#they just. completely missed the point and spun the thread in another direction

[meandmyechoes]

so someone’s working on a translation for the Ahsoka novel on the local forum and I found that it’s rather quaint for us in the Cantonese context to translate.

In standard education, there is a clear distinction between spoken (Cantonese) and written (Chinese), but there’s no rule against transcribing what one says as well, just with less familiar, sometime archaic letters. (and I wouldn’t know how much is internalized as ‘less elegant’ but I digress)

how the translation was handled, was very obviously, Cantonese dialogue plus written Chinese descriptors. (there is movement to revitalise written Cantonese in recent years along with local sentiment.) Regardless, it was rather necessary for the description to remain written Chinese as it’d be quite confusing to read ‘they’ all over the page, since the Cantonese pronoun is not gendered.

My attempt translating a script of The Phantom Apprentice already proved a challenging task. Yet I think there is some sort of shortcut translating into Cantonese than Chinese.

Because as a tonal language, emotions are marked with individual interjection at the end of the sentence. So adding a simple character could sum up the emotion quite conveniently without sieving for the right collocation within the sentence.

Anyway, I just love how smart ass we’re making them talk.

#language #P.S. forgot to say all the names and jargon can be kept in English too what a relief #and that's something you can ONLY do in hk #actually his (i think it's his) translation is a mess but the fight scenes aren't bad #HOW THE KRIFF DO YOU TRANSLATE she's alone something she was never meant to be #i was stuck for like four hours on I KNOW ANAKIN #myechoes #and you know how when i use chinese im MINIMALIST #i don't think i've written anything substantially. whole-heartedly. in chinese since the ryuki review two three? years ago #i did wrote an assignment last year but boy that was so much teenage rebellion #part 2: i don't think he's even gonna continue past the prologue but #that thing REALLY needs at least a copyedit #and i. at the heat of the moment. offered. but that was unwise. #and i kind of left him hanging whether i'd REALLY help him out #because right after our conversation an idiot bumped in and it was not just the usual sexist bullshit #they just. completely missed the point and spun the thread in another direction #and it just reminds me again how poor the level of reading comprehension and critical thinking that crowd is. #that i don't think they really deserve the attention and quality for something i'd be doing for free #and doesn't even require their validation to for a confidence boost #by you're also like: CAN'T LET GRESHAM'S LAW WIN! and there's no salvage for the wretched #i'd say i want to do it by myself it's not a worthy investment #:/

[tomhardysteeth]

Use Your Imagination

[ao3]

2.9k Eddie Brock/Venom Based entirely on the Venom: Let There Be Carnage trailer

Eddie woke up to the feel of his body tugging indiscriminately out from his back. He sighed and reached behind himself, easily finding a tentacle and tickling it until it retreated back inside him.

Wake up, Eddie, Venom said cheerily, running a slimy three-pronged tendril across his face delicately. We’re hungry.

“Ugh, can’t you just bring me something in here?” Eddie replied grumpily, burying his face in his pillow.

No. Venom took control of his legs and lifted him up and onto the floor, and Eddie momentarily lost his balance before a tentacle righted him.

Eddie groaned and stretched his back, cracking it. He headed to the bathroom and took a piss while a tentacle brushed his teeth.

He was exhausted, because he and Venom had finally tracked down all the guys harassing Mrs. Chen and had spent half the night running—literally running—them down. But Venom was even more chaotically energetic than usual because it had gotten to eat three people.

And Eddie couldn’t drink caffeine anymore—Venom hated it—so he was resigned to his orange juice and to spending the entirety of the morning just trying to wake up. 

“Babe, what the hell are you making?” Eddie asked as his body shifted minutely with the extension of several tentacles all over the kitchen. 

Breakfast, Venom replied as it knocked several things out of the fridge and onto the floor.

“You can’t possibly be hungry.”

No, but you are. 

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how their digestive systems worked, but he knew his body didn't even notice when they ate people, and his appetite was completely different than it used to be and also completely different from humans in general. He had to eat big, disgusting meals at least three times a day, and despite Venom assuring him that they both needed the sustenance to survive, Eddie couldn’t help but notice that he had gained weight.

Not that he could get on a scale. He broke his bathroom scale when he tried, presumably because a massively dense alien inhabited his body. That being said, his belly stuck out farther than it used to and his jeans were too tight.

Venom was making a mess and singing along (terribly) to the radio, so Eddie took a seat at the kitchen table and tried to dig his phone out of the pocket of his robe with his hand, but a tentacle got to it first and handed it to him.

He scrolled for a few minutes, ignoring the crashing sounds and the fire that he could see in his peripheral vision. Venom would clean it all up eventually, so it was fine. 

“Don’t forget to feed the chickens,” Eddie said distractedly, still looking at his phone.

Don’t forget to feed the chickens, Venom mocked in a nagging voice. 

They always had a few chickens in their apartment that Eddie got from a local farmer so Venom could eat live meat whenever it needed it. Except for the one chicken Venom had apparently imprinted on and was actually just their pet. Venom had named her Popsicle.

Ta-da, Venom said as it dropped two plates stacked high with who knows what underneath the waffles. 

“Thanks, Vee. Looks great,” Eddie lied. 

Venom swirled the end of a tentacle across his face, and Eddie reached up a hand to hold it steady so he could kiss it. 

Venom always helped with eating, because despite Eddie’s weird appetites, he still found it difficult to actually put food to mouth without gagging a bit. He also hated how long it took to eat enough to make him full, so Venom took to mindlessly feeding him, quicker than Eddie could feed himself, while he checked his emails and read the news.

What do you want to do this weekend? Venom asked as it put a fork to Eddie’s mouth.

“Nothing,” Eddie mumbled around the food.

Oooh, spicing it up a bit from last weekend when we did nothing.

Eddie huffed a laugh and reached for a limb, tangling his fingers through the threads of Venom’s biomass. 

After breakfast, Eddie got caught up in reading on his phone, so Venom took over control of his body and moved him onto the couch. It laid him on his back and propped pillows behind his head and under his arm, then it produced several tentacles out of the center of his chest and took to cleaning the mess it had made.

Eddie couldn’t see his phone past the tentacles, so a smaller tendril emerged and held it for him. His hands free, he stuck his right down the front of his boxers and lazily played with himself. 

Venom ignored him, too busy humming along to the radio to notice that Eddie was getting hard. After about five minutes, Eddie got bored and stopped his hand, resting it palm down inside the waistband of his boxers. His neglected boner softened.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Anne’s voice shouting at them to turn off the music. 

Eddie jumped and reflexively sucked a couple tentacles back into his body. Another limb caught his phone before it fell to the floor, then even more tentacles came out of his back and pushed him upright and closed his robe for him. 

Venom had cleaned much of the mess in the kitchen, but there was still cereal all over the counter, dishes piled precariously in the sink and on the stove, bullet holes in the fridge door, a tire swing hanging by the kitchen table, gaping holes in the ceiling, a four-foot stack of various bones from different creatures in the corner—hacked up by Venom during digestion.

“The chickens—grab the fucking chickens,” Eddie whisper-shouted as he walked to the door, Popsicle under his arm. 

Venom grabbed the other three chickens and held them out of sight of the cracked door. 

“Hey, Annie,” Eddie greeted. 

She tried to peer through the door, but Eddie had a tight grip on it, only revealing a sliver of his body to her. 

“You didn’t text me last night,” she said.

Eddie closed his eyes. “Right. Sorry. We got home really fucking late, and it just slipped my mind.” 

“Eddie, I have to know you’re OK.” Anne tilted her head and moved her eyes like if she looked hard enough then the door would magically swing open. 

“We’re fine, Annie. We took care of things.” Eddie avoided telling Anne details of his and Venom's vigilantism, but he always tried to text her to let her know they were safe. 

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you holding a chicken?”

As Eddie looked down at the chicken under his arm, Anne shoulder-tackled him and the door simultaneously and made a break for it into his apartment. Venom immediately encased her in tentacles and tossed her back into the hallway and slammed the door shut in her face.

I HAVEN’T FINISHED CLEANING UP IN HERE, ANNIE, AND I’D LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER ABOUT YOUR FUCKING MANNERS, Venom shouted.

Several neighbors yelled and banged on the walls, demanding that Venom shut the fuck up. 

“HEY!” Eddie shouted at the top of his lungs. He grabbed a broom with his hand and a mop with a tentacle and aggressively hit the ends of them against the ceiling and walls. “NEED I REMIND YOU FREELOADERS WHO TOOK CARE OF CRAIG?” 

Craig was their (missing for 35 days and counting) landlord. 

Anne pounded on the door. “Eddie, open this fucking door, I swear to god!”

Eddie forcefully cracked the door, only enough for Anne to see one of his narrowed eyes. “You’re not allowed to judge how we live.”

She pushed on the door, and he allowed her to come inside. A solid minute passed in which Anne stood in the middle of the apartment with her hands on her hips and surveyed the room without saying anything. Then, in an even tone:

“Alright. First question. Tire swing?”

Venom continued cleaning. Eddie stood next to Anne.

“Do you want the real answer or the PG answer?”

Anne’s whole body revolted. “Ew, oh my god. Gross, gross, gross—”

No, Annie, look, it’s just for this, Venom said, extending a head out of Eddie’s shoulder and snaking several tentacles around the tire. It spun the tire as fast as possible in one direction and then unraveled itself in a gooey mess as the tire spun in the other direction. 

“Oh,” Anne said. “Is that really what you use it for?”

Venom’s head was in the middle of the tire with limbs extending out to swing itself back and forth. No, I suspend Eddie in it and fuck him until he cries.

Anne cursed and threw her hands up in the air. Eddie and Venom laughed.

“Alright, next question.” Anne said after she had recovered. “Are the chickens for eating?”

“Yeah, except for Popsicle.” Eddie pointed across the room at where Popsicle was pecking at unidentified detritus on the floor.

“How the hell do you know which one Popsicle is?” 

“What do you mean? She’s that one.” He pointed again.

“They all look the same, Eddie.”

No. Popsicle looks like that. Venom pointed a tendril toward Popsicle. And the food looks like that. Another tendril split off into three prongs to point at the other chickens. 

Anne dropped her head and put her fingers to her temples, rubbing in circles. 

The toaster oven exploded. 

“Jesus, Vee, what did I tell you about—”

WELL maybe if SOMEONE would let me steal an oven then we could—

“Where the hell are we gonna put an oven in here? You gonna steal it from one of our neighbors?”

They continued arguing with each other while a tentacle grabbed a fire extinguisher from their stash of fire extinguishers in the coat closet and put the toaster oven out. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna get your deposit back, Eddie,” Anne said, still looking around his apartment. Her eyes stopped on the wicker basket full of dildos by the TV, but she didn't comment on it. 

A rock hit Eddie’s window. Venom opened it and stuck a tentacle out, and the neighborhood kids down on the street cheered and asked if it had time to play. 

“Go ahead, babe,” Eddie said.

It always felt a little strange when Venom removed so much of itself from inside Eddie’s body. It of course had to leave some still inside him, but just one tiny thread connected them together as Venom fanned out on the outside of the apartment building and juggled as many mundane objects as the children had in their power to throw up at it. Rocks, old toys, dolls, basketballs, baseball bats, a lawn chair, a pan of broccoli casserole, a cat. 

“How the hell do you live like this, Eddie?” Anne asked. 

Eddie cleared a space on the kitchen counter by shoving cereal onto the floor, then he grabbed two mugs off the sink pile and dug the coffeemaker out from the back of an extremely disorganized cabinet. The coffee itself was hidden from Venom in a plastic bag duct taped to the wall behind the fridge, so Eddie easily nudged the fridge to the side to retrieve it. He figured if Venom played with the kids long enough, he could get a little bit of caffeine in his body without it noticing. 

He said to Anne, “I’m in a relationship with an alien. What do you expect?”

Anne looked at the fridge then at Eddie, clearly confused by his inhuman strength. “I don’t know? For you to still act like an adult human?” 

Eddie internally tugged at the strands of Venom still inside him and found just enough biomass to make thick black veins pop out all over his face. “How ‘bout now? Do I still look like an adult human?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Eddie pulled the veins back in. “Stop worrying about us, Annie. I know it looks like a disaster in here, but that’s because our life is a disaster. It works for us.”

A child shrieked in a loud laugh. Eddie could just barely see through the window that Venom was juggling the 5-year-old twin girls that lived in the apartment below them. 

“Babe!” Eddie yelled. “Put the girls down before somebody calls the fucking cops!”

The girls aww’d their disappointment as Venom carefully lowered them to the ground. 

“Eddie.”

He turned his attention back to Anne and waited for her to continue.

“Are you, um, safe? Like, what are the logistics of your...sex life?”

Eddie scrubbed a hand down his face. “Well, Annie, Vee is made up of a whole bunch of malleable tentacles, so I’d say use your imagination.”

Venom slithered its way back in, so Eddie tried to gulp down his coffee but didn’t finish before a tentacle wrenched it out of his hand and slung it into the sink.

“How do you know you’re not, like, subjecting yourself to some kind of alien STDs?” Anne asked. “Or, like, what if it’s changed your body composition so much that you guys are, like, capable of reproducing?”

Venom and Eddie both gasped and smiled at each other, Venom’s head floating just a couple feet away from Eddie’s. 

Eddie said, “Oh, that would be so cute if we had a little—” at the same time that Venom said Aww imagine if it had your good looks and my complexion—

“Fucking Christ, you guys are intolerable,” Anne interrupted. “Can you not be weird for, like, two seconds?”

Venom pouted at her and moved its head over to Eddie’s shoulders, nudging at his face and bumping against him like a needy cat. It wrapped two big tentacles around his waist like arms, and Eddie dropped his hands over them and squeezed affectionately. 

“What else did you come over here for, Annie?” Eddie asked.

She cleared her throat. “I was going to ask if you and Venom would like to come over to my apartment sometime to have dinner with me and Dan.”

Venom’s head popped up from where it was resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Dan is finally ready to hang out with me?!

“Yes, but he’s still a little delicate since—”

I tried to stick my tongue in his mouth when you were kissing him goodbye before going to rescue Eddie from Riot, yeah, I get that.

“You what?” Eddie asked.

“So if you could just try to temper yourselves a tiny bit, maybe leave the chickens at home and don’t talk about fucking each other,” Anne concluded. 

“He knows that we’re fucking each other, though, right?”

“Yes, but knowing it and being confronted with it are two totally different things.”

Hey, Annie, tell Dan I think he’s boring.

“Hey, be nice,” Eddie chastised, reaching a hand up to pat Venom’s face. 

Anne told them she would let them know a date and time, then she headed for the door with Eddie close on her heels. She turned and hugged him on her way out and didn’t flinch when a couple tentacles clung to her, too. 

They’re not going to feed us enough, Venom said after she was gone. 

“Yeah, we’ll have to pre-game.”

Eddie went back to his lazy spot on the couch and Venom went back to tidying up. This time, when Eddie’s hand inevitably found its way into his boxers, Venom took notice right away and teased a small tendril out of his thigh to join in on the fun. 

ALEXA, PLAY “LET’S GET IT ON” BY MARVIN GAYE.

“You broke the Alexa yesterday, babe.”

Right, I’ll just have to sing it myself.

Eddie closed his eyes and leaned his head back, stroking himself slowly. “Please don’t.”

Venom rumbled a complaint through Eddie’s entire body, but then it snaked two tentacles over his shoulders and down his chest and pulled his boxers off completely. Two more tentacles pushed out of Eddie’s back and hammocked him in, folding underneath him and then turning up toward the ceiling to grip the holes.

When they started having sex, it wasn’t really so much of a monumental decision as it was Venom participating in literally every single other aspect of Eddie’s life that it just didn’t make sense for it not to be involved in the most fun bit. After Venom had been with Eddie for a week or so, Eddie couldn’t avoid his sex drive anymore and tried to quietly jerk off. Venom, having already stuck its tentacles into everything else Eddie did, simply wrapped a limb around Eddie’s hand and helped him out. And Eddie, stupid and horny, had immediately asked the alien to fuck him with its tongue. 

So, here they were.

With Eddie suspended, Venom moved its head under him and licked its way around his rim. There was still only one small tendril helping his hand pump his cock, but they had plenty of time to—

“Eddie, I forgot my—oh my god, oh my fucking god, oh my fucking—”

Eddie dropped back down on the couch, biomass encasing his nakedness in a safe little cocoon, but Anne had already rushed out the door and slammed it shut. 

He sighed. “I guess she doesn’t have to use her imagination.”

#venom #venom 2 #symbrock #venom fic #symbrock fic #veneddie #venom let there be carnage #wouldn't it be cool if i knew how to tag things #my fics

[transbuckaroo]

pain, applause

hello. my name is andrew, and i wrote a short lambden fic a few days ago. this will be based on the “following the thread” quest from “the witcher 3: wild hunt” developed by cd projekt red. the characters are based on dev patel as sir gawain in the 2021 film “the green knight” as directed by david lowery, and paul bullion in the upcoming 2021 seaon 2 of “the witcher” as directed by stephen surjik. i haven’t written very much these past two or three years, but i am proud of this finished product. please keep any comments/criticisms kind. thank you, enjoy!

_________

The moment Aiden realized how well and truly fucked him and Baby Steadfast were, he was already surrounded on all sides. He could sense them. His medallion hummed gently against his chest with the signal of danger with every step he took. If he could get out of this clearing, he thought, just into the tree line to stay hidden. It wasn’t far; he could make it, just keep going. The Cat kept his hand at the ready to make quick work of grabbing his battle axe and kept his breaths even as he walked. Aiden knew what was waiting for him. It seemed the fox did as well. Always intuitive, the little one.

Jad Karadin came out of the trees in front of him like a shadow from an alley, looming and dagger drawn in his right hand. Aiden slowed his pace, too exposed, ears picking up the slide of multiple steel swords off to the left. Then two figures emerged from behind Jad, appearing as if they had come directly from within his body. Lund first, after came Hammond. Baby laid back his ears flat, centering himself lower to the ground in a defensive position. He placed himself between the three and Aiden as he went.

There was no running from them. These people were never meant to be his enemies; Jad was supposed to be his brother especially. If anyone here was supposed to be on his side more than anyone, it was Jad. An elder Cat, someone Aiden was supposed to be able to look up to as a mentor. Jad had broken the mold. Had children, a wife, a life away from being a Witcher. Beyond it. He had proof that there was more.

These things didn’t matter anymore. Whoever Jad Karadin was supposed to be was pointless now. Because he was an evil man today. He and whoever else followed him here.

Aiden drew his axe, pulling a deep and centering breath as he went. There were more of this group, hiding somewhere in the thick of trees, awaiting their moment. This was only to end one of two ways. There would be no other option besides these. For a split second, Aiden found himself missing the presence of a certain Wolf over his right shoulder.

Lambert. Lambert wouldn’t let him get hurt. He would protect Aiden here and now, and the Cat wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. In fact, Lambert would have already drawn his sword and made a calculated advancement on their enemy. He would have won, too, because Aiden has never seen him fail a task when he gets that crease between his brows as they furrow in his determination. Lambert, with his fiery curls and attitude to match. Lambert, with his impossible wit and unrelenting promises made to Aiden that have never broken. Lambert, the little brother of Kaer Morhen, baby of the lot of them.

Lambert, who Aiden swore to see back in the valley in Kaedwen where the Buina and Gwenllech rivers part in Daevon so them and Baby Steadfast could finally make the trek up to Kaer Morhen together.

The heat in between Aiden’s shoulder blades told him he wasn’t going to make it up to the keep this year.

“Aiden,” Jad spoke, knuckles white around the hilt of his dagger. Aiden snapped back into focus. He didn’t even dare to blink. “You know why I’ve come?”

“I didn’t kill the Duke’s daughter. I couldn’t save her. I tried.” The contract Aiden had held just months ago in the start of spring. A young girl, cursed, incurable despite the Duke’s pleads and Aiden’s best attempts to reverse it. She had succumbed to her circumstances. Aiden was paid for his efforts, bowed his head with sorrow as the Duke grieved, and went on his way.

