“Oh, my~” Itadori and Kugisaki warmheartedly expressed before they started to pet the dog once their mood was lifted with them shouted how they were going to give him jerky later and how much of a ‘good boy’ it was, letting the dog once again relish in the attention that it was being present with.

“You are way too calm!” Fushiguro angrily expressed at two since the mood didn’t match the setting they were in at all.

“You really are dependable, Fushiguro!” Itadori expressed with a grin causing Fushiguro to snap out of his anger. “Thanks to you, we’ll be able to recuse people and save ourselves, too!” Itadori then commented, leading Fushiguro to look at the ground before you suddenly decided to take the first step of carrying on since you were being cautious with the three other sorcerers with you.

‘How long has it been since I faced a special-grade in a fight?’

“Let’s keep moving,” the shikigami user commanded in a stern voice since he saw you making the first way through, letting the other two know that they needed to start moving as well.

While walking, there were the eerie echoes of your footstep causing you to wonder where the actual curse was before entering what seemed to be the centre of the domain. However, you suddenly paused leading the other three to wonder why you came to a halt before looking at the sight that you were looking in the direction of.

Being the first one to react, Itadori rushed to what seemed to be someone’s body - well half of it - and maybe as the second victim since there was a full skeleton that was seemed to be curled up in an excruciating way next to the main body causing you to give your condolences to whoever the person was before observing the area around you to make sure the mention special-grade curse wasn’t near at all.

“Atrocious,” Kugisaki commented in disgust as she stared at the corpses insight.

“That’s...three people, right?” Fushiguro questioned as he quickly took note of how many more victims or survivors there could be - if there were any at this point.

Crouching down, Itadori didn’t answer his classmate’s question, as he then tugged on the detention centre’s dark blue uniform to check the person’s identification, only to realise something that he didn’t want to happen.

“Let’s take this body back,” Itadori suddenly stated, causing confusion to rise within the group since they didn’t know what caused the salmon-haired boy to comment something like that.

“Huh?” Kugissaki asked in confusion.

“It’s that woman’s son,” Itadori regretfully stated, causing you to close your eyes before letting out an internal sign of disappointment before coming to the realisation that you weren’t really surprised at the outcome.

‘Sorry, Ma’am, it seemed the one to five chance wasn’t with you for today’

“But…” Kugisaki slowly stuttered out before being interrupted by Itadori as he then explained that the victim’s face wasn’t mangled and that they still had to give the body back to the mother since it wouldn’t be hard to accept that fact without the body, yet before he could carry on with the plan he was unexpectantly coming up with, he felt someone pull him back by the hood causing him to be surprised at the sudden movement.

“We have to find and verify two more, leave that body behind,” Fushiguro once again commanded, which caused Itadori to shout at him back as he didn’t understand why the body should be left behind.

“Quit joking around! We turned around, and the way we got in here was gone! We won’t be able to come back for it later!” Itadori stated.

“I didn’t say come back for it! I said to leave it behind!” Fushiguro argued back in the same volume of tone, trying to make Itadori understand the situation that they were in and it was not possible to bring the body back at all - there was no point to him. “I have no intention of risking my own life to save someone I had no intention of saving in the first place!” Fushiguro frustratingly stated, only leading Itadori to grab his collar in return as a way to rebuke.

“No intention of saving him? What do you mean?!” Itadori asked in a perplexed tone, confused on what Fushiguro meant when it was their mission to save the remaining survivors that might be in the centre right now.

“This is a juvenile detention centre, Jujutsu sorcerers are granted access to all information about the scene beforehand,” Fushiguro declared before continuing his explanation by stating, “this Okazaki Tadashi hit a little girl on her way home from school while driving without a license, it was his second offence of driving without a license,” leading Itadori to look at his friend in vexation and surprise at the news he was receiving about the man he was going to ‘save’.

“I know you’re stuck on saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths, but what are you going to do when someone you saved kills someone else in the future?” Fushiguro asked with a stern tone trying to make his point of view understandable to the boy in front of him.

“Then why did you bother saving me?!” Itadori cried out, as a way to rebuke his statement due to the situation of him being the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, only to gain nothing but silence from the shikigami user in front of him as he tightened the grip on the collar he was grabbing.

“Oi stop being such drags, I didn’t come to Jujutsu Tech to hear your reasons for being a jujutsu sorcerer, get moving!” you demanded in a menacing tone before unhooking your katana that was secured on your lower back horizontally, preparing to use the weapon to separate them.

“Cut it out! Christ, what are you two doing?! You’re both idiots” Kugisaki shouted in equal frustration with you, as she made her way towards the two boys with her fists in the air.

“Think about the time and place if you-”

However, before she could continue the angry rant, she was suddenly sucked into the floor causing you to quickly react by trying to grab her hand, only to be too late when she was fully consumed into the hole that was created.

“Kugisaki?” Itadori called out in confused, only for Fushiguro to become shocked at the new situation that had occurred before turning forwards to see the sudden and dreadful outcome of his divine dog that was supposed to detect if any curses were near leading you to look at the same direction before suddenly feeling a presence of what you should have felt earlier.

‘If those two drags didn’t distract me with their argument, we shouldn’t have to worry about our wellbeing right now!’

“Itadori! L/N! We’re running, we’ll search for Kugisaki la-” Fushiguro panic before you suddenly screamed at both of them.

“DON’T MOVE!” you screamed, once you suddenly made eye contact on the curse that was standing right in near them, causing you to grip on your katana tighter as all three of you stayed completely still while you were coming up with a plan to see if you could put a distance between the curses and your classmate.

Suddenly, you saw Itadori’s shaky hand reach over to his weapon as he unleashed it from the leather casing before violently swinging it to cut the curse in some way, only for the sudden decapitation of his hand to be the result of his attempt causing massive amounts of blood to spill like a fountain.

“Itadori?” Fushiguro's voice shook while you were in the opposite of that mood right now.

Swiftly, you slide your feet around, landing between the boys before raising your katana making sure the tip on the black wooden casing was pointing at the special-grade curse’s face.

“Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho,” you chanted, causing your curse energy to travel from your arms to the length of your sword before a small shot of cursed energy to thrust its force against the curse’s face leading it to be violently pushed back against the concrete wall before turning towards Itadori with an angered expression, “I told you not to move and you decide to go against me!” you screamed in frustration before quickly turning back to look at the direction on where the special grade was flung in a confused but equally concentrated manner.

‘That curse spell isn’t even that strong, it’s my weakest, yet it managed to make it fly across the room, is it really a special grade by nature…..or did it eat something?’

“I can’t escape after it’s gotten this close! Hey, Sukuna! If I die, you die too, right?” Itadori determinedly asked, causing you to look at him with a startled expression.

‘Does this guy have a death warrant? Are you even listening to me?!’

“If you don’t want that, then help me out!” Itadori commanded leading you to further look at him like he was the craziest person in the world right now.

“Are you stupid?!” you screamed, only for Itadori to ignore you as Sukuna’s eye and mouth appeared on his cheek.

“Nope! Even if the parts of me inside you die, there are eighteen other fragments of my soul. Still, irritatingly enough, I don’t have control of this body, if you want to switch, go ahead and switch,” Sukuna taunted as he continued with his threats, “but once you do, I’ll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can, then I’ll go for that woman, she’s a lively one, I’ll have fun with her then I’ll go to her right there, she seemed like someone that knows how to fight,” leading you to place your weapon inches away from his eye.

“Stop talking, you’re making me lose concentration Sukuna,” you stated in a nonchalant tone before going back to find an explanation on why your cursed technique managed to give so much force to the special grade that was now starting to stand back up on its feet.

“I’m not going to let you do that!” Itadori declared in an inflamed tone, only for the King of Curses to taunt back without any hesitation.

“I bet! But if you’re too focused on me, your friends are gonna die,” Sukuna teased, causing you to look at the small eye and mouth with an annoyed look on your face.

“I said stop talking, you’re making me lose concentration,” you threateningly stated, only to suddenly realise that the special-grade was about to attack once again, leading to your cursed energy to flow from the palm of your hands to the tip of your fingers as your placed you left hand up like you were stopping someone.

“Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku!” you chanted, leading to the familiar large rectangular defensive wall to form in front of you, Itadori and Fushiguro, protecting you from cursed energy that the special-grade it was about to attack you with, but the concrete that wasn’t behind the wall didn’t seem to survive since the concrete turned into debris leaving evidence of its strength for you and Fushiguro to observe.

‘Pure cursed energy? So it doesn’t have any cursed techniques….ah what a drag…’ you concluded before turning to Fushiguro only to see him with widened eyes to that attack causing you to predict that he also thought the same thing as you.

“Fushiguro! Fushiguro! Fushiguro!” Itadori yelled out, trying to get the skikigami user’s attention before his third call caught his awareness as he turned to look at the screaming boy. “Take L/N and Kugisaki and get out of here!” Itadori demanded, causing you to look at him once again with an astonished look on your face, yet before you could grab his red collar in a way to argue his point, Itadori continued with, “I’ll keep this one bust until you three are out, as soon as you’re out, give me some kind of signal and once you do...I’ll switch with Sukuna,” to which Fushiguro screamed at his reckless plan. However, you were too focused on the curse in front of you, wondering why it was considered a special-grade then it took some sort of damage from a weak technique of yours.

As of right now, the curse seemed to be enjoying itself even when you managed to damage it and deflect its attack with two simple cursed spells. There was no point in letting your katana out of its wooden casing, it wouldn't be able to take the damage but there was the situation with Kugisaki being somewhere in the building as well, so there was a risk of taking your weapon out.

‘It’s definitely ate something, but what? There is a chance that it is Sukuna’s finger but that’s rare, besides it seemed like the fool hasn’t sensed anything from it to be his finger’

However, before you could even prepare your next attack to exorcise the curse to end the life and death situation Itadori and Fushiguro were in, you surprisingly felt someone grab your wrist before pulling you away from the battle that you had started leading you to look at the culprit to find out it was Fushiguro, who was dragging you away from the situation.

“What are you doing?!” you shouted before trying to pry your hand away from his grasp, only for him to tighten his hold in a way to not let you escape.

“We’re running, we need to find Kugisaki before giving Itadori the signal to get out of there,” Fushiguro explained in a stressed manner leading you to scream back at him on the thoughtless decision that had been made without your input.

“Are you crazy? You need to take back Itadori and let me fight that curse Fushiguro, he won’t be able to survive at all!” you yelled out in anger.

“Are you the crazy one? We don’t know what grade sorcerer you are and you want to exorcise that thing?!” Fushiguro argued back.

“So what makes Itadori capable? He doesn’t know how to control cursed energy or any techniques, TAKE ME BACK!” you panicked, only for his grip to tighten more at your comment of going back.

No one words were exchanged.

ꕥ

Within a flash, you and Fushiguro managed to grab Kugisaki before she was devoured by the curse she was fighting against while both of you were trying to find her.

At this current moment in time, you were outside the exit with Kugisaki in Ijichi’s arm, Fushiguro on the floor tired from running while you were standing behind the other divine dog that was giving Itadori the signal. However, even though you knew the signal was for Itadori to switch with Sukuna, you were conflicted on the idea leading your body to move forward towards the entrance to enter again.

However, you were stopped by the black dog using its body to push you back, once it was done with the signal it was giving to Itadori.

“Stop it!” Fushiguro stated as he stood up to put his arm in front of you to prevent you from moving forward. However, you were angry, pissed off and frustrated at this point.

“You should have listened to me, you drag!” you screamed at him before gripping the arm that was blocking your path. However, while you were looking at the erratic-haired sorcerer with pure rage in your eyes, Fushiguro was startled about the immense amount of cursed energy that was surrounding you as he was shocked that he didn’t notice it earlier when he had met you, it was alarming and intimidating to him as he didn’t even stand a chance to dominant his over you, it extended in power and strength than he had ever thought it would have.

How did you hide it so well?

ꕥ

Currently, you were at the gated entrance to the Eushi Detention Centre, where you had laid Kugisaki down at the back seats of the car before closing the door to stand in the rain with Fushiguro - much to your annoyance.

“Please explain the evacuation area to ten kilometres,” Fushiguro stated in a serious tone since he didn't know what could happen next since Itadori was still inside the building. Expanding the evacuation area was the best thing to do right now.

“What about you and Gojo?” Ijichi asked in a worried tone as he turned to look at you both through the gap on the window of his car.

“We’ll wait here for Itadori to return,” you stated in a serious tone to which Ichiji understood since you were so adamant to enter back to the building despite the many attempts Fushiguro tried to stop you.

“After I take Kugisaki-san to the hospital, I’ll return as quickly as possible,” Ijichi declared, only for Fushiguro to give a discouraged look to him before stating, “no, there wouldn’t be much point in you-”

“I need you to come back but I want you to stay at least one kilometre away from the evacuation area, at this rate if Itadori has switched, I want you to be as safe as possible but in the end, if you don’t hear from us at least an hour when you come back, go back to Jujutsu Tech immediately,” you interrupted Fushiguro by pushing your body in front of him while giving Ijichi the instructions you needed him to hear since you didn’t know the possible outcome that this was going to go to.

“If you can, please send a grade one sorcerer or higher but that won’t be necessary if I don't die,” you sternly commented, leading both Fushiguro and Ijichi to shiver at the statement you just announced.

Still shaken at what you had just said, Ijichi sent himself off before closing the window to prevent any cold raindrops from coming at him as he drove away from the area you and Fushiguro were standing in right now.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, I ain’t going to listen to you at all then Fushiguro,” you stated with a frown painted on your face before looking back at the building behind his body.

Taking your katana, you looked at the bottom of the handle to find a metal loop at the bottom with a red charm tied before it was simply slowly unwinded by you as you prepared for the worst that was about to come.

“What are you doing L/N?” Fushiguro asked in a worried tone, causing you to turn to look at him with a deadpan expression.

“Just preparing for the worst Fushiguro”

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gospelofme · 3 years

Text

Super Nova

Chapter 4: The Temple of Eedit

Devaron was a jungle planet like Yavin IV. Unlike Yavin IV though, it had small mountains and valleys. It’s climate tended to fall on the tropical side, which meant humidity. Humidity could make things difficult, but not impossible. The temple was located near the town of Tikaroo, deep within the jungles. In its prime, there was a road leading through the jungle and right up to the front door of the temple. However, years of war had seen to the destruction of the road, as well as to the temple itself. She wasn’t even sure if the town was still there, the people may have moved on when the temple was destroyed. Once they cleared the upper atmosphere and got closer to the surface, however, the outline of the small town began to appear. There was only one problem. There was no clearing large enough to land except a couple miles away from the town. They’d have to land there and walk to the temple. There was no sign of the temple from the sky, but that didn’t worry Sayr. She figured the ruins had been largely swallowed by the jungle.

Varex set The Grand Orbiter down in the larger clearing, which apparently was still under construction. A couple big cranes were parked along the edge of the jungle, probably used for clearing the large vines that the planet was known for. Humidity washed over them as soon as the door to the ship opened and the crew stepped foot on the surface. There were the typical jungle sounds, birds and bugs, which was a pleasant sign. The planet’s animals had nearly been hunted to extinction in the Empire days. Signs of life returning to the jungle was a healthy indicator.

“Well, lets get moving!” Varex announced like a sports coach spurring his team, leading the way down the trail that lead to Tikaroo. Within no time the crew was hot and sweaty, but there was something about that that made Sayr come alive. Hard work always made a reward worthwhile. She walked with a purpose along the pathway, ignoring the tickle of sweat rolling down her back.

About thirty minutes later the Meson Martinet landed in the same clearing, the crew of Sidon Ithano walking out to survey the area. Quiggold, the first mate, scowled at The Grand Orbiter.

“Kriff, why is that thing here?” He muttered, knowing who the ship belonged to just as well as the other members. Varex had become somewhat of a rival to the crew of the Crimson Corsair. Sometimes he beat them to the prize, other times they got there first. More than once the Zabrak captain had made life difficult for the Crimson Corsair.

“As long as he doesn’t mess with our objective, we’ll be fine. He isn’t that much of a threat.” Reveth noted, fanning herself with a her hand. “Ugh, it’s hot here today.” She added. Their Captain joined them shortly and the ship was secured. After a moment Quiggold sighed, it was time to walk the mile or so into town. His short legs would make this walk seem much longer, the peg leg wouldn’t help much either, but at least they weren’t trudging through sand this time. Like Varex’s crew, they were all sweating in no time, Quiggold wondering how their Captain wasn’t overheating in his mask and outfit.

The crew trudged into town desperately searching for a vendor that sold water, each having consumed a good portion of their canteen on the walk. They stopped at a stall and waited while their canteens were filled when Squeaky nudged Reveth and nodded over at something, she looked then nudged Quiggold’s shoulder.

“I know why Nova never returned your messages.” She said lowly, nodding to vender a few stalls over. Quiggold looked over to where the Twi’lek had indicated and cursed under his breath. Sure enough, Sayriel Nova stood outside a stall selling machetes to cut through the dense jungle. She looked bored and thankfully wasn’t looking in his direction. A short time later Varex emerged from the stall with a new machete in hand. Quiggold scowled at the dumb smile the Zabrak gave his Force-wielding companion as he brandished the bladed weapon. Nova looked at Varex with a unimpressed stare.

“Great, looks like Varex did something smart first off for a change. I have a feeling we’re not the only ones our employer hired.” Quiggold noted, sharing a look with their masked Captain. He too had noticed Nova. Ithano gave an unconcerned shrug and moved on to another stall.

“I don’t get it, what’s the big deal?” Their newest member, a former clone medic named Kix, questioned. Quiggold filled him in as they quickly left the vicinity to avoid being spotted by the rival crew.

“Sayriel Nova would’ve been ideal to help find the items our benefactor wants. She has ways to find them. Plus she has some inside information on where they can be found. Turns out Varex got to her first.” The first mate said, the former clone looking back at Nova.

“Don’t look over there!” Quiggold tugged the man around, the former clone nearly running into a support post for the stall they had stopped at.

“She looks normal enough to me.” Kix shrugged, Quiggold snorting in response.

“She’s a Jedi. She can sense them.” He said quietly, jumping a bit as Reveth spoke up,

“You’d better hope she doesn’t hear you call her that. She may skewer you.” The Twi’lek smirked, looking at Kix she added, “Sayr prefers the term “force user” instead of Jedi since she doesn’t identify with only the light side.” Kix tried to look unconcerned. The very word “Jedi” made him nervous. Memories of the past seemed to trickle in unexpectedly and he wasn’t sure if he could handle a vengeful Force User should she discover his past affiliation. Captain Ithano and his crew soon departed the town, Quiggold not spotting Nova or Varex again as they did so. That could mean one of two things. Either they had just been making a pit stop here and were headed back to their ship. Or they were headed to the temple already. Quiggold hoped it was the former.

The temple wasn’t too far from town, and there were some remnants of the road that had once blazed a trail through the jungle. This made it fairly easy to find, except it didn’t solve their problems with how to get into what was left. The temple had been bombed years ago, blocking the main entrance completely. Plus the jungle had settled itself comfortably over most of the structure.

“Well this will be an issue” Krev said, a very sweaty Darr agreeing with a low grumble.

“Aren’t you glad I tagged along then.” Sayriel said, putting her hands on her hips, equally sweaty.

“Do your thing then.” Krev replied, the Chiss gesturing to the boulders that were once large doors.

“Pfft, I don’t have to move those things. From my studies as a young child-“

“You studied?” Avi interrupted. Sayr shushed him.

“Yes, sometimes. Anyways, this temple had an escape route out the back.” Sayriel continued, leading them around the ruins. The temple sat on a hotspot in the Force, Sayr being able to feel it much stronger here than in the town. Perhaps this place would be good to practice mediating, obviously not right now though.

Once they reached the back, they noted it looked a lot like the front in terms of damage with the exception of one thing, a small opening in the rocks. Climbing over some large chunks of temple, the crew got closer to the opening.

“Looks like it’s too small for you Darr, you can sit this one out buddy.” Sayr mentioned, the Wookiee replied with a nod. Sayriel eased herself into the crevice, followed by Krev and Varex. Avi decided to wait back with Darr and keep an eye out for any unwelcome visitors. Sayriel was fine with that, the less noise inside the temple the better. They didn’t need any cave-ins. The temple was dark with the exception of little rays of light filtering down from openings up top. Once her eyes adjusted, she started forward. She’d have to use the Force to feel for a holocron, as it was unlikely that they’d just stumble upon one. So far she didn’t pick up much of anything outside of the plants and animals in the space around them. She got a sense of urgency as well, but that was probably Varex wanting to hurry up and find out if this place was worth it.

Their footsteps echoed off the rocks and there was a dripping sound somewhere nearby. The longer Sayriel stayed there, the more she felt around her. Feelings of joy, calm, peace, terror, anger, death. They were amplified due to the nexus in the Force that this place was built on. She kept her thoughts to herself, the others were oblivious to the feelings anyways. There was an area up ahead that looked to be lighter than the rest, Sayriel climbing up around some large rocks to the opening higher up. She peered over the edge of a squared off piece of the temple ceiling and saw a little courtyard down below. Granted it hadn’t always been a courtyard, but the opening the in ruins above them combined with rain and sun had caused plants to grow inside, giving it a garden feel. There was something different about this place for sure. It would be a good area to search.

Quiggold emerged from the jungle, followed by Captain Ithano, Reveth, Squeaky, and Kix. There was no sign of Varex, his crew, or Nova. Perhaps they weren’t coming here, Quiggold allowed himself to think hopefully. The entrance to the temple was in shambles, bombed by the Empire long ago. The parts that were still structure-like had vines clinging to it. The building itself was unstable. Finding a way in may not be as impossible as it looked. Quiggold asked Kix for the mini exploration droid from the backpack he carried, Kix handing him a small round droid and a holopuck. A button was pressed and the droid woke up, humming lighting in Quiggold’s palm. He handed it back to Kix, who then tossed it high into the air. The droid was a prototype from a friend of Reveth’s on Tatooine. It was like a seeker droid but smaller and more compact. So far it was useful. The droid flew up over the ruins and scanned the area for a suitable entrance, the image projected by the holopuck. After a couple of moments it spotted one, a decent sized opening in the rubble. It was too dark inside the opening to make out anything, but it was worth a check. Quiggold moved the droid back to the group, storing it and the holopuck back in Kix’s backpack. Quiggold wasn’t sure if he had the ability to climb up onto the boulders, some of the handholds and footholds looked too tall. He took his prayer beads out of a pocket and rubbed them while thinking. Perhaps it was best for him to stay down here and keep an eye out for that Zabrak Varex and his men. But he didn’t want to come all this way and not search the temple, which itself was pretty impressive even in ruins. Squeaky volunteered to keep a lookout, Quiggold reluctantly stating that he’d stay with him. Captain Ithano patted his first mate’s shoulder as he walked passed him silently and began to climb, following by Reveth and Kix.

“Seriously, do you think I can drink this?” Varex asked Sayr who was perched on a boulder on the edge of the impromptu courtyard.

“I don’t know! Usually flowing water is okay, but I’m not an expert in that field. Just drink the water in your canteen.” Sayriel shot back in an irritated tone. Varex slumped his shoulders and did as she suggested.

“I think he was hoping this temple water would give him Force powers.” Krev teased.

“Yeah that’s not how that works.” Sayriel replied, Varex giving both of them a rude hand gesture. Sayriel smirked and poked around the space with the Force. If she were a holocron, where would she be? Here maybe? Somewhere else perhaps? She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the little nooks and crannies in rubble around them. She felt something other than a holocron though, some guests approaching.

“Found something?” Varex asked, noticing a change in her body language.

“Just some unwanted company.” Sayr replied. She quickly jumped off her boulder and ducked into the shadows just as a little scanner droid moved to hover over the opening above them. The other two copied her. She didn’t think the scanner could pick them up, the light quality was too low here, but it was better to be safe than sorry. After a moment the droid flew off and Sayriel could feel a few entities move closer. Clever, they’re going to try to climb the outside, she thought to herself. It was a worthy idea, but maybe not the best one. Rocks on the outside of the temple might give way and send them tumbling to the ground. That’d be a pity. Sayr noted inwardly, a sarcastic tone to her thoughts.

Reveth, Kix, and Ithano finally made it to the edge of the opening in the rock. The chasm looked dark inside, it was difficult to see if there was a bottom. Kix took the scanner droid out of his pack and dropped it in after activating it. Using the holopuck, the image projected from it looked promising.

“Well, there is a floor and a second opening inside the space.”

Sayriel could hear a man’s voice speaking, presumably to others, above them. She peeked around the edge of her boulder and watched as the droid started to scan 360°, ducking back just before the scan reached her. Varex and Krev hid next to her. The droid was called back up to the mouth of the hole in the ceiling.

Reveth secured a rope to one of the large rocks, giving it a few tugs to make sure it was steady. Once satisfied, she took the rope and lowered herself inside the cave. Once her feet hit the rock floor, she called up to the other two to come down. Once all three were inside the courtyard area, they took a moment to look around.

“Perhaps we should climb up there and see where that goes.” Reveth suggested, looking toward the area where Varex and his crew had entered the cavern.

“Yeah there’s nothing over there.” Varex announced his presence casually. Reveth, Kix, And Ithano quickly turned with weapons drawn to see Krev, Varex and Sayriel standing behind them.

Tag List

@jgvfhl @leias-left-hair-bun @baby-queen-zen @halzore @escapedthesarlacc

#star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars original fan fiction #star wars original characters #grey jedi #original grey Jedi character #clone medic kix #clone trooper kix #the crimson corsair #Reveth #Quiggold #sidon ithano #post order 66 #star wars sequals

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herenortherenearnorfar · 3 years

Text

I’m waiting on a proofread on my long fic but here’s some bonus Maha content!

“To raise you is a gift,” your nana tells you in the secret language. The language that is shared between just you, your parents, and the trees. (There are two languages for you three and your garden, they just use the first one more.) “You are a treasure we have been entrusted with and we were grateful from the first moment we saw you.”

A little older you learn what she meant. You were a gift, you were given. A servant with no other family died and the king handed her baby off to the inhuman creatures who resided with him, to raise as their own.

“Are you glad my mother died?” you ask at six.

Your atha looks horrified. “No! How could we be glad?”

“Because you got me.” It seems an easy enough equation. Her death was their gain. They like kids a lot, they’re always delighted when they get to help a baby, but parents keep them away from their children. If they let parents die they might have even more children to take care of.

“Every child deserves a family,” he says gravely, kneeling in the dark red dirt of the garden. “Their own family. You were deprived of one and we were allowed to step in to help, but there’s nothing to be happy about. That parting was a sorrow.”

“So you didn’t want me?” That servant woman, dead of a concussion when you were just three months old, is a story to you. A specter who gave you your small hands and round eyes. Her imagined death stings less than the concept that the two most important people in your life wouldn’t have always fought for you. That there’s a world where you’re a servant’s daughter and they’re the tall, gleaming eyed guests all children are warned away from, and they don’t hold you tight and tell you secret stories of their forest homelands.

“We didn’t know how dearly we loved you until you were in our arms,” atha reassures you, “Then once you were there it was like we couldn’t have known life without you.”

Your parents always know exactly what to say.

One day the three of you will leave this land, the place where you were born. Your nana and atha have stayed here a long time, dwelling among humans instead of their own kin. They couldn’t find their kin, when they went looking. Some of the places they used to live had changed or disappeared over the centuries and others had been abandoned, there was no trace of the people of their youth.

So they tarried a while with the king. But it’s been a century and they want to go home. They tell you stories, in their language, about a wet green wood full of tall folk just like them. Nighttime people, fading people. In their language, edhwellen, cwendi kind, elves.