“I’ve come to hear otherwise. You’ve botched it, boy. People are angry with the results of your work and lack thereof. You fucked up, and you’ve not shite to say for it.”

“I didn’t botch anything, I did my job. Not everyone gets a happy ending, Karadin. You’re a Cat. A Witcher. You should know.”

To be completely honest, Aiden hadn’t a goddamnable clue how he was going to get through this. Maybe he could take them. Most rivals don’t tend to waste time talking through events, let alone listen to their target. This time, maybe this time, Aiden could walk away with a mere banishment from the city. Possibly, hopefully, he could meet Lambert in time in the valley.

“You’re right,” said Jad, some semblance of resignation on his face. It wasn’t real, his tone sounded fabricated. “Aiden. Not everyone gets a happy ending.”

The arrow came right in that moment, whizzing through the air and lodging itself into the ground by Aiden’s left foot. He startled, stepped back, whipping his head around to try and follow its trajectory. Someone was up high. Someone was in the trees. Jad brought a sniper with him. Of course he did. Oh, of course that motherfucker did. This horrid, abomination of a man. The tree line was too dense, impossible to know where in the leaves the arrow came from where Aiden was standing in the field. He had only tried to look for a moment though before the sound of running footsteps came too close for comfort. And fuck, he could only gain so much momentum with his axe from this angle but he had to try.

Aiden spun back around on his heel, hands braced on either end of the hilt of his axe, prioritizing blocking the blow and creating distance before landing a strike of his own. Jad was successfully pushed back at the chest. Sent fumbling backwards to regain his footing. He growled in anger at the same time Aiden swung at his accompanying attackers, just barely missing them with the blade of his weapon. Steel struck and sounded a metal clang through the clearing. Aiden grunted with the effort of three-and-a-sniper against one, swinging his axe to catch a sword under the head and vaulting his enemy away. Distance was vital, energy was crucial to use sparingly.

“Baby!” He shouted towards his fox, whom of which was bee-lining for the trees where the arrow had come. “No! Run home! Home! Go home!”

It was something they’d agreed upon once. Home. They knew what home was, who home was. Where home was. The valley. Lambert. The point they meet and part at every year, the small town the Wolves have passed through many times in prior years. It was an easy place to go. That was where they found home, him and Baby. Lambert was home. Baby Steadfast knew this command well and clear as day. Go home. Go find Lambert; he’ll know what it means for the fox to show up without the company of his Cat Witcher. He’ll spring into action.

All it took was one incorrect turn, expose just a little too much of something or other, at just the right moment. It wasn’t because he’d called out to Baby; he knew how to give direction without faltering in his task. It was fucked luck. Terrible, awful, shit luck. All he did was avoid another two arrows in the ground, one grazing his cloak as it went.

Jad caught him in his right side with his dagger, blade plunging in deep and ripping a pained and surprised shout from Aiden’s throat. All the way in and right back out. Aiden staggered, snarled, and lunged at the man in front of him. Jad was a monster on this day, and Witchers know damn well to dispose of those. His side was on fire. The younger Cat swung, but Jad ducked underneath the blade. As Aiden turned with the momentum, one of the others kicked a boot into his chest and sent him backwards into Karadin’s grasp. The dagger entered the same area as before as Jad grappled an arm around Aiden’s throat. He was stuck. He was bleeding horribly. Baby Steadfast had gone to get Lambert. There was no way they would find one another in time.

With a strong shove from the man behind him, the dagger dislodged, and in the same moment whoever was at his left ripped his axe out of his hands. Aiden tried to spin around to face them as he propelled forward, but only managed to end up on his back on the grass. It was still cold with morning dew. Aiden could see the fog of his breath as he fell.

And in the most startling of realizations as Jad came to kneel over him, Aiden realized he was going to die. Without Baby. Without his dignity. Without Lambert. Without telling Lambert how much he truly and purely loved him.

He thought he had more time. Had it all planned out. They would meet in three weeks hence, and the night before they would make the ascent to the keep for the winter, Aiden would tell Lambert that he loved him in their room. This incredible, selfless, beautiful Wolf. Part of him even believed Lambert might say it back. He would feel the same. They were just like comfortable lovers already, what with the way they shared beds and blankets and curled up in the night to sleep, the way they helped wash and put up one another’s hair, cooked for each other, looked out for each other, lost all sense of personal space with each other. Melitele, the two of them even refused to separate their bedrolls while they camped out during their travels. They called each other “pup” and “kitten” respectively, dressed wounds, mended clothes and armor, cleaned weapons, hunted together, laughed and smiled and hugged and shared stories. Oh, Lambert was beautiful. Of course Aiden was in love with him. To expect anything else were a fool’s game.

“Oh, kitty cat,” he heard from above, and focused his eyes on Jad. The coldness of his gaze, so detached and unaffected. The only indication he’d ever been in a fight at all was the way his chest pulled bigger breaths than before. “Don’t go and cry now, will ye? This is just the natural order of things.”

Oh, Gods above, Aiden was crying. Silent little tears slipping free from the corners of his eyes, sliding down into his hair that lay fanned out in the grass below. Without dignity indeed. Wounds screaming in white-hot pain, vision blurring with tears that he could not control, heart aching, voice beyond him.

“Please,” the younger Cat spoke in a soft, quivering voice. He blinked hard once, twice, willing the tears away. They did not relent.

“Please.” He was being mocked. Then someone spat from out of his sight right into his hair. It smelled of salmon and tobacco. This time Jad’s dagger entered slowly, and new hot tears fell from Aiden’s eyes with the hurt of it, hand coming to grab his wrist in a feeble attempt to stop him. It did nothing. If anything it encouraged the man.

Aiden couldn’t grant him the final victory of looking away from Karadin’s eyes. Even as the blade ripped out of his body once more. Karadin spoke again. “You beg me to spare your life. Your pathetic little life. Insignificant, worthless, liar’s life. You were never going to change; your batch was doomed from the start. Your death is hardly any repayment, but it is the best we can do to provide peace and closure for the Duke and his people. A life for a life. It is but the way of the world, Aiden. Certainly you understand.”

Oh, he understood. A life for a life was the most polite way to speak of revenge. Talk of debts and dues, exchanges of wins and losses. A life for a life meant a day of reckoning to come. Lambert, kind as Aiden ever saw him, would cash this in as quickly and mercilessly as he could. He was coming no matter what. If he was unable to save Aiden now, he as sure as all things was going to tear apart whoever hurt him. What a gorgeous soul he was.

The fourth and final stab, a telling sign of Karadin’s assassinations. Aiden couldn’t fight it this time. A cluster of wounds just under the right side of someone’s ribs, always in four, always fatal. Aiden choked out a cry of searing agony, feeling the blade twist inside of him with force, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw so tightly he should have broken a few teeth. It twisted again as it was taken out, and all Aiden could do was let the fat tears roll as it happened. He felt Jad grab his medallion from under his shirt and opened his eyes as it was ripped off his neck and placed into a pouch at Karadin’s hip. Proof of death. The easiest form of it, but still worth enough to get paid. Hired by anyone associated closely with a Duke, Jad was sure to be rewarded handsomely for his work.

“Now,” spoke Jad. Aiden’s eyes were starting to get heavy, chest heaving, vision spotting behind the blur of tears. “You’ll be gone in moments, boy. A few minutes and this will be over. The pain will dull just prior, don’t fret. I will not seek out your fox nor that Wolf you travel with, but should they come I will be ready. Goodnight, Aiden. Sleep well.”

Then Jad started to walk away. Hammond and Lund went with him. Aiden could only lay there in the grass, sending his apologies to Baby and Lambert skyward and hope they would understand. He never meant for this to happen. If there hadn’t been that damned sniper, then maybe he could have taken them. But there was no time to dwell now. Darkness crept in, and Aiden’s breathing slowed, and it went dark once and for all as he bled out. He had failed. He was sorry. He could only imagine how horrifically pathetic he appeared. Perhaps he could be forgiven in time by his fox and his Wolf for never coming home.

In some months, when the snow lay thick on the ground, white and untouched blanketing where grass once resided, there would be the choking gasp of a man within the Brokilon Forest. Waking from a healing sleep induced by an old magic, cast by resident Dryads within the cover of trees that towered above. Known by many as the forest of death, breathing life back into someone who simply had not been due to die.

“Sir Witcher Aiden,” said a calming voice, a person standing kindly to the side. Her palm lay gently at the crown of his head, soothing. “We welcome you back to the living world. It has been some time.”

#the witcher #Lambert #aiden #school of the wolf #school of the cat #jad karadin #dev patel!aiden #paul bullion!lambert #near death experience #following the thread #The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt #the witcher 3 #wild hunt #aiden refuses to die #fix it fic #lambden #lamden #lambert/aiden #lambertaiden #mlm #buckaroo writes #the witcher season 2 #witcher lambert #witcher aiden #brokilon forest #magic healing

[seanfalco]

Not What This Is | Duncan Taylor x Reader

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, derogatory language/dirty talk a/n: Watch me take another lesser known Rob character and give him some  character development instead of working on my other fics oops.  Despite Geostorm being a rather mediocre film (hey, I still found it entertaining at least!) and Rob’s character having hardly any screen time and a less than stellar British accent, I was gripped with the need to write this. I might continue writing some drabbles for this character since some plot started to slip in there.

Duncan Taylor was, to put it nicely, a cocky little shit.  A brilliant systems analyst, to be sure, but a complete and total arsehole, and you had the very unfortunate honour of having to work in the same unit as him, day in and day out.  

Your little rivalry had begun from the very beginning.  You’d both been assigned to the O/S division for the Dutch Boy climate control system aboard the International Space Station, when you’d happened to disagree with him on something, calling attention to a fault in one of the programs he was in charge of monitoring. 

Ever since then he’d tried to one up you, undermine you, and overall just get under your skin on a daily basis.  You knew what some of your colleagues whispered behind your back, that your frequent arguments and back and forth banter was only thinly veiled flirting, which was frankly ridiculous. 

Was it?  A tiny voice in your head asked.  Just because you sometimes happened to look forward to these repartees didn’t mean anything.  It was almost enough to drive you mad, so it was peaceful moments like these that you relished when he wasn’t around, his computer chair sitting empty.

“[y/n], you wanna look over that data from yesterday again, please?” Duncan’s smug voice taunted as he ambled into the lab, plopping down at his workstation directly behind yours, letting his computer chair spin slowly to face you.

“Why?  Was there something wrong with it?” you asked, looking up from your monitor warily, your lips twitching into a frown.

Duncan shrugged noncommittally, steepling his fingers as he slouched in his chair.  “Oh, I dunno, just that an entire sector of satellites nearly went offline, due to a missing string of code,” he mused, frowning exaggeratedly, “Luckily I was there to catch your little mistake and fix it before anything untoward happened, but y’know, nothing major.”

Gritting your teeth you forced a smile, more of a grimace really, in his direction.  “Thank you for that, I’m so glad you were able to catch it.”

“Yeah well, you owe me,” he pointed out smugly, his frown turning to a bemused smirk.  “I could’ve easily let slip to Ute about it, but I decided to use some discretion, you know?  Wouldn’t want to call attention to one of my associate’s mistakes.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes.  The thing about it that pissed you off the most was that you were thankful he’d caught it, and you were grateful that the head of your division hadn’t found out or you’d be facing some serious reprimands, but you were still frustrated you’d messed up in the first place, and now he had something to lord over you.

“You know what I’m most confused about, [y/n], is how you could’ve missed somethin’ so glaring as that in the first place,” Duncan continued thoughtfully, studying you with interest and you wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid smug grin off his face.

Scoffing again under your breath you spun your chair away from him, focusing back on your computer monitor, not rising to his jabs.

“You know what I think it is, [y/n]?  I think you’re so pent up you just can’t think straight.  Maybe if you had a good fuck—“

“You’re a prick, Duncan, that’s what I think,” you shot back, your head whipping toward him.

“Maybe so, but tell me, luv, when’s the last time you got laid, huh?” he continued, waggling his thick eyebrows, a suggestive look in his piercing green eyes that sent a strange thrill through you and for half a moment a thought danced through your consciousness, one that sent heat pooling between your thighs before you quickly banished it.

“Fuck off, Duncan, I don’t have time for your games,” you exclaimed, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to turn away again.

“Who said I’m playin’?” he asked, though you weren’t sure if he were serious or just teasing you.

“I need to get back to work,” you muttered, tearing your gaze from him, though as you focused on your screen once more you could still feel his eyes on you.

——

Running your hands down your face you sighed as you finally pushed away from your workstation, stretching as you stood and knuckling the small of your back, wanting nothing more than a shower and your bunk.  Luckily at this hour most of the crew was either relaxing in the lounge, asleep, or just starting a fresh shift, leaving the locker room quite empty.  Crossing the room to your locker you nearly jumped out of your skin as Duncan ambled out from around the corner, coming to lean against the lockers next to yours.

“Well well well, fancy running into you here, [y/n],” he drawled, smirking down at you as he leaned closer.  “What a pleasant surprise, and here I thought you were trying to avoid me.”

“If only it were that easy,” you grumbled sarcastically, attempting to nudge him out of the way so you could get to your locker.

“Oh come now, luv, don’t be like that,” Duncan pouted, tilting his head, his springy curls falling across his forehead and you idly wondered what it’d feel like to run your fingers through them.

“Be like what?  Duncan, please get out of my way,” you huffed making a purposeful shooing motion, but he only stepped closer, caging you in with his arms and your breath caught at his proximity.  His eyes found yours and this close you realized you’d never noticed how truly stunning they were before, your thoughts turning unconsciously to your earlier conversation.

He was right, it had been a while, and just the thought of being filled, being touched after so long had arousal gripping you.  For a mouthy fucker why did he have to be so damn attractive?  

Oh fuck it, you thought, making an impulsive decision as he opened his mouth, no doubt to taunt you further, but you moved first, taking him by surprise as you grabbed his t-shirt by the collar and yanked him to you, your lips colliding with an intensity that stunned you as well, but for once you’d managed to shut Duncan Taylor up.

As soon as your mouths met however, he was kissing you back hungrily, pressing you back against the lockers and you slid your hands into his hair, threading your fingers through the curls you so wanted to touch, drawing a low moan from him as you opened your mouth to him, teasing him with your tongue before his found yours eagerly.

“Oh, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted you, luv,” he groaned as your hands moved from his hair to fumble with the knotted sleeves around the waist of his dark jumpsuit, his hips jerking toward you as you worked to untie them.  “Tell me you haven’t thought about me too.”

“I haven’t,” you snapped, but Duncan merely clicked his tongue, amusement flashing across his face. 

“You’re lying, darling, clearly.  You want me.  You want it so bad,” he taunted, grinning down at you, his dark curls falling into his eyes.

“Shut up y’wanker, that’s not what this is,” you exclaimed, but even you knew your argument was feeble.

“Oh really?  And that’s why you’re undressing me right now innit?  Admit it, [y/n], I think the lady doth protest too much.”

You paused, his words striking a nerve, hitting a little too close to home, and you looked up at him defiantly.  “Just shut up and fuck me already,” you growled, “this doesn’t mean anything,” you insisted firmly. 

“Oooh, you’re such a bitch, it’s kind of a turn on.  Does the bitch want my cock?” Duncan drawled as you finally managed to unzip his suit the rest of the way and reach down to grab him through his boxers, feeling how hard he was for you and drawing a sharp gasp from him as you pulled him free.

Before you knew it he was grasping the zipper at your chest and yanking it down, his mouth hot on your neck as he slipped your suit from your shoulders, working it down your hips before fondling you roughly over your tank top and it was your turn to moan, the sound quickly swallowed as his mouth found yours once more, his tongue forcing its way into between your teeth before he finally pulled away to breathe.

“Turn around for me, luv,” he instructed as he spun you, pressing the side of your face up against the locker, “now pull those knickers down,” he continued, and you hated obeying, but your cunt was throbbing harder now and all you wanted was to be filled.  “Now that’s a good girl,” he purred in your ear, a shiver tearing through you as his breath fanned over your cheek and you gasped as he reached around you, slipping his hand between your legs.

“Ohhh,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to the nape of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, “I knew you were lyin’ about wantin’ me, else why would you be so fucking wet, huh darling?” he teased, his fingers circling your clit maddeningly and you let out another shuddering moan as he pushed one digit into you.  “Oh fuck, you’re practically dripping,” he groaned, lust drenching his words.

“Bend over farther,” he commanded hastily and you did, spreading your legs as far as you could with your jumpsuit round your ankles and you pressed your chest to the lockers, sticking your ass out to give him better access to your pussy, hating how needy he made you feel.

“Oh, good girl,” he purred and your breathing hitched as he gave your ass a quick slap and you felt the tip of his cock tease your folds, coating himself with your slick before pressing into you slowly, his moan turning you on even further.  “Oh fuck your fanny’s so tight,” he groaned, thrusting in and out slowly as he held your hips steady.  “God, you feel amazing.”

“Are you always so chatty when you fuck?” you couldn’t help but ask, desperately wanting him to shut up.  “Less talking, more fucking,” you exclaimed, biting your lip to stifle a moan as his hips snapped against your ass.

“Ahh--!” you gasped, rocking against the lockers, unable to kept quiet.  “F-fuck, Duncan.”

“Yeah, like that?  You’re such a little slut, protesting, playing so hard t’get, and then turning around and practically begging for it.  Tell me what you want, [y/n],” he drawled, a command in his voice.

“I want you to fuck me, Duncan,” you hissed, crying out as he thrust into you again hard.

“You’re gunna have to be quiet if you wanna cum, luv,” he grunted as he began to fuck you in earnest, his hips snapping into you with abandon, his cock hitting you just right, the ridge of his head rubbing against your g-spot to send wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Fighting back a series of moans you arched back against him as he rut into you, his hand slipping up your body to caress your neck, squeezing just tight enough for you to feel it, your breaths coming harder.  

“Do you like that, you dirty, kinky girl?” he asked, whispering in your ear, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet.  “Do you like when I choke you?”

“Yes,” you sighed involuntarily, finding to your great surprise that you did enjoy it, heat and arousal flooding you the first time he did it and you wanted more.  “Please, Duncan,” you whined and you wondered if he was grinning, picturing that smug smirk just perfectly.

“Oh God, you beg so nicely too,” he groaned as his hand tightened around your throat once more, squeezing tighter til you saw little sunbursts, your knees buckling and you jerked as his other hand slipped to your cunt again, mashing his fingers against your little bundle of nerves and rubbing frantically as he continued to pound into your relentlessly from behind.  

Duncan’s heavy breathing, the lewd slap of skin against skin, and the pounding of your pulse filled your ears and you fleetingly wondered just how far the sounds of your exertions were carrying.  You could feel yourself plateauing, that hovering quivering heat that felt like the calm right before the storm and then suddenly your muscles tensed, your climax gripping you violently, pushing you off that cliff and you fought to keep from crying out, the sweet pain of Duncan’s overstimulation pushing you further as he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed as you clenched around him and his grip on your throat loosened, though his fingers on your clit didn’t stop and your legs gave a dangerous wobble, nearly giving out beneath you.

“Don’t you dare — cum inside me,” you gasped, twisting in his grip to glare at him over your shoulder and he flashed you a strained smile, the look of pleasure on his face disarming you for a moment.

“Whatever you say, luv,” he groaned, and suddenly he was forcing you forward as he pulled out of you, his cock nestling against your ass before you felt his warm seed spill over your skin, pumping several times before he finally released you.

“Hold on, let me get that for you,” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse and then you felt a rough cloth wipe the sticky mess from your backside with a surprising gentleness before you quickly pulled your knickers back up along with your jumpsuit and reluctantly turned around to face him.  The strangely tender look you caught on his face surprised you before his usual smarmy grin quickly returned.  

“Now that you’ve had a good fuck d’you think you can finally focus now?” he taunted, rewrapping his jumpsuit sleeves around his waist.  “Or… maybe we’ll need t’make this a reoccurring thing to keep that pretty little head of yours clear,” he said poking his finger to your forehead cheekily.

“Oh, piss off Duncan,” you snapped feebly, brushing his hand away and trying to push past him. 

“Oh, no, I can see it in your eyes, you enjoyed that.  I made you feel good,” he insisted, following you, quickly cutting you off.  “You’re gunna be thinking about my cock for the foreseeable future.”

Despite your internal protests to the contrary your face burned with the knowledge that you wanted to fuck him again, that once was not going to be enough.  

“Don’t flatter yourself, Duncan.  You coulda been anyone and this was just a one time thing.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, luv,” he quipped, completely sure of himself before leaning down to steal a peck to your lips, turning and walking away with a decided pep to his step, whistling cheerily as he went.

Groaning under your breath you nearly collapsed against the lockers, breathing heavily as the gravity of what you’d just done hit you.  It wasn’t exactly like what you were doing could be considered fraternizing, seeing as you couldn’t stand each other.  Right?

Groaning again you opened your locker and quickly undressed, taking a very quick, very cold shower before heading back to your bunk, but it didn’t help.  Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, the pleasant ache between your thighs served as a constant reminder of what happened in the locker room with the smug fellow Englishman who it was getting harder for you to convince yourself you hated.

#geostorm #duncan taylor #duncan taylor smut #duncan taylor x reader #robert sheehan character fic #my writing

[iamalivenow]

“Xiao.”

He had told Aether plenty of times to call him should he ever need but the reality of it happening is somehow different then he imagined it would be. His name, in Aether's voice, glides along the wind and settles formlessly in the space around him. There's a pull, at his core, a contract that he initiated being fulfilled, that turns him in the direction the wind came from.

No one had ever- no one other than Morax has ever called him like this and he had assumed the pull was divine in nature, but no. No, that doesn't seem to be right.

He rides the wind quickly, and maybe a moment after being called, he arrives.

The rush of a river greats him, a crackle of a fire, and Aether, wide eyed.

“Did you not expect it to work?” Xiao can't help but ask, Aether looks so startled. “Did you doubt me?”

“Just didn't think you'd come so soon, is all.” He says, and smiles. “Happy Birthday.”

Ah-

Why does it feel like his face is burning.  

“Yes.”

Aether laughs, a soft sound he's not used to hearing. Warm and gentle, something about it reminds him Morax or Barbatos. Maybe his call here was divine after all.

“Thank you for the letter. And the Crystalflies.” Xiao finally notices, and how did he miss it up till now, that Aether's hair is out of it's usual braid, dripping down onto the sand. It's even longer like this, which makes sense but somehow the thought never even occurred to him. “I was wondering if you'd want to put them in my hair for me?”

An utterly lethal blow.

Completely devastating.

He debates very heavily inducing a Karma flare up and bolting immediately.

“Can't do it yourself?”

“I-” Aether sighs and oh no did he say the wrong thing please don't let that have been the wrong thing to say- “My sister usually did my hair for me. And then since I got here I'd ask Paimon but she's-” Aether tilts his head and Xiao glances over to the tiny sleeping form, curled up by the fire. “It's long.”

“It is.” Xiao nods and Aether nods too, “Did you call me just to do your hair?”

“Ha-” It sounds like a laugh, maybe, but he gives up half way through. “Y-yes. I guess I did. You don't mind, right?”

“I- I don't.” He moves closer and is Aether blushing or is that just the light of the fire reflecting on his skin- “It's the oddest thing anyone has ever asked of me.”

“So it's memorable?”

Very.

Very memorable.

Xiao doesn't answer, just places a hand on Aether's shoulder, slowly, and turns him around so that Xiao could get to his hair.

“Why is it... wet?”

“I just washed it- I didn't want it to be gross for- for you.”

For him? Was this a plan- was the a premeditated plan- was this his birthday gift? Xiao swallows on nothing, and drags his fingers through Aether's hair.

“I've never served as an attendant in this capacity before. Don't blame me if it's bad.”

“It won't be!” He sounds so confident. “Tell me when you want to put the Crystalflies in. I have them.” Aether's head tilts back- so that he could have an easier time of it probably.

His hair is thick and healthy, Xiao understands why he braids it, walking around with all of it down would certainly get in the way of fighting, and probably be too hot to bare anyway. With it wet it's a little darker than usual, almost golden in the firelight, like spun thread that he runs his fingers through slowly and carefully.

Morax, on occasion, would make jewelry or art that required thin gold thread. Xiao had always stared with a sort of distant admiration, more for the act of creation than for the material but he really feels like he's coming around on it all of a sudden.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to braid Aether's hair, tapping him on the shoulder whenever he decides to place the glowing material into whatever space demands it. There's some realization that none of them are necessary, really, that Aether's hair is already as beautiful as it could ever be, but the Crystalflies sparkle in cool blue tones that do look gorgeous in his hair.

At some point, maybe half way through the braid, Aether's shoulders seem to relax which makes Xiao tense for a moment. He's not sure why, he's seen Aether relaxed around him before, but now? With Xiao's hands in his hair? It's totally different- radically different- now he's responsible for that and thats-

Xiao breaths out through his nose very, very, very slowly.

“When you're done, don't run away.” And Xiao doesn't jump at that. He does not. He didn't let his guard down enough that just hearing Aether talk would make him jump. Because he wouldn't do that. And he didn't.

“I don't run away.” It comes across a little indignant- maybe because it is, because he doesn't run away.

He tactically retreats.

It's different.

“I made you something- food. I made you food. That you like. And I was hoping you could try it for me, with me.”

“Okay.”

“Mm.” He sounds satisfied as he settles again, and Xiao keeps going. Being cooked for- Xiao settles on a tight braid, with most of the Crystalflies nestled at the point where the braid starts, a crystalline cluster that refracts the light and leaves shiny little blue dots along the crown of his head.

“Done.” Aether steps away from him, Xiao feels a weird pang of longing, and he walks the few steps to the river, twisting this way and that. Now out of the glow of the firelight, he's light up in soft blue and Xiao was right. They do look pretty in his hair.

“Oh,  they're gorgeous!” You're gorgeous. “I'm going to try and wear it like this for as long as I can- Xiao, they're beautiful.” You're beautiful. “Okay- okay-” He comes bouncing back, smile as radiant as the crystals in his hair- “Sit down, eat with me.”

“Okay.” Aether grabs his hand and tugs him down onto one of the logs set by the fire, and Xiao goes, staring up at him like he's the sun. “You didn't have to do this.”

“I wanted to. And you said you wouldn't mind, spending time with me.”

“I don't.”

“I'm glad.” There's the sun, being absolutely blinding again. “Here. I hope I made it right. The consistency is sort of a nightmare to nail.”

Oh there's a plate of food in his hands- he takes the first bite, and it's perfect. Dreamlike and perfect.

“You didn't have to-” He starts again and Aether cuts him off.

“Did you like it?” Xiao nods and Aether sits back, sighing with relief. Why? He gets it perfect every time. “I made more, you can take it with you when you head back to whatever it is you were up to before I interrupted you.”

“I wasn't. Doing anything.” He puts more tofu in his mouth to make himself stop talking.

They eat in comfortable silence, Xiao taking turns staring at his feet and at Aether's braid.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you, for coming over and indulging me.” Aether says quietly, and moves to sit a little closer to Xiao. He's warm, though Xiao runs hotter.

Xiao takes a deep breath.

“I enjoyed it.”

“I'm glad.” Aether turns his head and presses his lips to Xiao's cheek. “Happy birthday.”

“Yes.” Because he can't think of a single thing else to say.

Aether laughs and rests his head on Xiao's shoulder.

“Thank you.” He says and Aether nods, pressing another kiss into his neck.

Maybe he can learn to like his birthday, actually.

#writing #fanfic #full fic #genshin impact #genshin #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin aether #aether #xiao/aether #i dont know their ship name #birthday fic

[hysteriium]

Dazzling Devil;

(A/N): I made this for @jokerfleckk​ because she had an amazing idea and I couldn’t resist???? Also just want to say @pennyship​ is my BABE AND I LOVE HER SM FOR GOING OVER THIS BEFORE I POSTED!

Summary: Literally rewrote the whole Murray sequence lol rip. 

Pairing: Joker x reader

Warnings: smutty themes (not entirely), violence, swearing! 

////

Anxiously, you tugged at the threading of your dress. The loose strings which, although hidden for the most part, twisted between your relentless digits, acting as an escape from the simmering pressure of your surroundings. Though, as the enthusiastic, high-spirited melody of the live band, to your right, resonated in one explosive blow, this momentary retreat was short-lived. 

“We’re back with our guest, Dr. (L/n)!” 

His introduction speedily brought you back to reality, and you promptly dropped the hem of your dress, eyes snapping towards him. 

“Now!” Murray paused, immediately, turning to you.

His expression was beaming as he leaned forward in his chair, “you gotta see our next guest for yourself. Will you stick around? Maybe you can help, I’m pretty sure he could use a doctor.”

“Oh,” you paused, brows furrowing, “does he have sexual problems?” 

“He looks like he’s got a lot of problems.” Murray retorted, and you internally cringed at his mocking tone. You weren’t sure who his next ‘guest’ was, though if what Murray said was in some way true, you couldn’t imagine being ridiculed for it made the mystery guest very happy. 

The audience, as always, laughed.

“You’ll see,” he grinned, pointing towards one of the monitors. 

“Play the clip!” 

Everyone, the audience included, watched as the monitor transitioned from Murray to a man on stage. In what you assumed was provoked by his nervousness, sweat coated his forehead, trailing down his face.  

It quickly became apparent that the man had pseudobulbar affect, a condition while you knew of, weren’t particularly acquainted with – your field mainly contrived of sex therapy. 

You watched, sadly entranced, as his hands desperately clenched at his throat, trying to force his planned jokes out, only for a flurry of broken phrases to wryly pass his lips. Composing himself appeared to be an arduous task, and the dread that built up at the sight of those making fun of him, of those laughing, neared its peak. The sensation was a prominent discomfort in your gut; his suffering was deemed as a hilarity – an oddity to poke fun at – and you were the only one who empathised; who understood the anguish lost in the gloss of his eyes. Murray was wrong for making fun of this man, wrong for making fun of someone who had a condition. 

As you gazed at the audience’s thundering hysterics in shame – reflecting on the filth Gotham had become, the video ended shortly after. Murray’s voice returned once more. 

“Okay, you may have seen that clip of our next guest when we first played it two weeks ago. Now before he comes out, I just want to say that we’re all heartbroken and sensitive to what’s going on here in the city. But, honestly, I think we’re in need of a good laugh, and this is how he wanted to come out. So, please welcome, Joker!” 

On cue, the audience prompts flashed, begging for applause. The public complied and projected their excitement while the band played its specific introductory piece.  

A man strutted on stage, and an abundance of adjectives filled your mind. ‘Colourful’ had been one among the heavy flow, ‘confident’ was another and following short behind, dare you say, ‘magnetic.’

Within nanoseconds, your eyes had snapped to the male, drinking in his features. Even though they were hidden behind a thick coat of white greasepaint, as well as the ever so widespread symbolism of the clownish makeup, it wasn’t hard for you to conclude that the man who prowled his way on stage in an ostentatious manner, like a lion, was damn near gorgeous. The clip truly hadn’t done him justice.   

‘Joker’ as Murray had called him, was a name which failed to relinquish its robust hold on your thoughts; a metronome – repetitious and in tune. 

With a certain finesse, the man, after flicking his cigarette behind him uncaringly, propelled himself to his right in a series of twirls. His striking pine green hair floated behind him, and the carmine jacket followed similarly. 

Joker’s entrance secretly had you squirming in your seat. 

It was something you hated to admit, let alone acknowledge. You barely knew the guy – yet there was something about him that had you aching for more. Maybe it was the air of danger which stuck to him like a potent kind of glue, fabricating his demeanour. Or perhaps it was how those frozen eyes snapped towards you; harsh and determined, forcing you to scramble up from your seat. 

Shit, maybe you needed a doctor. 

You didn’t have time to dwell on it because once he halted the rhythmic snapping of his fingers and shook Murray’s hand, he strode right for you. The flickering twitch of his right eyebrow, complemented with his heart-stopping grin, was the last visible feature of his face as he grabbed your own with large, delicate hands. 

When he so unexpectedly pressed his painted lips to yours, you glaciated. Slender were his digits, majority sliding behind your ear, while his ring and pinky pressed up against the distinctive bone of your cheeks. His thumbs occasionally stroked the skin of your neck obliging a deep, thrilling, full-bodied shiver.

Immediately, the peculiar tang of his face paint flooded your senses, and this only worsened when you kissed back. Eyes long since fluttered shut, you felt his surprise when you responded, a gentle vibration – a grunt – tingling against your lips. The fury of the crowd’s applause, wolf whistles and shouts included, were lost on you as you focused on the softness of Joker’s lips, his rhythm slow and sensual, taking their time to sync with yours. 

When he suddenly pulled you closer to him, a sultry growl left his lips; a noise riddled with an enticing hunger. No longer were those hands at your chin, they had slithered down your body, seizing your waist with an abrasive squeeze. 

To say your body was on fire was an understatement. 

You’re unsure as to whether Joker had noticed the applause dramatically stop at his bold movements, the room worryingly silent except for the occasional awkward cough. To this, you were conscious of, very much so, but the lingering exhilaration coursing through you like a fever – at the prospect of millions of eyes watching the two of you clinging to each other – had you grinding against him. It was a move equally as brazen, though one he was equivalently pleased at; reciprocating. As he pushed up against you, a muffled moan left your stained lips, swollen, as you felt the outline of his stiffened cock in his trousers. You were completely, and utterly, devoid of shame.   

What you were both unaware of, however, were the producers signing desperately to cut the show. Many, too shocked, upon weirded out to do so, had missed the infamous ‘t’ signal, hypnotised by the bizarre scene ahead. 

Fuck you, Murray.

When you opened your mouth a little wider, Joker, not missing a beat slid his tongue past, hardly asking permission. Well and truly, the slickness between your legs had built up, and you were hyper-aware of it pooling in your panties. Giddiness was hardly the feeling you would associate with your shared moment, more accurately a carnal lust; a need displayed in the fervid movement of your leg and how it moved against his hip. The very same hands which were once gentle, eagerly maneuvered to your thigh, supporting the limb. Then, without warning – the other. 

The swift movement had you breaking away from the man – only for a second – with a titter. Furious steps, which sounded more like stumbles, filled the silent room, then a frantic voice.

“We’ll be right back folks!” 

At this, Joker, with a dramatic roll of his eyes, pulled away to look at the hollering mystery man. His make up was smudged beyond belief – namely his lips, though his sinful grin seemed to be something that couldn’t be rubbed off. When he directed his attention back to you, his tongue trailed over his teeth, placing you down. With a dangerous glint in his eye, he turned towards the audience, adjusting his waistcoat and his lapels. 

“Y-you – uh – alright...doctor?” Murray asked you, bewildered. 

You refused to look at Murray, while you were red-faced and fidgety, it was hardly because you were embarrassed. 

Joker’s eyes hadn’t left yours as his nose wrinkled in laughter. 

////

If you knew of the events which would inevitably transpire that night, there would have been a small part of you that wished you never met Joker. That you were never given the opportunity to swallow the pill that so willingly established your addiction. He was unlike any man you had met before. 

Wild, eccentric, unafraid.

Mysterious. 

Curiosity killed the cat, however, and before you knew it, you were at Joker’s side. The havoc of the studio was nothing compared to the blaze raging within his eyes. He was chaos, beauty and grace – a madman all wrapped into one. 

His hand reached out to yours, Murray’s bloodied corpse an afterthought. The Joker, who had thrown the gun somewhere, a move similar to the cigarette he had tossed prior, was void of concern. While you had been shocked at the violent move, Murray’s blood splattering across your dress, a morbid interest had you reach out for him.

His exuberance, almost child-like, heightened when you interlaced your hands together. Yet to depart from the camera’s view, he pulled you up from your seat and spun you around, then, finally dipped you. His hands had once again snaked your waist. His lips were mere centimetres from yours as his breath, warm, tingled against yours; teasing. You wanted to kiss them again – badly – and you knew he could tell from the wicked grin contorting his face. 

Oh, how absolutely enthralled you were.   

“Burn Gotham with me,” he whispered.

It was almost comedic. The way that poisonous phrase was uttered like it had in fact been something so innocuous, the way his eyes glistened with a newfound hope; hell, you would have thought he had asked you to prom. 

Perhaps a demagogue, perhaps not; what you did know was that he had changed Gotham. Propelled it into chaos with the deaths of those three men. Tension had been building up for God knew how long, but he had been the catalyst for the end. Gotham had finally reached its boiling point. 

Without thinking, you breathed an agreement. 

And, at that moment, you had sold your soul. 

To the dazzling devil.

#joker x reader #joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #joker imagine #joker x you #the joker x reader #dc x reader #dc #joker headcannons #my writing #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine

[aranea-mechanica]

(( BREAKING NEWS: here’s the 4k unfinished rp log from after this post, in which tarantulas temporarily adopted @medicalmurdersaurus, @kingasaurusrex, @surly-saurus, @tomatofaceasaurus, @elite-tracker, and @slvdge​, and they wreaked absolute havoc on the Tor.

TAKE CHANCES, MAKE MISTAKES, GET MESSY!

Tarantulas

One thing led to another led to another led to another. Scooping Swoop up somehow got leaked to Grimlock, then Grimlock threatening him via comm inspired Tarantulas to adopt him too, which got leaked to Slag as well, who joined the party and essentially dragged Snarl and Sludge and Slash along for the ride. Tarantulas hopped through one portal after another herding them into the Tor, and mysteriously enough, they all seemed completely fine with the impromptu field trip. It was surreal how quickly and painlessly it came to pass - and all the more foreboding for what would probably follow.

The room the Dinobots were plopped into was mainly clear of equipment, although it had a decent serving of webbing slung around here and there. One might mistake it for a foyer of sorts, given the paths branching off toward more dim destinations. Strange sounds and smells emanated from far too many directions.

…In hindsight, Tarantulas would probably find that this hadn’t been the wisest of places to drop the Dinobots into the Tor for the first time. Popping back into the foyer at last, he’d just have to see the results of his poor decision for himself, now wouldn’t he?

Swoop

On the plus side, getting kidnapped gives Swoop a chance to look around while his siblings are herded up. On the down side, getting kidnapped gives Swoop a chance to look around while his siblings are herded up.

The high ceilings are far too tempting. He has to know what is up there. Up where? Up there.

Tarantulas

Swoop's first guess is probably right - webs. More webs, loosely spun. Probably a pretty fantastic jungle gym, a thought that's definitely occurred to Tarantulas as well.

Grimlock

Grimlock had only been outside his own verse a handful of times. Notably only to see the Prime that wasn't Prime, but regardless, this place is new. With new smells. And new sounds. And several new sights. He squints through his visor, deciding quickly he doesn't like it.

Which is only a half lie to himself.

He's curious as hell. Enough so that he reaches out to start poking at the various webbing strands littering the area-

And immediately decided it was interesting enough to start pulling at. Weird how it looked like string but felt nothing like it. Should probably take some home. It'd look cool in Kraken's cage.

Swoop

Swoop circles the room once, twice, a third time for good measure. In the last pass, he dips down past Grimlock and pulls up sharply so he can get enough momentum to fling himself up to the highest webs while transforming. He shrieks all the way up to his new perch.

Sludge

Swoop chose to go up, but Sludge? Sludge chose to go left, and investigate this entirely new place from the ground level. There's weird smells coming from that way, he has to know what they are, immediately. And possibly touch whatever's making those weird smells.

Absolutely touch whatever makes the weird smells.

Snarl

Snarl is just kinda staying put exactly where he ended up.

Tarantulas

The threads aren't really sticky - most of them, anyhow - but they do pull and pull and pull, and never seem to actually snap. The ones on the ceiling are thicker and have less give, which probably benefits Swoop (though if he chooses wisely he could certainly have a bungee-jumping adventure). Grimlock, however, probably won't be able to snag a sample of silk unless he slices instead of pulls.

If Sludge wanders far enough down the hall to the left, he'll reach a room with massive vats of various organic and inorganic fluids. Science lab or buffet? Who can tell.