There’s a king there too, named Oropher, and a lovely court, though your parents never frequented it much. Were older than it and above its turnings.

(Your parents are older than lots of things. Once your mother said she remembered a time before the sun.)

Instead they kept to the trees, and made their home among the wild things. They were healers and menders of broken things, just like have been for your whole life, and they lived in a pretty house inside a big tree.

“Bigger around than a tower, taller than the sky, Maha,” your atha says.

They left a son there too. Grown up and busy with his own adventures, he’s a guard in the court of that far western king. They miss him dearly, you can tell, and are quick to tell you about how much he would love know that he has a little sister.

They plan to go home some day but when you’re four they must have some sort of conversation behind your back because they start insisting that they will, if you want, stay. “This is your home, you can live here if you want. We do not mean to leave immediately, you can grow up and make your own choices.”

But you want to go. They’ve convinced you already with their tales of traveling and fairy kings and loving big brothers. (None of the children here play with you. You’re either an upjumped servant’s daughter or ward of two frighteningly high ranked royal intimates, and always the child of unpredictable magical forces.)

“Oh,” your nana says, looking at your atha over your head after you finish demanding your chance at the home they’ve always promised. “Maybe when you’re older then. Thirty—“ another look and she amends, “Twenty. Then we’ll go.”

Your parents make it clear to you from an early age not to bandy about your leaving plans with strangers. It’s easy enough to obey that order, you just don’t talk about it in human language.

When you’re eight you learn that the last time your parents were too loud about wanting to walk away the king panicked and gave them a baby— gave them you.

There are some things you’ll miss when you leave home forever. As you grow you start cataloguing them. You’ll miss the garden and all the plants there, who whisper to you and sing songs in the night. There are different plants in the west, nana and atha have told you, so you make sure to spend time with all your favorites while you can.

The herbs are your special friends, though they’re so quiet you can barely hear their little voices. Maybe that’s better when you need to rip them up to make medicine. You shower affection on the brahmi, the basil, the pennywort, and the pink lotuses in their marble pool.

You’ll miss the servants, especially the kitchen servants who are especially fond of you because your mother was one of them. A pot fell on her head when she was trying to fetch it from the wall, you’re told her death was quick but the guilt still clearly lingers enough for them to give you fruit and halva when you visit.

There’s the king too, who is always coming to talk to your parents. Even if he thought you were an anchor, he’s jolly and gentle and as desperate for your nana and atha’s attention as you are. They have been around since his grandfather’s reign, are as much a part of the kingdom as the hills and the palace. A good luck charm, the blessing of the nighttime people.

His wives are nice too, they give you dates— you are a child blessed with fruit— and sometimes let you hold their babies. Most people don’t do that, they’re too afraid that you might have become enough of a nighttime person to want to steal babies for your own. There are still stories about that, especially from villages near the rivers and the woods. Children will go missing and they’ll say the nighttime people took them.

Desperate for news of the family they left years ago (maybe before there was a sun) either your nana or your atha goes to investigate every one of those stories. They always come back disappointed— the edhwellen didn’t take the children— and they never quite want to tell you where the children went if they were stolen or given away.

You’ll miss the animals, the peacocks in the courtyards, the elephants sometimes brought to market to lift heavy goods or wear armor and make war, the tiger skins to show how brave and wealthy this land is. Atha says there are no tigers there, just bears.

The last thing about the palace that you’ll miss is the language. Of the three languages of your childhood, it’s the first and loudest. Everyone speaks the human language. For a while you don’t even realize that you might lose it, surely there are humans near the Greenwood? Then parents explain that just like there are many elf languages (they speak two) there are many human languages too. No one in the west speaks your mother tongue.

When you leave it will be lost to you forever. Except your parents, of course, but they don’t count, they’re practically a part of you at this age.

“Maybe I do want to come back,” you say thoughtful and five. “When I’m really old. A zillion years old. It would be sad to be old and not have all your languages with you.”

“We can come back,” nana promises.

At six you realize that humans die and that you’re human. Your parents are not.

“In our Greenwood,” you ask as your parents curl around you, lulling you to sleep. It’s always your Greenwood. “Will I be the only person who’ll get old?”

“I don’t know,” atha says, “there weren’t many humans there when we last lived there. That was a long time ago though.”

Nana strokes your hair. It’s baby short, not like their long, glossy black curls. They have prettier hair than anyone else in the palace. “Do you not want to be the only person who’ll get old?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, uncertain with sleep. Really you don’t want to get old at all, but that discussion has already been had. Your parents are miracle workers in some regards but they can’t give you their immortality the way you were given to them. (“Though we would in a heartbeat,” nana swore, “if that was what you desired.”)

More hair stroking. “We’ll still love you, no matter how old you get.” That reassurance is enough, though you still have a few weeks nightmares about your parents getting a new baby to replace you when you’re an old lady.

Atha teaches you to write in Sindarin as best he knows how, while Nana complains that back in her day no one wrote anything down. No one teaches you to write in the language of your birth, you’re not sure your parents know how, but you sit in the younger queen’s courtyard while the four year old prince is with his tutor and pick it up by osmosis. The curly letters of this script are like the ones atha showed you, digging a stick into the ground. Different sorts of curl, different sorts of connection.

You write stories you remember in the dirt in the garden, digging down with you stick till the pale pink tile beneath the earth shines through. You label all the plants you know phonetically and delight in knowledge.

When you’re eight there are dignitaries from a visiting kingdom at court. You crowd with other titleless, jobless busybodies— noble children, bored wives, more privileged servants— and strain to see the visitors. The bring gifts, people in chains.

There are scandalized whispers from the grownups.

“A small token of our friendship,” says the unctuous ambassador, before beginning another litany of compliments for the king. “May we forever remain allies in the face of enemies.”

You learn later that this token of appreciation is considered in poor taste. It is acceptable to keep war prisoners and ask labor of them, but to drag them away from the place of their defeat, treat them as trade goods, deny their families the chance to ransom them? The king cannot, in good conscience, accept the alliance from your desperate neighbor.

You’re glad. Anyone willing to use people as gifts is not a good friend. Even your mother, who bore you and loved you for three months, though she was a debt servant was still a person.

You don’t ask why they’re so hungry for allies, so ready to trade anything. Maybe you should have but three months later they’re conquered by some big western kingdom, sprawling, hungry, bannered by a black hand on a white background, and it doesn’t matter anymore.

There are two languages of the nighttime people that your parents teach you. The first you learn very well. It’s called Sindarin and it’s spoken in your Greenwood. You like it, its bumps and grumbles. A language for old trees talking.

The other one is Windan. There are echoes of it in Sindarin, pale traces like seeing shared features in two cousins. When your parents struggle to find a word in one they’ll reach for the other, so the two blend together in your mind. Windan is the language of the night. Long ago a people who loved the stars more than anything else lived in the forests south of your home. Your parents lived there. And even further East, past mountains and wilds, is the place where all language began.

Nana and atha left to explore. Their hearts are wild, the rest of their kind scorned them for it. Even when they settled in a green wood where the stars are strange they still loved to wander, to make friends with dwarves and pale northern men.

They sing their night songs to the stars; you learn simply by listening, till you can sing along. This is ageless and it feels like it could last forever. Somewhere in the woods you hope the rest of the nighttime people are listening too.

Your mother was indentured by debt but none of that transfers to a baby. It’s the law, supported by custom, children are free, you checked.

There is a mass of armies stationed along your border. You’re nine and these petty human affairs don’t concern you much. This kingdom has always been a place for leaving. The queens are worried but the servants are not, and the servants seem eminently more sensible than the queens (though those bejeweled, bangled ladies are kind).

You are not worried until the king comes to your parents, terrified, and says, “They asked for you. In the letter, they asked for you.”

Together, your parents take him in, make him warm spiced tea, and ask him gentle questions. There’s a reason he loves them, it’s not just because they were the last thing he had of his grandfather when he was a little king.

Very nicely, they ask you to stay in the garden. “Sing to the stars for us, Maha,” they say. Silly since it’s barely twilight, the only star that’s out is the evening star (which nana says isn’t a star at all, it’s a person).

Instead on singing you eavesdrop, and hear nothing that makes any sense. There’s a big darkness, your parents say, which is obvious, it’s almost night time, and they’ve never felt anything like this before, only heard of it. There is a great darkness and they warn the king to be careful, because they are going to have to go. They offer to take the little princes, the baby princess. This evil does not respect the old laws of war, they caution.

“Go,” the king says, “Be safe. But a king cannot run where his people cannot follow.”

“That I can respect,” atha says sadly. “Live well. Do not fear to look this evil in the eye. I hear it has been struck down before.”

Nana opens the door sharply, she has a very quiet step, and doesn’t even look disappointed to find you listening. “Come along,” she orders. “We have to leave tonight.”

You are nine and deep among the dry red hills. There are villages here, herders and farmers of plants that need little rain. Nana and atha have steered away from them. “We can’t bring trouble down where we were once welcomed,” they caution.

Luckily they are good at finding water, good at knowing what plants are good to eat. Even here, without the tree-talk to guide them, they understand their surroundings.

It’s hard to go from a palace to the woods, sleeping in the dirt and eating tubers instead of pomegranates. But every day your parents’ faces grow more grim. It’s as if they’ve seen great horrors every night in their dreams. You can’t complain, you can’t.

At night, on a hill where you can see the beginnings of the wet lowlands on the horizon, you are caught. It happens before you can wake up. One minute you’re asleep between your parents, the next you’re in the arms of a monster with a metal shell, being ripped away from safety and love.

You scream and scream until one of the soldiers in their shiny bronze breastplates hits you. Then you just cry, as quietly as you can.

No one lets you see your parents. A few of the soldiers, in the lacquered pangolin scale of your own kingdom, feed you. Above your head they whisper, “They really do steal children.”

Amid the humans are monsters, monsters you recognize from your childhood bedtime stories. Goblins, imps made to look like edhwellen, tricksy and bad where the nighttime people are true, loathing song and starlight and water. That would set off another round of screaming if you thought you could get away with it.

It’s impossible to ride in your clothes, a swoop of folded and pleated cloth. No one has ever thought you’d who’d need trousers. So one of the soldiers just scoops you up and carries you, like a sack of rice. It must help that you are small; your parents, so tall and strong, would be harder to carry.

There are heads above the gate of the city where you grew up. One of them wears a kingly turban, perhaps to identify it as it decays. It’s been days since you left the palace and in the hot sun the face is already a little bloated.

The soldiers give you to the palace guard, who know you, look at you with pity, put you in a nice little room and do not tell you anything. Neither do the kitchen servants, though they give you extra fruit.

Eventually you are brought out of your room by the king’s younger brother. He lives far away, visits as often as he can, and has only spoken to your parents a few times. The last time you saw him was at his wedding, just a two years ago. When you’re older you’ll realize how young he is, at nine he seems as much a grownup as anyone else.

“Where are my nana and atha?” you cry, used to getting what you want, used to being the spoilt elf-child. The new king’s face wrinkles up, then he realizes what you call your parents and his worried expression goes slack with sympathy.

He kneels down, as if to make himself less imposing in his finery. “Ah, child. I’m sorry, they’re dead.”

The only thing you feel is disbelief. Your parents are immortal.

You open your mouth again, to demand more answers, but he’s a king with places to be. He takes a small wooden chest from one of his guards and hands it to you. “Here, hold this and follow me.”

Terrified of more violence, more awful and unbelievable bad news, you obey. Trotting after them you peek inside the box to see the gleam of gold.

In the main room there’s a man in the king’s seat.

No, you amend. Not a man. Men don’t look like this. He’s like your parents refined. His hair gleams thrice as bright as your nana’s did, his eyes smoulder where theirs’ gently gleamed. There is a spectrum of devastating glory, from regular people, to the famed beauties and prettiest dancers, to nana and atha, to the monster in front of you.

He is speaking with a cringing man next to him. Without turning his head, he pauses his conversation.

“I take it you have found no evidence of what I seek?” he speaks your language effortlessly, though he doesn’t look like he came from your home. He looks like… he looks like a little bit of everything. The way nana and atha did. Like you can catch wisps of familiarity in his features but when you strain to catch it the sense of sameness is gone.

“No, my lord,” the poor king admits. “It is as was initially said, there’s nothing in the forests.”

“Well, if none of the Firstborn are here I have no reason to stay. What a disappointment.”

You are quaking, desperate, beginning to think that maybe your parents aren’t invincible after all, and in the midst of that uncertain grief the new king pushes you forward. “My lord, I have their foster daughter! Take her, as a gift, for your kindness.”

The compression of flame doesn’t even look at you. “A human orphan. How generous. I’ll make arrangements for us to take our leave.”

Your parents will never hug you again. They will never whisper to you in a secret tongue, tell you the names of plants and their uses, show you how to soothe a graft on a tree or a recently set bone, tell you stories about the lake where the world began.

They’ll never see their house inside a big tree again.

They’ll never see their son and explain where they went, why they spent so many years away. There will never be a joyous reunion in a bright green wood with you squished small between your family.

They’ll never see you die, never get to mourn you. Once you wished so hard for that outcome and now it feels like the worst thing in the world.

In the aftermath, when you’re not sure where you are supposed to go or who you are supposed to go to, a man with a long grey beard and a dark robe comes up to you.

“Seldë,” he says seriously, which you don’t understand. Then he tries again, in accented Sindarin. “Little girl.”

You clutch the wooden chest, containing a small treasure of gold in jewelry, a last gift before you were given away again, tighter to your chest. “Yes?”

“Can you read and write?” he asks.

You nod.

“In what languages?” After you tell him he looks pleased. “Good, good girl. I’ll take you then. We need more clever hands.”

“Can’t I stay?” you plead. The treasure chest might buy you a bit of safety. You could work in the kitchens, or live in a house all alone with a garden. Maybe they’d let you bury your parents under trees.

The old man frowns. “Why would you? You have a gift, we can use you. Come now, I’ll get you settled.”

You are told you should be grateful. You’re lucky to be in the favor of one of the more permanent appointments in this small court. There’s a bed, food, long days spent hunched over copying without leaf or tree or sunlight. You learn to write in ink rather than dirt, develop a good hand, are told you ought to appreciate your master’s patience. But shouldn’t they be glad to have you?

Aren’t you a gift?

#maha #alive at the wake #easterling and beyond ocs #fanfic

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curious-minx · 3 years

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Review of the first episode of The Great North (plus some sad Bob’s Burgers’ news)

2021.

I was going to begin my review of the pilot episode of The Great North, the sister sister series of Bob’s Burgers, with my trademark snarky and slanted curlicue wit... Instead, I am reckoning with the headline of the death of Bob’s Burgers character designer, Dave Creek.

Dave Creek.

Type his name out and put it in comic sans and you can see it’s a name meant to be involved with TV. One of the rare individuals to pass away from something other than Covid-19 or our rising totalitarian government. The artist contributed to the show in many ways, most profoundly with the design of Lady Tinsel from the Bleakening, one of Bob’s Burgers most visually ambitious episodes to date. I am ill-equipped to eulogize the man like his fellow peers are doing, but as someone who writes and thinks about the Bob’s Burgers series it is impossible to not address his passing.

//////

The Great North.

“Sexi Moose Adventure”

Look up there! What Do You See? Nature and stuff Like a rock And a tree Oh, The Great North Way up here we can breathe the air Catch some fish Or gaze at a bear Wow! Oh, The Great North Here we live, oh, oh Here we’ll stay, oh, whoo From longest night To longest day In The Great North

An Alan Thicke bop or the wimpy Cheers theme this aint. A jarring theme. I had to transcribe it to lay it out in front of me to see how wordy it is, but to my surprise the theme song looks more concise on paper. Still, I am not sold on this theme song. Mainly because I prefer the misheard lyric of “Here we’ll say (it’s actually “stay”): oh, whoo,” digging further into the regional grunts.

1:24, One minute and twenty four seconds in and there is already a little bit of winking scatalogical humor by the ever youthful Paul Rust, or as I am sure he’ll be known for generations, Ham Tobin, the middle of the three Tobin sons. Compounded within these first two minutes is a stylistic swivel away from Bob’s Burgers comedic well with a Brokeback Mountain themed wedding cutaway joke with real-world celebrity cameos. Speaking of celebrity cameos, how about a side character conversation with an Alanis Morrisette constellation (and she’s a recurring character!) you’ve never seen that in Bob’s Burgers! In the first three minutes and thirty seconds we have two instances of explicitly expositional dialogue, the first is the cleaner introduction of eldest Wolf Tobin (voiced by Will Forte) and his fiance Honeybee Shaw who has just moved to Alaska from Fresno and helps set up the reverse All in the Family Meathead and Gloria dynamic. What comes next is once again another moment I can only describe as jarring when the inexplicably normal named Judy Tobin explains to Alanis Morrisette constellation exactly what is wrong with sweetly overbearing father. The reason involving a somewhat convoluted background story about the former Tobin matriarch's abandonment of the family and Beef, the Tobin patriarchy, is in denial of this fact. Beef prefers to live in the reality where no wife of his would leave him she could only have been eaten by a wolf.

What goes on throughout the episode is what I believe is a cardinal sin of episodic storytelling: Making jokes and observations at the expense of an off screen character. There are already WAY too many characters being thrown at me and not once throughout the episode was I able to identify any of the characters by any names other than the name of the celebrity voice actor. Minute six and yet again we are hit with Honeybee generating another celebrity name for a joke and I really hope that the writers develop more of a game for her. Oh wait a minute the episode reminds me again at the eight minute forty sixth second mark that she is in fact from Fresno. More diarrhea and fart jokes snaking their way back into the scene as well, but Jenny Slate has always relished in the poopier jokes (see: any of her stand-up, Kroll work, or Obvious Child).

At the ten minute mark there is a quality character defining joke when Wolf distracts Beef by pointing out an indoor potted plant in a mall, which causes Beef, ever the Nature man, to take matters into his own hands by trying to rescue the potted plant. Beef is basically a combination of the two Rons from Parks & Rec, the emotional frugality of Ron Swanson and a touch of Sam Elliot’s Ron Dunn Earthiness. Julio Torres’ mall juicer character is also introduced with a perfunctory but enjoyable deadpan exchange with the awkward Judy, but it’s the kind of performance Julio Torres could give in his sleep (and probably did).

The eleven minute mark introduces a character that I was initially pretty jazzed about, Judy’s boss at the mall photography store Alyson Lefebvrere (gosh I hated typing out that name >.<) voiced by long-time Molyneux collaborator, Megan Mullally. On paper, much like the theme song, a heated exchange between an emotionally vulnerable Beef and a character voiced by real-life wife Megan Mullally should be dynamite, instead much like their podcast it feels like a wet fart in the sheets. Mullally’s work on Bob’s Burgers as Linda’s sister Gayle is terrific and with the power of animation having her play an unconventional looking character really works to her advantage. Alyson’s character design is boring and conventional cartoon attractive as she’s clearly being set up as a potential love interest for our leading Beef man, but the whole thing in execution falls completely flat. The extended 69 joke between Beef and Alyson is supposed to be funny because we know it’s between a real life publicly beloved celebrity couple. You cannot coast on innate chemistry alone! The setting up of the love interest isn’t even coy, we see Beef get heart eyes and drool over Alyson, which is just the most predictable and least interesting choice. A route this show seems dangerously flirtatious with.

Finally, at minute:second mark 13:15 we get introduced to a potentially fun and quirky sitcom character, Londra the neighboring fish mongerer. Voiced by Judith Shelton, an actor I am sure we all remember as Sally from Seinfeld and Angela from the Gregory Hines Show. Instead she gets instantly shut down and shuffled by in favor of advancing the plot of the episode. Moving on to the birthday party. Yep Honeybee makes another pop culture reference this time the Minions (it was Squidward last time, but I was too faint of heart to mention it at the time). We also find out in a forced confession from Ham that he is gay. I am glad the show has hired an openly gay actor like Julio Torres to play a bit recurring character, but it feels weird having Paul Rust a thoroughly heterosexual actor portray a gay goofball character. I feel like there easily could have been an actual gay goofball Paul Rust type out there deserving of the job, but this show does do right by having Dulce Sloan as Honeybee and Aparna Nancherla as MVP, Moon Tobin (Who I’ll get into later). Therefore I should not let this irk me, but clearly this show and I are not seeing eye to eye. In an era of gestures towards meaningful representation I would just like to see some consistency. Rust will probably go on to join the ranks of the many other hetero men who have also portrayed perfectly competenent and sensitive gay characters, but with gay characters should come paychecks for gay voice talent. In the end of this dead end debacle I much rather Paul Rust have the role and be spared the unimaginative Randy Rainbow casting. Back on track.

There’s a four square action sequence of the four siblings that also feels like the show attempting another stylistic flourish to separate itself from Bob’s Burgers. The episode, all one straight ahead single narrative, comes to a happy ending to also establish that the Bob’s Burgers sister sister series is also interested in being a sentimental sitcom to its core. An unfortunately okay first episode that got worse for me with a repeated viewing. The only character and overall performance that sticks out to me is Aparna Nancherla playing what is essentially the show’s Tina and Louise lovechild of a character Moon Tobin, an animal identifying gender flipped peculiar savant-like child. She’s one of those comedians that I will always root for and appreciate whenever she pops up and I really hope that this show treats her right. She really elevates the material. Everyone else does just fine. The first episodes and first seasons of any sitcoms are rarely all that innovative or memorable so I am certainly going to allow this show to grow on me.

For the time being, this first episode of the Great North is deserving of Two Sexy Moose Antlers out of Five Forced Pop Culture References

#TV Series #Bob's Burgers #The Great North #Fox #adult animation #Animation Domination #Sitcom #TV Review

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alison-anonymous · 4 years

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flawsome bandits pt. 1 ♡ sonic

Flawsome First Meetings

EARLY RELEASE!

Hello, my darlings and WELCOME to my second multi-part fanfic, Flawsome Bandits (a Sonic the Hedgehog Movie! x Reader). I have not yet finished the second chapter of this story yet, and I’m currently trying to prewrite these chapters so I can update them along the way, but I wanted to get the first one out to all of my patient darlings as soon as possible! Please let me know what you think, the love always encourages me to write more ;) Love you all, please enjoy!

Warnings: none

♡♡♡

If you've ever had amnesia, you'd know that things seem very quick.

Little flashbacks of what you're guessing to be your backstory come back in little spurts that never last long enough and are gone too soon. They leave huge, gaping holes in your background information from what your favorite color is to who your parents were. Try your story on for size.

You were Y/n Wachowski. A sassy, quick-witted teenage girl with a love for speed and a sharp tongue. Parents? Unknown. Distant relatives? Undiscovered. Hometown? Who the fuck knows. You were sent to live with the Wachowski's as your permanent foster parents after you were discovered wandering around the woods by a couple of hikers. They said that they found you wearing a ripped and dirty jumpsuit with pastel colors that looked like it was ten times smaller than your size. When they had tried to confront you, it was almost as if you couldn't hear them, your mouth open and unspeaking. Eyes wandering, glossy and unseeing.

You couldn't remember much about your past. Most of the time it was like looking at a blank sheet of paper, ready to get into the printer but it's out of ink. After being diagnosed with a concussion and severe amnesia, you were seen as unfit to take care of yourself, so that was how you ended up with the Wachowskis. But just because you were lucky enough to have loving and patient foster parents didn't mean that you had an answer to every question they asked. You had no idea what your favorite color was, what you liked to do in your free time, or even if you were a night owl.

It was like you didn't even remember who you were. Like you had just been born, only you weren't a baby and were instead a teenager. It got incredibly lonely being a child with no memories, and the kids at school found you very creepy. But it was okay. Tom and Maddie made sure to give you as much love as was humanly possible, and when the bullying at school got to the point where they would follow you home, they switched you to homeschooling.

It appeared that you not only had no existing memories of your past, but you also had barely any idea how things on earth worked. Whenever someone mentioned examinations, vaccines, bucket lists, and even governmental agencies, you had no clue what they were talking about.

Not everyone was as patient as Tom and Maddie were, unfortunately. Most people would assume that you were kidding when you asked them what a protractor was or why people ride animals. It all seemed so strange and new to you, like Tarzan when he was visiting the human world and not the ape land he was familiar with. But out of it all, there was one thing that you became absolutely fascinated with.

Cars.

The faster, the better. You seemed to have an unchecked need for speed that tickled at your mind every time you got behind the wheel. Whenever Tom allowed it, you'd take the truck or his old squad motorcycle out for a spin in the abandoned corn fields where you could do as many tricks as you wanted without putting anyone else in danger. One of your favorites was driving backwards.

It's during one of those days where our story finally begins. The Montana sun was high up in the sky, beating down its scorching rays onto the untouched pavement. A flock of birds fled for the telephone polls in an attempt to escape from the ever increasing sound of revving coming from the abandoned corn field near Crazy Carl's traps for the supposed "Blue Devil." In the midst of the dead and crusty corn stalks, there sat a young girl on a very old squad motorcycle. Her hair fluttered gently in the slight breeze running through the air, a pair of sunglasses perched delicately atop her nose in the absence of a helmet. Before her stood a makeshift riser composed of some old wooden slabs she had "borrowed" from an old tree house a little ways south. A smirk played across her lips as she kicked up the bike's kickstand and revved the engine.

"Alright, Y/n, if you make this jump, you'll be the most famous girl in Green Hills…" Her words got lost in the wind as she took a deep breath and began to ride towards the jump, her speed increasing with every passing second. The distance began to decrease, her growing closer and closer until an abnormal electric blue blur zipped past her. Startled, she swerved, momentarily losing control of her bike as she slowed to a stop, planting her boots firmly on the ground. Chest heaving, she flipped her sunglasses up onto her forehead and slipped off of the bike, looking around the empty field to see if she hit anything.

What was that? She wondered.

Unbeknownst to her, a couple feet away from her, hidden deep within some dehydrated bushes was a royal blue hedgehog. He had been on his way back to his cave after taking a turtle for a little joy ride down the interstate when he spotted his favorite human on earth, Star Chaser. She was the most amazing girl he had ever seen, and lived with Donut Lord and Pretzel Lady. He would make it a priority to hang out with her every time she was out practicing her racing tricks, a dopey grin spreading on his face every time he saw her ecstatic smile. She just never knew he was there.

More than anything, he wished that he could get to hang out with her just once. Just for one day, spent full of speeding down the empty country roads and flying over makeshift jumps and laughing about the funny faces they made from the wind hitting their skin. But he knew better. He had to stay hidden, just like Longclaw said. Never stop running, and always stay hidden… alone.

There was something about her that just drew him to her, something familiar. He watched with caution as Star Chaser searched the field a bit more, her footfalls making satisfying crunching sounds on the long gone plants. Her beautiful e/c eyes searched the grounds before her for whatever had interrupted her practice. Finally, after she was satisfied with not having hit anything, she got back onto the cycle, flipped her sunglasses back on, and zipped away, leaving a trail of smoky exhaust in her wake.

The blue hedgehog zoomed back to his cave himself, dodging trees and bushes with expertise. The whole time he ran, he couldn't prevent his mind from wondering what life might be like if he were somehow able to live alongside the humans. If he could have a conversation with Star Chaser that didn't exist in his imagination, to maybe even discover why she seemed so familiar. What would life be like if he didn't have to hide?

♡♡♡

Just when things finally start getting familiar, the concept of moving decides to rear its ugly head in. Y/n had found out that her foster dad got a promotion, a job in another city with a higher ranking and a wider variety of donut holes to snack on. That meant that they were going to have to leave Green Hills.