What does it really matter what the original intent was, honestly.

Snarl

This wasn't part of his plan for the day. Not that he ever had much of a plan, but he definitely hadn't been ready for getting dragged along to be a part of the Tor.

Kinda looked like they just traded one dark rocky space, for another dark-ish space.

Swoop

There is some WWE off the ropes flinging going on towards the ceiling. This is a great time and Swoop is here for it, except... since when do his brothers come on his weird outings? That's new. Swoop springs towards the machinery nearest Snarl, landing with a CLANG.

Snarl

A lesser bot who DIDN'T LIVE WITH SWOOP 24-7 would probably be startled.

Grimlock

He's coming to that conclusion himself, though his considerable strength had managed to pull the elastic-like strands a decent way out of their original positioning. Now he wants this even more. Wheeljack could probably make some awesome weapon or maybe just something all around cool for the Dinocave.

He's thinking punching bags.

A hammock would be kinda cool too. He's seen those on tv and they at least look like a good time. It's never going to happen, however, unless he manages to get some of this stuff back home.

So without further ado, he reaches to his back to disconnect the base of his sword and activate it. When in doubt-slice it.

Swoop

"SNARL!" the pterosaur giggles. "You go a place. An INSIDE place!" It's difficult for someone as cartoonish as Swoop to come across over the top enough for the sarcasm to be clear. But, by god, he's trying.

Tarantulas

Thus begins the damage that Tarantulas will eventually have to repair and/or clean up later. Swoop's definitely leaving claw marks on that machinery.

Snarl

Snarl levels him with a look as flat as stale water. "What inside place?"

You have a chance to sell it, Swoop.

Swoop

Swoop throws his arms out Robert Downey Jr style to illustrate the Tor. "Dunno!"

Sludge

Vats! Full of stuff!

None of which he recognizes, but they're interesting colors and he's pretty sure that red flavor is the best flavor for anything. Spike had said that once. Sludge peered between the vats for a moment, trying to locate one that was red. And once he finds one, he carefully sets his cat down on the floor out of the way, and promptly shoves his face into said vat.

It's time... to lick the red flavor.

Snarl

Well. That meant his options were play statue exactly where he was which was tempting or go along with Swoop.... who might screech and pick at his armor until he does anyway.

Path of least resistance it is. Massive shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Kay. We go."

Tarantulas

Red flavor = probably synthetic blood, maybe, sort of. Does Sludge know what hemoglobin and plasma taste like? If so, it'll definitely be familiar, and nothing that'll affect his systems. His cat might find the vat strange, though.

And Grimlock can certainly have at, and with moderate success. Expect much chastising from Tarantulas once he does arrive and finds missing chunks of webbing, though.

Swoop

Nice. Another victory for Swoop.

"Us goooooooo-" He spun in a circle and then pointed in an arbitrary direction. "-thata way!"

Snarl

Good of a place as any. "Kay." Off they go then.

Tarantulas

Lots of static coming from "thata way." They'll have to open a few very-locked doors before they get to the source of it all.

Snarl

Hm. A door.

Fire time.

Sludge

Blegh. Spike was wrong, red flavor is worst flavor. Sludge is going to try the ominously glowing purple flavor instead. Maybe that one tastes better? Hopefully Tarantulas won't mind that he knocked over the blue vat on his way there.

Snarl

...This door is being very stubborn for fire time.  Clearly that means there needs to be MORE FIRE TIME.

Swoop

Swoop is pro fire. He is always pro fire. But he's also pro comedy...

.... so he's going to go over and poke buttons to see if he can get the door open despite his brother.

Tarantulas

Blue vat leaves a sticky mess on the floor that Sludge won't enjoy stepping in, mostly because he'd get, well, stuck. Glowing purple flavor is mysteriously void of scent and taste, but leaves a mild tingle wherever it touches.

Snarl

At least the door is a little more pliable than before. So while Swoop is off CLEARLY not helping, Snarl decides to take matters into his own hands.

Literally into his hands. He starts beating on the door with his fists.

Sludge

The tingle is kind of cool. Let's try some more of that and see if he can make his insides tingle.

Tarantulas

The door, meanwhile, holds against the fire, but the buttons nearby start to malfunction under the combo of radiant heat & ridiculous mashing. They're doing Tarantulas a favor by finding out the flaws in his security, right? In the end the fists are what does the door in first, and they're on to the next one.

And yes, Sludge, your insides are definitely tingling now. That might be an unfortunate distraction from the fact that the other parts that WERE tingling are no longer feeling ANYTHING now.

Snarl

One last hit, and the poor door finally gives, getting essentially blown off its frame.

Snarl

"Open."

Swoop

"You Snarl DID IT!" : >

Snarl

"You Swoop and Me Snarl go to 'that way' now."

Swoop

Swoop dashes through the door and immediately looks up to see if there's more stuff to play with.

Swoop

Snarl follows along at a more leisurely, lumbering pace.

Tarantulas

Nope, just another hallway leading six possible directions. The static's coming from behind another door. Suuuuuper tempting, right?

Sludge

Well, his insides feel really tingly and it's super cool. But he feels weirdly off balance with half his face no longer feeling anything. Maybe he should leave the rest of the vats alone now. He'll come check them out again later. Aaaaafter he's checked what other rooms are in this hallway.

Snarl

"...Me hear noise."

"Swoop, that you?"

"You Swoop weird noise allllll the time."

Swoop

Swoop runs a circle, going past each possible option before sliding Tom Cruise style into Snarl's side.

"Nope! It not Swoop."

Tarantulas

Meanwhile, guess who's busy conjuring another bridge back to the Tor, finally. Oh dear.

Snarl

Snarl, squints and scrutinizes Swoop. Not that staring at him suspiciously does much for figuring out SOUND.

Slash

Slash finally makes it to the party, she looks around at what is going on so far, seems all her brothers have wondered off to do their own thing. She probably should be a good dino and wait for her leader Slag, but all the new scent and surroundings where to tempting to stay still for too long!

Slash was soon sniffing around and collecting as many new scents as she can, it was time to explore!

Grimlock

Grimlock has a large, triumphant handful of the strange white stringy stuff. After much hacking has been had to get it that far. He's, for the moment, content and immediately wraps it around his arm for safe keeping. Besides, it makes his arm thicker by just that much that clotheslining Slag is going to be hilarious later.

That done, he notices his brothers have, as they're wont to do, wandered off. Well shit. Whose scent does he follow- or does he follow the odd chemical smell that burns at his ol factory sensors in a way that's not entirely unpleasant....

His brothers would be fine. Odd smells it is then.

Swoop

For a genuine moment, Swoop lets Snarl listen. That is his thinking face after all. But Swoop can only stand it so long before he just.... chirp!

Snarl

Oh, hey, the weird noise is getting louder. Kinda sounds like the TV when the channels don't feel like working. Or something like that.

Nope. Was probably Swoop.

Tarantulas

Sludge's exploration supplies him with various rewards - rooms full of more organic smells and sights, something that looks like an operating theater, then a dissection lab that definitely has specimens still displayed. Ick.

Swoop

"This Spiderbot, uh, house."

Sludge

The poor dinobot has no idea what an operating theater is, but it's got sharp pointy things and shiny things so that's where he's gonna play now. Some of these look like things Ratchet uses. Where's Swoop? He'd know what they were.

"SWOOP!"

Tarantulas

Sludge's yell makes things shake and clatter a little. Nothing's damaged.... yet.

Also, 'house' is a generous term.

Slash

Slash decided to follow the scent to the vats she can smell Sludge has been here also, she wondered over to the vats to get a closer look and sniff only to step into the blue sticky mess and tumble forward into it.

Tarantulas

Grimlock's sense of smell leads him in a similar direction to Sludge, but down a different hall. It'll take him a long time to get to the source of the smell, but there's a straight path, and a green glow far, far off at the end.

Snarl

"Spiderbot have loud house."

"...."

"Wait that sound like him Sludge."

Slash

Slash is stuck! The blue goop clings to her if she tries to pull away.

Snarl

Hmmm. Sludge or the door. Decisions.

He looks to Swoop. ????

Slash

Slash is pulling! SHE WANTS OUT!! "ME SLASH STUCK!"

Swoop

Swoop looks back where Sludge's bellowing came from, then up at Snarl.

"Him dead."

Snarl

Well that settles that.

"Kay. We open door thing now."

Grimlock

Ugh. The smell was no longer as pleasant the closer he got to it. It stung, actually. Grimlock's face was set in a grimace under his mask and for half a second he almost turns back around. Then his optics narrowed and he growled. Giving up was for LOSERS. And Grimlock was no loser.

The green glow was more of a pinprick in the distance at the moment and Grimlock took off at a run, lumbering steps echoing down the narrow space.

Swoop

Swoop bobbled his head in agreement. Later, losers.

Snarl

There are more doors to break down. Like this one. Fire Time part 2.

Swoop

Swoop transforms into pterosaur mode and joins in the melting.

Tarantulas

The fire changes color when it hits the door, but it's slowly successful in melting it.

Swoop

He gaaaaaaaaaaasssps! <3

Snarl

Snarl stops immediately because did you see that?

Swoop

"AWESOME!!"

Sludge

Hmm. Swoop isn't coming. Shame. Now he has to go looking for his little brother. He gets to his feet and makes his way back to where he'd started, to pick a new hallway. Is he down this way?

Snarl

He's looking between Swoop and the door in quick succession.

Slash

Slash struggles to pull herself free of the blue mess on the floor, her claws start to heat up for more SLICING MELTING ACTION! "GRRR! ME SLASH WANT OUT!"

Snarl

Then he levels his brother with the most serious look that's ever graced his face. "Us burn ALL things. Find more colors."

Slag

Slag, for his part, waited to see where all his various brothers were going... and then went in whatever direction they weren't, plodding along leisurely with his drone pet/toy jingling about beside and somewhat under him when he pauses to scoot Gong Fat back between his front legs.

Gotta keep his toy from getting squashed or burned or otherwise Dino'd.

Swoop

Swoop lets out a victory shriek and flaps hard enough to get himself a ways off the ground. "YAAAAHHH!"

Tarantulas

Heated claws are super effective on the blue goop - it seems to melt as Slash slices, although it does leave a lot of residue on her as well.

Slag's adventuring leads to a far less interesting path than the others - it's mostly consoles, servers, and computer hardware in the rooms down his route.

Grimlock

Aaaagh even RUNNING was taking too much time! Grimlock growled, getting quite irritated. It was time to find a shortcut. He eyes the wall next to him, tapping on it.

The rearing his fist back to slam it into the surface with as much power as he can.

Slash

Slash was finally free and quickly gained as much distance from the blue goop as she can, her movement a little slow due to the residue left on her. She was totally leaving claw marks in the floor as she ran in a random direction.

ALSO SLASH SAW YOU SLUDGE JUST IGNORE HER >:C

Tarantulas

Also, tip to Swoop and Snarl: although all the doors in THIS hallway burn the same color, OTHER hallways might not. Have at it.

Grimlock immediately succeeds in denting the wall next to him, and there's a groaning rumble a few seconds afterward.

Grimlock

.........

Well, it did SOMETHING.

Time to hit it again.

Snarl

Snarl proceeds to be flamethrower, and immediately forgets to actually go through the door they demolished

Slag

Oh. Buttons.

Slag doesn't really read much to know what the buttons do but, they're colorful. And some of them glow. And they have TVs on them. He supposes he can find something to watch.

Maybe spider has movies. Maybe spider has Netflix.

One stumpy triceratops foot plops gracelessly on the console, sort of pawing at the keyboard to try to make something happen.

Slash

Slash now wishes she can flamethrower breath to get all this blue goop off of her, it was slowing her down! She doesn't like this place anymore it's dumb!

Slash finally stopped running to look around, just where was she now? She'll sniff the air to see where her brothers had run off to.

Tarantulas

Grimlock manages to rend the metal of the wall a bit, but only enough to see through. It's inky black, wherever that is, and smells like... nothing?

......

Sludge

Swoop is decidedly not down this new hallway, Sludge decides eventually. But there's more places to see, so he'll keep walking. If the other hallway had interesting things, this one should too.

Snarl

Follow the burning, Sludge.

Sludge

Why follow the burning, when he can make his own burning?

Snarl

Follow the scent of scorched metal and mania.

Snarl

ALSO A GOOD OPTION.

Tarantulas

Spider does not have Netflix. Spider has a security system on his console that requires eight levels of clearance before anything actually happens. Want to give it a shot, Slag? It'll make tons of interesting colors and sounds.

Grimlock

How does something smell like nothing? Grimlock's vents huff as he tries to peer through the hole. His curiosity is torn now between this seemingly empty space that smells like nothing and the challenge that was the green glow in the distance.

Slag

Huh. Colors are happening. Maybe it's a game?

Slash

Slash will follow the burning.

Slag

He can probably figure out the button combo to make it do the thing. Keysmashing usually works back home. This is probably the same.

Sludge

He can sort of hear Swoop and Snarl burning things, though. Somewhere to the right. Does he want to backtrack? Not really. So he's going to go the Quicker Route and start spitting fire at the wall.

It'll have to give way eventually.

Snarl

Some of the doors are just opening and closing now. Weird.

Swoop

The problem with a hallway is that he can't full on circle and swoop in the air. He'll have to make do with brief strafing runs. Snarl gets well and truly covered in fire, which is probably a nice bonus to all the activity. Toasty!

Snarl

Snarl, wreathed in flames, and fueled by destructive impulses is a fearsome thing to behold.

Actually that's a lie. He's looks confused

Why are the doors just opening like that now? Are they trying to get away from the burning?

'Cause, Ha. Like that'll happen.

More fire.

Tarantulas

Definitely not the same, Slag. This one eventually blacks out completely after too much keysmashing, since the chances of one Dinofoot following the pattern of eight Spiderpaws is slim to none.

Grimlock

Curiosity has given way to frustration. Guess what?

That wall's coming down if he has to break his knuckles doing it.

Swoop

Swoop thoughtlessly clips his own wing on a wall and eats quite a bit of floor before sliding to a stop. "KEHEHE!"

Snarl

Hmmmm.

Slash

OK one the doors almost closed on Slash's tail! NOT COOL!

Slash will just... Well slash at the controls of the door, maybe that will stop it from acting weird!

Slag

Oh. Broke it.

............

WHELP. Time to leave the scene of the crime. Last time he broke a console full of buttons he got buried alive so maybe he'll just wander off and have no idea who broke the thing.

Snarl

Snarl is gonna pick Swoop up, and toss him through one of the doors when they open.

He's aerodynamic. He'll make it.

Probably.

Swoop

Wheee! Off he goes! "KAHAH!"

Slag

C'mon Gong Fat let's find something to chew on.

Tarantulas

Knuckles needn't be broken - the wall comes down eventually, and Grimlock gets the opportunity to venture into a space that's completely open, aside from long metal supports stretching seemingly-randomly through the darkness. He can certainly hop onto one or another from the hole he's ripped in the wall.

Slash gets a small explosion for her efforts, but the door doesn't reopen.

Sludge

This was is taking too long to melt for Sludge's liking. Time to bash it headfirst. Good thing he still can't feel his face.

Grimlock

He does just that, pulling his blade out again to set it on fire. So he can see, you understand.

Slash

Good that will teach the door one!

Slash will then continue to follow the burning scent until she spots Snarl, "You Snarl set me Slash on fire. Get dumb blue goop off."

Tarantulas

Sludge succeeds! This wall is REALLY thick though, so it might take quite a bit of headbashing to make it through.

Sludge

He has more than enough headbashing to go around for this wall.

Tarantulas

The first thing Slag and Gong Fat chew on shocks their respective mouths hard enough to (hopefully) be a deterrent to chewing more.

Swoop

Swoop is either meeting more floor or going for an impromptu flight. Either way, he is down.

Slash

Ok new plan, start scratching all the blue goop off!

Slag

Ouch. Well it's definitely not a cabbage for shredding which is deterrent enough for Gong Fat.

Slag, however, is a bit miffed at the shocky stingy ouch in his mouth, and retaliates with a bolt of laser from the tips of his horns. SCREW YOU, SHOCKY THING.

Grimlock

So Grimlock can only remember having to do so much jumping one other time in his life. Somewhere in the Rockies. It sucked. This isn't much better.

But hey, everything echoes here and everyone always accused him of loving to hear his own voice. It's gonna roar into that void right now.

Snarl

Did it work though?

"You Swoop see things?"

Sludge

Persistent headbashing has led to a lot of ringing in his head, but if it opened the wall, then he will consider it worth it.

Tarantulas

Finally - finally. Tarantulas is ready to round up the Dinokids and show them around their new home. He can't wait. It's going to be fantastic.

...But they're not here in the foyer. And there are at least three paths of destruction in different directions, all of which sound like no one is up to any good. What in the WORLD is he going to do with these dangerous toddlers?

He's never had much reason to use it before, but he's ridiculously glad he installed the PA system now. Tarantulas's voice is unbelievably cheery as it echoes in every room of the Tor.

"I trust you're making yourselves at home!"

Snarl

!!!!

Sludge

!!!! Voices from the ceiling!

Snarl

LOUD YELLING AND IT'S NOT THEM, WHAT?

Slag

Head voices.

Head voices everywhere.

It's echoing.

His head isn't that empty. Shit's not supposed to echo.

Slash

Ok the halls are talking!

Slag

Where is that coming from???

Swoop

Swoop pushes himself up from the floor and looks at the PA. "SPIDERBOT!"

He cackles. ::Hi, Spiderbot.::

Snarl

Snarl yells to the void, "This not Dinocave. You dumb?"

Grimlock

Now the place is echoing back at him ! And it sounded like Spiderbot! Grimlock isn't a fan of hide and seek on the best days.

"WHERE YOU SPIDERBOT HIDING! COME FACE ME GRIMLOCK!"

Slag

Slag is just gonna skeedaddle further away from the scene of his crime. He didn't do it. You can't prove shit, echoing head voice. "Me Slag not at home. Me Slag here "

Snarl

It's a complete accident how correct his sentence is "This is a TOR."

Sludge

Sludge looks up, trying to find the source of the new voice. Spiderbot?

Slash

"THIS PLACE DUMB!!" Slash snarls. Ok she’s going to do some Climbing now.

It’s time to find a way out of this dumb place.

---

(tl;dr - the Dinobots tear up the Tor and Tarantulas adores them during every second of it, until he’s somehow forced to give the destructive children back to their proper guardians.)

#medicalmurdersaurus #kingasaurusrex #surlysaurus #slvdge #tomatofaceasaurus #elitetracker #(( spongebob meme TWO YEARS LATER

[eridanidreams]

ODYSSEUS GAMBIT CHAPTER ONE

PRAGUE: MARCH 2029

Sloane crouched behind a decorative spire on the Týn church tower and silently cursed the people responsible for this little soiree. Far below, the State Police were in a frenzy. Armored figures pulled the last few unfortunate bastards out of the vault where they’d been hidden, while police drones swept the area, making sure they hadn’t missed any stragglers.

She’d arrived at the rendezvous point bare minutes ahead of a State Police raid, and the carefully planned extraction operation that had been intended to take several hours had turned into a desperate rescue where every second counted. She’d at least managed to get the families with children out of the immediate area; she figured about half of the remaining people—the ones that weren’t crippled by Neuropozyne withdrawal—would scatter and disappear, and the rest… the rest she couldn’t help. Grimly, she set the thought aside. You can’t help anyone if you get yourself captured, idiot!

She leaned out carefully to take another look around. The police were mostly concentrated in the open area of the square, between the church and the Jan Hus monument. Her best bet was probably to circle northeast, over the rooftops—the low whine of an approaching drone sliced through her concentration. There was no time to duck back into cover; all she could do was trigger her thermoptic cloak, remain absolutely silent, and hope that the drone got bored before she ran out of bioenergy.