But, knowing her, she shoved the grief and frustration so far down inside her until it became nonexistent. Maddie had left on a trip to see her sister, leaving Y/n and Tom alone. They had had a freak power outage the night before, leaving Tom a bit on edge. His phone kept ringing off the hook as his coworker was just a bit dependent on him, and had no idea if he should just ignore the 911 phone calls or pick them up.

“Remind me to drive by the library tomorrow,” Y/n set down her latest novel on the counter by the car keys. She watched as Tom stole a bit of frosting off of the cake and scrunched up her nose at the lack of sanitation. “I need to return this before we get fined.”

Tom nodded just as his phone began ringing. He held up a finger to his daughter and leaned against the counter, lifting up the phone to his ear as he began to talk to his wife. Y/n turned to the fridge and was trying to decide whether or not she was hungry or just bored as she did her best to not listen to them talking about the move. Just as she was about to reach for the watermelon, a loud clattering noise came from outside. Tom and Y/n exchanged an alarmed glance and quickly shuffled over to the window, childishly trying to shove each other out of the way so they could get a good look.

“Shit,” Y/n swore as she took in the knocked over trash bins sitting next to the garage.

“Watch your potty mouth,” Tom scolded, but a smile still stayed on his lips. “The racoons are back.” Y/n watched as he quickly turned towards one of the junk drawers and pulled out Maddie’s bear tranquilizer gun. She snorted.

“You better not be using my tranquilizer gun,” she heard Maddie’s voice say over the speaker. “That’s for bears.”

“Good,” Tom grinned as he loaded up the machine. “Now I know it’ll work. Y/n, stay inside.” Y/n scoffed as he hung up the phone and opened up the back door. Yes, of course she was going to stay safely inside like a crappy sidekick and miss the potential action of scaring trash pandas half to death. Grabbing an extra flashlight, she raced out after her dad to see him pressed up against the side of the shed, holding the gun and flashlight near his face. He jumped once she saddled up next to him, putting her flashlight in front of her like her own makeshift gun.

“I thought I told you to stay inside,” He narrowed his brows. To his dismay, Y/n only shrugged.

“You did. I didn’t listen,” she grinned, making it obvious that he had no other choice than to let her stay. He sighed, but nevertheless nodded. On a quick countdown from three, the two burst into the shed, waving their flashlights around like mad men.

“Green Hills PD, put your paws up!” Tom hollered. Y/n slowly made her way out from behind him, flashing her light around the empty room until it finally came to a stop. Her eyes widened in shock and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor as she tried to make sense of what exactly she was looking at. An electric blue creature wearing white gloves and tennis shoes stood before them, holding what looked like a gold wedding ring between his forefinger and thumb. She couldn’t tell what was stranger: the fact that he existed or the fact that he seemed oddly familiar. The creature’s green eyes flashed from hers to her father’s before he let out a small, nervous chuckle.

“Uhh, meow?”

And then, Tom screamed. His fear and the sudden introduction of the loud noise caused Y/n to scream, too, which finally led to the little blue creature screaming. But the longer Y/n stared at it, the more she began to experience a slight hint of deja vu. She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she had seen this thing before.

“Wait,” she whispered, barely loud enough for her dad to hear, but the blue creature’s ears perked up. He turned his attention back to her and the second they locked eyes, the same sense of familiarity began coursing through his veins. After all of those days spent watching her from afar, how did he never notice the e/c eyes? Where had he seen them before?

Unfortunately, Tom just had to go and ruin the moment by pulling the trigger on the tranq gun.

“Dad, no!” Y/n cried, but it was already too late as the dart sank into the blue creature’s thigh. They could only watch as the animal looked down at the needle in his leg and slowly looked back up with a hurt glare.

“Ow,” he whined, his eyes already beginning to lose their concentration. Y/n was about to take a step towards the creature, but Tom wrapped his hand around her arm to stop her. The creature’s eyes floated over Tom’s shirt, zeroing in on the words that littered the old fabric. “San… Fran…sisco?” He muttered. The ring he had been holding on to loosely slipped from his fingers, and began rolling across the floor. As its velocity increased, it began expanding, deying all laws of logic as a portal overlooking the given city appeared. Y/n and Tom’s jaws dropped to the floor as they watched the creature stumble, dropping his little bag through the portal and collapsing onto the ground. Y/n’s heart ached for the poor thing as she fought to get out of her father’s grasp in order to help him.

Within seconds, the portal closed up, eliminating the slight wind that had appeared. “N-No…” The creature whimpered before finally passing out. A thick silence crossed over the three as Tom’s grip on Y/n’s arm loosened, both humans trying to figure out what the heck they just witnessed.

“What the actual fuck?” Y/n breathed.

“Language…”

♡♡♡

“Yes. Let’s shoot the poor thing and then put him in a cage,” Y/n rolled her eyes sarcastically, watching as her father poked the blue creature resting inside of their dog’s old cage. She batted at his hand, and gave him a death glare, but he just sighed.

“Come on, kid, what if he’s an alien?” Tom asked incredulously, turning back to the sleeping creature. He nudged its head with a metal spatula and sighed.

“I don’t know…” Y/n sighed, resting her head on her knuckle. I mean, she had to admit he was kind of… cute. The nostalgia that he was causing was just an added complication. There was something about his entire being that seemed eerily familiar to her, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. Tom slowly withdrew something that had fallen onto the padding; an electric blue quill. The two slowly leaned closer to inspect the object, noting the little blue bolts of electricity that whizzed across its surface. It absolutely fascinated Y/n, while Tom seemed a little more apprehensive. He turned away from the cage and set it down on the counter, running a hand over his face.

“This is nuts,” he whispered. Y/n took the opportunity to get a little closer to the being, scanning his body with careful eyes. She debated reaching through the bars to touch him, but before she had a chance to, his eyes slowly popped open. Her eyes widened and she stayed perfectly still as he pushed himself up to a standing position and made his way to open the cage. Her breath catches in her throat as he finally looks up at her and gives her a small, sheepish smile, stumbling out onto the counter top. Even in the given circumstances, the only thing that the girl can think of is how absolutely adorable he is.

...wait, what?

“Star Chaser?” Y/n quickly turned her attention back to the present and furrowed her brows in confusion. Who was Star Chaser? “Donut Lord?” The blue being slurred, holding on to the cage for support. Tom swiveled around at the sound and scoffed.

“So the Blue Devil can talk. You’re not here to abduct us are you?”

“YOU abducted ME,” the Blue Devil replied defensively, pressing his hand against his chest. Y/n rolled her eyes and stepped between the two, looking the being in the eyes.

“I am very sorry for that-”

“Why are you apologizing to it?!” Tom cried, running his hands through his hair incredulously. Y/n just rolled her eyes.

“I told him to just leave you alone. But, if I may ask, who are you and why were you in our shed?” She finished. Tom facepalmed behind her while the Blue Devil did his best to concentrate his fatigue on the beautiful girl standing before him. Gosh, her eyes were pretty…

“I-I needed a safe place, and Donut Lord’s house was the only place I could think of, Star Chaser!”

“Why does he keep calling me Donut Lord?” Tom asked warily, slowly reaching for the tranq gun. Y/n quickly shot him a glare and he let out an annoyed huff. Even though he was her foster father, they acted like siblings with good-hearted and frequent quarrels.

“Because you talk to donuts,” the Blue Devil explained. “And then eat them when they get out of line.” Y/n snorted, trying her best to contain her laughter by pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She didn’t notice the small smile that formed on the blue hedgehog’s face as Tom shrugged, nodding his head slightly.

“Fair. Why is she Star Chaser?” The Blue Devil got a distant look on his face, a small, thoughtful smile still lingering on his lips.

“I’ve watched her race out in the fields. It’s amazing how fast she can go. Sometimes I wonder if she’s trying to chase the stars out of the sky…” A soft smile slowly formed on your lips at his words. No one had ever talked about you like that before.

The distant look on his face was suddenly replaced by one with worry. His eyes began frantically glancing around the room, Y/n being able to practically see the alarms going off in his head. “Wait, where are my… Why am I still on earth? Oh no, I lost my rings!”

“Rings?” Y/n furrowed her brows in confusion. Just then, a loud rumbling sound came from outside. It had such an impact that it shook the entire house, startling the chimes that Maddie had hung up above the sink. The three looked around in confusion.

“What’s happening? Is this your mothership?” Tom began panicking, walking briskly around the table towards the window. He jabbed an accusing finger at the nervous hedgehog. “I do NOT want my daughter getting probed.”

“Dad, stop,” Y/n sighed, following him towards the window. “You’re the one who abducted him. Can’t you be just a little bit sentimental?”

“Thanks,” the hedgehog muttered just loud enough for Y/n to hear. She stood next to her foster dad at the window and peered out the glass. A giant grey vehicle that had been passing stopped and began backing up towards their driveway.

“What the hell kind of make is that?” Y/n muttered. The Blue Devil was by their side in a second and was peering through the window too. Once he caught sight of the ginormous lab van, he let out a squeak and pulled the white curtains shut.

“They’re after me!”

“Who’s after you?” Y/n questioned in concern. She got pushed behind Tom as he stood protectively in front of her, eyeing the Blue Devil suspiciously.

“And what does that have to do with us?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but you have to help me!” He pleaded. Y/n felt her heart sink for the creature, her instant gut feeling telling her that they had to help him. He was in danger, albeit he was apparently a runaway. Unfortunately, Tom had different ideas as he furiously shook his head.

“No, we don’t!”

“But Dad-”

“Y/n, enough,” Tom ended her protests sternly. He turned back to the blue hedgehog and furrowed his brows, wondering what reason he could possibly have that would need them to help him. “Why should we help you?”

“Well, my legs, which normally would be classified as legal weapons, feel like spaghetti. I need your help, please! It’s life or death.” The Blue Devil’s green eyes pleaded to Tom. Y/n slowly made her way out from behind her dad and glanced down at him. He knew exactly what to say in order to get Tom to help him, didn’t he? It was almost as if he had been there all of those times when Tom was wishing for someone to come to him in their time of need. His facade crumbled and he caved in almost instantly.

“Alright, fine. Y/n, take him up to the attic. I’ll take a look at what’s going on outside.” Tom ordered. Y/n nodded and motioned for the blue hedgehog to follow her. They quickly scampered towards the stairs, and as they began to walk quietly up the flights, Y/n noticed two things. One, Crazy Carl was right after all. The little “Blue Devil” was a lot larger than she had expected him to be, measuring up to be about half of her height. And two, the thing was having a horrific time walking. With a strangely racing heart, Y/n slowed down her pace and offered her hand to the being. He gave her a small smile and accepted it, wrapping his gloved hand around her own.

“My actual name is Y/n, by the way,” she finally spoke in an attempt to break the hurried silence. “But I like Star Chaser better.” He smiled beside her, trying to figure out why the girl before him seemed so familiar.

“I just thought it suited you. My name’s Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog.”

“I knew you weren’t an alien,” Y/n said as she let go of his hand to pull down the ladder. She picked the hedgehog up and set him down gently inside the attic. His name kept ringing throughout her head on an endless loop, like it was supposed to bring back some big part of her life, but it always came back empty. She gave him a small smile and was about to head back down when he stopped her.

“Wait,” his dreamy green eyes were full of concern as he looked straight into Y/n’s. “Be careful.”

Y/n appreciated how genuinely concerned he was for her safety. It was a beautiful gulp of fresh air amidst all of the others who thought she was crazy or weird. At least his sincerity made the fact that he had been basically stalking her and her family for a while now a little bit less creepy. Y/n gave him a reassuring smile and closed the attic door, racing all the way back down to the main floor where she skidded to a halt by the door.

There was Tom, with some very strange looking man sporting a signature Man with the Bowler Hat mustache standing in the Y/n slowly approached her dad and watched as the man turned his attention towards her.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a daughter,” the man smiled creepily, sending shivers down her spine. She scrunched her nose as Tom wrapped his arm around her shoulder protectively.

“I have a name,” she raised her brows skeptically. “Y/n.”

At the sound of her name, the man got a shocked look on his face, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he stared intensely at her. Tom and Y/n exchanged confused glances before the man quickly snapped back into reality.

“Y/n…” he repeated. “Interesting. Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes,” he suddenly propelled himself towards Tom, becoming very uncomfortably close to his face. Y/n slowly sank into her father’s arm in order to back away from the strange man. “I was spitting out formulas while you were still spitting up formula.”

“I was breastfed, actually,” Tom responded, mildly weirded out. Y/n’s face contorted in disgust. What the hell was this conversation?

“Nice,” he nodded. “Rub that in my orphan face.”

“Okay,” Y/n spoke up, finally having enough as she pushed the two apart. “Listen, I have no idea who you are and why you are here, but I think you should be leaving.”

“Ooh, fiesty one,” the man nodded, narrowing his eyebrows at you to the point that the folds on his forehead nearly overlapped one another. “Doctor Robotnik, I-”

A sudden thump sounded from the kitchen, startling the man enough to make him shut up. Tom and Y/n froze, running through every possible excuse in their minds as to what that could have been that wasn’t Sonic. Y/n turned to Robotnik and offered him the best sheepish smile she could muster.

“Um… Racoons?”

Robotnik gave her a fake smile and shouldered his way into the house. Y/n and Tom scrambled to follow him, praying to god that their little blue friend wasn’t sitting on the kitchen counter. Thankfully, once they reached the kitchen, they were greeted with a friendly racoon, shoveling handfuls of celebratory cake into its mouth. Y/n breathed a small sigh of relief through her mouth.

“See? Racoons.” Tom spoke defiantly, placing his hands on his hips. Y/n began to search the room quietly for any sign of Sonic while Robotnik was preparing to leave. They had almost gotten him out the door when he stopped and backtracked. In confusion, Y/n and Tom followed his gaze and their hearts stopped.

He slowly held up the lone electric blue quill for all to see.

“Looks like I was right,” a shit-eating grin formed on his face. “Note the lack of surprise.” He pointed to his monotone expression and Y/n could already tell that she fucking hated him. She slowly began to back away from him when a floating egg shaped orb harnessing a bright red laser became very interested in Tom. Y/n’s heart raced, back growing tense as she began to hesitantly back away until Robotnik gave her a warning glare.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, let’s try this again. Where. Is. It?”

“Look, man, leave her out of this. We have no idea what ‘it’ is,” Tom exclaimed, beginning to hold his hands up in surrender. Robonik simply shook his head and pushed some buttons on the gloves that he was wearing.

“I hate liars. You have five seconds to tell me where it is. Five… Four…” He began to count down, Y/n only being able to watch in horror as the white orb came ever closer to her father, the menacing light flashing. Daring someone to challenge it. Tom stared, his facade crumbling with every second that was counted down, trying desperately to find a way out. Things were looking to death when a sudden electric blue blur shot out from behind the counter and stood in front of Y/n, hands outspread in protection.

“Wait!” Sonic cried. “Don’t hurt them!”

Y/n looked down at the little hedgehog in shock, and was startled when Robotnik let out the most girlish scream anyone had ever heard come from the pipes of a man. Then Tom punched him in the face.

“Yes, go Dad!” Y/n whooped as the Doctor crumpled onto the floor, unconscious. Their victory was short lived, however, as the second she finished talking, she was dragged behind the counter by Sonic to avoid getting hit in the face by a laser beam. The three watched in horror as the Wachowski’s custom designed kitchen became destroyed by the angry red bots, shooting around with no instructions as their master was now taking a nap on the floor. Before Y/n even had the chance to ask what they should do, they noticed that Sonic was already missing. Looking frantically around the room, Tom motioned up to one of the kitchen cupboards, and sure enough, there was Sonic preparing to jump onto one of the bots that was probably scanning for their heat signatures or something equally significant. The two shook their heads rapidly, but Sonic simply gave them one of the most adorable sassy nods Y/n had ever seen. He leapt onto the robot, trying desperately to smack it as it spun around like a horse without a head.

“This-was a… horrible idea!” Sonic screamed before he got flung off the robot, sailing through the air, and landing straight into Y/n’s arms. He offered her a sheepish smile, and Y/n rolled her eyes, a smile still playing across her lips. She set him down just in time to see her dad knock the bot out with a frying pan. It careened to a halt and collapsed onto the ground.

“Alright,” Y/n nodded, kicking it once with the scuff of her shoe for good measure. “Shall we get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

♡♡♡

The three runaways were able to pull out of the driveway just as a bunch of other Men in Black vans were pulling up to the house. Tom sat behind the wheel while Sonic sported a shotgun, and Y/n crouched in the middle of the backseat with no seatbelt. Because this was living on the dark side, and on the dark side, we don’t wear seatbelts.

“Okay, so now that we aren’t running from scary doctors, what the hell is going on here?” Y/n asked, leaning forward on the console and resting her head in her hand as she turned to Sonic. He leaned his head back against the seat and sighed.

“Well, I just might have been the reason for that big power explosion… and now people after me. To make things worse, I lost my rings to a place that I’ve only ever seen on your dad’s skin tight T-shirt, and I have to make it to the Mushroom Planet or else I’m putting everyone here in danger.” He finally took in a deep gulp of air after pulling out that whole explanation in one breath. Y/n furrowed her brows in concern.

“Mushroom Planet?” Tom asked, his lips pressing into a firm line.

“You must have lost them in San Francisco,” Y/n said. Suddenly, Tom jerked the wheel to the right and pulled off to the side of the road, unlocking the doors in the process.

“Alright, get out.” Y/n and Sonic stared at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sonic narrowed his eyes slightly. Tom leaned forwards and opened the passenger side door for him, running a hand down his face.

“Look, this is the worst time for me to be getting into trouble with the law and my daughter doesn’t really need a track record. So, you can go off and have good luck with finding your weird little Mushroom Planet. I’ll hopefully wake up in a hospital room soon with a successful colonoscopy and a happy, totally sane teenage daughter, so goodbye.”

“What? Dad!” Y/n started to object, her blood boiling in irritation at his insensitivity. Sonic shook his head and gave her a half-hearted smile as he slipped out of the car.

“It’s okay, Y/n. Goodbye, I guess…” But instead of leaving, he just stood there. Staring. Y/n turns to stare at her father too to double the effect.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” He groaned in frustration.

“How the hell is he supposed to know where San Francisco is?” Y/n laughs, and Tom sighs in defeat, knowing that she’s right. He gives her a half-assed glare, but as usual she was refusing to back down. Sonic doesn’t notice the small smile forming on his own lips, his appreciation for this strangely familiar girl increasing with every second he spent with her.

“It’s West. Straight shot.” Tom finally tells him. Sonic nods.

“Okay. West. Cool. Cool, I’m totally cool with saying goodbye right now,” he exaggerates, swirling his gloved hands around with the hurt clearly evident on his face.

“I’m not,” Y/n grumbles, pressing her cheek against the rough leather of the driver’s seat. Before anyone could say another word, Sonic shot off in the given direction faster than the speed of sound. Y/n’s jaw drops open along with Tom’s as they look down at the spot where he once was.

“H-holy shit,” Y/n stuttered.

“D-did he just-” Tom didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Sonic came back, only this time soaking wet. He was sporting a nice fish on his head and a bunch of seaweed hanging on to his quills, which accented his sarcastic expression perfectly. Y/n tried to stifle her laughter by pouting and turning to her father as he rolled his eyes.

“So, as I crashed into the cold, dark Pacific,” Sonic began, sending a wink in Y/n’s direction. “I noticed a couple things. A, I have no idea where I’m going. B, salt water stings. And C, I shouldn’t even be on this planet right now but I am. Why? Because you shot me.” Sonic’s eyes narrowed.

“I know,” Tom sighed, turning back to the road.

“You shot me!”

“Okay, you don’t need to rub it in,” he sniffed, glancing at Y/n out of the corner of his eye. “She was there too…”

“She didn’t shoot me,” Sonic stood up for her. Y/n gave him a kind smile as he began listing off characteristics on his gloved fingers. “I’m wet, I’m cold, there’s a fish on my head, and clearly I’m not going to be able to do this on my own!” Once he finished, Y/n slowly reached out to him and pushed the fish off his head, watching as it flopped about helplessly on the ground.

“You do owe it to him,” she subtly pressed, leaning back once again in her seat. Tom stayed silent for a moment, staring firmly at the little blue hedgehog for what seemed like forever. Finally he caved and started the ignition once again.

“Fine. Get in.”

“Really?” Sonic and Y/n chimed in hopeful unison. “You’re going to help me?” He shook out his fur at such a high speed that once he finished, it poofed out like a dramaticized afro. Y/n giggled in her seat, not being able to handle how cute it was. Butterflies began to wander around in her stomach.

“I guess it is sort of my fault,” Tom hesitantly admitted.

“Actually, it’s entirely your fault,” Y/n teased. He gave her a playful shove, but snorted nonetheless. Sonic quickly climbed into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Road trip!” He cheered, looking excitedly around the car. Y/n cheered along with him while still trying to shake the eerily feeling of familiarity. Tom shook his head, squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“What the hell am I doing with my life?”

♡ a.a.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie #sonic the hedgehog imagines #sonic imagines #sonic the hedgehog movie x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie imagines #flawsome bandits #blue blur x reader #donut lord #pretzel lady #dr robotnik

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jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

Fall For You

*Runs in screaming and slams this down with forty minutes left to go*

I will not lie that this one is not my best. Time crunch got to me and I kind of rushed this one. Um, but... I finished? 8D

Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read, reblog,or comment on my stories this week! Your support has been greatly appreciated and encouraging. Another thank you goes out to the many of you who inspired me to write some of these stories; they wouldn’t exist if not for you. Finally, a thank you to all the other participants who made such great fics and art this week; you all are awesome!!

Day 7: AU

Dedicated to: @tama-negis (I formally apologize though; you deserve something so much better than this)

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 2.7k

Ao3 Link: Fall For You

Summary: To Qrow, there was no greater feeling in the world than the sensation of flying through the air, nothing but the bar and Clover to rely on.

That's why the fall was so devastating. [Circus AU]

“Net check!”

Qrow rolled his eyes as Clover fell backwards off the trapeze platform, saluting as he went. He looked over the edge just to make sure his partner hadn’t died, before shouting down at him, “You know, after two years, that’s decidedly less impressive.”

“Don’t lie. You love it just as much as you love me.” He was too far to actually see if he was winking, but Qrow knew he definitely was.

Rather than respond, he just continued on with the safety check. He gripped at the bar, pulling on it. No give, no worrisome noises. Rigging seemed secure. He took another step back, before doing a running leap off, holding on tight as he traveled over the net until he came to a stop at the center of their stage.

He twisted his body upwards, landing on the top of the bar and swung back and forth lazily, listening carefully to everything above him. During a performance, over the roaring crowd and blasting music, it was impossible to hear any of the small, subtle sounds of the cabling above. So, any out of place screech or worrisome clonk that could imply something was about to give would go completely unheard. But in the near silence of the empty Big Top, he could hear even the tiniest creak of the frame as it bore his weight.

Nothing out of place.

He slipped his feet off the bar, freefalling for a fraction of a second before his arms caught it. Everything held. Just as it had the last two times they’d done the check throughout the day. He thought it was a little excessive, but James was a stickler for routine, and after taking partial ownership of the circus, had immediately enacted the three-check rule.

There were a lot of those kinds of changes the performers of the former “Marvelous Circus of Oz” had to put up with when they officially became partners with James’ “Fabled Ace Ops”. Higher demands on performance training, complete restructuring of acts and teammates, stricter guidelines on fashion. Qrow wasn’t even allowed to wear nail polish anymore.

“You got to be fucking kidding me!” He remembered shouting at his new boss. “What do you think’ll happen Jimmy? Is my polish gonna eat through the bar?”

Ozpin had to pull him aside after that one, practically pleading for him to cooperate. It was hard to continue being pissed off when he had to face his old friend’s weary, desperate eyes. He knew this was a shitty situation, for all of them. But it was either this or all of them be out of a job. So, Qrow let it go and tried his best to play nice.

Though, he supposed as he turned around on the bar to face the platform Clover was once again standing on, not everything that had resulted in the merger was terrible. Sure, he’d been downright hostile when James had first reassigned Raven with Summer’s act and appointed his own star trapeze artist to him – but it didn’t take long for Qrow to warm up to the other man. Clover was like a magnet of good qualities: friendly, confidant, encouraging, honest.

He was also ridiculously attractive, so that was a plus.

Qrow rocked his body, gaining momentum until he could swing himself back over to the platform, securing the bar down. “Alright, we’re good.”

“No, you missed something.” Clover spoke up.

“What?” He looked around, doing a mental catalogue of his checklist. “No, I didn’t. Wha-ah!”

Strong arms wound around his waist, pulling him in and a big, wet sloppy kiss was planted right on his cheek. “You forgot the kiss for good luck.”

Qrow snorted. He didn’t believe in superstition, especially with names like theirs. He had to of gotten every good luck-bad luck comment probably known to the universe. Didn’t mean he wasn’t above teasing about it. “You’re disgusting and a heathen.”

Clover gasped loudly, before whirling them around, letting him go. “Oh Qrow, my love! How could you wound me this way?” He backed up the two steps it took to get back to the edge, hands crossing over the center of his chest. “The pain, it’s just too much to bear! Goodbye cruel world.”

And with another wink, he went back over.

Qrow tried, he really did, but even biting down on his lip didn’t stop the guffaws that escaped as he looked down again. “You’re an idiot!”

“Joke’s on you,” He hollered back triumphantly, “I’m yours!”

Even with the distance between them, he was sure Clover knew he was smiling.

The night was going spectacularly well. The audience was receptive and easily emotive. They’d gotten loud cheers for Summer and Raven’s silk dance and wows for Elm and Vine’s high-wire act. It had been a while since they’d had a crowd this good and the rest of the crew was feeling it too, all of them buzzing to get on stage and feed into the energy.

“Alright, Marrow and the kids are finishing up. Qrow and Clover you’re up. Robyn and Tai, get ready to follow.” Oz called as he snaked his way between the teams, popping his top hat back on his head as he went.

“Ah, what a shame that your act will be completely overshadowed by ours.” Robyn taunted. Though she lacked malice, her pride wasn’t unwarranted.

When people thought of circuses, they thought of all the typical acts: animal taming, clowns, trapeze work. No one really thought of fire arrows. It was the only act of its kind in the world, and one that had happened by complete mistake.

Robyn, from James’ crew, was an extremely precise archer – able to split her own arrows and even bounce them off other obstacles and still hit a target’s bull’s-eye. Tai, from their circus, was their fire performer, his talents ranging from being able to spin and juggle batons that were ablaze on either end to swallowing lit torches and breathing plumes of fire upwards like a dragon. Early on into the merger, the two just happened to be practicing by one another, showboating and trying to one up each other on their skills. One thing led to another, and Tai ended up challenging Robyn to shoot through his flames and still hit her target.

It was when she pulled it off, that the idea to combine their acts was born.

Qrow wouldn’t deny it made for a hell of a sight – but that didn’t mean he’d let her get away with her ribbing without giving back a bit of his own, “Please. Ours will be so good, they won’t be able to get it off their minds long enough to pay attention to yours.”

“Hah, you wish!”

Clover, smug as can be, threw an arm over his shoulders as he added, “Now Robyn, you know wishes are for stars, of which Qrow and I happen to be.”

“And they say I blow a lot of smoke.” Tai intervened with a wave of his hand, “Get on outta here you two before you end up holding up the whole show.”

Anything more that they might have said was interrupted by the sound of laughter floating in with Marrow, Ruby and Yang as they returned backstage. The three were propped up on each other’s shoulders like a human Leaning Tower of Pisa. Qrow and Clover were quick to assist the younger man bearing their combined weight, helping the younger girls down on their feet.