It buzzed around the tower once, twice—she held her breath as it came within an inch of her face—and was gone again. Too close, she thought, and let the cloak drop. It was time to rethink her exit strategy. Better to exploit the inattention of a human patroller than to risk the motion detectors of the drones. Crouching behind every obstacle she could, she threaded her way between the spires to the back of the church’s façade. The church was undergoing renovations, and she should be able to use the construction scaffolding to make a discreet descent. Her only alternative was to simply drop into an empty stretch of street. Which was a perfectly viable option, if she wanted to draw the attention of every cop and drone in a three-block radius when the Icarus triggered. No, she was going to have to take this one slowly and silently, if she didn’t want a one-way, all-expenses-paid trip to Golem City.

With a quick, economical move Sloane flipped over the railing, caught herself on the other side, and quietly lowered herself to the roof below. In the shadow of the tower wall, she spared a moment to study the icons on her radar. Six—seven!—drones circled the church. It didn’t look like they were paying consistent attention to the rooftops, but their very inconsistency made it difficult to completely avoid them. By the time she unraveled the pattern to reveal a gap in their coverage, she was itching to move.

The ever-present mist off the Vltava left beads of condensation on the orange tiles beneath Sloane's feet, making them almost as dangerous as ice. The seconds spun out, agonizingly slow, as the drones swept through their patrols and she waited for her window to move. When it came, she scrambled across in a fast crouch, keeping her head below the peak of the roof. Her foot skidded on a dark patch, and she had a bare second to realize she’d hit black ice before landing heavily on one carbon-and-metal knee. Ceramic tiles shattered; shards clattered in all directions. Shit—! The closest drones razored toward the noise; she threw herself behind a heating vent to avoid one, half-rolled, half-flipped to the other side of the roof, and let the slick surface work in her favor as she slid down the incline to land on the scaffold with a thump that she fervently hoped wasn’t loud enough to draw more attention. She ducked beneath a nearby tarp and folded herself into a barely big-enough cavity just as the spotlights played over her position. And thank fuck that the PCR is too cheap to get the FLIR upgrade.

A wild exhilaration filled Sloane—she hadn’t felt this alive since the day she’d been blown out of the sky. It buoyed her through the interminable-seeming wait for the drones to return to their usual patrols. It carried her through the deadly business of dodging the street patrols, dashing from shadow to shadow, taking cover behind cars and dumpsters and in secluded courtyards, before finally reaching an entrance into the storm sewers, where even police drones rarely ventured.

She ended up in the Red Light District, in one of the few bars that still served augs; the décor was cheap and the booze was cheaper. By then, the adrenaline high was long gone, its ashes curdled in her gut, and the truly wretched scotch was all burn and no heat, not set against the chill of defeat.

Sloane sipped at it anyway, staring blindly into the middle distance, lost in her thoughts—just another soul drowning their troubles in the bottle. Or so it should appear; from the outside, no one could tell that she was reviewing the stored footage of the evening’s events from her visual buffers, making note of details she’d seen but not consciously noticed at the time.

At length, she leaned back in her chair and tossed back the dregs of her drink. They weren’t as bitter as the conclusion she’d reached. The whole affair had been a setup; the Staties had known exactly where to look. They’d even caught a few of the ARC muscleheads that hadn’t moved fast enough. The only reason she’d escaped was that she’d moved quickly and decisively when things started to go pear-shaped.

The bartender was glaring at her empty glass; she couldn’t stomach another shot of that scotch, so she ordered a cider instead. Okay, next question. Did I get out clean? On sober reflection, she thought she had. She’d been a freelancer, brought in at the last minute, and—she blinked away the image of her contact laying face-down in his own spreading blood—the only one that had seen her face was now dead. She’d left the battered, shapeless jacket next to a homeless man who looked like he needed it, and the balaclava had met its end in a trash fire, taking any DNA evidence with it.

So much for ARC. Sloane wasn’t the kind of person to simply sit by and do nothing while people suffered, but she was also realistic enough to realize that there was only so much someone could do on their own. Rucker had had a good reputation before the Incident, and his organization could have used a person of her skillset. But tonight’s fiasco had made it clear that ARC was either penetrated six ways from Sunday, or it was undergoing some sort of nasty power struggle; neither bode well for its long-term future. She had too much sense to get caught in the blast radius.

Last call cut short her introspection. She pulled a few credit chits out of a pathetically small stack and left them on the table, then set about to lose herself in the crowds heading home.

ΔX

The sun was well on its way up by the time Sloane made it to Capek Fountain Station. She allowed the guard’s bile to fall on the expressionless mask she’d learned at the dinner table and perfected beneath the hot Georgia sun. When he got bored with her nonresponse, he waved her on, and she shouldered her way more-or-less politely up the stairs to emerge into the watery sunlight.

She had to take the long way around; her usual entrance was blocked by a moving truck, and when she reached the courtyard, a couple burly men carrying furniture and boxes up the stairs, all the way up to the apartment above hers. Huh; didn’t think they’d ever find someone that could afford it. The stairs were jammed with residents dodging movers and movers trying to find a clear path. Sloane wasn’t inclined to join the crush; she free-climbed the wall instead. She’d done it enough before that her hands and feet knew exactly where to go, and it was faster than the stairs on a good day.

The brief exertion gave her a second wind, and she burst through the front door with something like her usual speed. “Coffee and shower, EDI,” she said, before the smart home could welcome her, “and if we have anything on my first appointment, send it to my infolink.” The door was barely closed behind her before she was shedding clothes. She’d pick them up later; right now, she needed a shower.

Sloane was toweling dry her hair when an anguished cry tore through the air; she was out the door, trauma bag in hand, before she consciously recognized what she was reacting to. She paused at the railing just long enough to find the source: a well-dressed woman near the fountain, child trembling in her arms. “Odstěhovat se!” Out of the way! She hopped the railing and dropped into the clear space below. A crackle and thump behind her echoed her landing, but she dismissed the sound in favor of getting to her patient.

The woman started babbling, in accented but understandable English, as soon as Sloane was in hearing range. “Please, you’re the doctor? I’m Marya, I had an appointment for Sofia…”

Sloane nodded, sharply. “Yeah. What happened here? She just needed routine vaccinations, right?”

Marya’s voice was breathless with fear. “She had such a strange expression on her face, and then she—she spasmed, and started to twitch, and... can you help her?”

Sloane was already checking the girl—Sofia—over. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “Send to file,” she muttered into her infolink, “subject is a four-year-old white female, approximately four years of age, height”—she made a quick estimate— “34 inches. BP 75 over 45, pulse 168, experiencing tonic-clonic seizure.” She reached out to take Sofia, one of her hands spidering open to better support the child’s head. “Weight—36 pounds,” she added, as she looked for someplace to safely lay her down.

“Here,” came a rough voice behind her. She turned, and saw the owner of the voice, a tall, dark-haired man, his sharp, bearded face accented by a set of bolted-on mirrorshades. He was on one knee, spreading one of the most expensive coats she’d ever seen on the ground like a blanket.

Sloane didn’t hesitate. “Thanks,” she muttered, and laid Sofia down on her side; he was already rolling the collar to support her neck. She shot him a quick look. “First-aid training?”

“BLS-equivalent,” he rumbled.

“Fantastic,” she breathed. “You just got promoted to assistant. What do I call you?”

She thought he glanced up at her, but it was damnably hard to tell under those shades. “Jensen,” he said.

“Sloane,” she replied. “Ok, Jensen, I need you to monitor her airway while I check for C-spine problems.” He nodded. She snapped her hand back into its normal configuration and made a quick but deft palpation of Sofia’s spine, followed by an enhanced visual sweep. (It was like an x-ray and an MRI in a single package, and if she’d had something like this during her Army days, it would have been a literal lifesaver.) She could see the bones of Sofia’s spine, each nestled nicely against the next, none twisted or cracked or malformed. “C-spine’s clear,” she murmured. “Temperature 99.7, that’s a little high, but kids can be variable.”

She gently checked Sofia’s abdomen and extremities, her mind rapidly running down differential diagnoses. Something’s not right here. She glanced back up at Marya to ask a question, and it suddenly hit her—Marya wasn’t augmented, and she clearly wasn’t used to being among the augmented, so she wasn’t a Překážka resident. So why did she bring her daughter to see me? She’s a genuine citizen. She’s got access to legitimate medical resources. The answer was obvious: Sofia was augmented. Probably secretly, and Marya didn’t want to risk having it discovered. She spun her vision back to enhanced mode (and that was something she still wasn’t quite used to, the feel of something spinning inside her eye) and examined Sofia’s head more closely—there were the thin, spidery outlines of neural connections. Put that together with fever, tachycardia and seizures…

She whipped her head toward Marya, letting her eyes relax to normal. “When was her last dose of Neuropozyne?” she snapped. Marya’s face drained of color, then she muttered something unintelligible and burst into sobs. Beside her, Jensen stiffened; the shades didn’t hide the angry set of his brows. She measured the correct dose and made the injection with the ease of long practice. Fortunately for the girl, Neuropozyne worked quickly; she watched with satisfaction as Sofia’s seizures eased and she fell into a true sleep.

Sloane stood, shoulders taut with anger, but Jensen beat her to the question. “Why didn’t she get her dose on schedule?” he asked, in a voice like an Afghanistan road. Marya’s response came as a fast spate of Czech. Jensen looked like he was having some trouble parsing it, so she provided a brief summary.

“Marya’s husband sold Sofia’s Neuropozyne, probably for a nice profit. He figured she could get by on Riezene, it’s a lot cheaper, only the supply dried up because it was tainted. He said he’d take care of it, went out of town on business and never did.” Sloane was quietly, transcendently, enraged. It was bad enough that people preyed on the augmented, but when it was a child… “And they call us monsters,” she breathed. Her eyes leveled on Marya’s like gun batteries on a target, and whatever Marya saw in Sloane’s face made her take a step back.

“I just—I thought one of you would have some to spare, especially for a child. I—I can pay…” Marya pulled out a credit chip with one well-manicured hand and held it about two inches from Sloane.

Sloane’s hand darted out, not to take the chip, but to wrap around Marya’s wrist in a carefully metered grip. “Look around you,” she snapped. “Look!” She gave Marya’s arm a short, sharp shake of emphasis. “Do these people look like they can spare anything? Or that they’d waste it on someone who only sees them when they become convenient?” Marya’s face showed only blank incomprehension. Sloane shook her head in disgust and released Marya, snatching the credit chip as she did. “You’re lucky that I’m not willing to let a little girl suffer for the cruelty of her parents. This,” she all but slapped the vial into Marya’s hand, “at Sofia’s weight, should last about two months with weekly injections. Don’t let your husband find it. You won’t get any more from me.” She bent to lift the sleeping girl into her arms and paused to pin Marya once again with her glare. “I wouldn’t wish Golem City on my worst enemy, much less a kid. That’s the only reason I’m not reporting you to Child Welfare.” With that, she gently returned Sofia to her mother.

Marya fled, her daughter clutched in her arms. Sloane sank down on the edge of the fountain, rubbing her hand over her eyes. You can’t save everyone. She sighed heavily, then turned her attention to her erstwhile assistant. “Thanks,” she said, quietly. “Most people around here run away from screams.”

Jensen picked up his coat, brushing off the detritus; she took the opportunity to study him. Six foot one, 180 pounds, eye, arm, and neural augs. Probably more that I can’t see. Study quickly became appreciation—tall and lean, with an Apollonian physique, he had the taut poise of a dancer and the leashed energy of a raptor on the stoop, and the dark of his hair and hands were a vivid counterpoint to his pale skin. Get a grip and stop staring, she chided herself, and gestured at his coat before he noticed. “Hope it didn’t take any damage?”

He shook his head. “It’s fine.” He gave her a sidelong look, opaque behind the shields. “What you said—can you?” At her puzzled look, he elaborated. “Spare it—the Neuropozyne.”

Sloane chose her words carefully; it wasn’t wise to admit to having too much Neuropozyne in reserve, but people needed to know they could rely on her in an emergency. It was a delicate balance. “I’m okay. I can usually get my hands on a little extra for emergencies. Comes with the package; it’s almost impossible to get emergency services or a real doctor to help around here, so I do what I can. If you ever need it.”

“Ah. That’s—good to know,” he said, awkwardly. He looked in the direction of Marya’s retreat. “That sort of thing happen often?”

Sloane shook her head. “No, it’s usually pretty quiet. We’re close enough to the metro that the police presence keeps a lid on things. For good and ill.” She slid back to her feet, settling the trauma bag on her shoulder in a practiced motion, then offered her hand. “Sloane Delacourt.”

He hesitated a moment, then returned the handshake with a gold-filigreed grip as precisely metered as her own. The usual sizzle of two electromagnetic fields impinging on each other was little more than a pleasant tingle down her fingers, a sign that his augs were finely tuned and well-shielded. “Adam Jensen. I just got transferred here.” Sloane noted the vagueness of the answer, combined that with the unmistakably high-end tech and all the little subtleties of body language that screamed that he’d seen action, and figured him for corporate security, probably with the kind of NDA that involved ten-millimeter retirement. In Sloane’s experience, corporate security types weren’t known for their humanity—they were pretty much mercs on a payroll—and yet, he’d gotten involved, risked something precious to him for the sake of a child.

The dichotomy intrigued her enough that she gestured up to her apartment. “I’m in 33; since I know you’re heading in that direction anyway, can I offer you a cup of coffee? Fresh-ground.”

Jensen stared at her for a moment, then seemed to withdraw into himself. “Some other time, maybe.”

Sloane didn’t take it personally. “Sure thing.” She gave him a grave nod. “See you around.” This time she took the stairs; she had a long day ahead of her.

#deus ex mankind divided #odysseus gambit #adam jensen #my fanfic #original character

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

In Chains (Chapter Nine) Common Ground (Trafalgar Law)

A faint noise tore Law from his research. He sat down the map of the New World and puckered a brow in uncertainty. Was someone singing? Perhaps he was tired. The moment he got back to his room, he pulled a map and began plotting the next phase of his plan. The first was not nearly complete, but he’d given no thought to it; not since Samira came into his life.

She was a distraction – that was for sure – taking his mind off his past and his scheme to take down Kaido of the Four Emperors. No … the crew had no idea about this, but he was going to tell them. Right now was not the time, because Samira was in the way. Her power was unreal; he wanted to employ her help, but he wasn’t certain how she’d benefit him once he collected the hearts he needed to sway the Marines.

Her demons were becoming more of an issue as of late.

Put her from your mind, he thought. His head pounded; he need to rest his eyes. Later he’d figure out her purpose.

Law squeezed the bridge of his nose to relieve the pain and stumbled over to his bed. As he sat down, he heard the noise again. Someone was really singing aboard his sub. He stood, bringing his sword as he tracked the noise to the deck. It was late, he noted. Samira and Ikkaku were at the festival, and the voice clearly belonged to that of a female. His guard rose as he crept out into the moonlight.  

Resting against the handrail was a woman he had never seen before, singing to the heavens as she faced the calm dark sea. Her voice was ethereal; the voice of a song bird.

“Care to tell me what you are doing aboard my sub? And who you are?”

She chirped a laugh and turned to face him. “Shame you don’t like music, Trafalgar Law. I know many songs.”

“You know me, but I have no idea who you are,” Law mentioned. He drew his sword as a warning; he was in no mood to play games.

The woman cooed and went into a curtsy. “Pardon me. I’m called Daryllyn; I came to chat with you about something.”

“You caught me at a bad time,” he mentioned. His sword remained drawn on her.

Daryllyn frowned. “You will want to hear this; believe me.”

“Make it quick,” Law retorted.

She pouted and leaned back against the railing. “Samira is in danger. There is someone other than Arsenio who is after her; someone who wants her dead.”

“And you know how?”

“Because she and I belong to the same crew,” Daryllyn answered. “However, our goals are much different.”

Law understood; he grunted in annoyance. “Samira. You’re another nightmare from her past.”

He paused to snort. “It would be less stress on me at this point to just let you take her.”

“In due time, however that depends on whether she lives or not. The fruit she stole is a high-priced item in the Underworld, and it took my master a long time to acquire it. Understand that if she dies, the fruit will not emerge for another two years, and I can’t take that risk; Master would be taken from me,” she explained.

Tears blurred her sight. The thought alone tore her apart; she couldn’t bare losing him. A sob tore from her mouth.

This woman made Law feel uneasy. She was obviously devoted to her boss, but a bit too obsessed in his opinion.

“Why not step in? Stop the person who’s trying to kill Amunet-ya.”

Daryllyn snarled at him and clutched her hands into a fist. “Because we have rules. I can’t interfere.”

“And you assume I care?”

Her eyes grew wide in doubt. Would he really allow Samira to die? Did he not value her as a crewmate? She got an idea, and dug through her rucksack, taking out a familiar item she knew would benefit him well.

An Eternal Pose?

Law stood in shock. How desperate was she?

“Take this as payment; it will lead you to the Isle where Samira is from.”

He snorted to cover his surprise. “I’m aware that the Isle resides inside the Red Line. I don’t need an Eternal Pose to get there.”

“I can provide you with information; whatever you want to know, like how to defeat Daiane.”

Law was unsure he could trust her, but she seemed desperate to save her boss. But from who?

“Answer every question I have,” he ordered.

Was it too late though?

--

Samira retreated as far as she could from the crowd, down a back street that wasn’t nearly as vacant as she had hoped; there were too many people to worry about. Shouting for them to evacuate the area, she wasn’t too annoyed that none of them listened. She was looked at like an idiot – perhaps they assumed she was drunk, and as a precaution she kept her Devil Fruit in check. Samira was horrified; she wasn’t certain where Daiane was or when she’d go in for the kill.

Rounding the corner onto the next strip, she noticed the street was barricaded at each end by a set of wooden sawhorses. She let out a long sigh and came to a halt – no one was around – but her relief was cut short as something took hold of her and yanked her off her feet. Samira hit the ground with a loud oomph, coughing as the air was knocked from her.

“Where are you going? There’s no place on this island you can hide from me.”

Samira wheezed and sat on her knees. “I’m not running. I was taking us somewhere private.”

She glanced around, but she couldn’t locate her. Where was she hiding? Her voice seemed to resonate from the houses, even when she laughed.

“You’re too cute,” Daiane cooed. “But that won’t save you.”

Again, Samira was yanked back. Her body spun and slammed into the ground; she cried in pain, landing on her casted arm. The hell was going on? How was Daiane able to touch her without being nearby? Did it have something to do with her Devil Fruit powers? She forced herself up and onto her feet. Something needed to be done; Samira wasn’t capable of taking on an opponent she couldn’t see. But how would she get her to come out?

An idea came to her.

“This is personal, isn’t it? That power hungry boss of yours would never let you kill me,” Samira panted.

Daiane snorted. “That much is obvious. He’d kill us, but I hardly care anymore. You took something from me; something he refused to let me take back.”

Her eye? She had both of them the last time Samira saw her; the day she escaped. Had she somehow injured her in the explosion? Her power went out of control that day, but she wasn’t aware anyone had been hurt. An overexcited laugh burst from her mouth, forcing her to cough.

“The hell is so funny?”

Samira wiped the tears from her eyes. “Are you serious? You’re mad because I unintentionally blinded you. I had no idea I even hurt you; it’s just so ironic … I mean you cause pain but can’t take it.”

She paused to stifle a pained cough; her side hurt so bad. “Want my honest opinion, sweetheart? It’s unprofessional to seek revenge over something you brought onto yourself.”

“Little brat,” Daiane hissed.

A sudden force sent Samira crashing through the wall of one of the homes near her. Before she could take a breath, she was yanked from the rubble and slammed into the ground outside. Her vision went black for a moment, but she forced herself to stay awake as the force lifted her into the air; her body rotated as something covered her, securing her arms to her sides.

“It’s unwise to rile me up,” Daiane sighed.

She was closer now; close enough to reach out and grab Samira by the hair.

“Look at me.”

Easing open her tired eyes, Samira noticed that she was inverted. Her brain pulsed in her head as she struggled to straighten her neck and see what had her bound.

Daiane snorted. “Let me paint you a picture since you’re having such a hard time concentrating.”

“Obviously,” Samira said with a laugh.

She groaned in pain as Daiane yanked her hair, forcing back her head.