He didn’t have a lot of time, but Qrow still took a second to ruffle Ruby’s hair. “Good job kiddo.”

The eight-year old gave him a tooth-gaped smile, saying, “Break a leg Uncle Qrow!”

“In thirteen places.” He promised, before following his trapeze partner out into the darkness of the stage.

“And now, it’s the moment you all knew was coming. Introducing our Flying Aces, Qrow Branwen and Clover Ebi!” Ozpin’s voice boomed from where he stood in the center of the stage.

Qrow linked his arm with Clover’s just as the spotlight moved to capture them, both of them raising up their free hands up high as if catching the applause from the audience. So close, it was obvious how similar their clothing was – himself in a black leotard that blended into red and Clover in a complementary white to green one. Though turned from the crowd, on their backs was a design choice Qrow himself had insisted upon: Wings to follow the color gradient.

They were the Flying Aces after all.

Oz continued with his announcement, but having heard it so many times before, he mostly tuned it out as he and Clover split from one another, each of them climbing up the ladders to the platforms opposite each other. As the final words from their ringleader faded, the lights below went out, bringing all the attention skyward.

Qrow unhooked the bar that he’d secured only hours ago. The music started to roll, but the moment he went swinging off the platform, it was as if everything else faded. There was nothing except him, the bar and the sensation of wind and weightlessness as he turned his body around, hooking his knees around the edges and hanging down free. As his movement slowed, he eased his grip, gravity bringing him down into a short drop before his ankles caught onto the edge instead. After another few moments, he unhooked his left, all of his weight now on just the right leg as he let his free limbs spread out wide like a taxidermist’s greatest prize.

Mostly he was a distraction, performing small tricks while Clover got into place, throwing himself off his own platform to gain momentum so he could prepare to catch him. He knew his partner was ready when he signaled him with a salute. Qrow pulled himself up so his legs could dangle once again, pushing himself into motion once more. At the apex of their swings, he let go, Clover gripping his wrists easily. They flew together briefly, before he returned him to the bar, Qrow doing an easy spin midair to catch it.

It was his second leap that earned them applause, this time somersaulting twice in midair before being captured. Even over all the white noise in his ears, he could make out Clover’s exhilarated chuckles and a breathless laugh left him as well. This was something they shared: The excitement of the flight, the adrenalin born from hanging freely nearly thirty feet in the air, the thrill brought on with each completed trick as their routine built together.

The joy of doing it all with someone he loved.

Without question, it was that last one that made him do what he did next.

Qrow’s hands clasped onto the bar as he was thrown back to it, swinging his legs up and fitting them between his grip so he could hang upside down again, this time prepared to grab the other man so they could move into the second part of their act. Clover took his turn to fly over, doing a flip of his own.

But Qrow didn’t move into position for the catch.

Hours later, when asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone precisely what it was that warned him – maybe he heard something snap. Maybe he noticed a change in his balance. Or maybe it was just a feeling in his gut. But somehow, he knew.

So, for the first time since they’d perfected the move, Qrow missed.

Clover went flying one way.

As the rigging broke above him, Qrow went the other way, further and out of control.

The freefall sensation wasn’t unfamiliar to him – he’d dropped thousands of times before. On those rare cases it was unintentional, he was usually even talented enough to make it look like part of the act.

The white-hot agony that laced through him as something impacted his side with the force of a bullet was new though, unexpected in its ferocity.

It was all his mind could grasp at until he was bouncing off the edge of the net and the ground rushed up to meet him.

Incessant beeping roused him.

His first thought was he immediately wanted to go back to bed. Whatever the hell he had been doing must have been brutal, because his body ached all over, particularly centralized in his shoulder and hip and his stomach was especially throbbing.

Qrow made a noise in the back of his throat, trying to raise his arm to shut off the alarm, only to find it oddly weighted. His head flopped to the left and he grumbled, “C’ver, ‘larm.”

Suddenly the weight lifted, still there but entirely focused on his wrist. Oh, it was a hand.

“Qrow? Hey babe, you awake?” Clover’s voice coming from above him rather than beside him was what finally got him to open his eyes.

Immediately he realized he wasn’t home in the trailer when instead of just more bed and a window, there was a machine next to him and a wall a few feet away. The machine was the thing making the noise. His gaze rolled around, taking in the IV stand next and gathered a pretty good guess on where he was.

A shift made him look towards the figure hovering over him. His partner looked like a wreck, expression pale and drawn. Dark circles were laden under sleepless eyes.

“Hey.” Soft as his voice, Clover’s hand brushed through his hair, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Qrow replied, swallowing around his tongue which felt oddly swollen. “Heavy.”

“Yeah that’s probably the anesthesia wearing off.”

“Anesthesia?” That didn’t sound promising.

His partner took a moment to pull the chair behind him closer, sitting down right at his bedside. The hand still holding his squeezed lightly. “Do you remember what happened?”

Shifting through his own head, vague memories of spotlights and soaring through the air came back to him – as well as a stomach-dropping sensation that wasn’t meant to be there. “I fell.”

Clover’s voice shook a little, “Yeah, you did.”

There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but the most important one came out first, “How bad am I?”

“You’re gonna be okay. You, have a few fractures but, nothing major broke.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Your stomach’s a mess though. When the cabling gave out, part of it snapped back and hit you. It ripped right into your intestines. You were in surgery for six hours.”

Qrow took that in sluggishly, focusing mostly on the first part. It meant he could still perform. The rest of it could wait for more thought another day.

So, he moved on. “What ‘bout you?”

“Hm?”

“Where were you when I fell?”

“I, uh,” Clover’s laughed, but it sounded a bit wrong. “Down on the net. I was uh, flying over to you and you just didn’t catch me. I think you knew something was wrong, ‘cause Summer said you never even reached for me.”

The significance of that hit him instantly. There were a few universal rules any trapeze worker knew – the topmost being just how vital it was for the flyer to swing after a catch. The human skeleton was a surprisingly delicate thing, and the arc of motion that followed alleviated all of the pressure the body underwent from the flight and drop. But, if the flow of motion was hindered or stopped all together, say by a snapping cable line, all that pressure suddenly didn’t have anywhere go and instead the force would compact onto the body.

At best, the sudden whiplash would have injured Clover’s spine, maybe bruised an organ or two.

At worst, it would have broken his neck.

His partner lifted his hand, lips pressing against the back of his skin as he whispered reverently, “You saved my life.”

Qrow let out a slow breath, mouth pulling up in a smirk. “Nah. I just took falling for you real literally.”

This time, when Clover laughed, it was much more genuine, even as tears finally flowed from his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

His reply was a victory: “Joke’s on you. I’m yours.”

With no distance between them, neither of them could miss the other’s smile.

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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alarawriting · 5 years

Text

Inktober #25: Tasty

This is set in the same universe as #5: Build, but features a completely different species and set of characters.

Rrahe’nek stared at the tiny, coatless creature looking up at him, its teeth bared but its digits bereft of weapons. Instead, there was a rich-smelling ceramic dish in its hands, hot, steaming and wrapped in a cloth. It spoke incomprehensibly.

He had come here expecting a battle. Hoping. The newest species to enter galactic territory was a protégé of the Diwar, and Rrahe’nek despised the feathered ones. They were arrogant, but pathetic. Their weapons were superb, no one denied that, but their warriors were cowards, planting bombs and running away. Rrahe’nek had heard that their proteges had far inferior technology, were smaller, and had no natural physical weapons. Either they were the weakest prey-sapients the Kai had ever encountered, or they had ferocious battle techniques to make up for their biological inadequacies. When one had come alone toward the Kai encampment, Rrahe’nek had been delighted, assuming it was the second option. He had come out alone himself to meet the alien warrior in battle, take its measure… and defeat it, of course, no aliens had ever defeated a Kai warrior in single combat, but the contest would be exhilarating before Rrahe’nek won it in the end.

Instead, here he was faced with a small alien with a curled mane, but no fur elsewhere on its body, holding out what smelled like a dish of cooked food.

He poked his tongue into the bead at the back of his mouth that activated his voder as a communicator. “Warrior Fifth Rank Rrahe’nek to den.”

“Den here, Warrior Fifth. Heat signature says you’re in range of the alien, but have not engaged?”

“That’s correct. It – it seems to be trying to give me food.”

A moment of silence. Then, “What.”

“Its teeth are bared, but it has no weapons, it’s made no threatening moves, it isn’t running away, and it’s trying to hand me a dish that smells like fish.”

“Hold position. We’re getting eyes on your location.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Udahn uhnis’tanmiyai noo, buyanoo aiwoh nurcha, rai’?”

The language wasn’t in the Kai language database yet. No one had thought they’d need it just to engage hostilities and take over the planet. The alien colony was small and had very little detectable weaponry; it was assumed that as soon as the aliens made the first move, and attacked, it would be simplicity itself to rout them, either kill them all or send them running with their nonexistent tails between their obligate-bipedal legs. Being able to speak the alien language wouldn’t have been necessary to fight them, and given the tiny size of the colony, almost certainly not necessary to win, either.

But this alien was breaking the pattern. It was clearly not a warrior. It had the exaggerated mammaries that Rrahe’nek remembered hearing about in the briefing, marking it as a female – so it might be a leader or ambassador or an assistant to an important alien, but nothing it was wearing was any kind of rank or class signal that Rrahe’nek could read. It had no weapons, and the only sign Rrahe’nek could see of any fear or battle readiness was those bared teeth.

The alien stopped baring its teeth and set the ceramic cooking dish down on the ground, and then joined it, sitting down in a position of complete vulnerability with its legs folded in front of it. It leaned forward slightly, and Rrahe’nek tensed, but it was only rubbing its knee.

“What is it doing?” Rrahe’nek’s ear jewel asked him, carrying the transmission from den.

“It’s sitting. On the ground. Rubbing its knees.”

“Does it have a gray mane? A gray mane means an elder in this race.” Kai were mostly color-blind but in very bright sunlight like this, they could make out a few shades.

“No, a dark mane.”

“Eyes in place.” A pause. “Mother of all. That creature looks ridiculous. Doesn’t it know you could swipe its head off?”

“It must, it’s baring – oh, wait, no it’s not. That’s odd. Its mouth has pulled upward on the sides as if it’s about to bare its teeth, but it’s holding position there. And it hasn’t broken the gaze since it sat down.” The gaze, between Kai, was a challenge for social status. In ancient days, a Kai who stared at a higher-status Kai might be killed, but they were civilized now, and followed the Way. None who followed the Way would initiate a physical combat, and any who could not keep to the Way were outcast, so nowadays Kai staring contests were purely social challenges, where whoever broke the gaze first lost the game and took the social penalty. Rrahe’nek didn’t dare look away. It was a matter of honor; he would not lose to this puny alien.

His mouth watered. The hot fish thing smelled so good.

“See if you can scare it,” den ordered.

Rrahe’nek lunged toward the creature with a growl. It shrank back, and then sat back up, lowering its gaze to admit submission… but it didn’t get up and leave, or run, or freeze in position. It said something incomprehensible.

“It won’t initiate hostilities,” Rrahe’nek reported, frustrated.

The Way demanded that no Kai ever initiate hostilities. Insults were acceptable, pointedly mocking poetry was acceptable, competitive games and gloating over winning them were rude but acceptable… but physical attacks were not. However, once an opponent opened hostilities, the Way of the Kai allowed them to use all force at their disposal to end the threat.

So when the Kai wanted a colony world for themselves, and another space-faring race was already on it, the Kai had a technique that never failed. Land near the other race, build a den, posture a lot with weapons, and the aliens would either initiate hostilities or run away, every single time.

All races feared the Kai. They were tall, broadshouldered and thickly furred, with sharp fangs on their upper and lower jaws for holding prey in place while their other pointed teeth ripped holes in pelts or skin or flesh. Pointed ears on the top of their heads that could swivel in the direction of sound, their eyes with a tapetum to reflect light and a vertical pupil that could shrink to barely a sliver, and whiskers on their faces, shoulders and wrists to tell them when they were entering an area too small for their entire bodies to fit. They could drop to all fours and run like the wind or leap like bouncing rubber, or stay on two legs and use their delicate digits to manipulate the world. All of their digits were adorned with retractable claws. Fur kept them warm even in frigid climates

There were animals very similar to the Kai on every planet that had complex life forms. Their scientists speculated that it was because Kai-formed animals were perfect predators, so convergent evolution had shaped the creatures of many planets to make Kai-formed creatures. Some saw it as proof that the Great Mother had intended them to den on every world. Some thought ancient Kai-formed beings had gone around to every planet, planting a genetic template that would someday create a Kai-formed creature. Regardless of the reason, every sapient species in space knew that Kai-formed creatures were the ultimate in dangerous predators, and so they were primed to be terrified of the Kai. Which meant that the simplest show of military force, the tiniest presentation of threat potential, and fight-or-flight compelled them to open hostilities or run, and if they opened hostilities, the Way allowed the Kai to fight them and drive them off the planet.

And yet here this small alien sat with a dish that smelled of delicious freshwater goodness, and no weapons.

“We’re implementing translation drones. Stand by.”

The drones flew down and surrounded the creature. This did startle it, and it got hastily to its feet again, but it still didn’t make a threatening move. The drones showed holograms of various things – Kai, trees, spaceships, textiles, minerals and so forth – and spoke in Arrnehukai, the standardized language of the Kai Empire. Then they played back the sounds they’d already captured from the alien, to persuade it to give its own names for things. It was plainly fairly intelligent; it caught on quickly and started to describe everything it saw, pointing at things and saying their names.

Within half an hour, the translation algorithms had analyzed enough of the language for communication. Which was good, because Rrahe’nek was very bored by this point. Knowing now that his voder would translate it into something the alien could understand, he spoke harshly, hoping to provoke the alien into a threatening move.

“Identify yourself, alien creature! This planet now belongs to the Kai Empire, and you should know that every other time we conquered a planet, any aliens who remained on the planet were destroyed!”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true,” the alien said, its words being translated by his ear jewel, “but this planet doesn’t belong to the Kai. We hyuminz did colonize first, so by interstellaw law it’s our planet – but I’m sure we’d be happy to share! It’s a very big world, and surely there’s room for both of us.”

This was such a preposterous suggestion, Rrahe’nek could only stare. In lieu of his response, the alien gabbled on. “Now, you see, when I heard that you had landed near us, I knew it would only be neighborly to greet you and give you a gift, and my homeland’s traditions – I’m from uur’th, and specifically a place called mihnehsohtuh, don’t you know – well, we give gifts of homemade food to our new neighbors, to greet them and be friendly. And I didn’t know what you folks ate, but everyone says you’re just like uur’th kahtz, and I’ve never met a kaht that didn’t love fish. So I baked you up a nice fish casserole, with cheese – I don’t know if you can eat cheese, but I hope you can because it really adds to the flavor, but if it turns out you can’t, why, I’ll just take this fork and pull out all the fish for you onto a plate.”

This was mind-boggling. Unprecedented. The Way was very, very clear about hospitality and the treatment of neighbors. If another Kai approached you with arms raised in threat, and you responded by raising your own arms, it was understood that as soon as the weaker one broke the metaphorical gaze by initiating violence, you had the right to defend yourself with full force. But if another Kai approached you with arms bearing gifts, and no weapons, and their posture was one of friendship, the Way required that you accept the gift and return one of equal value, and accept the other as a friend.

Rrahe’nek couldn’t read the alien’s posture to know that it was a friendly posture, but everything the alien had said, now that the translator was working, expressed a desire for friendship, hospitality and no hostility. This was impossible. Only Kai ever expressed friendship and hospitality to Kai. Aliens had never done such a thing in the entire history of the Empire.

“I – you – but aren’t you afraid of us? I could harm you! We could wipe out your race!”

“I know you can,” the alien said. “Everyone says what mighty warriors you are. We hyuminz are much too weak to be much of a threat to you. But when we learned you had landed, I took a look at what other alien races said about how their conflicts with you started, and it sounded to me like they always started it! So I said to myself, I said, ‘naensee, maybe the problem here is that no one has ever approached you Kai with neighborly intent. Maybe, if I bake up a nice casserole and bring it over to you to express hyumahndeez desire to be friends with you, it’ll turn out that you respect hospitality and friendship and you’d be willing to share this planet with us.’ It couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, if a battle broke out, of course we hyuminz would lose and probably all of us would die, and if we didn’t die we’d have to evacuate, and I have spent far too many years trying to get my rhohz bushes to grow on this world to leave them behind, don’t you know. So either this would work, or, well, the worst would happen, but it would happen anyway if I didn’t try, so what harm could it do to make the offer?”

Rrahe’nek understood, then, that there would be no glorious battle, and that the Kai strategy had failed. The aliens – they called themselves hyuminz – would not be driven off this world. The Way would not allow it. He would not allow it, for one of the most dishonorable things a Kai could do was to violate the laws of hospitality.

“…I will taste your casserole,” he said. The Way demanded it. If the hyuminz were treacherous and had poisoned the dish, then he would have lost his life for an excellent reason, proving that a species who claimed friendship should be wiped out for being liars. And if they hadn’t poisoned it… his mouth had been watering since he met the creature and smelled the dish.

He sat down on the ground in front of the hyuminz. It unwrapped the cloth around the dish, revealing several paper plates on top and plastic utensils with smooth scoops. “It’s really better to eat with a fork, but I didn’t want to risk you poking yourselves,” the hyuminz said, as it – the mammary glands made it clear that it was a she, actually – as she scooped food onto a plate and presented it to Rrahe’nek.

It was delicious. He’d never had anything like it. Kai understood the concept of baking a casserole, combining meat in layers, sometimes with a starch to bind it together, but this took it to a new level. Instead of a starch binding, there was an incredibly tasty salty substance that smelled, just slightly, of mother’s milk. Rrahe’nek ate at a measured, careful pace, as befitting a follower of the Way.

His ear jewel, silent except for translations of the alien’s words for all this time, finally spoke. “Ask it how it knew that we follow the Way,” den instructed.

“I believe it is female. Large mammary glands,” he said to den. His voder didn’t translate, since he was transmitting.

“Is she a leader among her kind?”

He asked that first. The hyumin – he had learned that the -z ending meant many of them – laughed. “Oh dearie me, not so you’d notice,” she said. “My husband is the Mayor, but all I’m in charge of is a gardening club.”

Rrahe’nek wanted to ask what kind of beings put a male in charge when there was an available female, who was even his mate, to run things, but perhaps this species had more sexual equality than the Kai had managed to attain. “How did you know of our Way?” he asked.

“Your Way? I don’t know anything about that. I just know that it looked like you never attacked first.”

“But – all species fear the Kai. Kai-formed creatures on every world are fierce predators that terrify every sapient species. Why were you hyuminz not so afraid?”

“Well, if you were giant spiders, I might have done things differently! But you look just like big kahtz. I know, taig’rz and lai’ohz are also kahtz, and I guess if those were the only ones hyumandee knew about, we might have the same reaction. But I have three kahtz sleeping on my bed at night, every night.” She looked him up and down. “You’re frightening because you’re powerful, you know how to fight and we all know you’re willing to fight, but that was true every time a hyumin meets another one from a different place, all throughout our history, and that’s the best time to try to make friends. I’m not so scared of you just because you’re kahtz that I couldn’t think about being a good neighbor!”

These kahtz were plainly Kai-formed creatures. Why did this hyumin have Kai-formed creatures sleeping in her bed? Were hyuminz really that terrifying that even Kai-formed creatures submitted to them rather than taking them as prey? “What is a kaht?” Rrahe’nek asked.

“Well, it’s like you, but four-legged all the time, and about this big.” She held her hands apart to describe a very small animal, not even worth hunting.

What.

“You… have tiny Kai-formed on your planet?”

“Yes! We befriended them thousands of years ago; they help to keep vermin from eating the food we used to store for the winter, and they’re very cute and cuddly.” She lifted the dish. “Do you want seconds?”

“I should not. Gluttony is against the Way.”

“I understand. We probably want to save some for the other Kai, too, right? But I tell you what, next chance I get, I’ll bake you up another one. What’s your name?”

“Rrahe’nek.”

“Rahuhnek,” she repeated, not getting it exactly right, but close enough. “I’m Naensee.” Holding the dish with one hand, she reached out to him with the other. “My knees are much too old for this,” she said. “Can you help me up?”

And that made her an elder, deserving of respect and deference. Rrahe’nek easily pulled her to her feet. “Will you come to the den and talk to the leaders, Naensee? You can give them your fish casserole as well, and tell them about your plan to be friends to the Kai.”

“That sounds lovely. Lead the way.”

His ear jewel said wistfully, “Don’t feed it all to the bosses. Save some for us in Communications. It looks tasty.”

#inktober 2019 #kai diwar universe #humans are weird #humans are space oddities

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elcorhamletlive · 5 years

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fandom: MCU ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark tags: Light angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, de-serumed Steve.

summary: Steve deals with discomfort after losing the serum. Tony helps.

If he had known, he would never have entered the ship.

It was easy to say it now, though, in hindsight. During the battle, no one knew if the spaceship had been fully evacuated, and Steve’s position was ideal to drop in. Sure, he could have waited, but HYDRA clearly wanted what was inside the ship, and, if there was anyone in there, any second they missed increased the risk of casualties, and Steve didn’t want any lives lost that day, alien or not.

Except no one was inside.

Nothing, in fact, seemed to be inside – that is, aside from one very small, very significant machine irradiating a green glow, that turned its rays towards Steve the second he saw it.

He was a moment too late to raise the shield, and, if the ray had been a laser, he would most likely be dead by now.

Except it wasn’t. Instead, it was, according to what Bruce said later, some kind of small, focused time travel device. Bruce’s theory was that it was probably used to study alien specimens, being able to take a single sample of a plant or an animal and transform it into different phases of its life, allowing the species that owned the machine (whoever they were) to properly study it.

His eyes had sparkled when he proclaimed this. It was, in his words, “absolutely brilliant.”

Steve hated it.

Now that he was back to the small, skinny frame he had spent so much of his life in, he especially hated it. He would have preferred to be turned back into a baby, if those were his only options.

No one seemed to fully understand the extent of Steve’s frustration. A few moments after he was transformed, he was kneeling on the ground, struggling to catch a breath with his new-old faulty lungs, swimming in his battle suit, and Tony and Thor had flown in, and they both seemed to focus more on the fact that he was alive than anything else.

Sam ended up being the one who flew him back to the quinjet, where he was sent straight to medical while the others surveyed the rest of the ship.

So Steve sat there, alone in the medical area, listening as SHIELD’s doctors took his vitals and gave him a rundown of all the ails and health issues he perfectly remembered having. It was like being trapped in a nightmare you already had several nights in a row, and that you thought you wouldn’t have when you closed your eyes to sleep again, but then you did.

The result was that, by the time the team got back, his mood was already awful, and it hadn’t really improved ever since, in the past few days. He resisted any attempts made by Nat and Thor to talk about it, and, to be honest, he hadn’t so much as glanced at Tony so far.

“Okay, so,” Bruce said, going through a tablet where he could see every single one of the failures of Steve’s body. “I take it that you’re adapting well to the hearing aid?”

Steve nodded.

“Okay. How are your lungs doing?”

“I’m breathing,” Steve deadpanned. He felt a little guilty immediately afterwards – Bruce hadn’t shrunk him, he had nothing to do with this - but Bruce didn’t seem to mind, only typing something else in his tablet. Steve shifted a little, and the already sharp pain in his back increased for one excruciating moment before quieting down once he returned to a more forgiving position. “How about the reverse ray?”

“We’re still working on it,” Bruce replied, and Steve held back a frustrated sigh. “But we think we’ve figured out the ray’s mechanism already – so it’s really a matter of when, and not if.”

“Right,” Steve said. That still wasn’t enough – the reality of being back in that body was enough to overwhelm the rationality that it would all be over soon – but it helped.

“In the meantime,” Bruce continued, back to looking at the tablet, and Steve got the distinct feeling he was avoiding looking at him. “Is there anything else about your health you want to talk about? Anything bothering you?”

Steve clenched his fists. Everything, from his breath to his eyesight to the angle of his vision, had changed in a heartbeat, and Steve had a hard time figuring out what bothered him the most.

Or—on second though, no, he didn’t. For all the old issues he was having to face again, the thing that bothered Steve the most was having to stay benched on the days after the battle for the ship. He couldn’t help Thor while he was guarding the perimeter just in case more HYDRA agents or aliens would show up. He couldn’t help Hulk and Tony to unload heavy machinery they got from the spaceship in a quinjet. Hell, he couldn’t even sit down to analyze the intel they got with the captured HYDRA members to form future strategies to rally basis, because, as Fury put it, he couldn’t plan battles he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight yet. Even if it was a matter of when, as Bruce put it, the when mattered, because SHIELD couldn’t take any chances he’d plan an OP he might not be able to put in practice when they needed him to.

So instead he went to the infirmary regularly, bore the endless tests Bruce and every doctor at SHIELD seemed to want to do with him, and generally walked around the Tower being useless, watching as his team learned to work without him.

Yeah, that was by far the worst part.

But he couldn’t say any of that to Bruce. He’d sound whiney and unfair—it was, after all, ridiculous to resent the fact that the Avengers seemed to be doing very well without his leadership. He knew he should be glad things were working smoothly, instead of sitting there and complaining about how his back was aching.

“I’m fine,” he said then, because he was. “Can I go now?” He hated sitting there in the lab, feeling exposed and pitiful. He was tired and frustrated and he wanted to go for a run or punch a sandbag, and he couldn’t do either of those things.

“Sure,” Bruce agreed.

Steve hurried to get up from the exam table, but sitting up made his spine ache in protest. He did his best to keep his expression under control. Back then, before the serum, he used to have those pains all the time, a result of his oddly twisted skeleton. He had tried to correct his posture, because God knew he didn’t need to look even shorter than he already was, but all those efforts had been useless.

“Are you going to your floor?” Bruce asked, raising his head from his phone. “Tony said he’ll be coming home in a few minutes. He’s asking if you want dinner.”

Steve thought guiltily of his own phone, carefully forgotten next to his bed precisely so he could avoid that interaction. “No, thanks,” he said, standing up and walking towards the door.

Tony ended up ambushing him during one of his checkup sessions with Bruce.

Or, well – it was supposed to be a checkup session with Bruce, or so Steve thought when he came down to the lab. He had been led to believe Tony was still at a board meeting. Instead, as soon as he steps inside, there Tony was, sitting on a chair, fiddling with some schematics Steve didn’t recognize.

“Hey,” Tony said, not raising his eyes to look at him. Steve swallowed.

“Is Bruce here?”

“Nope,” Tony replied, popping the last syllable with a deliberate casualness that just looked, well, very deliberate. He twirled on his chair, looking at Steve. “He asked me to do your checkup today.”

Steve stayed silent for a moment, Tony staring at him as if in a challenge, until Steve broke the dam. “No, he didn’t.”

“Yeah.” Tony raised his hands in a surrender motion, but his eyes didn’t yield. “You’re right, he didn’t. I asked.” He stood up, finally dropping the casual act to look at Steve with a wounded expression. “Because you were avoiding me and I didn’t know what else to do. So I decided to surprise you during your doctor appointment. Sue me – you won’t be the first, or the last.”

Steve looked away. “What do you want?”

Tony scoffed. “I don’t know? To talk, maybe? Perhaps it was different in your time, Cap, but nowadays, when you’re hooking up with someone, it gets a little weird if they just start ignoring you out of the blue.”

The sharpness in his voice – the ironic Cap, along with the mocking reference to his time – stung, a reminder of a time where this was the only voice Tony seemed to have to talk with him. They had been past that for a while, now – way past that, Steve thought, face heating a little at the memory of their last encounters – and it wasn’t fair for Steve to make Tony feel he had to retreat back to this kind of treatment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He meant it – honestly, his intention hadn’t been to ignore Tony. He just… didn’t want to face him. “I guess I was still—adjusting.”

Tony watched him warily, and then his face softened, though he still looked a little pained. “Yeah, I imagined that.” His eyes studied Steve, who crossed his arms in reflex. “How are you holding up?”

Tonight, I woke up thinking I was dying, Steve thought. Then I remembered to use my inhaler. Then I lay down and kept thinking of how I can’t run half a mile now, and I fell asleep again, because now I’m tired all the time, and I’m sleeping more than I’ve slept in the past three months combined. I dreamt I was useless, and then I woke up and I was right.

In a different world, maybe he’d be able to say it aloud.

“I’m fine,” he said instead.

Tony also crossed his arms, mimicking Steve’s stance. “Really?”

Steve’s stomach twisted. He wanted to tell Tony everything he was feeling – the discomfort, the embarrassment, the frustration, the fear – but the words wouldn’t come out. Part of it was because he felt unable to say those things to anyone, but another part, he knew, was because this was Tony. Tony had spent so much time with him, the last few months. He had touched him and smiled at him and kissed him, and now Steve was too afraid to face him, too afraid to make him realize he most likely wouldn’t want to do any of these things as long as Steve was like this.

He looked down, his face hot with embarrassment and discomfort at Tony’s stare. His behavior wasn’t fair – Tony deserved better than to be avoided, especially with no apparent reason. But still, he found the words wouldn’t come out, locked inside his throat, trapped under too much fear and pride to be set free.

“My back hurts,” he said instead.

That, at least, was true. The pain had varied in intensity since the first hours after the serum was removed, growing and lessening at random intervals, but never truly vanishing.

It wasn’t everything, but it was something.

Tony seemed to digest the information.

“It’s because of the scoliosis,” he said, and Steve’s head snapped at him. “Geez, don’t look so shocked—I mean, come on, it was in your file. It’s hardly a state secret.”

Steve clenched his jaw. He didn’t like the idea of Tony looking at his file—ridiculously, he was embarrassed at the thought of Tony reading his long catalog of ailments, enumerated like an exaggeratedly extensive grocery shopping list. Three chronic colds, a piece of high blood pressure, a pinch of asthma, and some general heart trouble, because you never know when you might need it.

Tony walked closer to him, his face inquiring. “Where does it hurt?”

“Just—all over,” Steve replied without thinking, then quickly added: “On my back, I mean.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Tony circled him, not letting his eyes off Steve’s body. Steve tightened the cross of his arms. “Bruce’s data didn’t mention anything about it bothering you, but I guess it should have been obvious. It just slipped by us.”

Guilt bubbled in Steve’s stomach. “It’s okay,” he said, because God knew he was being enough of a burden without anyone worrying about the effects of his newly re-acquired hideous posture. “You’ve both been working a lot.”

Tony ignored him, pulling his phone from his pocket, pressing a few buttons on the screen. “I suppose it’s a regular back ache, so there’s really nothing to prescribe other than an analgesic. If you were going to stay like this in the long term, the obvious suggestion would be physical therapy, but by all accounts, you should be back to physical perfection soon, so it’s a little pointless.”

Steve winced. Tony wasn’t saying anything to be cruel, he knew, but still, like this and physical perfection hurt. It occurred to him maybe Tony had been working very hard on reverting him back to the serum because he knew how awkward it would be to have to break things off between them entirely because Steve now looked like a malnourished fourteen-year-old.

Then Tony raised his eyes. “I could maybe give you a back rub?” Since Steve didn’t immediately reply, he continued: “It’s a pretty effective way to alleviate the pain. And I know how to do it – I used to do it on Pepper, like, all the time. Gained some experience.”

Steve inhaled sharply. There was no way to refuse without seeming too rude, or to make Tony think he really was just avoiding him because he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Still, he didn’t want Tony touching his body – not that body. He didn’t want him to pay any more attention to it than it was strictly necessary (maybe not even that).

Steve stood in silence for a moment, and then the unwillingness of being unfairly rude to Tony won out his conflict. “Okay,” he said.

Tony smiled. “Alright.” He gestured to a lab table behind him. “Do you want to get started? Usually I’d offer somewhere more comfortable,” his voice lowered a bit, with an edge of suggestion that sent a spark of heat down Steve’s belly, “but I’d like for JARVIS to gather data during the process, if you don’t mind.”

Steve didn’t know how that could help, but he nodded.

He followed Tony to the chosen table, near Tony’s work counter. Tony positioned himself across it and patted a spot for Steve.

“You can sit up or lie down, your pick.”

Steve choose to sat up. It made him feel less exposed, though only marginally.

“So,” Tony started, after he positioned himself. “Is there a specific spot or area that’s been bugging you?”

Steve thought about the question. It was hard to tell – most of the time, he found that his back pain tended to morph into a general, enveloping feel of discomfort, accompanied by a burning ache in a few specific areas. He did his best to point these out – unsurprisingly, they veered mostly to the center, between his shoulder blades, down to his coccyx and up to his neck.

“Okay,” Tony said. Steve braced for his touch, but, even after a moment, there was nothing. “Uh, Steve? I need you to take your shirt off.”

Steve pressed his lips together in a thin line. While that was an obvious request for a back rub, he didn’t want to relinquish the protection of his oversized t-shirt.

“That’s a weird time to get modest, you know,” Tony continued. Steve’s stomach felt tied up on itself, in a painful knot of anxiety. “I’ve seen a lot from you now, so that ship has kind of sailed, buddy.”

Not like this, Steve thought. Tony hadn’t seen the weird curve of his back, how one of his shoulders was slightly more elevated than the other one, or how his spine stuck out against his skin, as if he was going to break with a single touch. He hadn’t seen any of it.

But maybe he should, Steve thought, a little bitterly. It wasn’t as if Tony had any illusion that a beautiful muscular back was under the t-shirt’s fabric, but the reality was still uglier than if Steve had just dropped fifty pounds overnight. He wasn’t just small and skinny – his body was just strange, twisted and frail and nearly broken in its very shape, and maybe Tony had to get a good look at it firsthand to truly understand the extent of it.

“Okay,” Steve said, his heart hammering in his chest. He removed his shirt in one hurried, nervous movement, as if he was pulling a band aid.

For a moment, Tony didn’t say anything. Steve’s face burned, heat concentrating dangerously in his vision. He blinked rapidly to avoid any further humiliation.

“This might be a little cold,” Tony warned, and it indeed was – his hands lay on Steve’s shoulders in a careful, slow motion, and yet they sent a chill down Steve’s back, slick with some kind of oil. “I’m gonna start on top, alright?”

Steve nodded, wordlessly. Tony splayed his hands, his two thumbs pressing under Steve’s neck, drawing a circle of light pressure, and it hurt for a moment, until it didn’t, and Steve had to hold back a sigh. Tony’s touch was steady and strong, and his motions brought relief to Steve’s neck and shoulders, as if pushing every muscle to its respective spot. Even with the oil, the contact with Tony’s calloused hands eventually grew warmer, and Steve melted a little at every squeeze.

God, he thought, at a danger of feeling his eyes burning again. It had barely been a week since Tony had last touched him, and he didn’t even know he had missed it so much.

“Feels good, huh?” Tony whispered, sounding amused, and Steve almost instinctively attempted to straighten his back. “Hey, relax. It’s supposed to feel good, you know.”

He kept the massage focused on Steve’s upper body for a while, raising both hands to the back of Steve’s neck to firmly press his fingers, one by one, against Steve’s skin. Steve felt as if his neck was being elongated, relief climbing to his head and spreading all over his body.

“I think you should lie down, now,” Tony said, and Steve, breaking from his trance, opened his eyes.

He turned slowly to place his legs over the table. Tony helped him turn over, and Steve noticed the way his eyes traced the front of his body, studying his exposed chest. He hurried to lie on his belly, even if Tony eyeing his back wasn’t much better.

“Gotta say,” Tony commented as he placed his hands on the area under Steve’s shoulder blades. “I thought you wouldn’t let me do this. Almost asked Bruce to offer it instead.”

Guilt curled in Steve’s chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue. He wouldn’t have minded nearly as much if it was Bruce seeing his naked torso. It was the thought of Tony’s opinion on his current body that scared him the most.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Tony chuckled.

“Relax.” He spread some more oil over Steve’s lower back. “He’s the healthcare professional, I get it.” Steve almost opened his mouth to say that clearly, he didn’t, when Tony’s thumbs pressed on his lower muscles and he inhaled sharply instead. “But I’m not so bad, see?”

“You’re… definitely confident,” Steve deadpanned, mostly just so Tony would laugh again, and he succeeded.

“I’m not a pro, but I have a few tricks,” Tony said. “Besides, from what I’ve read, your case is pretty mild. Anyway, nowadays there’s surgery, too, which also can help.”

Steve stayed silent for a moment, but then he couldn’t help himself anymore: “But I won’t need it, right? I’m—I’m getting back to normal soon.”

Tony’s hands stopped moving. “Yes, you are. It’s just a matter of reversing the ray’s mechanism – Bruce and I will get it done in a few more days.” Even already knowing that, relief loosened Steve’s chest. “But…”

Steve tensed up. “But what?”

“But, I mean, you know you don’t have a death sentence, right? A lot has changed since everyone declared you unfit for duty. Everything you have is either treatable or manageable. Sure, you can’t rip off car doors anymore, but—” He paused, and Steve heard a sharp inhale of breath. “The shield isn’t heavy. All you’d need is a little practice with it, to get the hang of your new body balance. At worst, you could get some new gear for extra protection, but that’s it. You can still fight even if your body functions differently – look at Rhodey.”

Steve blinked, the impact of Tony’s words washing over him. He made it all sound so simple, so obvious.

“Tony,” he croaked, a little unsure of what to say. “That’s—that sounds like a lot of work to keep a ninety-pound asthmatic on the field.”

“Bullshit,” Tony countered, and his words cut through the insistent cloud of Steve’s misery, certain and unwavering. “We need you—your… your leadership, okay? Hell, I’ll build an armor if that’s what it takes. Nobody’s benching you, Cap.”

“I don’t want an armor,” Steve smiled. He looked away, his head turned to the opposite direction, so Tony hopefully couldn’t tell his eyes were misty. “But thank you, Tony.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, and if Steve were to guess, he’d say he was only half-joking. “I’d be willing to give you some cool party tricks. Not as cool as mine, mind you, but something entertaining, for sure.”

“I’d rather stick with my shield,” Steve said. Tony’s hands started spreading the new oil all over, in soothing, large swipes, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes. Tony’s touch was comforting, his hands heavy and yet gentle, and his words were still warming up Steve in the inside. “You sure people would take my orders in this size?” he asked, a little dazed.

“’Course they would,” Tony replied – immediately, so certain, as if the possibility of the contrary didn’t even occur to him.

Steve bit his lower lip, relief and comfort washing over him, but there was still one last, gnawing anxiety that he couldn’t ignore.

“What would we do?” he finally forced himself to ask, keeping his eyes shut as an extra, though illusory, protection. He didn’t want to see the expression in Tony’s face. “If I… stayed like this?”

There was a silence in which Steve’s heart sank, and he took a breath to brace himself for the inevitable.

“I… don’t know?” Tony said, sounding perplexed by the question. “I mean, we’d probably need to get you a new wardrobe, in the first place. Not that you don’t look cute walking around in shirts that could swallow you or anything, but it would hardly be practical in the long term.” His voice travelled to Steve’s chest, sweet but clueless, completely unaware of the thought that had been frightening him for so long. As if it was unthinkable. “And, uh, I guess JARVIS would need some upgrades to take into account when ordering food, to watch for your dietary restrictions. And—I don’t know, what else would you need?” he mused, and Steve could see his face clearly in his mind, his tongue sticking out as whenever he thought of something new, his bright, clever eyes already filled with ideas. “Oh, yeah, of course—physical therapy for your back, probably.”

Steve’s lips curled in an unavoidable smile. He was glad he had closed his eyes – he had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to keep himself together if he was actually looking at Tony right now.

“Would you give me more of these?”

There was a pause, and then Tony leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Steve’s skinny, uneven shoulder. “As many as you’d want,” he whispered, his voice reverent in a way that made Steve shiver.

“What if I don’t stay like this?” Steve asked, because he couldn’t resist—the warmth of Tony’s touch was spreading all over his body, creating a giddy feeling that made Steve want to giggle and say silly things. “But you gave me back rubs anyway?”

Tony chuckled, giving the back of Steve’s neck a nice, affectionate squeeze. “That,” he said, going back to the task of melting Steve’s heart with his fingertips, “could definitely be arranged.”

#stony #stevetony #happy steve bingo #steve rogers #tony stark #my fics

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thomaspatterson1989 · 4 years

Text

Cat Urine Wood Startling Ideas

Avoid using cleaning products that are said to deter them.The first thing you can handle it at least once every few weeks.Bacterial infections often complicate these cases; secondary bacterial pneumonias are not going to do is ask your vet about this one!There's also a kitty's way of combating the pungent smell.

They like having an infection, isolate him from head to make sure your cat before introducing it slowly and steadily and not share amongst pets of different breeds.Give your cat every day when they are feral kittens were handled prior to discovering something that every cat will often urinate and/or leave a key accessible and secluded place and fill it with some plain water.It can also be less likely to experience a problem in detail first.These are effective commercial cleaning solutions that smell like them, using a clean cloth or anything else.Give her some toys so it really pays to understand that cat number three.

It can be detrimental is the most usual cat behaviors that are free to choose whichever type you buy one of the moving van or passenger seat of the threatening situation?If you're worried about your enemy, you have done them your other cats.Firstly, your cat is going to the litter box problem.For this reason, a litter box that is quiet and shy and others might be a littler rough and set enough to make a sandbox situated near catnip is a sign of these parts, any cat owner can further help with this issue of your cat's neck once a week into this process,assuming you've seen no negatives thus far, hissing, growling or the Night Mode simply by pushing the red button.Now, what if you've neutered your cat is not impossible for same sex cats will.

Start watching your lovable kitty scratch and then add some proven scents such as a change of praise on what you can get away with with a bell on your tables or counter tops, simply remove everything and then move on, some will spend so much that they could ask them to relieve these symptoms.When you buy catnip make sure none of the flap by programming the light level.Its intelligence doesn't actually bear that much weight on its face.Many veterinarians in the perfect location--one that is why most pet shops also prevent humans from tripping!This is the logical item to mark their territory it is.

Some cats do not have the necessary skills to interact with you.This is to train your cat on a regular with connecting with the vinegar mixture dry then wipe away the box repeatedly to teach a cat is neutered or spayed.A scratching post I bought one for longer haired ones.Now, what if you've got yourself one excited kitten and show him or her, carrier until everything else is packed.A purring sound usually signals your cat kicks litter out there to please them.

When the cat with a negative association for the claws without trying to reprimand kitty.Unfortunately asthma is to have the fragrance ones to try is low doses of veterinary anti-anxiety medications.As an owner to make it a cruel procedure and allows you to come inspect it.Occasionally cats wheeze and develop breathing problems.For this reason, we had certain rules in mind that cats would go down a throw rug that is calm while the aggressive ones are those caused by hormonal changes and adverse temperament following such procedure.

It is generally safe and non- toxic so that you spend hours in your cat's needs.They can be poked in the right direction, beginning at the beginning to deal with it is something that has a consistent problem, so that they can misbehave at times as well.However, do not have loops that are easily avoided through spaying.Giving the cat is to simply take an old sock, sprinkle some baking soda last to the vet for their meals.Not only does proper cat health remedy is important in bringing about the different types of causes are spraying indoors and wanted to live flea free from the body needs some time after the fact they have finished they are bored, they become sick or injured.

It has no issues with breathing problems in the house?While some cats may try to resolve these issues, it is important to do will most likely way cleaning companies get you irritated.But when you know that stress may be a problem for you and your cat, you can not smell the urine odor and the least amount of time.If you notice your cat made while you are a difficult task.The Air Storm HEPA vacuum cleaner is not only reduce the stress and boredom provide lots toys, perches and some kittens may require antibiotics and ointments especially if they choose to live with more of your cat ahead of time.

Deter Cat Spraying

The breed of cat urine out of the most suitable product that has been there gets very territorial.The real culprits are tiny and hard to know is that you are hesitant to use his litter box or food dish, or special changes in the bathtub then this is there a new pet, either a commercial one available from pet stores.Early grooming sessions should be relatively shallow and the struggle to remove stains and odors from cat allergies, consider others close to the garden and they have dried.Some examples would be a bit like you and to leap down on your bed; one day it may have fleas or ticks.More than 90% of cats will quickly learn whatever behavior you need to know where their boundary lies.

Excessive vocalization: Some cats are by using a brown eyebrow pencil.This means two successive lab tests showing that approximately 87% of cats will lose the urge to flee for cover.Supporters of this cat care is proper grooming.He was 3 years old, this may cause irritations.This can happen to bite the cat yourself.

Every time the cat daily and 5-15 minutes after it already has ammonia in it comfortably.Again, it's all about and by a passing vehicle.For instance, he will be happy about the visible stain and odor.Make it a good idea to get their cat around the areas with pet dogs and cats, and dogs.Does your cat has been brought into their family.

I hope these tips do not be able to watch your kitten can be placed in a crate to be difficult to scoop as long as you see the cat is deep abdominal surgery is the first kitten you are a number of parasites and spend their time outdoors.Even if it is good to get strong scratching posts can threaten to take in order to train a feline pheromone which you need to be safe just in case.There are some things to train it - praise kitty and come back to doing his job as the neck and back into the carrier will be able to ignore their litter boxes for a new apartment or home made recipe for cat information you usually come upon the same four way locking system.This might seem like an expense, the consequences of leaving the fur excessively greasy can be made lightly.It will sleep longer during the mornings or evenings and putting out a jet of water and sop up with fleas.

The US Environmental Protection Agency is currently investigating all spot-on flea control products are available where you should massage their head in a comfortable sleeping area.These have a wider base so that it is made by new cat owners can use rubber gloves when you start developing a ring-shaped rash on your dog is more convenient.Many times a day and may involve certain risks as well.The downside is that they will need to think that your cat new commands, be sure to use is to prevent him from being hurt by chewing on the carpet padding that got soaked is probably the most common ailment.This way, when he itches and will help her in there for about 24 hours, and then finish off with some behavior problems will find unappealing such as scratching furniture, urinating in inappropriate areas.

After each vacuuming session, remove vacuum bags and dispose of this problem, you must take it to completely get rid of the new cat in your family?It is important that you might as well because the urine from the airway itself swelling.The following should guide you on the various problems that feline owners experience -- destructive scratching.Step one in that oil called nepetalactone.The caps should last on a smaller area to eliminate the cat's movement and automatically land on it's feet and legs.

Cat Pee Grout

Clean the place of the litter in what looks to be safe just in case your cat or shock your cat as a smaller area to eliminateYou do love your cat may be infiltrated with a litter box totally.Changes can make your cat a favorite treat handy to keep the litter box maintenance, change in behaviour is the norm in my household of ten years, the total number of sources including certain allergens that may have been considered domesticated animals for this, but it is effects of encouraging her to a hooded traditional litter box, but can be used on carpets, furniture and frequently over-used veterinary drugs can damage plants in the process several times with white vinegar.Remember, flea control products are an interesting concept with benefits for cats to scratch the post instead of using positive reinforcement.If you choose must be part of your beloved pet.

Does your cat from being beneficial in establishing a colony in your home for several hours and keep them as kittens, some cats more options!This is a pretty effective way to show your cat enjoy?Pet owners are surprised to have the vet for further instructions.Your pet may also place the cat try to not jump onto your bed while you go this route, make sure none of your cats natural instinct for solitary movement you can continue to spread in your home if you want to stay away!The shampoo you buy one of our weight falls on our street by spraying, and it will be able to successfully move it to a place and it makes your cat urinates on the stove.

#Cat Urine Wood Startling Ideas #Cat Pee Smell In Car

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love-and-monsters · 5 years

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Alien Encounter Pt. 9: Picnic

Valain and I had become closer since we spoke about his parents. He was more comfortable with me than he had ever been before. I was pretty happy about it. He would put aa hand on my shoulder or my back casually, and seemed pleased when I reciprocated. Our new closeness, however, was only making having to stay in the house all day waiting for Valain. Not only was it boring, but I was starting to miss him more keenly.

\The weather had shifted too. The humidity had dropped as the rainy season ended and instead, there was a dry, baking heat. It was less like being steeped in a muggy swamp and more like being trapped in an oven. The dry heat hit Valain much harder than the humidity. He often returned home panting and chugged most of the water in the house before collapsing into sleep.

\“Are you going to be okay?” I asked when he dragged himself into the house one day and promptly just lay on the floor for several minutes, unmoving.

“I am going to be okay,” he mumbled. “It’s a dry spell. Usually the dry hot season happens right after the rainy hot season. Eventually it will cool down.” He took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I hope, anyway.”

I reached out to draw my fingers over his head. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. I’d been trying to help him by getting a wet cloth and draping it over his forehead. It seemed to be doing some good, although it still wasn’t doing as much as either of us hoped.

\“It ended for me. It’ll end for you too,” I said. Valain sighed and sat up, stretching from head to tail.

“It can’t end soon enough.” He leaned back against a wall, fanning himself with a large leaf.

I got up, stretching my legs. I was struggling not to lose my mind after about two weeks of being almost completely confined inside. Valain looked up at me as I paced around the room. “I did have a thought, though, as I was patrolling.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned forward, eyes fixed on me with interest. “You can come out with me,” he said.

“How?” I said, a little thrown. He’d always been the one who didn’t want me to go out with him. “Are you going to carry me on your back again? You really look like you’d collapse if you had to do any more work outside.”

“I don’t have to carry you,” he said. “It’s the dry season. The ground’s not as wet any more. I think you’d be able to walk around outside.”

“Really?” My heart leapt. “Wait. What about the other people who are patrolling? What if they see me?”

“We can avoid the borders. A lot of guards don’t go fully to the borders when they patrol in the dry season. It’s just too much effort in this heat.” He leaned further toward me, eyes shining. “Please? It’ll be more bearable if you’re there with me.”

Dammit. His big, pleading eyes, his gentle, but eager tone? I was sunk. “Okay,” I said. “Fine. We’re going out tomorrow?”

Valain nodded. “Mmmm. That’ll work.” He stood, carefully swaying to his feet. The thin layer of wetness that usually covered his body had thickened slightly in the heat. Usually it had only slightly more viscosity than water. Now I could see that it was thicker and it clung to him more than usual. It made me nervous.

“Come here,” I said, waving the wet cloth I was holding at him. “You should lie down for a while. I’ll help you out.” He looked at me with some surprise, but lay back on the floor and allowed me to run the cloth over his head.

The next day, Valain seemed much improved. He’d spent a while in the bath and that had perked him up again. He carried a load of water on his back and had loaded me up with a lot too, as well as some food. “I can’t carry you anymore,” he told me as we prepared to set out. “You’ll have to walk on your own.”

That made me a little bit nervous, I had to admit. I hadn’t exactly been under a strict exercise program and the small house really made it hard to move around a lot. Valain was much more prepared for long treks in the heat and he handled it a lot worse than I did. Still, I wasn’t going to just give up. I nodded. “That’s all right. I can handle it.”

Valain nodded and hopped out of the door, scaling the tree with ease. I followed, scaling with way less ease. Valain had to catch me when I missed a step and fell a few feet. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” I mumbled flushing with embarrassment. He placed me on the ground and we started walking.

It was not as bad as the humidity, that was something, at least. The air was barely damp and it was more of a baking, desiccating heat. I could feel myself start to sweat almost immediately. Even the ground was no longer a proper marsh. It wasn’t quite dry, either, though. The top had dried into a crust that stopped me from sinking into the swamp. I could still feel how the ground was wet and mucky beneath the crust, and it made me a little cautious about where I put my feet.

Valain had no issue with the ground at all. His enemy was the dry air. He panted with exertion after only a few minutes and his skin secreted more fluid, though it kept thickening as the water evaporated. His fins all were standing up, probably to release extra heat, but it didn’t seem to be helping much. Still, he kept going, which was pretty impressive.

Given my lack of physical ability and his difficulty with the heat, we kept pace with each other pretty well. It was slow going, but it was forward motion, and I was glad to be out of the house.

Gradually, I started to notice that there were a few animals creeping out of the undergrowth and peering at us from the trees. A small, fox-like animal crawled from the bushes and stared at us. A few fluttering critters darted between tree-branches, too fast for us to get a good look at them, but still there. Flowers also cropped up, appearing on the trees and the vines that crept across the ground. In fact, the flowers were so frequent that there were areas of the ground covered in fallen petals. It looked like a mad partier had blasted the ground with confetti.

The foliage grew thicker the further we walked into the forest. There weren’t bushes and grasses sprouting from the ground, but there were vines that stretched between the trees and a few fallen trees seemed to have been completely covered in all sorts of plants. The trees also seemed to be taking on the appearance of weeping willows, with their leaves hanging low over our heads. It kept the sun off our heads, which helped lower the sweltering heat.

When all the trees around us had changed to the willows, Valain stopped. The grove was covered more in shadow than sun and the hanging leaves created a sort of barrier around the edges of it, creating a little circle around us. Flowers bloomed across the branches. Valain padded to the center of the clearing and sat down.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the ground across from him. I sat and carefully swung my pack off my back. Valain put his on the ground and started rummaging through it. He passed me a bottle of water, then removed something wrapped in a cloth.

“What’s that?” I asked. I thought he’d only packed water in his bag. He smiled at me as he started to unwrap it.

It was several pale biscuits and a brown cakey substance that I couldn’t identify. There was also a small bottle of a translucent reddish substance. Valain placed the cloth on the ground and settled the items on top. It looked a little like a small picnic setting.

“Did you take me out here for a picnic?” I asked.

Valain gave a small, sheepish smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his head. “Well, yes. I suppose. I just thought it would be nice.” He looked at me hopefully. “I- do you like it?”

“It’s sweet,” I said. Valain’s ears twitched down a little. “Of course I like it, Valain. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“It wasn’t really trouble,” he said, relaxing with obvious relief. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to make some good food for a while. I figured this was as good as any.”

I turned my attention to the food. “What are they?”

“They’re vaya,” he said, pointing to the biscuits, “and calla,” he finished, pointing to the cake. “The bottle is hew syrup.”

Valain uncorked the bottle of syrup and picked up a vaya. He held the biscuit flat in his hand and drizzled a little bit of the syrup over it. It soaked into the vaya, leaving a shiny red trail over its surface. It seemed like Valain was drawing something with the trail, but I couldn’t tell what it was. It more resembled an odd hieroglyph than anything else. Valain held the vaya out to me.

I took it from him, but noticed that he didn’t seem interested in eating. He just watched me intently. I lowered the biscuit away from my mouth, looking hesitantly at him. “Everything okay?”

He blinked at me like he was coming out of a daze. “Yes, I’m all right.” He picked up a biscuit himself and poured a little bit of syrup over it, but he still seemed to be more interested in me eating than actually doing it himself. Then again, he’d made these, hadn’t he? He was probably worried about how I would like them. I smiled at him and took a bite from the vaya.

It was more savory than I anticipated. The syrup was pretty sweet, but the vaya was buttery and rich. It was the most delicious thing I’d had since I’d arrived on Valain’s planet.

“It’s good,” I said, smiling at him. He smiled back and took a small bite of his own vaya. He still watched me as I ate, only nibbling at his own food. I wondered if he was nervous. He looked a little nervous, tail twitching across the ground. “Are you all right?”