“Listen – brats are so ungrateful these days. We barely got the time to chat during our sessions back then; to get to know one another. I never got to show to you the extent of my powers … it’s obvious now to me that you didn’t know I even had them.”

Samira hummed. “Unfortunately, no … a Zoan type, I assume; insect model.”

“Arachnid, in fact. I ate the Spider-Spider fruit; Black Widow model,” she clarified with pride. “And I have you in my web, suspended above the ground.”

She hummed again. What was she to do? To an insect, a spider’s web meant game over. It was hopeless; she’d never escape. She was faint; too drained to draw on her own power to assist her. Tears ran up into her bangs.

“Take it then. You want an eye for an eye … take it.”

Samira glared at her. A spider leg extended over the woman’s shoulder and got into position above her eye.

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it? You tried so hard, and for what?”

She had a point. What did Samira hope to achieve? She tried to save her homeland and the people turned on her; she tried to live a free life and now she was going to die.

Shachi and the others came to mind. She’d miss them.

“I made friends … for a short time I was hopeful.”

Daiane curled up her nose. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

She went to strike at Samira, but a sudden and familiar tune interrupted her. Her mouth twisted into a snarl; insolate brat.

Before she could react, someone shouted at her. Daiane glanced towards the voice, but was blindsided. A burst of color hit her in the face.

Samira coughed. What just happened? The netting around her came undone and she plunged towards the ground with a shriek. A familiar blue dome encircled her, however and before she landed, she was transported into someone’s arms.

“Shachi, get ready.”

She recognized the voice. Shaking off the unsteadiness from the fall, Samira glanced up at Law. He came for her. She choked back tears.

“Law––

He interrupted her. “Later … this isn’t over.”

She turned her attention back towards Daiane just as the powder dispersed. True to her word, she had been caught in a giant web; the vibrant colors from the festival exposed them, stretched from one home to the next. Said woman was perched on a thread using her extra legs to keep herself from falling onto the sticky webbing.

A snarl of annoyance tore from her mouth as she noticed Samira had been saved. Her anger was directed towards Law, however.

“It makes me sick to see someone as notorious as you taking sides with a traitor. Did she tell you about me? About my weaknesses?”

Law grinned. “She may have; hard to say what we agreed on.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” Daiane barked. “You wasted your chance. My eye won’t be used against me again.”

He disagreed with a shake of his head. “Don’t be so sure.”

“The nerve––

She was interrupted by a strange yet familiar smell. Was something on fire? Glancing towards the house on her blind side, Daiane noticed someone on the rooftop had ignited her netting using the powder as an accelerant. The flames consumed them so fast Daiane barely escaped in time. She leapt onto the opposite rooftop with a shriek and snarled at Law; he was much smarter than she gave credit to.

“Did that catch you off guard?”

Her face heated up. “Don’t mock me.”

She had no lead over him; no idea how she’d take him down, and worst of all, he was not terrified. The Boss’s pet had done her wrong. And for no reason at all. Daiane wanted to know why; she needed to find Daryllyn and ask her – wherever the brat had gone.

“We’re not done, pirate … far from it.”

Law grunted in annoyance. Before he could stop her, Daiane escaped.

“Captain,” Shachi shouted, taking a fire escape down the rooftop. “She went towards the square.”

Law hummed. “Let her go. She won’t come back until she knows more about us.”

“Yeah … but––

There isn’t a lot we know about her and Samira isn’t going to be any help in her condition, he decided not to mention. Law was right; it was best to let the spider woman go for now. He sighed deeply and looked over Samira. She was in bad shape, hanging onto Law, panting with each breath. How did this come to pass? Had he been with her, none of this would have happened.

“I can take her, if you want?”

Law shook his head. “She needs medical care, so I’ll take her. We need to leave this island before the Marines are called.”

“Where to? The Log Pose doesn’t reset until sometime tomorrow,” Shachi mentioned.

He frowned, recalling the information the desperate woman reveled to him. “We set sail tonight, for the Red Line. Gather the crew and once I see to Amunet-ya, I’ll update them about my new plan.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Samira and he had more in common than either realized.

#one piece #trafalgar law x oc #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar one piece

[optimizche]

Angelic: Sire and Seraphia (Park Chanyeol/Reader)

Her

“Ohh my god, Lu,” I groaned around a mouthful of blueberry pancake. “These are delicious!”

Sitting in front of me, nursing a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, Luhan beamed at me with pride. “I’m glad you liked them, princess.”

“‘Like’ is an understatement, Lu,” I said, ravenously forking some more of the syrupy, buttery pancake into my mouth. It melted on my tongue and I let out another groan, shutting my eyes in pure bliss. “These are divine.”

“Hey!” came Baekhyun’s indignant exclamation. “I made them, too, you know? I need some credit, okay?”

I smiled at my brother who was standing at the stove, flipping more pancakes on the skillet. “Of course, Baekkie. You’re a culinary genius!”

He blushed at my praise, waving his hand dramatically as if to say oh stop it.

I laughed.

Beside me, Yixing was watching us with a fond smile on his face, drinking a cup of coffee. He always took his coffee with a splash of cream and two sugars.

Underneath the table, his free hand rested upon my bare thigh. Fingers playing with the hem of my silk shorts.

His touch on my skin felt like a blanket of comfort, a direct result of his innate healing abilities.

Just being around Yixing made me feel at ease, his touches ameliorating any distress or disquetude within me. He was like a walking, talking safety net for me and in his vicinity, I felt calm.

The calm and comfort that Yixing’s presence brought me was rivalled only by the serenity and tranquility that I had always felt around Junmyeon.

I wanted to lean into Yixing, crawl into his lap and dissolve into his embrace. Maybe take a nap, even. But we had to be discreet around the rest of my brothers.

Instead, I placed my hand on top of his, threading my fingers into his. He gave my hand a squeeze.

“You’re working at Seraphia with Minseok and me today, aren’t you, love?” Luhan asked, pulling me out of the quiet moment Yixing and I were having.

I turned to him with a smile. “Yep.”

Seraphia was a cosy neighbourhood cafe that Luhan, Minseok and Baekhyun had started. And the establishment was quite popular among humans, having garnered numerous loyal patrons over the years.

Lu smiled back at me, while Baekhyun began to animatedly talk about all the pastries he was going to teach me to bake.

Just as he was explaining the intricacies of making the perfect blueberry compote, Minseok walked into the room, Jongdae on his heels, both wearing identical grins on their faces.

“What’s gotten you both so chuffed?” Lu asked, quirking a brow at them.

“Junmyeon is coming,” they both announced together.

I stayed frozen firmly in my chair, silent, while the rest of my brothers erupted into cheers. Yixing beside me remained silent as well, giving me a look.

The message in his glance was clear: we both were going to have to be deathly careful around Junmyeon.

Being the oldest among us, it wasn’t going to be easy to make him believe that everything was fine and dandy. Junmyeon could sense an impending peril within a second. He could read through us all.

And the consequences of him finding out what Yixing and I were truly up to… I didn’t even want to imagine them.

It was Minseok’s voice that drew me out of my own thoughts.

“Aren’t you happy that Jun is coming back, ___________?” he asked, regarding me with an air of expectation. And suspicion. “He said he was missing you the most.”

I felt a shard of guilt stab at my heart. Beneath the table, Yixing gave my hand another squeeze, sensing it immediately.

Mustering up the most radiant, shining smile that I could manage, I said, “Of course I’m happy, Min. I’m just… a little anxious about working Seraphia. I’m still a novice, after all!”

Minseok waved a hand dismissively in the air, shrugging off my worries with a grin of his own. “Don’t worry, princess, you’ll be great.”

“Did Junmyeon say when he was going to arrive?” Yixing asked.

“He didn’t say when,” Jongdae mused over a bite of pancake. “He just said ‘soon.’”

I gave Yixing a glance once again.

We had little time to prepare and rehearse our lies, then.

“Will you be coming to Seraphia, Yixing?” I asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

“I will try, love,” he replied, looking apologetic. “I have some commitments at the studio to complete.”

Yixing worked as a music composer, while Jongdae was the lead vocalist at a studio that the two of them ran nearby.

And as crestfallen as I was that I wasn’t going to be able to be around Yixing until tonight, I managed to smile at him.

God, life could be tough around here on Earth.

_________________

The sweet aroma of Luhan’s baked goods on display was making my head spin, the scent of Minseok’s strongly brewed coffee becoming the perfect accompaniment to it.

Even as I stood at one of the empty tables, scrubbing down the tabletop as best as I could, I couldn’t help but think if Luhan would allow me to sneak out one of his chocolate eclairs during lunch break.

He knew that I had an insatiable sweet tooth.

Which is why, when I caught his eye as he stood behind the counter, he gave me a wink. He knew.

If you work well, princess, I’ll let you have as many pastries as you like, was the implied bribe behind his wink.

I grinned at him, walking over to him as he beckoned me to the counter with a curve of his finger.

Tightening up my ponytail, I approached him. “Yes, Lu?”

“Princess, you’ll have to man the coffee bar, since Min has to leave early today,” he said.

“Leave early? Why?” I asked, my brow furrowing with instant anxiety.

It was only my third day of work at Seraphia and until now I had only helped with Luhan and Baekhyun with all the bakery products.

I had zero experience at brewing coffee. Especially nowhere as good as Minseok did.

“He has some official business to attend to with Baek and Jong,” he said, a significant look in his eyes.

Realization dawned on my face immediately. Father had asked them to do something for him.

“Fine,” I said, shrugging. “I’ll do it. But you need to teach me the basics, Lu.”

“No worries, princess,” he said, beaming, before pressing a grateful kiss to my cheek. “You’re a quick learner.”

___________________

The lunch time rush hour had passed smoothly and I had hardly any problem with fulfilling all our customers and their caffeine cravings.

Everything had been going well.

I was silently eyeing the array of chocolate eclairs on display, which were practically begging me to devour them. My stomach growled painfully.

“Ugh,” I groaned, glancing at the clock. “Where are you, Lu?” I muttered, wanting Luhan to return from his lunch break as quickly as he could, so that I could go for mine.

“Excuse me?” came an impossibly deep voice, jolting me harshly out of my eclair filled fantasies.

I looked up from the display case to the man standing on the other side of the counter.

Red.

That was the first word that came to my mind as I took in his lush, spun-crimson hair. He was practically a giant, easily a head taller than me, dressed in a pitch black suit. By his attire, I would’ve thought him to be a businessman. But for some reason, this man in front of me didn’t exactly seem to be a businessman.

Unable to help itself, my heart gave a stutter when my gaze fell from his hair to his face. High cheekbones, full lips and deep-set, dark eyes, he was the textbook definition of devilishly handsome.

“Excuse me?” he repeated, voice dropping an octave and his rosy lips turning into a smirk, now that he had noticed my blatant staring.

“Y-yes, sir?” I squeaked, inwardly cursing myself for sounding so much like a breathless schoolgirl.

“How c-can I help you?”

He grinned openly.

My heart skipped another beat.

“I’d like four shots of espresso, please,” he spoke.

I stared at him, the cogs in my brain turning. His voice sounded so familiar, yet so foreign. Something I knew, but couldn’t put my finger on, just yet.

“Of course, sir,” I said, trying to muster up my composure. Trying to hold my own in front of this obviously very intimidating man. “Anything else?”

He pointed at the display case with a long, elegant finger. “What would you recommend from these?” he asked of the baked goods.

“T-the chocolate eclairs,” I said. They were my own favourites, after all.

He smiled. “Perfect. I’ll have two of those, please.”

“Certainly,” I said, turning to the till to enter his order into the system. “Who should I make the order out to? And will you have it here, or to-go?”

“Chaniel,” he said simply. “I’ll have it to-go.”

My eyes immediately grew wide, the hair on the back of my neck prickling in a completely instinctive reaction that my mind couldn’t understand just yet. “Ch-Chaniel?”

“Yes,” he said, grin growing wider, as if he were enjoying an inside joke. “C-H-A-N-I-E-L,” he spelled it out for me, while I scrawled out his name on a styrofoam cup with a rather shaky hand.

“Please wait right here,” I said, turning away from this man who was making me suddenly feel a whole array of emotions that I couldn’t quite process just yet.

It didn’t help that I could feel the burn of his gaze upon my back, following me behind the counter as I prepared his coffee and packed up his eclairs with fumbling hands.

I had not reacted in such a way to any of the previous customers I had tended to in the past few days.

Why was I behaving in such a flustered way around him?

Discreetly, I turned around to sneak another look at him. He was looking at the pastries in the display case, hands in his pockets. A small smile playing on his lips.

God.

What was wrong with me?

Finishing up his order, I approached the counter, to hand it over to him.

He took the coffee and the bag of eclairs. But instead of leaving, like I had expected that he would, he reached into the bag and pulled out an eclair, holding it up to me.

“Is something wrong, sir?” I asked.

He smiled, almost radiantly, pressing the pastry into my hands. “I bought this one for you,” he said and promptly turned on his heel to leave.

Before I could ask him to stop, or say anything, for that matter, he was gone.

Leaving my hands searing with a pleasant heat where his skin had touched mine. And my heart buzzing wildly like a honey-bee with an inexplicable reason.

And then it happened.

The heat from where our hands had touched, for barely a moment, began to spread its way all over. I could feel it crawl up my wrists, up my arms, to my neck, down my torso and legs. And all the way up to my head.

My breaths began to come in heavier than usual and my trembling hands suddenly let go of the eclair I was holding. In slow motion, I saw the pastry fall onto the floor, and the realization came to me.

It was him.

Him.

The man who had kissed me that night.

Satan’s child.

Between heaving gasps, I leaned against the glass counter, heat flooding through my body like an inferno. So strong that I felt my knees buckle and give out from under me.

But before I fell to my knees on the floor, a pair of arms caught me.

“Princess! Are you alright?”

Luhan’s face came swimming into view through my blurring vision and I staggered, pushing him away violently.

“Y-Yixing…” I breathed out, trying my best to restrain myself, despite the excruciating heat that had now settled deep within my core. “I need Yixing…”

And with that, I turned on my heel and ran out of the cafe.

_______________

Him

The taste of the eclair remained sweet upon Chanyeol’s tongue, a smile firm upon his lips as walked back into his home.

There was a spring in his step, all from the joy to the next phase of his plan coming to fruition, as he hummed a pleasant, sprightly tune, walking through the expansive courtyard.

He could see all of his brothers’ multi-million dollar worth luxury cars parked in the driveway.

Good, they’re all home.

“Boys!” Chanyeol yelled out, as soon as he flung open the front door. “I’m home!”

Silence.

His ears were met with a deafening silence, a stark contrast to the usual ruckus his brothers created whenever they were all home, making an irate Kyungsoo the one to implore them to just keep it down.

Almost immediately, Chanyeol knew that something was up. And his suspicion came true when a very distinctly familiar voice called out to him in a musical lilt.

“In here, son!”

His stomach dropped, nerves growing tenfold at the sound of that voice. He was hoping that he was hallucinating. Or that it was one of Sehun’s playful pranks.

But all his hopes came crashing down when he turned the corner and walked into the dining room.

All of his brothers were seated along the sides of the long dining table, their backs straight, expressions tense and their hands resting clasped together upon the edge of the table.

And at the head of the table, sitting at the seat that was reserved for Chanyeol, was him.

The one man Chanyeol feared more than life itself. The one man Chanyeol had been hoping to avoid for quite a few centuries.

He hadn’t changed in the slightest, Chanyeol thought as he watched him sip a deep red wine from a crystal goblet, clutched between elegant fingers. If anything, he looked younger than before. No one could have guessed that this man, if you could only call him that, had been around since the creation of the universe itself.

He glowed, pale gold and unblemished skin, impossibly high cheekbones, rosy lips and a pointed chin. An array of earrings adorning one ear. Devastatingly handsome, what with his raven hair flopping artfully over the right side of his forehead. He was dressed in his usual, all black suit. Chanyeol had never seen him wear another colour in his life.

“Is this the way to greet your sire?” he spoke, the playfulness in his voice edged with a tinge of irritation.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Chanyeol said, hurrying over to where he sat, falling to his knees before him, bowing his head.

He chuckled quietly, setting the goblet aside to grasp Chanyeol by his shoulders, making him rise to his feet as he stood as well, before he pulled him into his arms in a hug so constricting that it made him wince.

“Do I look old enough to be called Dad?” he asked. “You know what to call me, son.”

Even though he was taller than his father, Chanyeol was nowhere even close to his level of strength. And as he hugged him, Chanyeol glanced at the tattoo etched on the nape of his father’s neck: an Angel falling from Heaven, with its wings spread wide.

The irony made Chanyeol’s stomach twist every time he saw the tattoo. An Angel etched on the back of Satan’s neck?

A sickening taunt.

And the gravity of it hit Chanyeol even more strongly now, as his thoughts went directly to his own angel.

Bile rose up his throat and dread rose in his heart.

Pulling away once his father released him from the embrace, Chanyeol looked at his smirking face.

“It is good to see you, Jiyong.”

#smut #park chanyeol x reader smut #park chanyeol x reader #park chanyeol #chanyeol x you #exo #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol smut #kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #noonanet #exo chanyeol #chanyeol au #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol scenario #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fanfiction #exo au

[hyperionswrath--archived]

@onepartbrave

Finding the formidable blond completing such a frivolous task—sewing of all things—was… off-putting. Too domesticated. Nothing he ever imagined Seifer partaking in. It seemed only adrenaline pumping activities were suited to the Glaive; heart-stopping, mind-blowing missions. On the flip side… there was a lot he didn’t know about his former rival, daily habits included. Certainly, they shared a dormitory block way back when and attended the same classes, participated in duplicated menial tasks for wannabe SeeDs, but he’d never really sat down with the guy and examined him. Off the battlefield, at least. When on, in the past he felt they flowed well, could counteract when the other took a misstep, and would otherwise had been a nigh-on unstoppable team. ��

After all, Seifer had been the one to truly prepare Squall for the bastardised place the world outside of Garden’s walls was.  

When he was not immediately dismissed, a slither of tension he’d been carrying around all day finally floated away. A strange feeling, he’d admit. Normally, the man was the one to bestow the rigidity in his shoulders, not take it away. Be that as it may, the last twenty-four hours proved everything what he thought of ‘normal’ no longer applied.  

Nodding in acceptance of Seifer’s request—polite and otherwise pleasant—Squall followed the man’s gesture and settled himself on the vacant spot. Observing the blond’s finer skills for a few heartbeats further, he only turned away when the topic of conversation swapped to him. Embarrassment flooded him at a rapid pace, still sore in both body and mind about that ghastly fact. Not one of his best moments at all. A half-hearted shrug came from the aforementioned shoulder, displaying it functioned as it should, all thanks to the Glaive he was sitting next to. Sincerely, he had the motivation to grudgingly admit… without Seifer’s interference yesterday, he would’ve ended up in a far worse state than paying for simple repairs.  

Silence ensued between them, excluding the general babble of the headquarters. Another peculiarity given his chosen company. Having been expecting a taunt or provoking tease somewhere along the line, he was pleasantly surprised by the amicable hush. It gave him the opportunity to explore his surroundings in greater depth. Allegedly, the Glaive HQ was as modern yet classy as the rest of the city. Squall’s work placement was high-tech and not at all lagging in an impressive appearance, but there was something more comforting about the building. Something welcoming. Maybe that’s how Seifer was able to settle here so easily?

Scrubbing away useless questions he’d never voice aloud, he inched back more on the seat and adjusted his position for additional comfort. Idly pulling out his phone from his jeans pocket, having forgone a jacket today due to the warmer afternoon, he tapped once on the screen. It backlit and flared to life, informing him instantly of the time, place and weather conditions. Evening was under way and he was grateful; he and Seifer could traverse to the proposed bar and he could drown his woes of the day in strong alcohol. Expense was never a problem either and he swore internally to behave himself, part of making amends for last night.  