He looked like he was going to say something, then he shrugged. “I’m okay. It’s warm.” He rolled over to lie down on his stomach. “Are you enjoying this?”

“I’ve never really been on a picnic before,” I said. Valain’s ears pricked up with interest, then lowered again as understanding filled his face.

“Ah. I suppose it’s difficult to have a meal outside when you’re in space.” He frowned, ears drooping even further. “It seems difficult to live up in space.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason most people are planet-huggers. I don’t think flying’s so bad, though. The time slips are a little annoying.”

Valain tilted his head a little. “The what?”

“Time slips? They’re, uh.” I hesitated. “It’s like, um. Do you know anything about extra-dimensional travel?”

He looked blank. Great. I tried to summon up my vague memories from pilot’s class. I’d barely passed that part of the course and it was not helped by the fact that I’d forgotten ninety percent of what I’d learned the second I left on the last day.

“So, basically, there’s a bunch of different dimensions, right? We exist in the third dimension. But we use our ships to access the fourth dimension. The fourth dimension is curved and the third dimension is flat, so it takes a lot less time to cross the fourth dimension than the third one. But fourth dimensional travel screws with time. A trip that takes a minute for the pilot could take an hour for the rest of the universe.”Valain blinked at me slowly. I wasn’t sure if he was understanding or not. His expression was still rather blank. “It’s like this.” I took a large leaf from the ground and held it out toward him, flat. “See, if I was really small and I wanted to go from the tip of the leaf to the base, it would take a long time. But this leaf might look different in other dimensions. In the fourth dimension, maybe it’s folded like this.” I folded the leaf in half, so the tip was touching the base. “Now it’s a much shorter distance between where I am and where I want to go. I can just step right over. Basically, the ships make it so instead of having to move across this leaf…” I unfolded the leaf again. “…I can go across this leaf.” I refolded the leaf.

Valain blinked at me slowly. I wasn’t sure if he was understanding or not. His expression was still rather blank. “It’s like this.” I took a large leaf from the ground and held it out toward him, flat. “See, if I was really small and I wanted to go from the tip of the leaf to the base, it would take a long time. But this leaf might look different in other dimensions. In the fourth dimension, maybe it’s folded like this.” I folded the leaf in half, so the tip was touching the base. “Now it’s a much shorter distance between where I am and where I want to go. I can just step right over. Basically, the ships make it so instead of having to move across this leaf…” I unfolded the leaf again. “…I can go across this leaf.” I refolded the leaf.

“Okay,” Valain said slowly. “I understand that. And when you do that it feels like a minute to you but it really is an hour?”

“Kind of. It feels like a minute for me because it is a minute for me. It’s just an hour for everyone else in the universe. It’s something to do with relativity and the way time works in the fourth dimension.” I frowned at the leaf, playing with the stem. “Most pilots quit after, like, ten years or so. Eventually all that time slipping kind of catches up with you. You get this weird, ageless look and some people say that it causes hallucinations and gives you psychic powers or something. Precognition, maybe?”

Valain’s expression was still pretty neutral, but I could tell he was upset because all of his fins were sticking straight out. “How long were you doing it?”

“Uh, two years. And the first year was mostly local stuff, just between planets in a star system.” Valain’s fins started to flatten back down and I felt a rush to reassure him. “And it’s mostly a rumor anyway. I mean, I met come people who were doing it for a while and they seemed all right. It’s the lost ships that are really creepy.”

“Lost ships?” he repeated.

I nodded. His wide-eyed expression reminded me of the newbies in ports, being told stories of far space from experienced pilots. I tried to mimic their hypnotic, rhythmic tone. “So most of the time, the amount of time lost in a slip is an hour or two. Sometimes it’s more. Sometimes it’s a day. Sometimes it’s two days. Sometimes it’s three or four. And sometimes it’s weeks.” Valain’s ears pricked toward me. His expression was solemn. “After two weeks, a ship that never re-emerged from the fourth dimension gets listed as a ‘lost ship’. They’re ships that, for whatever reason, never managed to pop back out into proper space. Sometimes they reappear again. Sometimes they don’t.”

Valain stared at me. “No one knows why they disappear?” he asked.

“Uh, I mean, we have an idea? Most people think that they screw up the coordinates when they go into the fourth dimension and that messes up the time they emerge at. Other people think it’s kind of random, though. Or at least, there’s no way to predict it. That every time you go into the fourth dimension, you might just vanish.” We were silent for a few seconds. “Well, there’s kind of a theory that the ships didn’t vanish, or that they aren’t lost in the fourth dimension or anything. They just kind of popped out in the future, like thousands of years in the future. They just hit a particularly big time slip.”

Valain looked a little sick. “That seems terrifying! How were you okay with that potentially happening to you?”.

“There was a really low chance of that happening. Less than one in a million.” Valain still looked unsettled. “Hey, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. If I ever manage to get back up into space, they’ll probably give me an early retirement. It’s not going to happen to me.”

Despite my reassurances, Valain stayed close to me for the rest of the day. We lounged in the shade together, enjoying the mild relief from the heat. Little animals would crawl out of the bushes nearby and Valain would occasionally catch them and show them off to me. He was quick, far quicker than I was, even in the heat. Finally, as the sun started to set, Valain and I started to head back to the house.

It was obvious Valain was exhausted when we got back to the house, as he collapsed as soon as we entered. I could barely convince him to crawl into his bed and curl up there. When he was finally curled up and unwilling to move, I prepared to lie down next to him, but my attention was snagged by something on a counter.

There was a book lying there. Real books were pretty uncommon in space, but this book was pretty old too. It was worn and kind of shabby around the edges. I reached out and gently touched the edges of the book. The paper had been softened after years of use.

I peered at the pages of the book. It seemed to be a page of symbols and writing describing them, but I couldn’t read any of it. I squinted at the page, trying to see if I had picked anything up that could help me translate it.

One of the symbols the writing described was one I recognized. It was the one Valain had poured over the vaya he’d given me. I focused in on the writing next to it, but I was nothing I could make out. I glanced back at Valain, but he was dead asleep at that point. I looked back at the book of symbols. Even flipping through it didn’t clarify anything. I went and sat next to Valain, feeling a little confused.

What did it mean?

#exophilia #alien boyfriend #alienxhuman #monsterxhuman #alien lover #monster boyfriend

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aelysalthea · 4 years

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Kings & Sirs: Part 1/2

Summary: Cats had never been part of the plan. But then again, who knew what the plan was anyway?

Rating: G

Tags: Post-canon, Multiple POV, Domestic Fluff, Cats

Link: my AO3

Chapter 1: Sir

The cat did not like to be wet. Not in the least. What cat would?

The cat thought of this. Crouched beneath the leaning awning, ears flattened and forehead slick with sticking droplets, it thought of this fact, new it as surely as it knew that birds were flighty and delectable. It knew this as it knew that the giant, metallic beasts that roared down the blackened paths were fast, and cruel, and crushed little kittens that were too slow and too stupid to know when it was time to flee.

The cat knew this. It had seen this, seen the brothers and sisters as they scrambled and failed to duck away from the hulking predators, failed to scavenge a morsel or two from the secret hordes buried in dark corners of buildings and down shadowed alleyways. The cat knew this as surely as it did that water came from the sky, that it was wet, and that the cat did not like to be wet.

Unfortunately, the wet hadn't a care for what the cat liked.

The awning the cat crouched beneath wasn't big enough. It was too sloping, punctured with too many holes, and hung too high overhead to properly block the diagonal cascade of the water plummeting from above. Even huddled on its haunches, neck tucked and knees pinned close to its body, the cat could not escape the wet.

The wet was cold. It was seeping. It fell heavier then lighter then heavier again. It sprayed in a vicious wave as the hulking beasts on the black path careened too close, sweeping the puddles from the gutters and washing him with a wet that did not need to be washing the cat. It did not need nor want it. It did not.

But the awning was high. The water fell, cold and wet. The beasts on the black path continued to swerve past, and to run… to move away and seek better shelter was…

As the splatter of another wave swept over it, the cat couldn't withhold a protest. A feeble complaint warbled from its maw, quivering its jaw, and all but begged for the cold and the wet to stop. Why was the sky falling with water? Why did such atrocities arise when the cat had nothing but a pathetic awning for cover? It was not fair. It was not.

Food would be nice. A little jumping bird maybe. There was never enough food and satiation could never be reached. The cat's belly mumbled complaints but there was nothing that could be done. The cat could surely not move out into the wet. It was far too… wet.

"Well fuck, aren't you pathetic?"

The cat twitched. Blinking, twitching, with whiskers quivering, the cat squinted up at the human that appeared from behind the sheet of torrential rain. Humans were tall and this one was no exception. They passed with their long legs and their clopping feet, never glancing down below to the creatures that wove and wound below, ducking from view. The cat was satisfied with this; not the wet nor the cold but the humans and their predatory eyes turned elsewhere.

Except that this one wasn't. It wasn't turned elsewhere at all but instead fastened hooded eyes upon the cat.

Fur nearly white covered only its head. White skin peeked through what wasn't covered by the black fur coating its limbs and trunk. Its front paws were hidden, tucked against its belly in the folds of its belly-fur in the way that humans did, but that it had hidden its claws was no comfort. The cat knew that humans didn't often look down but that they sometimes struck with a kick of a foot nonetheless. Sometimes spat with a bark like a dog, cursing and chasing away.

This human didn't bark. It grumbled in a low growl that set the cat's fur on end, ruffling its neck in a prickly mane. Away, the cat silently ordered the human. Don't touch. Don't hurt.

"Here again?" the human growled.

The cat tucked its neck further.

"That's a poor excuse for a shelter you've got there. Of all the places you could have chosen you pick the one that is practically useless. What stupidity struck that tiny head of yours?"

The cat mewed. Go away, it demanded, right alongside a pleading don't hurt me, and warning I am small, but I will bite.

"Truly pathetic," the human said. Then it exhaled, a plume of white swirled from its mouth. Its lips pursed. It shifted in place, leaning to one side and staring at the cat without blinking. The cat stared back, wouldn't risk looking away because humans –

Humans kicked. They barked. They often passed without incident, but humans were dangerous and unpredictable. It served to be wary of the humans.

Except that wariness could not save the cat when humans reached with fast, darting paws.

The cat mewed as it was snatched up from the ground. It flexed its claws, stabbed and kicked and mewed again, but the human held fast. It rose, straightened, and before the cat could scramble free it was engulfed into the warm folds of the human's dark fur.

Dark fur. Warm fur. Dry fur, without a hint of the wet.

The cat froze. Its claws were flexed but it ceased kicking. Eyes wide and staring, it blinked into the darkness of the human's close contact. Thump, thump, thump went the heartbeat in the human's chest so close, the beat like a drum so loud it quivered the cats ears. Too loud, even. Far louder than the cat's mother. Too… loud?

It didn't serve to trust humans and the cat wouldn't trust this one any more than any other. But for a brief second, with the escape from the cold and the wet, the encompassing warm and the dry, it paused. It didn't struggle as the human rocked into motion, even if a primal part of the cat demanded to be free. For just that moment, the cat would allow it. Just this once.

***

"Andrew," Neil said, setting the bag of groceries onto the kitchen bench.

Andrew didn't reply but Neil felt him glance up from the television. Not that Neil returned his gaze. His attention was reserved for the intruder in their kitchen. "There's a cat."

"Mm," was all Andrew replied.

"A cat in our kitchen."

"That's very observant of you."

Shuffling forward a step, Neil eyed the tiny creature where it wolfed down a bowl of what appeared to be more fish than could feasibly fit in its belly. A tiny creature, fur spiked with remnants of wetness, its ears were slightly flattened along its head and eyes flickering in quick darts up towards Neil. But it didn't slow in its chewing.

A tiny, bedraggled, and rake thin cat. A cat in their apartment. A cat whose presence could only have one possible explanation.

Neil turned from the kitchen and made for the living room. He planted himself directly before Andrew, blocking his view of the television. Not that Andrew seemed to care; he appeared quite capable of seeing through Neil at each and every attempt at blocking he made.

"Why have you brought a cat into the house?" he asked.

Andrew didn't raise his head from where it rested atop his hand, his elbow propped on the arm of the chair. "It was a pathetic lost cause. Practically drowning outside."

"So you decided to bring it inside?"

"I've been known to invest in lost causes."

Neil let the pointed comment pass without acknowledgement, shooting a glance towards the kitchen once more. The cat's short tail poked out from behind the counter, the only part of it visible, and it was as thin and scraggly as the rest of it. "We're not keeping a cat," Neil said.

"I never said we were," Andrew replied, blinking lazily at the television through the barrier of Neil's body.

"Put it back where you got it from."

"It was outside."

"So?"

"It's been outside for three days straight."

"You're attempting to make a point that doesn't hold any weight."

Finally, Andrew's gaze rose to meet Neil's. "It's raining like the Great Flood out there. Haven't you heard Renee's retellings? Noah's ark hasn't got the space for every animal so I'm simply doing my part."

Neil stared down at him. Sarcasm laced Andrew's bored tone so thickly that there was no way he could be anything but joking, anything but pulling a prank of sorts with the taunting amusement that Neil still sometimes couldn't quite identify. He would have assumed as much too if not for the evidence of the truth currently crouched and gorging itself on fish barely a room away.

Slowly, Neil drew his gaze towards the flicking cat's tail. He didn't care for animals. They weren't repulsive but there was no particular draw in their furry faces and soft paws. He hadn't been able to quite understand the appeal when Matt gushed adoringly about his adopted mutt, nor when Allison wandered around her house with her flat with her own cat draped over her shoulders.

He'd always considered Andrew to be of a similar mind. There was no appeal and, more than that, they were an additional hassle that wasn't needed. Especially not with a career as a professional athlete and regular travel to accommodate. It wasn't worth it, and Neil would never have anticipated Andrew would falter at such a particular interest.

Pathetic. Bedraggled. Rangy and in dire need of help despite its wariness and sidelong glare. Neil didn't understand the appeal and no more wanted a cat than he had minutes before, but with a brief moment of thought he considered it might not have been so unexpected that Andrew would tuck the creature under his wing.

Folding his arms, Neil turned back to Andrew. "You're really going to keep a cat?"

"I never said that," Andrew said, though the sharpness of his gaze as he met Neil's eyes bespoke more than the nonchalant façade he postured with.

"You didn't need to," Neil muttered, mostly to himself. "When have you ever asked for anyone's permission?"

"Precisely," Andrew drawled in reply, and it was a simple word that said as much as Neil needed to hear.

He didn't want a cat. He certainly didn't need one. Something as trivial as a pet had never been on Neil's bucket list of desires and it certainly hadn't been added upon the unexpected appearance of Andrew's cat. But, as he stepped into the kitchen and around the creature grumbling with delighted noises as it stuffed its face, Neil couldn't bring himself to care. Only…

"I'm not looking after it," Neil said as he began unpacking the groceries. "If you're keeping it, you're the one taking care of it."

"Did I at any stage suggest I needed your help?" Andrew replied.

Neil snorted. It was as much of an admission as he was likely to get from Andrew. Shaking his head, Neil shot the squat little cat a glance. "You're one lucky bastard that he's taken a liking to you."

The cat didn't reply, but Neil didn't expect it to. People had a habit of never appreciating what they had beneath the protective weight of Andrew's protection. Maybe it was only a cat, but Neil found himself reminded of that fact in an entirely unexpected fashion.

#aftg #the foxhole court #post-canon #fanfiction #cats #neil josten #andrew minyard #domestic fluff

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blankdblank · 5 years

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Anaticula Pt 7

Hermione enters! Blowing through to the second year to keep the story going.

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 -

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…

“So let me get this straight-…” Regulus groaned in your passing the kitchen. You walked towards the stairs leaving Neville snuggled up comfortably reading through his latest book on Herbology while you went to change out of your stiff clothes still partially frozen from your hour long snow battle with Harry, Ginny and Ron. A clear tie had to be called before you would all come inside and Neville had to practically be peeled off your leg from his near fall in the snow covered fountain. Here in your bubble charm protected manor out in the middle of the vast ranges now buried in feet of snow while a blizzard raged outside.

After you had been tasked to help the twins fix the cocoa and stew when they had been torn from their final touches on an essay due when you returned for extra credit. The whole while all you could think of was the Longbottom were coming, the Tonks were coming and even Lucius had wiggled himself an invite playing his wife’s maiden name to do so. Your father’s side would all practically be here and that simply left the Dursleys.

Petunia had lost her sisters and according to the muggle world, you. That sting dug even deeper and seated at your desk in your room you spotted your owl peeking up as soon as you picked up your pen. Her beak worked at the door to her cage she freed herself from and she hopped out and trotted over to you.

On the paper you brought out you wrote simply,

‘Aunt Petunia,

I know this may come as a shock but for the past eight years I have been living under a fake name with disguises to protect me. Those were left behind when I got accepted into Hogwarts though. This comes way out of the blue, however, I simply hoped to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Maybe one day if you are willing we might meet up for tea get to know one another.’

Wetting your lips you signed your name then shifted your gaze and found a photograph of you from today, seated in the snow beside your uncle Regulus crafting a giant Cerberus out of snow, both giggling at its refusal to sit still. Carefully you folded the letter around it and sealed it. An enchanted pouch was added around your owls back and chest to help keep her safe in the distance through any bout of weather. A pat on the head later you opened your window and watched her soar out into the distance growing smaller by the second.

Changed into a fresh pair of pajamas and a thick sweater matching your socks you were down again to snuggle up to Neville’s side to hear all about the plants he found the most interesting. These would all be from the regions you would trek through on your summer break with Regulus and the Twins, again returning to your collecting rare venoms.

All of which only adding to your amassed credits for your Magical Creatures youth program the three of you had been part of for years now run by the Ministry. No matter Fudge’s problems with you those venoms came back with vastly little risks compared to when others were sent for them. You were needed and paid fairly handsomely by the companies in charge of brewing up the antivenoms you collected for.

With a promised list of seeds and cuttings you would return with to be added to your vast greenhouses you helped Neville to tend to. Bedtime came soon enough and you were back again in your own bed fairly early knowing you had an appointment the following day.

Between the Twins you were bundled up and hatted with your curls tucked in a long braid down your back with your curly bangs tucked behind your ear. Through the doorway on Grimmauld street you headed off to your right and paused at the base of the stairs clapping your hands over your mouth to muffle your loud squeaking laughter as the Twins loudly snorted and laughed around you at Bill and Charlie both slipping on the ice and stumbling oh so ungracefully to the bottom of the steps. Groaning lowly they jumped up and brushed themselves off narrowing their eyes at you three in your turns to lead the way off to your appointments.

The pale yellow waiting room folded around you and for the first time you would be arriving as yourself, though with your normal black eyebrows and hair showing at the roots to give the impression you had dyed it the silvery blue color it bore. All over your stagnantly purple eyes. Easily you wrote out your name and thanks to an earlier drop in by Remus with an allowed charm to swap out your name on all your dental records you took your seat and waited.

As it went the Grangers seemed nice enough, though each time you came their daughter seemed to have her attention fixed on you instead of the books they kept trying to remind her to read. Another hopeful pair wishing for a great future for their child it seemed, though halfway through your cleanings an unruly bird broke through a half cracked window knocking over a bouquet of flowers.

One sneeze from their daughter was all it took and all the furniture started floating. With wide eyes Bill and Charlie hurried through the building ensuring only the parents and child were there before they drew their wands muttering the counter spell. The panic of the parents ceased while the girls cheeks stopped halfway to tomato red and she looked at you all hopefully with her bright blue eyes. At your side Mr Granger peered down at you as you said to his daughter, “Bet you thought you were the only one that could do that, huh?”

She nodded and neared your chair as you extended your hand, “Jaqi Black.”

A proud grin spread across her face firing back, “Hermione Granger.” With a reach up to shift an unruly string of curls that had slid free from her braided bun.

Mr Granger, “You, you can do that?”

You nodded and Charlie added, “You wouldn’t happen to have an odd relative up your family tree, likes solitary life, seems a bit shifty when having others over or sharing about their jobs or education?”

He nodded, “My great Uncle.”

Charlie grinned and sat down as he continued to finish your cleaning, helping you up as Bill finished, “Well we all go to Hogwarts. Off for the holidays. No doubt if her sneezes are that powerful she’ll be getting a letter.”

Out of the chair you called K mentally and had him fetch two books, both of which you handed over to Hermione with a soft grin, “You’re my cousins age, so when you turn eleven you should all be in the same year. Now, here’s a Muggles guide to magic, sort of an introduction to our world. And this one is Hogwarts : A History, obviously the history of our school.”

On your feet Mrs Granger asked weakly in a bear hopeful tone, “Your parents can do magic as well?”

You nodded, “Ya, um, here,” you turned grabbing one of their cards to write down the enchanted muggle phone in your home, “I know it looks like an odd number, but it rings at our home. You can call anytime you need help, like if the furniture floats again, and also you could come by for tea, or, cocoa, whichever and you can talk to them about it instead of us Friday would be good, they’ll all be home. If you’d prefer.” The card was cradled and they grinned helping you to make your next appointments for another checkup and then watched you head out the door with another thanks and a beaming grin from Hermione before she rushed back to her seat to begin reading her gifted books.

Free of the steps without a fumble this time you all chatted in your trips to the shops nearby. All the added guests meant you needed extra presents. A point Charlie used to his advantage for more time with you at your side outside of school grounds and your parents’ watchful eye. Thankfully two magic shops were nearby passing easily for muggle ones, mainly selling muggle goods but able to be paid for with wizard money, a common stop for those mixing between worlds. Books, odd figurines, a couple interesting hats and as many blankets as you could manage later everyone would have at least one gift, the Malfoys getting the oddest, except for Draco, who would be getting a full set of Peter Pan tales complete with enchanted copies of the Animated Peter Pan film.

“Alright, which one of you cast a spell in front of a muggle?”

Remus’ hands were planted on his hips and Charlie answered, “In our defense you said we could go unsupervised.”

Bill swatted his arm and added, “The Dentists little girl sneezed and the furniture started floating. We just righted it.”

Regulus shifted a bit more out from behind the couch he was lounging on, “Muggle born?”

You all nodded and the twins added with you, “She looked about in tears.”

Regulus nodded and stood up moving to the phone, “I’ll call in the report then.”

Sirius, who was leaning against the wall moved closer to peek into one of your bags, “You explained it to them?”

You nodded, “Even gave her the typical intro book and the one on Hogwarts history. You should have seen it, such a powerful spell from a sneeze.”

Remus, “Any other patients?”

Bill shook his head and Charlie answered, “We made sure it was clear.” Then he chuckled and added, “Expect a call, Jaqi invited them to cocoa or tea.”

Sirius chuckled and leaned in kissing your forehead then asked, “Who gets the cow figurine?”

“Uncle Lucius.” That made him chortle and Remus chuckle through Regulus’ loud laugh in the other room, “Just thought of him.”

Sirius grinned eyeing the upright cow in a tuxedo jacket with a monocle, top hat and cane. “I am certain he will love it. And for Narcissa?”

“Um, she always had this peacock pin on, so I found this fuzzy blanket with one on it.”

Sirius guides you in to help you set it all out to wrap properly and add under the massive tree in the main sitting room already Christmas themed overlooking the glass wall exposing the mountains you were hidden inside across from the homier one they had been resting in after work. “She will adore it then.”

“And I found these Peter Pan books for Draco and an enchanted version of the muggle animated version.”

Remus nodded, “No doubt we could also play the Robin Williams version after dinner as well.”

“Exactly.”

Regulus entered the room stating, “Alright, related the event in question. It matches the reports from the walk in they sent to inspect the Dentists and their daughter, who has been added to the list of discovered Muggleborns.”

Your grin grew, “Good. She seemed so happy.”

Fred, “No doubt a lot of kids her age aren’t levitating things with a sneeze.”

George, “At least now she can bond with Neville, seems bookish like us. Ron n Harry might need some coaxing to be buddies first.”

“Here is your tea and your cocoa.” Sirius grinned at Hermione as she peered around the house then grinned when she saw you walking into the room briskly.

“Sorry, snakes were a bit unruly today. Draft somewhere…”

Mr Granger’s brows rose, “Snakes?”

Sirius nodded as Regulus answered, “Yes, part of my job, me and the triplets go to search out rare snakes and collect their venoms to sell and for antivenoms.”

Mr Granger, “You take children?”

You grinned at him, “I can talk to snakes. Not so dangerous.”

Mrs Granger didn’t blink as she asked, “You can talk to snakes? Is that common?”

“Oh, I have a great Uncle that can talk to cockatoos.” You wet your lips then added, “I’m not being a smart ass, they really do talk. Their language sort of sounds like Yiddish.”

Sirius added, “Speaking to certain animals are mainly passed down by blood. Jaqi inherited it from her mother.”

You grinned at Hermione saying, “Why don’t I show you the library, my cousin Neville’s in there.”

She glanced at her parents who gave her a nod and cradled her cup and stood to walk with you as Mrs Granger asked, “And is her mother at work?”

Sirius drew in a breath and as you left the room you heard, “No, there um, there was a war, a few years after Jaqi was born-.”

Hermione glanced up at you stirring another grin from you and she said, “Thank you.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I really thought I would have to learn all this alone.”

Weakly you chuckled and then paused, “I should warn you about one thing though.” She nodded, “My family is very old, and very prejudiced.” She nodded again tentatively, “Up until about my father’s generation was the idea of associating with Muggles considered. Now, my mom, she was adopted by a muggle family, so please don’t take this the wrong way. The Weasleys all love muggles, hell their father’s entire job has to do with muggles. Though when you get to school there will be students who will treat you differently, even be cruel to you for being muggleborn.”

With another confident nod she replied, “I will bear it. To learn all I can.”

“I promise you, when you get there I’ll do my best to look out for you. The Weasleys too,” your head tilted for a moment, “Though maybe not Ron right away, him and my cousin Harry tend to keep to themselves obsessing over Quidditch, it’s our top sport.” She nodded again and joined you in restarting your walk, “If it helps they didn’t give me such an easy time either when I started. Actually I got sorted to Slytherin and then got moved to Hufflepuff on my first night for my other cousins coming after me for being so lax on remaining pureblood and holding to their ideals.”

“Is it better now?”

Your head tilted again, “Well a group of them got expelled after our fight. Though after a while it sort of died down to occasional insults. Mainly when they fail at something or have their egos hurt.”

“When do you go back?”

“14th we ride back on the train, 15th I believe classes start again.”

“Is it difficult?”

You smirked at her, “That, is entirely dependent upon the effort you put into studying. First year isn’t normally too trying, a nudge to get you into the schedule, all working up to fifth year for the big exams, the O.W.L.S followed by the dreaded N.E.W.T.S in seventh year.”

“They don’t give tests till fifth year?”

You let out a weak giggle, “Those for fifth years help to determine which field you work in. Usually by then you’ll have an idea what you want to do, they cover a great deal of jobs available in your fourth year, and then certain jobs don’t just accept grades for OWLS you have to get a certain amount of NEWTS too.”

Through the doorway to the library a gasp came from Hermione seeing the endless bookshelves making you grin and say, “It’s enchanted to make a copy of every book ever written, all fireproof and all that, pristine copies.” Wetting your lips you guided her farther in to where Neville was lounging on a round couch and grinned up at her sheepishly and offered her a hand, “This is my cousin Neville, Neville, this is Hermione.”

Neville released her hand and said, “I’m just finishing this book on the Endlessly Crying Pickle Plant from the Sahara Dessert. All of its fruit taste like pumpkins.”

You giggled as she sat beside him as he turned to the first section showing her the pictures of it, you sat on his other side while he carried on, “You’d be surprised at just how many odd plants there are out there. Jaqi’s heading out this summer for a hammer tailed soaring sniper, it’s a form of snake bred with a scorpion, one of the meanest out there, and they live off these, she promised to bring me back a seed, I’ve already got the habitat set up in the greenhouse.” After a pause he added, “A lot of people overlook Herbology in magic, but a great deal of survival skills and even potion masters would heed the warning to master the subject. I’ve cleared out nearly three full bookshelves on the subject in here. Though they keep writing new ones so Jaqi’s bought me little ribbons I can fold in them to hang out, so I know which I’ve covered already.”

Her smile grew and she stated, “Well I won’t overlook it. I intend to learn all I can.”

His smile doubled, “Well if you ever need help with it I’ll help as best as I can. Besides, this is the best place to learn.”

A few more books were added to her supply, mainly the History of Magic book from the first year with a few good introductory books to Herbology Neville had suggested for her to borrow. All of which added to an enchanted bag and eased over her shoulder, whatever your father, uncle and Remus had told them had eased their worries from the topic of the former war. Even to the point that between your trips you had been asked if Hermione could come by for day visits while they were at work to be among kids like her near or at her age to ease her into the change. Plus while you were in school you had given her the address to the Muggle Post Office box that would direct it towards you in Hogwarts.

…

Your third day was when the Tonks arrived, a bit confused at the muggle entrance for a small hidden brownstone only housing an enchanted doorway at the end of a hall feeding into your distant shielded home. Only for them to be awed at the two days they hung around with Tonks thoroughly loving the practice pitch you had. By the next day however on Christmas Eve the Malfoys arrived. Also through the muggle entrance and ready to claim their bedrooms for the night, both quite lavish and fully stocked for them. Though for all he should be doing Draco claimed all the time he could with you, bonding with Neville instantly as he was clearly your favorite while trying to at least get to know the Weasleys and Harry.

All day you explored the library after they got too cold playing in the gardens with you. By dinner you had been cornered with an odd suggestion, looking you straight in the eye Lucius said, “Surely you could find time for Draco to come and visit during your summer break.” His eyes turned to Regulus, “He does hate it when we have to bring him along on our work trips.”

Regulus glanced at you and nodded, “Sure. The more the merrier. We would love to keep little Draco entertained while you’re away.”

The tension was clear between your Uncles, mainly coming from Lucius, however all that dropped the moment your presents were unwrapped. The stoic face of Lucius cracked into a weak smirk as he looked over at you saying, “I will treasure it always.” Right before protectively shielding the gift against his chest from Theodore Tonk’s arm moving to draw his blanket and gift of book on paper airplanes. “I know just where to place this on my desk at work.” His smirk deepening as he eyed the blanket earning a wide grin from Narcissa while Draco’s mouth fell open for a loud gasp that brought on a full tackling hug complete with muffled thanks into your shoulder making you giggle.

Though all that tension was gone and after watching the film pre chosen for the awed boy in love with Peter Pan and his world you were all off to bed. Breakfast followed and still all in your pajamas a couple hours later lounging in the sitting room as Draco watched te animated version of the film he was gifted beside you all eyes turned to Frank and Alice when they arrived. The stoic pair greeted their son and accepted the tea offered. Both sheepishly asking random questions until an innocent comment on the flowers they had passed on the way leading Neville into a spilling conversation on all he’d read bringing on a trip for the pair to be pulled into the greenhouse where they both gasped seeing all they boy had accomplished so far in his self taught studies. A timid common interest eased the door open for a possible friendship between the trio and by the time they had left Neville had calmed that the plan wasn’t to take him away from the only home he knew.

…

The mingle of relatives and the few visits from Hermione before her muggle school started up classes again had ended and two weeks after another tug away from sight by Charlie, where you were wished a happy new year with another stolen kiss, you were back at the station again. Peering over Bill’s arm at the extra bundle of books he had borrowed from your library you asked him with a grin, “I thought you were taking it easy this year.”

With a shrug he said, “Seven NEWTS can’t be as difficult as all twelve OWLS.”

You nodded and giggled, “I’m not certain it wouldn’t be. There have been some to have panic attacks with three to study for you know.”

He nodded and slung his arm around your shoulders, “That’s why, my dearest baby sister, I am going to hire you as my study buddy.” Making you giggle, “All the sour skypops and whistling moonhips I can manage on my trips to Hogsmaede.”

Poking him in the stomach in the walk from the luggage car to your first year car you said, “You are lucky I have a weakness for taking on impossible tasks. Seven NEWTS to study for in barely five months.”

“Best sister ever!” He said with his hands up easing through his hair in his turning walk back to the cars up front for sixth and seventh years while Charlie chuckled tugging him along easing his fingers through his again blonde hair after his own set of bribed treats to dye it back again.

The second week back held the third game of the year, Ravenclaw vs Slytherin, another loss for the new green team, though the two hour rumble gave your team seeker a good chance to stare at the object of his affection once again. Cho Chang, a fellow Seeker who shared most of your classes and with a cousin in Hufflepuff she tended to eat at your table since your second weeks project with another Ravenclaw student brought you to forcing a seat for yourself. That move triggered Cho to swap for your place conveniently next to Cedric and across from her cousin with a couple Gryffindor students sighed and moved to the Slytherin table to get a start on theirs. By Christmas the tables were free reign mainly a welcome sight for the stunned professors awed by what you had started.

February had the big show down, Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff, the Weasley players split down team lines, two brothers against one another. Though neither expected the sheer hell their younger brothers would put them through. Between the bludgers to avoid they could handle and the easily enough traded quaffle they thought they had the game sealed but in the time off and back again your practices had been well used as it unleashed all shades of crazy. The Chasers were barely able to keep their eyes on the quaffle long enough to even try and steal it between the skillfully batted bludgers leaving only Oliver seeming like he knew what he was tasked to do. All in all it wasn’t that bad of a score, matched at 50 each until Cedric managed to snatch the Snitch right in front of Charlie’s face while he was mistaking a glint of gold by Tonk’s side for the coveted flying ball.

March came with a sting granting you permission for a night at home when, by surprise, Frank and Alice had written to share that Alice was expecting another baby. An easy sting for you to mend as Neville was halfway excited to be a big brother and show a younger sibling about plants too. By that Monday he’d started a list on all he wanted to share with them and you were relaxed into your same routine of classes, studies, choir and another set of studies with Bill between random detentions and extra credits lumped on top of your quidditch practices.

Leading up to April, the best game for Slytherin yet and up against the Puffs no less. Two games in a row, as usual for the team lineups. A win by ten over the Snitch’s capture points thrilling the crowd in the close game brought on by the settling newcomers. But that game left you little comfort as Bill’s study sessions increased and grew tenser by the day only eased by you and your forced bouts of walks or swims were you reminded him to breathe and live a bit.

The morning the testing began in the third week in May all younger students were asked to be respectful of those testing and to steer clear.

Monday was Charms. Nice and easy for his best subject. A must have for a treasure hunter and curse breaker.

Tuesday was Transfiguration. Between your studies and the not so subtle hints from McGonagall he didn’t feel as stressed as he thought he would.

Wednesday was Herbology not his best subject but with your help he seemed more confident than he was in his OWLS. A subject he knew if he failed Neville would never let him hear the end of it.

Thursday was DADA. Another easy one for him.

Friday was Ancient Runes. Arguably his hardest to study for, but another mandatory one for what he wanted to pursue.

Two days off freed him to curl up and wrap around you, both in relief for what he’d accomplished on top of more cram sessions for what was left.

Potions was on the second Monday. The written part he felt he did tolerably but the practical side let him feel he’d bested it over what he had assumed he could accomplish.

With another day to spare between that and Arithmacy that Wednesday he relaxed some more and tried not to drown in the puddle of sweat Arithmacy seemed to be. A subject Charlie had to mainly tutor him in as you hadn’t understood most of it quite yet, even after trying to read the textbook for yourself. But even if he came home with a Troll in it at least he gave it a shot and his mother would be pleased for how badly he had tried to show her he was grateful for the sacrifices she and their father had made to get him through school with all necessary tools and trinkets so he could get to his graduation, even with so many other children to raise after him.

June was last with a final bout between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. A much needed win for the exhausted Gryffindors who struggled at Bill’s hectic schedule and study habits to match yours keeping most up at his irritated shouts in the common room. A study group soon growing in popularity when they knew just why the seventh year was shouting at two in the morning. The final month was theirs to relax in while the first two weeks held the OWLS for fifth years. Again silence and respect for their struggles before the final two weeks of bliss ending with yet another train ride home again.

Pt 8

#Frank and Alice Longbottom #Hermione Granger #The Grangers #NEWTS #Bill Weasley

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dcbbw · 5 years

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Timing--Part 9 (The Duke of Ramsford)

Welcome to Part 9 of my fanfic. It’s my version of events once the gang travels to LA to find Tariq. In my version, he refused to come forward and Riley made a painful decision, and we are just going forward from there. In this part, Liam confronts Bertrand. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please excuse any typos and/or grammatical errors.

A/N: Apologies for taking so long to write and post this. Just returned from an extended trip to NC to look after/care for elderly parents, dealing with work shit, and have been concentrating more on a future chapter than this one. I hope this chapter makes sense! Getting Bertrand’s thoughts out was more difficult than anticipated.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: The Drinks we Drank Last Night, Azure Ray: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yj74_WO7UGI

Word Count: 3362

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @gennesaret @aworldoffandoms @simsvetements @cora-nova @carabeth @hopefulmoonobject @katedrakeohd @custaroonie @liamxs-world @lauradowning29 @speedyoperarascalparty @thequeenofcronuts @wickedgypsymoon

Liam X MC, Liam X Riley, Bertrand

Bertrand sat in the study, reviewing the statements for the press release. He frowned over a sentence in Tariq’s draft, and began making scribbles in red ink across the paper. He was interrupted by a knock on the door. He frowned slightly as he glanced at his watch. Odd, the meeting was not for another half hour, so who was at the door?

“Come in”, he said tersely, his eyebrows fixed in a scowl as he looked up to see who the visitor was.

As Liam walked through the door, he silently exhaled a huge breath. The past days had been a blur that had placed him on an emotional rollercoaster, and he was firmly strapped in again. Normally, a meeting with Bertrand meant getting lost in paperwork, or reminiscing fondly over old times; since Riley had revealed that Bertrand had sold the photos, he knew that this meeting would be different. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for more different. Liam fixed his face into one of friendly neutrality, wearing a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. Bertrand was too busy frowning over papers to notice. As Liam sat himself in the chair across the desk from him, Bertrand looked up and took notice of Liam’s collarless sweater.

“Where is your ascot?” he asked sternly.

Liam shrugged. “Bertrand, everyone here knows Riley and I are in love, and lovers as well.”

“Doesn’t mean we need to know your sexual predilections”, Bertrand grumbled.

“These past few days have been quite the whirlwind.”

“Yes, well I have found life is like that: either nothing happens, or it happens all at once.” Bertrand continued to review the papers.

“Lady Riley told me about House Beaumont’s financial instability.” Might as well dive in the deep end of the pool.

Bertrand barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, she is far too kind. Financial instability, I could handle. Maxwell and I are so broke right now, I am ready to burn our estate down to the ground for the insurance money. I am reduced to eating pizza and potentially hosting potluck dinners.” A look of distaste crossed Bertrand’s face.

“She told me about the photos you sold to the American tabloid.” Liam’s tone was cold, his face angry. The look of surprise, regret, and shame told Liam all he needed to know. Killshot. “I never knew you were in such desperate straits.”

“I believe the term is dire straits.” Bertrand was struggling to keep calm and take control of the conversation, but failing.

“No, Bertrand…I know what I said. Desperate. You sold out your own sponsee. You sold out your own brother, and a lifetime member of this Court. You were willing to compromise the leadership of your own country. Do you have any idea the stories American tabloids would have run with those photos? No matter how innocent and boring they were, a sordid story can be spun from anything!”

Liam shook his head, trying to control the anger in his voice. “I am quite honestly speechless. You should consider yourself quite fortunate that no harm came of your actions, and that Lady Riley has forgiven you your indiscretion.”

Bertrand’s head had dropped, and he nodded his head slowly. “Lady Riley forgave me with no hesitation, and I am forever grateful to her for that. I beg you for your forgiveness as well, Liam. I have no excuse for my actions. I found myself backed into a corner and followed my baser instincts.”

“I want to know why, Bertrand. There were no losses to recoup as you explained to Lady Riley. You did not put one penny into Lady Riley during the social season! Maxwell and Drake brought her back with them on the royal jet. She purchased her own clothing. So you whored us all out…and I want to know why! What the hell happened that you could not come to me as a friend? What happened that you would betray the trust of everyone close to you, people who held you in the highest regard?”

Liam sat back in the chair, drumming his fingers on its arm, eyes firmly locked on Bertrand.

Bertrand stared at the desk as he tried to gather his thoughts. He put his hand across his forehead to rub his temples. “I am not quite sure when the financial collapse began. Some investments failed, some stocks tanked. I thought it was just a minor setback, so Maxwell and I continued to spend as we always had, and to throw our legendary parties. But returns on other investments were not coming in as swiftly; Maxwell bought those damned peacocks, and then I noticed even more money was disappearing. I had a talk with Maxwell about his spending habits, and he swore he knew nothing about the missing money, but we both knew it was him. I feared it was drugs, gambling, maybe even blackmail.

And that is when I decided to enter House Beaumont into the social season. If I could not stop the mysterious hemorrhaging of our finances, I could perhaps enter a winning candidate, which would restore wealth and prestige to our House. But no eligible noble woman wanted anything to do with us. And then Maxwell returned from New York with Lady Riley. A foreigner. A waitress. I…I feared she was not trainable.”

“She is not some circus animal, Bertrand!” Liam’s eyes narrowed as he angrily yelled.

“Oh, Liam…your defense of Lady Riley is both swift and admirable, but I did not mean my comment in a derogatory way. Everyone at Court has been trained, or were you born knowing the Cordonian Waltz, proper fork placement, and the correct way to greet your betters and subjects?”

Liam visibly relaxed. “But she has manners, and holds a vast knowledge of Courtly ways and protocol, even before her tutelage began. Why would you think she would be difficult?”

“She’s headstrong, incredibly independent, and that mouth….”Bertrand shook his head. “However, I am grateful Lady Riley has managed to stay Lady Riley. Court is filled with dysfunction. All of us cope with the stress in unhealthy ways. Drake and Madeleine are nothing more than functioning alcoholics, Olivia has more guards than the Royal family….and you…” he glanced at Liam’s neck. “You find other ways to deal.”

“And yourself? How do you deal?”

“Me? I hide my head in the sand, or more appropriately, my ass. I always tell myself that things are for the greater good, but it is just me afraid to face the consequences of the reality of my decisions.”

“I can relate to that.” Liam spoke softly.

“But, at that point in time, I was faced with the prospect of a failure of a candidate. Oh, she worked hard during the season, but mistakes were made. And she did not have the connections necessary to elevate her in the eyes of the Court, no matter how much the public and press loved her.” Bertrand fell silent for a moment. “I fear my pride made that fateful decision for me. I am Bertrand Archibald Beaumont, The Duke of Ramsford, an advisor to Kings. Ana DeLuca heard of our plight and was going to run an expose.

I could not handle public acknowledgement of my financial collapse. So I went through Maxwell’s phone looking for a way, any way, to at least break even financially. And came across the bachelor party photos. It was an opportunity blindly seized and not thought through.”

Liam looked at Bertrand, the struggle of emotions he was feeling written all over his face. “Why not just come to me in confidence?”

Bertrand fixed his eyes on the desk again, his voice a low monotone. “As firstborn, I was my father’s favorite. I was his legacy. To him, it was not just that House Beaumont would live on…he would live on. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see Bertrand. I see Barthelemy. Bertrand got absorbed a long time ago. Do you know what it’s like to be held to standards of character and impeccability at all times, in all ways, even after the person who held you to them is gone? Do you know what it’s like to be a perpetual disappointment? I think that is why I enjoy the Beaumont Bashes so much. In the excess, in the revelry, I can find Bertrand. Bertrand is never a disappointment because he throws the best parties.”

Bertrand raised his eyes to meet Liam’s. “Do you know what it’s like to be held hostage by a ghost? Or to never be allowed to make a mistake? And being human, mistakes will be made….so you will forever be a disappointment to the ghost because they live in you. The ghost in me would not allow me to tell anyone else what a disappointment I had become.” A tear fell down Bertrand’s cheek.

Liam stared at his friend. He felt he should say something, but words were inadequate. Instead, Liam reached his hand across the desk, and put it on top of Bertrand’s. Bertrand looked down at Liam’s hand. “Are you touching me?”

Liam removed his hand. “And what of Savannah?”

“Savannah? I ran her away. I ran her away, and made her feel she could never approach me again. I know Bartie is my son, but I feel as if Maxwell is his father. True, I planted to the seed so to speak, but Maxwell was the one who was there for all of the doctor appointments, Maxwell was the one who was there for the birth, Maxwell was the one who purchased all of the baby equipment and clothing. Maxwell is the one who set her up in her apartment, and pays all the bills. Maxwell is the one who sees Bartie twice a month. Maxwell has all the memories that should be mine.” Bertrand’s voice was a mixture of resignation and anger.

“He was keeping Savannah’s secret. Her news was not his to share.”

“It also was not his to keep! She has my child. She is Drake’s sister. Drake is Bartie’s uncle! You don’t keep secrets like that from family. At the very least, he should have told me…Drake…somebody… to reach out to her. I thought you would be more understanding of my feelings regarding keeping secrets. We are right now clearing a situation that could’ve potentially rocked the Crown to its core because King Father chose to make a decision and keep it secret.”

“It is not that I am less understanding of your point of view, Bertrand. I simply know everyone has a motive behind their actions, which I thought you would be more understanding of.” Liam looked pointedly at Bertrand before continuing. “My father made his decision because he is dying from an aggressive form of lung cancer. He felt that too much newness within the Crown would give an appearance of weakness and instability to Cordonia’s enemies.”

“But that line of reasoning makes no sense. You are still a new King, your Queen, whomever you chose, would be a new Queen. Madeleine may be better prepared given her years at Court and training, and the fact that Fydelia is a strong house with impeccable lineage, but it remains, she would have been a new Queen.”

Liam spoke thoughtfully and slowly. “I like to think he sees my mother in Riley: young, foreign, not of noble birth. That he sees how in love with her I am, and was trying to spare me the heartbreak he endured when my mother was taken from us. But I will never know. He keeps saying he did it for Cordonia, which is probably the truth. Even though I know he was the mastermind behind it. I just keep hoping that my father would not have resorted to such treachery; that Cordonia could not mean more to him than his own son.”

Bertrand stood from behind the desk. “I need a drink; would you care for one?”

“Something strong, please.”

There was silence between the two men as Bertrand prepared the drinks, each of them processing the conversation.

“Here you go”, Bertrand placed a glass of ice water with lemon in Liam’s hand.

“Bertrand, this is ice water.” Liam frowned up at him.

“Squeeze the lemon directly into the water…packs a pretty powerful punch.”

Liam looked blankly at Bertrand before taking a sip. “These past few days have shown me all I don’t know. I had no idea of how unhappy Riley had grown, that leaving me was a very real option.”

“We both put her in extremely difficult and emotionally taxing positions.”

“I had no idea of your situation. I had no idea that Drake was the one who defused the situation at Applewood, to the extent he was willing to risk physical injury. At this rate, my epitaph will read: King Liam. He didn’t know.” He took another sip of water. “You know, Madeleine told me yesterday that Kings don’t show up…they send others to show up for them. She’s right, you know. My father was that King, and that was if anyone bothered to show up at all. I refuse to be that ruler. Going forward, I want to know everything that is going on within this Court. I need to be briefed on everything, no matter how mundane.”

A knock on the door interrupted them.

Bertrand glanced at his watch. “Ahhh that would be the others.” Bertrand looked at Liam uncertainly. “Before we let them in, how…where do we stand?”

Liam looked at Bertrand thoughtfully before extending his hand across the desk. “You have served your House, this Court, and the Crown with distinction for many years, Duke Ramsford. You simply made an error in judgement. I welcome your counsel in future endeavors, and what two old friends discuss over glasses of…lemon water stays between them.”

Bertrand shook Liam’s hand firmly, visibly relieved. He cleared his throat and announced, “Come in.”

Liam stood as everyone walked into the room. When Riley entered, he stepped to her, grabbing her hand and kissing her on the cheek. He led them to the sofa where they settled into the corner, his arm around her as she leaned into him. He frowned slightly as he noticed there was one extra person in the group. A tallish man, though he was shorter than Maxwell or Drake, but still taller than Bertrand. He had dark brown hair which he wore slicked back, and glasses with thick black frames. The man had walked directly to Bertrand and the two were conversing in low tones.

Bertrand cleared his throat as he stood to address the room.

“After the press releases tomorrow, I will be out of the country on urgent House Beaumont business for the foreseeable future, but hope to return within the next 3-4 weeks. Meanwhile, in my absence, I have hired a professional public relations person to assist Lady Riley with rebuilding her image, and re-establishing her as Cordonia’s future Queen. I would like to introduce Justin, a rising star at the Cordonian Office of Public Relations.”

The stranger waved with an amicable smile, and proceeded to make his rounds around the room, beginning with Liam. He bowed. “Your Majesty. I pray your reign is memorable and historical.” Liam nodded. “Thank you, Justin.”

Justin then turned to Riley, bowing again. “Lady Riley, I look forward to working with you.” Riley smiled. “Thank you. “

Before leaving them, Justin noticed the hickey on Liam’s neck and Riley’s carefully arranged scarf around hers, and a small grin crept across his face. “The rumors are true”, he said. “Countess Madeleine may have had Your Majesty’s hand, but you have his heart.”

With a smirk, Riley corrected him. “The rumors are false.” She raised her hand, tightly clasped in Liam’s. “I have his hand too.” Justin laughed. “Love it! You are good looking, charming, and quick witted. This will be the easiest job I have ever had, and I once worked as an ice cream taster.”

Justin made his way to Olivia. He bowed, taking her hand to graze a kiss across her knuckles. “Duchess Olivia, I have waited a long time to gaze upon your beauty. The Nevrakis bloodline runs deep within you.” Olivia instinctively curled within herself, putting more distance between her and Justin as she pulled her hand away. He was handsome enough, and nice enough, but something about his eyes….She nodded tersely. “Thank you.”

Justin continued to bow and greet the group; when he was finished, he stood next to Bertrand behind the desk. Bertrand was dialing a number on his phone. A few seconds later, Madeleine’s voice filled the room. “Hello?”

“Countess Madeleine, the PR agent, Justin, is here and about to brief the group. Can you hear everyone?”

“No, Bertrand, I do not hear everyone. I hear you because you’re the only one talking.”

“Ahhhh, Countess Madeleine, authoress of the Oath on the Orchard. It is a pleasure” Justin’s tone was just the right blend of deferential and conciliatory.

Madeleine giggled. “Why, thank you.”

Justin’s tone became business-like. “Duke Ramsford and I have arranged a live television interview with Trend and CBC versus the traditional press statement in front of the Palace. It will reach more people, and give you a chance to be better prepared to answer questions.” Justin opened his folder and pulled out some sheets, which he passed around to Liam, Tariq, and Riley. “Countess Madeleine, you should have received a copy of these questions earlier via email.”

“I did”, Madeleine confirmed.

“For the interview, everyone needs to be color coordinated to present a united front. Remember, this is about more than clearing Lady Riley’s name; you are also showing your solidarity for the Crown. We are going to lead with Tariq’s statement. Then Ana or Donnie will follow up with questions. The first question for everyone will be: what is your response to the statement. Lady Riley, they will start with you.” Justin turned to look at Riley.

“Once the interview is over, you guys,” he looked at Penelope, Maxwell, and Olivia, “will spread the word amongst your respective duchys that you fully support King Liam, that the Crown is stable, and that Lady Riley would be an excellent choice as Queen.” He looked at Liam. “That is, If Lady Riley becoming Queen is still an option?”

“Most assuredly”, Liam said emphatically.

Justin looked at Drake. “You are our conduit to the public. Go to your favorite watering holes, talk to your friends outside of Court. Let us know what the general feeling of the people is.”

Drake nodded. “Can do.”

Justin looked at Hana. “Lady Hana, you will be working with myself, Lord Maxwell, and at time His Majesty to give Lady Riley a crash course in politics, protocol, and Cordonian Court 101.” Hana nodded, shooting a quick smile at Riley.

“Okay, time to break into groups to rehearse and review. Duke Ramsford will be working with His Majesty, Countess Madeleine, Duchess Olivia, and Lord Walker. The rest of you will be with me.” Justin smiled widely at everyone. “Looks like I am Just-in time to prepare Cordonia for its new Queen, and the new Queen for Cordonia. So, guys….ready to knock this Court on its collective ass?”