Tugging down the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt that rode up when he fished for his phone, he busied himself while the other complete his task. Efficient as ever, Squall wasn’t waiting for long but was jolted out of a stupor by the abrupt cursing. Head snapping in Seifer’s direction, alert eyes started scanning for injuries automatically. Noting the stare at the needle, he pieced two and two together. Cautious as ever, huh? The thought bloomed to life from a bubble of amusement at the blond’s misfortune. So much that a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the alertness in his eyes vanishing for mirth to manifest instead. Idiot.

Interest sparking when he saw the needle and thread fade from existence like the dagger last night, Squall almost missed the question thrown his way. Gaze drifting from where the sewing items had been to jade-greens, his expression fell from amused to an exceptionally flat countenance. “I scorched a bar. Local law enforcement required my presence. The Glaives are the local law enforcement.” Kinda. “Thus, I’m here.”  

Not where he wanted to be, sure, but whatever. Changing the ‘duh’ look for something a little less inciting, he turned off his phone before sneaking it back into a pocket, leaving his arms free to cross loosely over his chest. Taking the rare opportunity of a still Seifer to properly look at the man from his past, Squall was perturbed to find more differences than similarities. Sure, externally, Seifer’s appearance hadn’t changed much (from what he could see, anyway). Same sunshine hair, same piercing green eyes, same devilish smirk whenever it formed. He was big, burly, and knew how to use his intimidating stature for his own benefit. And the scar he personally permanently embedded…  

The differences outweighed everything. The blond just… seemed way more in his element here, issues with authority and being told what to do set aside, he was flourishing. Happier, far more relaxed than what Squall had ever seen him and—nicer. That fact still flummoxed him, but in all fairness, he himself had been an asshole until the age of seventeen. The only dissimilarity between his and Seifer’s assholish natures was direction: he wanted people away from him whereas Seifer commanded attention.

Overall, the blond had found another calling. A good life.

…Would I have been happier if I left?

Earnestly a little stunned at the direction his trail of thoughts took (not for the first time…), Squall realised he’d been gawking like an idiot while monologuing. Rectifying his blunder, he tore his eyes away from his former rival’s person and stood smoothly. Unfolding his arms, he brushed imaginary dust from his thighs and took a steadying inhale before he dared glimpse Seifer again. One hand clenched into a loose fist at his side and the other he extended out for the blond to take, an invitation so to speak. “Let’s get out of here.”

Having to sit still for that long to even get this shit over with, the tall blond definitely could imagine doing something more appealing with his time. Squall wasn't wrong to assume he needed the adrenaline, the distraction, though surely because of different reasons than the SeeD would pin on him. He needed it so he wouldn't have to think too much. It was the reason he provoked certain local Glaives to the point they would just deck him to make him shut up, granting him the bliss of distracting pain. Making someone explode in his face had become a downright addiction and if Squall had been able to watch him walk about the Headquarters, he'd soon have to realize that as much as the profession as a Glaive might suit the tall blond, he was not, by any means of the word, 'happy'. Thinking, by its nature, always led him down a spiral staircase that inevitably ended with him probing shredded memories of a time his mind had not been entirely his own. When lulling words spun silky threads, pulling just in the right places to make him believe he did the right thing and that, when all was said and done, he would get what he wanted. What happened back then, with him, he had not even shared with his best friends, Fujin and Raijin. No one knew about it. Right now, only the presence of his formal rival was, ironically, what grounded him in the here and now and prevented his thoughts from spiraling out of control, as silent as the brunet might be. Sure, he had sought out this corridor on his own, but would he have been left to his own devices he knew he would have ended up letting his thoughts wander down that dark path. They always did.

Be that as it were, instead of having to deal with that, he could feel the gaze of steelblue eyes resting on him now, apparently rather surprised he was even able to handle something like a needle in his hands. "Still remember how Instructor Naahm had us stitch for two hours straight so we knew how to fix our fucking gear...", he muttered under his breath, giving an answer to a question that had not been asked. Surely all that staring was because of his skilled stitching and not some other sort of interest? Maybe the other even remembered the old hag that had taught them, who knew? Once he was done with the ordeal of closing up the bullet hole, he saw the slight spark of interest flash over Squall's face following the dissolving glow of the amiger magic. "Pretty cool, huh?" he grinned, wiggling his fingers which still prickled slightly from the power that had just surged through them.

The answer to his question, flat and a tinge pedantic just like he knew the other man to be, gave Seifer the first chuckle of the day. "Well, not technically, we aren't. You're thinking of the Crownsguard. Easy mistake to make though, they haven't been established as law enforcement for that long.", he cared to explain, leaning forward to get a look outside a nearby glassdoor which led out of the building, so he could catch a glimpse on the weather. Deciding to forgo putting on his coat again in favor of wearing the dark grey Kingsglaive shirt with its intricate silver embellishments, he placed the unneeded part of the uniform beside him, frowning thoughtfully for a moment.

He remembered well how their youth had been, at least before their junctioning to the astral's powers had eaten away most of their childhood. But the orphanage he remembered. Sticking with the brunet crybaby and yet having to leave him behind one day because he simply was the older one and had been sent to Garden. Sure enough, Squall followed, and not only to their academy but also in his footsteps as a gunblade-wielder. The only one besides himself, giving the blond enough of a cause to irk him as much as he could, provoking him so that he'd want to best him. And their sparrings had been non-short of amazing. "You didn't have Revolver with you yesterday," the deep voice finally hummed as he realized he had been lost to reminiscence. "Where is she?" Looking at the other again, he suddenly noticed the intent stare of grey-blues, catching him off guard as he had never before seen Squall do that before. And of course, he couldn't let that slide. "What, like what you see?", he teased, shit-eating grin firm in place.

Not expecting an answer yet very carefully looking for a response on the other's face, he blinked in astonishment as he realized the other was offering him a hand. Gaze flicking to the man’s eyes and back down to ensure he was not being played, he finally took the hand in his and rolled to his feet. Stretching a moment to shake the remainder of the tension this entire day had laid on his body (and totally not to downplay his wonder), he nodded then. "Yeah, let's," he agreed with a sigh, slipping on his gloves and grabbing the coat as he set to exit the corridor through a pair of big glass doors that slid open as soon as they approached.

The sun had begun to set in the meantime, yet the heat of the day still lingered in the air enough to make for a pleasant remaining warmth. Spending most of his evenings in bars - another way to comfortably avoid remembering too much of the wrong things - Seifer didn't have to think too long to come up with a good alternative to the now 'Closed for Restorations' King's Pearl. Sadly no pretty girls or boys to look at staff-wise, but it would do. Admittedly, he had for a moment thought about straight-out dragging Squall into a strip club - and he would have, if he wasn't sure his free drinks for the night would go out the window. Maybe later. Instead, he steered his steps away from the Headquarter Grounds and down a street busy with cars and other vehicles, it being the end of the working day for most Insomnians.  Coat flung over one shoulder and holding it with one hand, the other busied itself with procuring a cigarette and lighting it while they walked towards what seemed to be a market street on the weekends. Following it, Seifer soon turned a corner and made for the entrance of what seemed to be a pub, if with a more modern flair. Positioning himself beside the door and holding up the cigarette to signal he'd take a moment to finish it, the blond nodded towards the entrance. "Go ahead and grab us a table if you want."

#onepartbrave #this was kinda wholesome? #also some seifer angst peppered in there #rp #long post #agh now I forgot an icon xD nvm it's ok

[bobasheebaby]

Kill For You- Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 8

Pairing: Drake x MC; Liam x MC

Word count: 1,650

Warnings: mental illness, hospital setting, mental break, Evil Liam, 🍋

Summary: Rebecca makes some changes. Bastien gets closer to the truth.

Song inspiration: Kill for You by Skylar Grey featuring Eminem

A/N: A huge thank you to @sirbeepsalot for all of her help and advice and being an ever patient sounding board. (MoE thanks DoE as well.) I lost control of Rebecca two chapters ago and have no idea what she’s doing at this point. This may not end the way you want it to.

Series warnings: Evil Liam, dark!fic, deceit, manipulation, dub con, possible NSFW content, possible character death. This is taking the Liam from TRH to the extreme, he is not the Liam we know and love. By clicking read more you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

Rebecca breezed through the hospital, an air of dignity surrounding her, a cloud of flowery perfume following her. It’d been two and a half weeks since Drake had been admitted, this was the first time she would be seeing him since. She reasoned that she couldn’t bear to see him like that, manic and spouting crazy accusations, in reality she felt happier without him. She found a bit of bliss and she didn’t want to dampen it with visiting him. Today she needed to see him, she needed to speak with him. She knew maybe she went about this the wrong way, and it would only make things worse for him but she needed to be free. She couldn’t remain shackled to the man he’d become. I should have seen it coming. He constantly discounted himself. Were those warning signs? Every breathless ‘I can’t believe I got so lucky’ now seemed like a warning she’d overlooked.

She sailed passed the nurses desk in the ward, blissfully ignoring their surprised cries. She knew exactly where she was headed and intended to make this as quick as possible. She stopped at the doorway. Quick and painless. He will see it’s for the best in time. She knocked as she entered the room, plume of flowery scent wafting around her.

Drake turned, smile spreading as his eyes fell on Rebecca. He stood, crossing the room pulling her into an embrace. “I missed you.”

Rebecca stood stiffly. Don’t lead him on. “We need to talk.”

Drake released her, stunned expression on his face. Why is she acting so distant?

“You changed Drake, this isn’t what I signed up for.” She shook her head. “I should have seen the signs but I was so caught up in the whirlwind that I missed them. I should have known when you kept telling me I was too good for you that you would eventually break like this but I was blind.”

His stomach dropped. She can’t mean... “What are you saying?”

“I want a divorce.”

A divorce?! No! I need you! “You can’t. I won’t sign.”

Rebecca laughed, the harsh sound bouncing off the walls making Drake cringe, gone was the joyous laugh that lilted like bells. “Since you’re on an indefinite hold I don’t need you to sign. Liam will be able to put through the annulment, I just wanted to let you know.” She spun, a waft of perfume hitting him in the face, as she walked out of the room and his life.  

Why is she wearing so much perfume? “No!” He shouted as he banged against the closed door. “You can’t leave me!” Liam, it has to be Liam she wouldn’t just leave me. Omg I was right she was cheating! “How could you do this to me?!” He walked to his chair kicking it. “This can't be happening! You can’t leave me!”

Nurses and orderlies flooded into the room. The orderlies grabbed him restraining him. He thrashed and fought screaming. “Who has the haldol?”

“Let me go! She can’t leave me!” He continued to thrash and fight.

“Somebody restrain him!” They returned him to his bed, placing his hands and ankles in soft cuffs to restrain him.

A prick in his arm, his mind slowly silenced. She can’t leave me. Who am I without her? His head fell to the side. What’s the point anymore?

The nurse shook her head as she left. “He was having such a good day too.”

*

Rebecca looked up at the monument looming above them. “I still can’t believe we’re back here.” She’d been excited when Liam mentioned having a surprise planned for her, but this was the farthest thing from her mind.

“There isn’t another place in the world that I’d rather do this.”

“Do what?” She turned, confused by his choice of words. Her hand flew to her mouth, her jaw dropping to the ground as she saw Liam kneeling before her, beautiful diamond ring glittering in the moonlight.

“Rebecca Allen, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He gazed up with her, his chocolate brown eyes filled with love and adoration.

“Yes. A million times yes!” Her sapphire eyes sparkled and blonde hair shone like spun gold in the moonlight.

I knew you still loved me. He jumped to his feet pulling her to him. “I love you Rebecca.” He leaned down claiming her mouth in a heated kiss. Just one more step till our happily ever after. No one can stop me now.

*

Bastien sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his face. It doesn’t make sense, what am I missing? All tests came back clean, but the nagging feeling that something more was going on just wouldn’t leave. It’s almost like he’s getting worse. They tried medicating him but he still wasn’t showing any signs of improvement. When he visited that afternoon Drake had been physically restrained to the bed, but the light had completely gone out in his eyes. It was like he completely gave up. At first he thought maybe it was the dose until he spoke with the staff. An outburst and then he retreated. Why isn’t he getting better?

He leaned forward flipping through paperwork. He had started noting all of Drake’s behaviors and outburst hoping to find a trend, see if anything would point him in the correct direction. He had nothing much more to do, Liam scaling back heavily on his duties citing that he had enough to worry about with Drake and his own injuries made it harder for him to perform his duties. Why does he insist I can’t do my job?

He’d also noted that Liam had been spending less time at the palace. He couldn’t explain it but it felt like maybe Liam was the answer to all of his questions. Why is he spending less time at the palace now? The words from his conversation with Olivia rang through his head. If you’re correct and Liam is behind it I’d be careful. He is his father’s son after all. If he is doing what you say he is, he won’t let anyone stop him, even you. It felt like he was both so close to figuring out the cause and a million miles away from the truth simultaneously.

I’m not giving up. Not until I find out the truth.

*

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.” Liam squeezed her hand, his heart soaring high. She’s mine. She’s finally mine.

She laid her head on his shoulder. “It was perfect.” She aimlessly twisted her ring. A strange feeling of completeness finally washing over her. I really did choose the wrong man. “How are we going to explain this to the press?”

“I have a plan.” He pulled her to his lap, his hand sliding up her thigh. “For now I have other things on my mind.”

“Such as?” She asked biting her lip seductively.

“Making good use of our private jet.” He wound his hand in her hair pulling her down for a kiss.

She hummed her agreement against his lips, her hands threading through his silky onyx locks as she kissed him deeper. She shifted closer, closing the space between their bodies. She couldn’t get enough of his touch, his taste, he made her feel like she was floating even when she was standing completely still. How did I ever turn him down? She finally felt complete, like a piece of her soul she hadn’t realized was missing had finally been returned. She had spent the last few weeks both questioning why she turned him down to begin with and making up for lost time with him.

His other hand slipped higher up her thigh, pushing up her relatively short dress. He kissed down her jaw to her neck, kissing and sucking the delicate flesh making her gasp. He slid his hand between her legs, rubbing her through her lace panties.

“Liam.” His name slipped from her lips as a gasping moan. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she ground her core against his hand. Her head fell back as he slid her panties to the side, his fingers teasing her soaked slit. “Liam, please.” She mewled as his teeth grazed her neck.

Liam pulled back with a smile, his fingers circling her clit. “Whatever my queen wants.”

“I want you my king.”

He groaned, slipping his fingers from her center. She whined in protest at the loss. Her hands slid down his chest, she shifted back as she worked his hardened length free from its confines. Her thumb grazed his tip, spreading the bead of precum. She glided her hand up and down his velvety shaft. She locked eyes with his as she lifted her hips, lining him up with her entrance. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her down on his thick length. She let out a gasp as he filled her completely. She would never get over the feeling of completeness being intimate with him brought. She bit her lip as she began rocking her hips against his. He guided her up and down, her hands gripping the headrest as she rode him, his hips slamming into hers harder with each thrust. Rebecca gasped and moaned as she drew nearer. Her eyes rolled back as her body tensed, sparks of electricity flowing through her as she came letting out a silent scream. Liam’s head fell on her shoulder as he came with a groan as her walls pulsed and squeezed his length.

She fell forward, clinging to his chest as the aftershock dissipated. She looked up at him. “I love you.” She kissed his stubble lined jaw.

“I love you too my queen.” Soon enough there will be nothing left standing in our way. Just have to make sure I get rid of the obstacles and then we can rule in peace.

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.

#drake x mc #liam x mc #king liam #bastien lykel #drake walker #evil liam #trh #trh au #trr #trr au #the royal heir #the royal romance #the royal heir au #the royal romance au #choices the royal romance #choices the royal heir #dark!fic #dark fic #kill for you: be careful what you wish for #be careful what you wish for #chapter 8 #ns*w #lemon #long post #read more #drake x rebecca #liam x rebecca #I’m not sure what got into her this is all her I’ve lost control two chapters ago #he’s equal parts hot and creepy and I can’t decide to love or hate him

[emospritelet]

Homecoming - chapter 15

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] AO3 link

Last time, the family travelled to Willowbrook Grange, on the site where the town of Avonleigh once stood, and where, unknown to them, Belle lived one of her past lives

x

The air was frigid, and Belle shivered, sending Ogilvy a smile as he handed her down from the carriage. She clutched Ava and Nicholas close to her, the latter grumbling about his empty stomach, and Ogilvy ruffled his hair comfortingly. Lady Tremaine had stepped forward to greet the Professor. She was a slender woman with light brown hair and a strong jawline, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Oh, Professor Lowe, it’s so good of you to come!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been quite beside myself! It felt as though there was nowhere else for me to turn, and then Lady Fortescue pointed me in your direction. She can’t recommend you highly enough, so I’m delighted you agreed to come all this way!”

“Not at all, not at all,” said the Professor heartily. “May I present my good friend Mr Ogilvy?”

“A pleasure,” said Lady Tremaine, as Ogilvy took off his hat and bowed his head. “I understand your knowledge of the dark realms is almost equal to that of the Professor’s.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Belle noticed Lord Tremaine roll his eyes a little, but he said nothing.

“We shall do our utmost to assist in whatever way we can,” said Ogilvy smoothly.

“And I presume this is Mrs Ogilvy?”

Lady Tremaine was looking expectantly at Belle, whose mouth fell open as she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. Alice snickered, and covered her mouth with her hand as though she had coughed.

“Ah,” said the Professor. “May I present Miss Annabelle Marchland? I believe I mentioned her in my letter. She’s our assistant, and a most competent one, I assure you.”

“I - see.”

Belle shot him a surprised look, and the Professor winked at her. Lady Tremaine looked Belle up and down a moment, a crease of confusion between her eyes.

“Forgive me, Miss Marchland,” she said. “You look frightfully familiar. Have we met?”

“Your Ladyship may have seen me once or twice at Furton Grange,” offered Belle, and Lady Tremaine’s expression cleared.

“Ah. I daresay that’s it. Some soirée of my dear friend Lady Ella Deville, no doubt. She’ll be here for New Year’s Eve, you know. Well, come in, come in! We shall all freeze to death out here!”

Belle was spared from explaining that she had been Lady Ella’s governess as Lady Tremaine turned on her toes, bustling off into the house. She had completely ignored the children, and Alice was biting her lip to hold in her amusement. It was a relief to step inside, a tide of warmth flowing over them as the heavy doors were closed. Ivy and Hatter had disappeared, following the other servants carrying in the trunks, and Belle was led up a sweeping staircase where two suits of armour stood guard with long pikes. That sense of familiarity was there again, a creeping tingle down her spine, and she shivered. The house was different to Furton Grange, its decor a little old-fashioned with its deep reds and golds, the wooden panelling and staircase giving the entrance hall a darker, heavier look. It suited the building, though, this red-brick mansion in the dark and cold of the far north of England. Belle wondered what it had seen over the centuries. The stories it could tell.

x

Dinner was a relatively quiet affair, for which Belle was grateful, two days of travel having taken their toll. She was escorted in by Henry Mills, an American writer wed to Lord Tremaine’s daughter from his first marriage. Mr Mills was a handsome, dark-haired young man, pleasant and attentive, and Belle found herself seated between he and his friend Mr Branson. Mrs Mills was seated to the right of Mr Branson, and seemed a lovely woman, but Belle couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t get along with her stepmother. Mr and Mrs Mills were expecting a child in March, but informed her that they already had a daughter, Lucy, who was the same age as the twins. Mr Mills suggested that the children could keep one another amused for the duration of their visit.

“There’s a well-stocked nursery,” he added, as he took a sip of his wine. “Jacinda and I came over from Seattle in the summer, and Lucy seems to enjoy the change of scene. I’m sure she’d be happy to show your two around the old place.”

“Nicholas and Ava had a difficult start in life,” said Belle carefully, thinking of the unsuccessful spelling lessons, and the words the twins could teach Lucy, if she wasn’t around to stop them. “Mr Ogilvy was good enough to take them in and give them a home. They may not be the kind of playmates that Lucy is used to, but I assure you they’re good children with good hearts.”

“Oh, street rats, huh?” said Mr Branson, in a tone that made Belle want to frown. “Well, I guess Lucy spends enough time with the servants. She’ll be used to their kind. She can keep ‘em in line.”