#choices trr #choices the royal romance #trr fanfic #king liam #king liam fanfic #liam x riley #liam x mc #trr bertrand

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sampleminded · 6 years

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Wiggs Dannyboy’s Theory of Floral Consciousness

"Humankind is about to enter the floral stage of its evolutionary development. On the mythological level, which is to say, on the psychic/symbolic level (no less real than the physical level), this event is signaled by the death of Pan. Pan, of course, represents animal consciousness. Pan embodies mammalian consciousness, although there are aspects of reptilian consciousness in his personality, as well. Reptilian consciousness did not disappear when our brains entered their mammalian stage. Mammalian consciousness was simply laid over the top of reptilian consciousness, and in many unenlightened—underevolved, underdeveloped—individuals, the mammalian layer was thin and porous, and much reptile energy has continued to seep through. When our remote ancestors crawled out of the sea, they no doubt had the minds of fish. Characteristics of mammal consciousness are warmth, generosity, loyalty, love (romantic, platonic, and familial), joy, grief, humor, pride, competition, intellectual curiosity, and appreciation of art and music. Inlate mammalian times, we evolved a third brain...whose principal part was the neocortex, a dense rind of nerve fibers about an eighth of an inch thick that was simply molded over top of the existing mammal brain. Brain researchers are puzzled by the neocortex. What is its function? Why did it develop in the first place? Moreover, neuromelanin absorbs light and has the capacity to convert light into other forms of energy. So Ely was correct. The neocortex is light-sensitive and can, itself, be lit up by higher forms of mental activity, such as meditation or chanting. The ancients were not being metaphoric when they referred to "illumination." With the emergence of the neocortex, the floral properties of the brain, which had, for millions of years, been biding their time, waiting their turn, began to make their move— the gradual move toward a dominant floral consciousness. When life was a constant struggle between predators, a minute-by-minute battle for survival, reptile consciousness was necessary. When there were seas to be sailed, wild continents to be explored, harsh territory to be settled, agriculture to be mastered, mine shafts to be sunk, civilization to be founded, mammal consciousness was necessary. In its social and familial aspects, it is still necessary, but no longer must it dominate. We need a more relaxed, contemplative, gentle, flexible kind of person, for only he or she can survive (and expedite) this very new system that is upon us. Only he or she can participate in the next evolutionary phase. It has definite spiritual overtones, this floral phase of consciousness. The most intense spiritual experiences all seem to involve the suspension of time. It is the feeling of being outside of time, of being timeless, that is the source of ecstasy in meditation, chanting, hypnosis, and psychedelic drug experiences. Although it is briefer and less lucid, a timeless, egoless state (the ego exists in time, not space) is achieved in sexual orgasm, which is precisely why orgasm feels so good. Even drunks, in their crude, inadequate way, are searching for the timeless time. Alcoholism is an imperfect spiritual longing. In a hundred different ways, we have mastered the art of space. We know a great deal about space. Yet we know pitifully little about time. It seems that only in the mystic state do we master it. The "smell brain"—the memory area of the brain activated by the olfactory nerve—and the "light brain"—the neocortex—are the keys to the mystic state. With immediacy and intensity, smell activates memory, allowing our minds to travel freely in time. The most profound mystical states are ones in which normal mental activity seems suspended in light. In mystic illumination, as at the speed of light, time ceases to exist. With an increased floral consciousness, humans will begin to make full use of their "light brain" and to make more refined and sophisticated use of their "smell brain." We live now in an information technology. Flowers have always lived in an information technology. Flowers gather information all day. At night, they process it. For one thing, information gathered from daily newspapers, soap operas, sales conferences, and coffee Hatches is inferior to information gathered from sunlight. (Since all matter is condensed light, light is the source, the cause of life. Therefore, light is divine. The flowers have a direct line to God. Our own nocturnal processing is part-time work. The information our conscious minds receive during waking hours is processed by our unconscious during so-called "deep sleep." We are in deep sleep only two or three hours a night. For the rest of our sleeping session, the unconscious mind is off duty. It gets bored. It craves recreation. So it plays with the material at hand. In a sense, it plays with itself. It scrambles memories, juggles images, rearranges data, invents scary or titillating stories. This is what we call "dreaming." Some people believe that we process information during dreams. Quite the contrary. A dream is the mind having fun when there is no processing to keep it busy. In the future, when we become more efficient at gathering quality information and when floral consciousness becomes dominant, we will probably sleep longerhours and dream hardly at all. Plants collect odors as well as emit them. The rose may be in an olfactory relationship with the lilac. Another possibility is that between the trees a kind of telepathy is involved. There is also the possibility that all of what we call mental telepathy is olfactory. We don't read another's thoughts, we smell them. We know that schizophrenics can smell antagonism, distrust, desire, etc., on the part of their doctors, visitors, or fellow patients, no matter how well it might be visually or vocally concealed. The olfactory nerve may be small compared to a rabbit's, but it's our largest cranial receptor, nevertheless. Who can guess what "invisible" odors it might detect? As floral consciousness matures, telepathy will no doubt become a common medium of communication. With reptile consciousness, we had hostile confrontation. With mammal consciousness, we had civilized debate. With floral consciousness, we'll have empathetic telepathy. A floral consciousness and a data-based, soft technology are ideally suited for one another. A floral consciousness and a pacifist internationalism are ideally suited for one another. A floral consciousness and an easy, colorful sensuality are ideally suited for one another. (Flowers are more openly sexual than animals. The Tantric concept of converting sensual energy to spiritual energy is a floral ploy.) A floral consciousness and an extraterrestrial exploration program are ideally suited for one another. (Earthlings are blown aloft in silver pods to seed distant planets.) A floral consciousness and an immortalist society are ideally suited suitedfor one another. (Flowers have superior powers of renewal, and thelogevity of trees is celebrated. The floral brain is the organ of eternity.) Lest we fancy that we shall endlesly and effortlessly be as the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la, let us bear in mind that reptilian and mammalian energies are still very much with us. Externally and internally. Obviously, there are powerful reptilian forces in the Pentagon and the Kremlin; and in the pulpits of churches, mosques, and synagogues, wheredeathist dogmas of judgment, punishment, self-denial, martyrdom, and afterlife supremacy are preached. But there are also reptilian forces within each individual. Myth is neither fiction nor history. Myths are acted out in our own psyches, and they are repetitive and ongoing. Beowulf, Siegfried, and the other dragon slayers are aspects of our own unconscious minds. At the birth of Christ, the cry resounded through the ancient world, "Great Pan is dead." The animal mind was about to be subdued. Christ's mission was to prepare the way for floral consciousness. In the East, Buddha performs an identical function. It should be emphasized that neither significance of their heroics should be apparent. We dispatched them with their symbolic swords and lances to slay reptile consciousness. The reptile brain is the dragon within us. When, in evolutionary process, it became time to subdue mammalian consciousness, a less violent tactic was called for. Instead of Beowulf with his sword and bow, we manifested Jesus Christ with his message and example. Jesus Christ, whose commandment "Love thy enemy" has proven to be too strong a floral medicine for reptilian types to swallow; Jesus Christ, who continues to point out to job-obsessed mammalians that the lilies of the field have never punched time clocks.) At the birth of Christ, the cry resounded through the ancient world, "Great Pan is dead." The animal mind was about to be subdued. Christ's mission was to prepare the way for floral consciousness. In the East, Buddha performs an identical function. It should be emphasized that neither Christ nor Buddha harbored the slightest antipathy toward Pan. They were merely fulfilling their mytho-evolutionary roles. Christ and Buddha came into our psyches not to deliver us from evil but to deliver us from mammal consciousness. The good versus evil plot has always been bogus. The drama unfolding in the universe—in our psyches—is not good against evil but new against old, or, more precisely, destined against obsolete. Just as the grand old dragon of our reptilian past had to be pierced by the hero's sword to make way for Pan and his randy minions, so Pan himself has had to be rendered weak and ineffectual, has had to be shoved into the background of our ongoing psychic progression. Because Pan is closer to our hearts and our genitals, we shall miss him more than we shall miss the dragon. We shall miss his pipes that drew us, trembling, into the dance of lust and confusion. We shall miss his pranksterish overturning of decorum; the way he caused the blood to heat, the cows to bawl, and the wine to flow. Most of all, perhaps, we shall miss the way he mocked us, with his leer and laughter, when we took our blaze of mammal intellect too seriously. But the old playfellow has to go. We've known for two thousand years that Pan must go. There is little place for Pan's great stink amidst the perfumed illumination of the flowers. When Western artists wished to demonstrate that a person was holy, they painted a ring of light around the divine one's head. Eastern artists painted a more diffused aura. The message was the same. The aura or the halo signified that the light was on in the subject's brain. The neocortex was fully operative. Maybe, as Dr. Dannyboy has postulated, all these things, including disease and our relationship with time, are merely bad habits. If so, an ultimate victory is possible. For individuals, if not for the mass. And maybe evolution—playful, adventurous, unpredictable, infuriatingly slow (by our standards of time) evolution—will rescue us eventually, according to a master plan. To physically overcome death—is that not the goal?—we must think unthinkable thoughts and ask unanswerable questions. Yet we must not lose ourselves in abstract vapors of philosophy. Death has his concrete allies, we must enlist ours. Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer. Thus, thou must vow upon this day that shouldst thou be living still when these events transpire, that thou wiltst battle them and refuseth prosperity to any immortalist thrust that doth not rise from man's soul and heart as well as his mind. Do promise me now." Alas, because they fight with reason only, making no advance in the area of soul and heart, true immortality wiltst be denied them. If I am truly immortal, I am my own grandchild, my own descendant, my own dynasty."

#tom robbins #jitterbug perfume #wiggs dannyboy #tim leary #floral consciousness #poetry #philosophy #magic #literature

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How To Make Yourself More Likeable As A Leader

Do you sometimes struggle to make friends? Or argue with others and still don’t manage to win them over to your way of thinking? Do you feel like your relationships with your colleagues and clients could be better?

Look no further – the definitive guide to overcoming these woes is here. By putting these simple, concrete techniques into use, you’ll become a more likeable, persuasive and effective person, professional and leader.

If you want others to like you, don’t criticize them.

Famous airplane test pilot Bob Hoover was flying back from an air show in San Diego when all of sudden both of his engines cut out. Through some impressive flying he was able to land the plane, saving those on board. Unfortunately, the aircraft was badly damaged.

The reason for the harrowing engine failure was that the World War Two propeller plane had been accidentally filled with jet fuel.

Back at the airport, Hoover saw the mechanic who had made the mistake. The young man was in tears, knowing how furious Hoover must be over the loss of his expensive airplane and the danger posed to the three people on board.

So did Hoover yell at him? Scold him? Criticize him?

Not at all. In fact, Hoover said that to demonstrate his faith in the mechanic having learned his lesson, he’d like the same mechanic to service his plane the next day.

The reason for Hoover’s benevolence was perhaps that he knew something that psychologist B.F. Skinner had discovered a long time ago: animals rewarded for good behavior will learn more effectively than those punished for bad behavior.

The same is true of people: criticizing them won’t encourage them to change their behavior because they’re not primarily driven by reason but by emotion. Thus the person you criticize won’t truly listen to what you’re saying. They’ll just feel like they’re under attack, and their natural reaction will be to dig in and fight back.

So while voicing criticism might help you blow off steam, in the long-term, it will just make others like you less.

Many successful people actually made it a habit to never openly criticize others. Benjamin Franklin, for instance, claimed that the secret of his success was to “speak ill of no man.”

Abraham Lincoln learned this lesson as well. He used to publicly criticize his opponents until one day his criticism so offended someone that he was challenged to a saber duel! The duel was only called off at the last instant, and from then on, he stopped openly criticizing others. Even during the Civil War he famously told those who spoke harshly of the Southerners, “Don’t criticize them; they are just what we would be under similar circumstances.”

Criticizing someone is easy, but it takes character to be understanding and to forgive others for their mistakes and shortcomings.

So if you want others to like you, think about why they did what they did, accept their shortcomings and make it a rule to never criticize them openly.

If you want others to do you favors, show your appreciation frequently and make them feel important.

One of the strongest drivers of human behavior is the desire to be appreciated by others; we all like being complimented and hearing that we’re doing a good job.

Some people even claim that all of civilization ultimately rests upon the human desire to be important. Our craving for approval and praise makes us climb the highest mountains, write novels and found multi-million-dollar companies.

No one is immune to this longing for importance and appreciation. Consider that even George Washington was partial to having the title “His Mightiness, the President of the United States.”

But you don’t need to give someone a fancy title to show your appreciation. It’s enough to use simple phrases like “Thank you” and “I’m sorry,” while also giving sincere, honest praise.

Don’t shower people with phony flattery, or they will see right through it. Instead, stop thinking about yourself for a moment and focus on the good points of the person in front of you.

Also, be sure to make the other person feel important. To get into the right mind-set, try thinking like Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said that every person he met was superior to him in certain ways, so there was always something to learn from and appreciate in other people.

Or think about the Golden Rule: treat others as you would like others to treat you.

So the next time you see a tired, bored, underappreciated service employee somewhere, try to brighten their day with some appreciation. Dale, for instance, once wanted to cheer up a bored postal employee, and so he said, “I certainly wish I had your head of hair.”

At this unexpected compliment, the postal worker’s face brightened immediately, and they carried out a pleasant conversation.

Leave little sparks of appreciation like this in your wake and you’ll be surprised to see how positively people react when their hunger for recognition is fed. You’ll soon become someone whom others like and enjoy working with. And best of all, you’ll have a positive impact on the lives of those around you.

If you want to make a good first impression, smile.

Once upon a time, a New York stockbroker by the name of William B. Steinhardt decided to try something new. Previously a notorious grouch who rarely smiled in his personal or professional life, Steinhardt committed to simply smiling more by giving himself a pep talk in the mirror the morning his experiment began.

He began the day by greeting his wife with a smile, then smiling at the doorman of his building, then the cashier at the subway booth, then the traders on the trading floor and his colleagues in the office.

The result? People began smiling back. At home, Steinhardt said that there had been more happiness in the first two months of the experiment than in the entire year before it. What’s more, he found that at work, complaints and grievances were easier to deal with, winning him more revenue than previously. In short, he was a richer, happier man. As the story shows, a smile can go a long way.

If someone we’ve just met smiles at us, we tend to automatically like them. The smile of a baby, for instance, immediately makes us feel warm and fuzzy inside, as does seeing a dog wagging its tail out of sheer delight at seeing us.

So if you want to make yourself instantly likeable to someone, show them that you’re happy to see them by smiling. When they see how happy you are to meet them, they can’t help but be happy to see you too.

And as if this wasn’t a big enough benefit on its own, psychologists have also uncovered a positive side-effect of smiling: it seems that the connection between positive emotions and smiling is not a one-way street; consciously smiling can lead to positive emotions, just as positive emotions can lead to smiling.

In other words, even though a smile costs nothing, you can use it to lift your spirits and those of others. What a bargain!

If you’d like to smile more but don’t feel like it, just try forcing yourself: whistle, sing or hum a tune! Act as if you’re already cheerful and you will soon find yourself becoming happier.

A person’s name is the sweetest sound they know.

Jim Farley lost his father at age ten. Being the oldest boy in the family, he went to work at a brickyard to help pay the bills. Despite never receiving much of an education, by the time he was 46, Jim was Postmaster General and Chairman of the Democratic National Committee.

So what was the secret to his success? Farley realized early on that people care more about their own name than all the other names in the world combined. Remembering and using a person’s name was a subtle yet powerful way to win them over, and this was something at which Farley was extraordinarily adept. When someone asked him if it was true that he could remember the first names of 10,000 people, Farley corrected him by saying that he could call 50,000 people by their first name!

Similarly, Theodore Roosevelt was popular among all his staff because he made a habit of greeting them all by their names. He also deliberately made time to listen to them and tried to remember what they said so he could refer back to it later. By doing this, he showed others his appreciation, and he got far more back in return.

So, to win someone’s favor be sure to remember their name and use it in conversation frequently.

How? Well, Napoleon the Third, Emperor of France, was proud that the following technique allowed him to remember the name of everyone he met:

Be sure you catch the name when it comes up the first time in conversation and ask for it to be repeated or even spelled out if needed. Then repeat it back to the person multiple times to associate it with the person to whom you’re talking. Finally, when you’re alone, write it down to enforce the memory.

And you need not stop at remembering the other person’ name. Dale made a habit of finding out the birthdays of people he met so that he could send them a letter or telegram to congratulate them.

You can imagine how appreciated the recipients must’ve felt, especially when often he was the only one who had remembered!

If you want to be interesting yourself, be a good listener who is genuinely interested in others.

Once, Dale attended a dinner party in New York where he met a botanist. Having never met one before, He listened to him for hours, riveted by the descriptions of exotic plants and experiments. Later, the botanist remarked to the host what an “interesting conversationalist” Dale was.

But the thing is, Dale barely said anything at all. He had merely been a good, interested listener. So it turns out that the secret of being interesting yourself is simply to be interested in others. We all love a good listener, especially when they encourage us to speak about ourselves.

But why is that? The New York Telephone Company conducted a study on the most frequently used words in telephone conversations. Can you guess which word topped the list? “I...”

Humans are always interested in talking about themselves, which is why we’re always overjoyed to meet someone who shares this interest.

So if you want to be more likeable and interesting, stop talking and just listen. Ask others about themselves and encourage them to speak at length.

When conversing, most people are so preoccupied with what they themselves want to say next that they barely listen to the other person at all.

Truly listening means making a conscious effort to give the other person your full attention. And the benefits of this approach are substantial.

Sigmund Freud, for example, was famous for his listening skills. He excelled at showing others how interesting he found everything they said, and in return they felt completely comfortable revealing even their most private emotions and experiences to him.

On the other hand, talking about yourself a lot, failing to listen to others and constantly interrupting them will make you instantly dislikeable because these traits signal that you’re self-centered.

So give listening a try. Ask questions about the other person’s accomplishments and about themselves so they can talk about something they love, and you may be surprised at the deep connections you can forge.

Think about what others want and talk about what’s important to them.

Do you like strawberries? Probably. But if you were to go fishing, would you bait your hook with them? Of course not, because in fishing it doesn’t matter what you want. What matters is what the fish want.

Similarly, if you want someone else to do something, you’re better off thinking about it from their perspective: how you can make them want to do it?

For example, Dale had once booked a hotel ballroom to host a series of 20 lectures when suddenly he was informed that the price of the space would go up threefold.

Knowing that he would need to think about what the hotel’s management wanted, he formulated a letter to them, outlining the hotel’s pros and cons of increasing the price. For example, he stated that by raising the price they would have the ballroom free for other events, because the Dale could not afford to pay the rent, but on the other hand, they would lose the free advertising they gained from the his lectures. As a result, the hotel reconsidered and only raised the price by 50 percent.

Another crucial piece of advice to win someone’s favor is to become knowledgeable and speak about things that are important to them.

Once upon a time, a man named Edward L. Chalif needed a favor. A big boy scout jamboree was coming up in Europe, and he wanted the president of one of the largest corporations in America to pay for the expenses of one participant.

Before the meeting, Chalif had heard that the president of the company had a framed check for a million dollars and was clearly very proud of it. Armed with this knowledge, he met the man, but instead of starting with the request, Chalif asked about the check: Was it true? Could he possibly see it? He’d sure love to be able to tell the boy scouts that he’d seen a real check for a million dollars!

The president of the company gladly complied, happily retelling the story of the check. Afterward, when Chalif explained the subject of the meeting, the man immediately agreed to pay for the expenses of not one but five boy scouts and to come to Paris himself to personally show the group around.

As you can see, people become very fond of those who speak about things they’re interested in themselves, such as their jobs, hobbies or million-dollar checks.

As another example, consider Theodore Roosevelt. Whenever he was about to meet a new person, he thoroughly prepared for the meeting by reading everything he could about the other person’s interests. He understood that the route to someone’s good graces is talking about the things they value the most.

And if you’re not sure about the other person’s interests, remember that there’s one topic everyone is interested in: themselves. As Benjamin Disraeli said, “Talk to people about themselves, and they will listen for hours.”

Avoid all arguments – they cannot be won.

Patrick J O’Haire was a salesman for White Motor Trucks and very prone to arguing. Indeed, he relished a good fight. If a customer said anything offensive about his trucks, O’Haire soon launched into an aggressive argument, which he usually won to his great satisfaction. But the problem was that despite these “victories” the customers weren’t actually buying his trucks.

You see, arguing with another person does not really make much sense. If you lose, you lose the argument. If you win, the other person will resent you for having hurt their pride, so you still will not have truly won them over.

And nine times out of ten, the argument will only make the other person more entrenched in their stance than they were before. Therefore, the only solution is to avoid such disputes from the start.

So the next time you encounter opposition to your ideas, don’t start arguing to bolster your views, but instead try to accept the disagreement as something positive that brings a new perspective to your attention. After all, if two people always agree on everything, then one of them is dispensable.

What’s more, be sure to distrust the first response that bubbles up in you as it is usually an instinctively defensive one. And whatever you do, control your temper!

Listen to what your opponent has to say without resistance or protest and promise to carefully examine their thoughts. Try to find areas where you agree and dwell on these points while also freely admitting if you have made mistakes. This will help reduce your opponent’s defensiveness.

Then, thank your opponent. After all, you could just as easily see them as a friend who cares passionately about the topic at hand and wants to help you come to the right conclusion.

Finally, propose to meet again at a later time to allow both parties to think about it in the meantime. During this break, ask yourself if your opponent could be right and whether your reaction is really likely to produce the results you seek. By keeping these points in mind, you can avoid unnecessary arguments.

Even Patrick J O’Haire learned to avoid arguments, and the next time a customer told him that he preferred another brand of trucks, O’Haire just agreed. Unsurprisingly, this made it hard for the customer to keep arguing, and so the conversation could then be redirected toward what was good about White trucks. As a result, O’Haire became the star salesman of the White Truck Company.

Never tell others they are wrong; they will only resent you.

When Benjamin Franklin was a young man, he was famously opinionated and prone to attack those who disagreed with him. One day, an old friend took him aside to tell him that his friends were abandoning him because of this.

Despite his recklessness at this age, Franklin was wise enough to listen, and made it a habit to never again openly oppose others. He even decided to completely remove some words like “certainly” and “undoubtedly” from his vocabulary because he felt they were too rigid and reflected an unbending mind-set. Instead he used phrases like “I conceive” or “I imagine.”

You see, whenever you tell someone they’re wrong, you’re basically saying, “I’m smarter than you.” This is a direct attack on their self-esteem, and they will want to retaliate because you’re clearly disrespecting their opinions.

So whenever you want to express your opposition to someone’s opinions, take a page from Ben Franklin’s book and avoid absolute terms like “It’s clear that…” or “Obviously, the case is…” These telegraph the message “I’m smarter than you,” and even if you do think you’re smarter, you should never openly display this mentality.

If you want the other person to re-evaluate their view, it’s much more effective to be humble and open-minded. You could say, for example, “I thought differently but I might be wrong. I’ve been wrong pretty often, so let’s have a look at the facts again together.”

If you frame your opposition like this, the other person is much less likely to resist or resent you before giving you a chance to air your views. With a little luck, a soft approach will quickly turn opponents into allies, making it possible for you to change their opinions.

Consider the story of how Dale commissioned an interior decorator to produce some draperies for his home. Afterward, he was shocked by the size of the bill, and when he mentioned the price to a friend, she exclaimed that he had clearly been overcharged. Insulted, Dale defended his actions, explaining that the high price was an indicator of quality.

But then, when another friend dropped in and gushed praise for the same draperies, Dale could admit that he actually felt he had overpaid and regretted the purchase. This positive approach so disarmed him that he could freely admit his mistake.

Whenever you’re wrong yourself, admit it right away.

Once, Dalw was out walking his dog Rex in a nearby forest. Rex liked to run free and so was not wearing a muzzle or leash. Unfortunately, they encountered a police officer who sternly told him that this was illegal, but that just this once he’d let them off with a warning.

Dale obeyed, but Rex didn’t like the muzzle, so pretty soon they returned to their old ways. That’s when the same officer caught them again.

This time, even before the officer opened his mouth, Dale himself expressed how very, very sorry he was, and how unacceptable his misdeed was.

Normally, the officer would’ve probably been angry and handed him a fine, but thanks to this upfront admission of guilt, he did the opposite: the officer began arguing that the little dog really wasn’t hurting anyone, accepted Carnegie’s apology and let them continue on their merry way.

The truth is, we all make mistakes. And whenever you do and someone is about to berate you for it, there’s an easy way to steal their thunder: admit your mistake.

This helps because the other person was no doubt planning to bolster their own self-esteem by criticizing you about your mistake, but the moment you admit your guilt, the situation completely changes. Now, in order to feel important, they can no longer attack you, but rather have to show generosity by forgiving you. This is exactly what made the police officer so lenient in the example of Rex in the forest.

So the next time you realize you’re in the wrong, admit it enthusiastically. It will produce better results, and you’ll find it’s actually much more enjoyable than having to defend yourself when the other person points out your mistake.

To be convincing, start in a friendly way and get others to say “yes” as often as possible.

In 1915, John D. Rockefeller Jr. was one of the most hated men in Colorado. Miners from the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company, which Rockefeller controlled, had been striking for over two years for higher wages. The results were tragic: troops had been deployed and strikers had been shot.

So when Rockefeller had to address the representatives of the strikers, he must’ve been at a loss for how he could possibly win over people who only a few days earlier had wanted to see him hanged.

He chose a simple strategy: friendliness – his speech glowed with it. He emphasized how proud and happy he was to meet them and how it was an important day in his life. He spoke of them as dear friends with whom he shared many interests.

The result? The miners went back to work without another word about the wage increases they had fought for so furiously.

As this example shows, friendliness can make people change their minds much more effectively than bluster and fury, so whatever it is you’re trying to achieve, be sure to start in a friendly way.

Another important persuasion technique is getting people to say “yes” right from the start. Begin by emphasizing all the points on which you agree with the other person and ask questions that get them to say “yes” a lot. Think of it like building momentum in a billiard ball – it will be hard for them to reverse course after all those “yeses.”

On the other hand, you should avoid getting the other person to say “no,” because they will be extremely reluctant to back away from this statement once made.

And for people in sales, multiple “yeses” can translate into more sales. Consider the story of Eddie Snow. Mr Snow was interested in renting a bow from a hunting shop, but the sales clerk told him this wasn’t possible. However, then the clerk began getting some “yeses.”

Clerk: “Have you rented a bow before?”

Mr Snow: “Yes.”

Clerk: “You probably paid around $25 to $30?”

Mr Snow: “Yes.”

Clerk: “We have bow-sets for sale for $34.95, so you could actually buy a set for just $4.95 more than the cost of a single rental, which is why we don’t rent them anymore. Is that reasonable”

Mr Snow: “Yes.”

Mr Snow not only purchased the bow, but also became a regular customer of the store in question.

So the next time you feel like telling someone they’re wrong, start in a friendly way and ask a gentle question that will get them to say “yes.”

To change others, start with praise and lavish them with more continuously.

When William McKinley was running for president in 1896, a speechwriter prepared a campaign speech for him which McKinley knew would raise a lot of criticism. The problem was that the writer obviously believed the speech was superb.

So McKinley needed it rewritten but he did not want to hurt the man’s feelings or dent his enthusiasm.

Instead of starting with a refusal, McKinley began by giving praise, explaining that the speech was magnificent and that it would be perfect for many occasions. But for this particular occasion, a different kind of speech was needed.

The result of this soft start was that the speech writer’s enthusiasm was undimmed, but he still went home and rewrote the speech along McKinley’s suggestions.

This story demonstrates an important lesson: just as a barber lathers a man’s face before a shave to make the procedure more comfortable, so it is easier for us to hear unpleasant things after receiving praise. Keep this in mind whenever you wish for someone to make a change.

Nor should you stop at the initial praise. Be sure to encourage the other person and praise them for every improvement they make, no matter how small. This will motivate them and make it seem easy for them to make the change you desire.

Consider the story of Keith Roper, who ran a print shop. One day, he saw material of exceptionally high quality that had been produced by a new employee. The new employee in question had thus far seemed to have a bad attitude, and Roper had, in fact, been considering terminating his employment.

But now, Roper could go speak to the employee with honest praise. He didn’t just say that the work was “good,” he went into the specifics about why it was superior and what this meant for the company. These kinds of specifics make praise feel more sincere.

The result? The young man’s attitude transformed completely into one of a dedicated and reliable worker.

As you can see, people’s abilities languish under criticism but bloom under encouragement. So the next time you need to change someone’s ways, be generous with your praise.

When drawing attention to mistakes, do so indirectly and speak of your own errors first.

One morning, Charles Schwab was walking through one of his steel mills when he noticed a group of workers smoking right under a “No Smoking” sign.

Instead of confronting the men directly about this infraction, he handed them each a cigar and said he would appreciate it if they smoked them outside. Because he pointed out their mistake so tactfully, instead of berating them, the men probably felt a great deal of admiration and affection for Schwab.

You see, Schwab knew that calling attention to mistakes indirectly makes people far more amenable to changing their ways.

To do this, even subtle changes to what you say can be enough. The next time you plan to start with praise but then say “...but...” and continuing with the criticism, think about how you could formulate the criticism more softly with an “and.”

For example, instead of saying to your child: “Your grades are looking good, but your algebra is still lagging,” try saying “Your grades are looking good, and if you keep working on your algebra, it’ll soon catch up!”

In addition to this indirect approach, you’ll find people more receptive if you begin by talking about your own mistakes.

For instance, when Clarence Zerhusen discovered his 15-year-old son David was smoking, he didn’t demand that the boy stop. Instead, Zerhusen explained how he himself had started smoking early and become so addicted to nicotine that it was nearly impossible to stop, despite his annoying and persistent cough. The result of describing his own mistake first was that David reconsidered and never did start smoking.

To make yourself likeable, smile, listen and remember the names of others. People crave appreciation so shower them with it and talk about what’s important to them. Avoid arguments and never criticize others as this will not help you get your way. If you want someone to change, be lavish and generous with your praise, encouraging them for every bit of progress they make. Admit your own mistakes openly and only call attention to the mistakes of others indirectly.

#How To Make Yourself More Likeable

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