“Don’t be unkind, Nick,” Mrs Mills chided. “They’re children. I’m sure they’re just as well-behaved as Lucy.”

“Hmm.” Mr Mills looked resigned at that. “God help us all.”

He shared a chuckle with his wife, and Belle joined in.

“Well, I guess they won’t be able to get up to anything too terrible,” he went on. “The woods and fields around the house are perfect for exploring, but with all this snow, something tells me they may want to spend their time indoors near the fire.”

“They’re not the only ones,” Mr Branson muttered under his breath.

“Careful,” warned Mr Mills, with a twinkle in his eye. “Her Ladyship might leave you at the tender mercies of her ghosts while the rest of us go shooting.”

The two men chuckled, casting a look up the table to where Lady Tremaine was chatting animatedly with the Professor and Ogilvy, her husband’s attention solely on his food.

“What do you know about these strange occurrences that the Professor has been asked to investigate?” asked Belle curiously, and Mr Mills gave her a somewhat rueful smile.

“I can’t say I’ve seen or heard anything myself,” he said, shooting a glance at Lady Tremaine. “But perhaps I’m not as sensitive to these things as Her Ladyship. She says there are strange noises at night. Banging and knocking.”

“Of course there are, it’s an old house,” said Mr Branson dismissively, cutting a piece of beef.

“Well, no doubt she’ll tell you more tomorrow, Miss Marchland,” said Mr Mills. “Her Ladyship has an excellent imagination, and something of a flare for the dramatic. She’s an interesting character.”

“Interesting enough to put in one of your books?” asked Belle, and he groaned.

“Don’t, I’d never hear the end of it. Tempting though it is.”

“I think there’s already a tale with a wicked stepmother anyway,” murmured Mr Branson, and Mrs Mills shot him a quelling look tinged with amusement.

x

Ogilvy woke when it was still dark, heart thumping in his chest as the last oppressive scenes of a disturbing dream faded away. The dream had been formed from his own memories, and his heart sank as he faced the days ahead of them, darkened by shadows of the past. He was looking forward to returning to the city, and leaving the ghosts of this place to rest.

As usual, Hatter seemed to sense when he was awake, and was soon at the door with hot water for his morning shave. It made him feel a little better, and having established that Doc was still asleep, he dressed warmly in a tweed suit and his thick wool overcoat. The house was silent as he made his way downstairs, and the butler, Thwaites, let him out of the door and into the cold, crisp morning.

The sun was just sneaking above the horizon, sending long, scarlet fingers through the grey wisps of cloud, and he sensed that it would be a sunny day, at least at first. He closed his eyes for a moment to remember his surroundings as they had once been, letting memories crowd in on him, joy and guilt and grief clamouring for his attention. When he opened his eyes, he half-expected to see the town of Avonleigh as it had been centuries earlier. The house where he had spun his thread and made his deals and where he had loved Isabelle so many times. The square where the market had been held, and where the townsfolk had danced at the birth of spring. The space where the gibbet had stood. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on happier times, and blinked rapidly, glancing to the east as he set off to explore the land around the house. It was cold enough to make him cough, and he pushed his chin into his scarf, using his walking cane to pick his way across the frozen ground.

The river that had once powered the mill’s wheel in Avonleigh must have been dammed at one point, and a lake now filled the lower part of the valley where much of the town had stood. Most of the lake was coated with a layer of snow-covered ice, but there were patches kept clear to allow the fish beneath to break the surface, and birds to drink. Ogilvy walked slowly, watching the water ripple, weak orange sun gleaming on the ice and making the snow glitter. The winters had not been so harsh in their old life, the snow infrequent and light in its appearance. In the lives to come, he had wondered at the colder climate, and how many lifetimes it would last. He had wondered if it would always be winter without Belle.

The crunch of footsteps behind him made him turn, and he smiled as Belle appeared, a flush in her pale cheeks and breath coming from her in plumes of white. She wore a heavy woollen skirt above sturdy boots, her long coat tight around her slim figure and her hair pinned up beneath a black hat. He reached for his own, lifting it in greeting as she approached.

“i wondered if anyone else was awake,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Alice said she wasn’t leaving the house until after breakfast, but I thought I’d make the most of the morning.”

He smiled, settling the hat back on his head and offering her his arm.

“I was about to take a walk around the lake.”

Belle beamed at him, slipping her arm through his, and they set off at a comfortable pace. The chirps of birds were coming from the trees that stood at the eastern edge of the lake, and Ogilvy headed for them, thinking that the snow would be lighter on the ground beneath their boughs.

“How are the children?” he asked, glancing at her, and Belle smiled.

“Homesick, I think,” she confessed. “I woke this morning to find them both nestled in bed beside me.”

“Ah,” he said. “Not what you expected when you became governess, I daresay.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said, with a chuckle. “In fact, it’s encouraging to think they might come to me for comfort. I have no desire to be one of those governesses that the novels warn us of.”

“Which kind?” he asked, with a grin. “Terror of small children or scheming seductress?”

Belle giggled, her blush deepening as she clapped a hand to her mouth.

“I would hope that I fit neither description,” she said primly, and his grin widened.

“Then I shall rest easier in my bed knowing that you don’t intend to murder me and steal my fortune,” he remarked.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for the festive season, would it?”

“Best wait until we get home, then.”

She giggled again, and he felt her squeeze his arm as she moved a little closer.

“I take it the twins will be having their breakfast upstairs?” he asked, and she nodded.

“The maids brought it in just before I left, but Alice offered to sit with them while they ate. I’m told that we’ll have ours in the breakfast room from nine-thirty.”

“I’m sure we can work up an appetite by then,” he remarked.

“If we keep at this pace, I have no doubt of it.”

Ogilvy laughed, her presence lightening his mood, and they walked on, feet crunching and squeaking in the snow. He let his eyes roam over the familiar slopes of the surrounding fells and the purplish peaks of distant mountains, the cold air making his teeth hurt when he breathed it in. Belle let out a sigh.

“It’s very beautiful, isn’t it?” she said. “Desolate, but beautiful.”

“It is,” he said, and hesitated a moment. “How - how do you feel, being here?”

She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully, but if she found his question strange, she didn’t say anything.

“It’s the oddest thing,” she said eventually. “There’s something familiar about it. I was trying to remember if I had ever come here with Lady Ella. I don’t believe I have, but I feel as though I know this place. As though when I turn the next corner, I’ll know exactly what’s in front of me.”

“I understand,” he said. “It feels that way to me, too. Except here around the lake.”

He glanced at her, expecting her to agree, but she shook her head.

“The lake feels familiar too,” she mused. “I must have been here before, there’s no other explanation. Perhaps I just saw it from a carriage once, or something.”

“Oh.” Perhaps she has. Why wouldn’t she? She’d have no reason to avoid the place, would she? Not like you, you coward.

“Perhaps it’s one of your past lives,” he said tentatively, and she smiled at him.

“And were you ever here, Mr Ogilvy?” she said teasingly. “One hundred lifetimes must span a long time indeed. I imagine you must have seen all manner of changes.”

“The lake wasn’t here when I last walked this way,” he said, matter-of-factly, and she laughed, as though he had made a joke. It was surprisingly painful.

They circled the farthest edge of the lake, where fir trees clustered close enough together to provide a needle-covered patch of ground clear of snow. Ogilvy could feel the cold beginning to sink into his feet through his boots, and he glanced at Belle, wondering if she was getting chilled. She seemed to feel his eyes on her, and looked around with a faint smile.

“Are you starting your investigations today?” she asked.

“So I believe,” he said. “Doc asked Lady Tremaine a few questions last night, but we’ll look over the house today, while we have the benefit of the daylight.”

“I hear there are a great many guests due for the celebrations this evening,” she said. “Mr Mills told me of some of them, including Lady Ella, of course, and many of the inhabitants from the nearby towns. It’s a grand occasion, it seems, with music and dancing.”

“Perhaps we can put Her Ladyship’s mind at rest quickly, then,” he remarked. “I’d hate for her evil spirits to spoil the mood.”

Belle smiled at that.

“Do you believe there are really evil spirits here?” she asked, her tone sceptical, and he hesitated.

“I believe that she believes there are,” he said eventually. “Sometimes that’s all it takes: an old house with creaking floors and an impressionable owner.”

“That’s what Mr Branson said.” 

“However, I like to keep an open mind,” he added. “I have no doubt that there have been restless souls in this place. That dark deeds have been done, and innocent lives taken.”

She gave him a curious look, but he said no more, guiding her around a stump of wood.

“The Professor called me your assistant,” she said. “I’m not sure what Her Ladyship made of that. Nor of how much assistance I could be.”

Ogilvy smiled at her uncertain look, and patted her hand.

“Good sense is always in demand, Miss Marchland,” he said. “Your input will be welcome, I promise. And rest assured that no matter what we may face in this investigation, Doc and I will protect you.”

“I’ll do my best not to be a liability, fainting in fear at every creaking floorboard,” she said, in a dry tone that made him grin.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I still have the obsidian wand the Professor gave me,” she added, and his grin widened.

“Good.”

They continued around the lake, the rear of the house coming into view with its ordered gardens and large orangery, and he felt her shiver.

“Cold?” he asked, concerned.

“No - I mean, yes, I am, but—” She shook her head. “Just that odd feeling that I’ve been here before, that’s all. I’m sure it will pass.”

“Perhaps it will,” he said grimly. “Come, let’s pick up the pace. A hot breakfast would be welcome.”

Belle agreed readily, and they quickened their pace, rounding the lake and heading back uphill towards the house. He steered them towards one of the gravel paths used by the servants, where the snow was lightest, and Belle shivered again as they stepped out onto the sweeping driveway at the front.

“A chilly day for a walk, but I daresay it’s good for us,” she announced, and turned to him with a smile as they stopped just outside the door. “It’s certainly reminded me that I’m very much alive.”

“Yes,” he said softly.

Her eyes were sparkling in the morning sunlight, threads of red in her dark hair, her skin like cream and her lips soft and pink as rose petals. His fingers itched from wanting to stroke her hair, to cup her cheek. His mouth ached from the urge to kiss her. Belle smiled a little dreamily, glancing back towards the woods.

“I look forward to the spring, Mr Ogilvy,” she said. “Snow-laden trees are all very well aesthetically, but I long to feel the sun on my skin and smell green, growing things. I think morning walks with you will be far more pleasant when we’re not worried about freezing to death.”

You always loved the spring, when the flowers began to bloom and you could run through wet grass with your feet bare, laughing up at the sky. I loved seeing you so free. I loved laying you down in the heather and kissing your sweet mouth, making you cry out in pleasure as the sun warmed our skin. So many years we missed, my love! How many more before you know me again?

Belle was looking at him expectantly, and he swallowed hard, past the lump in his throat.

“I should be delighted to spend each and every morning with you, Miss Marchland.”

His voice was lower than usual, roughened with emotion, and she smiled at him, gazing up through thick, dark lashes as she blushed a little. He returned her smile, the fond look in her eyes sinking into him, warm as sunlight, comforting his tortured soul and chasing away the shadows of the past.

“Come,” he said, offering his arm to her again. “Let’s have breakfast.”

#fic: homecoming #ogilvelle fic #my fic #ogilvelle #rumbelle fic

[derekscorner]

When relevancy goes too far

Relevancy is a bit of a complex topic the more you think about it. How far do you push it? Which parts of a story are needed to know the other? How should something define the follow up? These questions have widely different answers depending on the person and especially depending on format.

Hell, if you wish to nit pick it further, even the series in question is a factor. Some series’ thrive on whats done while others drown in their own scripts. I believe Kingdom Hearts is one of the latter.

That said, I am not someone who hates KH’s expanded stories simply for existing. The “side games” in of themselves aren’t bad nor is the idea of using such things to expand a world. The same could be said for game novels or comics in my opinon.

However, these things can be a slippery slope or a lazy exist. For example, Assassin’s Creed threw out it’s whole Juno arc into a comic just to get it out of the way which completely shattered my investment.

In turn, Nomura himself isn’t at fault for as much as we bash him for. Something he’s admitted himself as seen here;

So, the new Days is one of the three titles announced in the Autumn of 2007 as new projects in the KH series.

Nomura: Those three titles were all announced at the same time, but in reality the opportunities for the projects were raised in a disjointed way. Birth by Sleep is a project that was raised within our company, but Days is from Nintendo, and coded is from Disney, so we started by talking to each of them.

-source <--Link btw

And anyone that’s read interviews out of curiosity will know that there’s also factors like how ‘Birth By Sleep’ was shifted from PS2 to PSP or that ‘Chain of Memories’ wasn’t a planned title either. (seen here)

So if these things aren’t inherently bad or planned that begs the question of why it’s a problem here? At least in my opinion of the series.

The answer is simple and it lies solely on Nomura’s shoulders for it as a fault, relevancy. The man goes out of his way to make each and every game, concert, or otherwise is attached to the series in some meaningful way going forward.

Naturally, any expanded media is tied to the main narrative in some way. I know this, I am not that foolish. The problem is that Nomura makes them plot relevant going forward.

These titles can’t be true “side games” because they dictate the story going forward in some way. It’s for this reason the more radical fans hate to hear the terminology “side game” to begin with.

This problem was especially bad for years because of how spread out the series became among other gaming systems. And while some like to say it’s fine now due to the collection discs I dont think this will last long given the “phase 2″ images released for KH’s near future.

Hell, I’d even argue this problem isn’t even fixed in truth because the current KH story involving Foretellers, Luxu, and so on is all things spun from a mobile game. Yes, you have to sit through scenes on YT or play a mobile game to fully grasp that cat creature (Chirithy) you saw in KH3.

Naturally, it’s much easier to watch the scenes on YT these days but that also feeds into the loop of not paying for the game itself. I personally see no issue with it but companies are much worse in recent years for shutting down Youtube channels over loose definition of “piracy”.

No game series is worth several consoles. Of course, I’m just speaking from experience, with KH now on the Xbox this may be a moot point in a few years.

I am rambling, off track, lets focus. “Why is this an issue?” is what you’ve read this far for me to explain. The biggest issue with this poor decision making is how it harms the main narrative you’re telling.

For comparison, look at Sora in KH3. He’s often confused by people he doesn’t remember meeting or events he doesn’t remember nor took part in. This is roughly close to what it would be like for someone that’s only played KH1, 2, and 3.

Sora has that same level of insight including what he was told about others like Roxas or Aqua but other characters in-game. This feeds into KH’s misconceived air of complexity.

Kingdom Hearts, as a story, isn’t that complex. It has deeper themes it throws to the wayside but it is easy to follow if you play most games in some form. This ties back into how the series was handled up until the PS4/KH3.

Ever want to know who Roxas was in KH2? Well you had to play Days or you can sit through that horribly boring 3 hour movie on the Remix disc. Even then, the Roxas you see in Days wont be like the one in KH2.

Wish to know who Xehanort was? Play Birth by Sleep! All three campaigns with little variance. Then once you’re done get ready to sit on YT or download a phone app and play Kingdom Hearts Dark Road.

The Foretellers, Luxu, or the Master of Masters? That’s another set of hours, if not days, with the KH Union X Cross, KH Dark Road, and should you choose you can even watch the Back Cover movie which answers nothing at all but shows you the Foretellers in Kh3 graphical glory.

You wish to know how Namine knew who The Lingering Will was? Well dig up a fan translation of a script the Japanese voice cast read for a music concert event. (yes that happened)

You can see where this is going I assume and this is just scratching the surface by the way. You wish to know the finer details like Keyblade types, the inconsistent time traveling, “recompletion”, and so on then be prepared to read word of god interviews, in-game dictionaries/journals and always be ready for a few to change.

Whether it’s a true retcon or just an ambiguous statement, the series is ongoing, Nomura heads the ship, and he is by no means obligated to stick to previous statements if he can make a new one to alter those events.

Then again, holding too much weight in words said outside the game itself is a faulty way of doing things that most fans (like me) have fallen victim too at least once.

At the same time, all of these things are relevant by Nomura’s decision. Sure, the remixes have fixed this to a degree but it’s anyone’s guess for how long. Better yet, at what cost did the remixes fix anything?

The best example of what I mean is Coded. It was originally a game for phones. At the time, only Japan had a phone capable of playing it. Feeling that a shame the game later found it’s way to the DS for all fans to play.

At this point in time Coded was the only true example of a “side story”. It was by no means necessary. The whole datascape plot was more convoluted than it needed to be despite data!Sora being far better than the original at this point, and easy to miss.

But...well that was good. The DS version of Coded was fun as hell to play. The only version of the “command deck system” I’d consider worth any semblance of praise. It did it’s job of getting some level of fans invested such as my friend @blackosprey​ and it’s story was missable.

You did not need to play Coded to understand Dream Drop Distance or further. This was perfect. This is what games like Days, KH Chi/UX, 0.2, and DDD should’ve been.

Games that reached out to grab new people, games that played around, and games that expanded on the main narrative without dictating it’s direction. A side game is something that exists alongside or outside your main story.

However this isn’t what we got. 0.2 A Fragmentary Passage was a short sequel to BBS but also a pretty tech demo for KH3. Dream Drop Distance was there to show the real Sora that people needed help and to show us that Xehanort was back.

KH Chi was a browser game meant to show the Keyblade War and how it shaped Sora’s era. Now it’s an ongoing curse on the series with time traveling plot that affected KH3 directly.

Coded was made into a movie you needed to sit through thanks to one small newly added scene. Days lost many small interactions it’s fans loved in the transition to a movie that is hard to sit through.

I’ve also heard KHDDD and 0.2 were “shaved off” KH3 in a sense to be their own titles...this...this makes so little sense.

Nomura calls KH “Sora’s story” but this is a lie. If it truly was Sora’s story then your main narrative would be BBS, KH1, CoM, 2, and the original combined form of KH3. That’s the titles he’s relevant, those are the titles he stops Xehanort’s plans.

These other titles could’ve been so fun but none of them were truly allowed to breath and be themselves. They were weakened and limited by Nomura deciding to prop the ongoing story upon them like they’re stilts.

Then as a result you can’t close out KH3 without resolving all of these other events and characters which drags it’s own story down. KH3 feels all over the place because it is. It’s trying to tie as many knots as it can from threads created in titles that were way more relevant then they needed to be.

Kh3 can be seen as a clean break for many but I see it as a matter of time. KHUX and now KHDR are still there casting a shadow, dictating what comes next. Melody of Memory is one of several games planned for an unknown but hopefully more thought out direction.

I worry I haven’t explained what I meant well enough but moral of my story is that making things too relevant hurts not only your main story but these new stories you wish to explore.

You can’t have a story and it’s cast breath if you’re tying a knot of mythos too tightly around their necks and this is a tragedy to me. KH began life with such potential but it constantly holds itself back because so few entries into it’s story are truly just an entry.

And I am not saying games can’t follow up one another nor that they shouldn’t. What’s needed is a clear idea and some breathing room. A good example would be to save people in Days with the game DDD. DDD could’ve wiped away some clutter to focus on the final Xehanort battle in a sense.

Nomura has a huge problem with wanting connectivity without letting games be connected by the name alone. It’s like he wants to do the opposite of what Final Fantasy has done but to detrimental results.

This harms so much but worst of them it hurts development. Because Days was made so important, we had a movie made. Because Coded was elevated, a movie was made. Because the keyblade war was so popular, Union Cross was made.

The Remixes would’ve been better to consolidate lore not waste time trying to appease every whim. KH’s relevancy is a huge problem and I doubt it’ll stop any time soon.

#kingdom hearts #kh3 #khdr #kingdom hearts melody of memory

[weeping-petals]

Post-War

Word Count -  3,635

Decades following the Gem War, the Crystal Gems search for survivors. While out surveying, Pearl and Spinel discover the aftermath of the songs affects.

Time ground on following the decimating blast which erased Diamond interest in the doomed Earth Colony. Existence was lonely, but as years wound on the remaining rebels began to find ways to pick up their lives and move on, grieve, and remake purpose in an empty world. Portions of the planet most affected by the Gem Song shrugged off the effects, and where barren stretches of land petered off into the sunset, came life and new growth. Not all the continents received the full affects, which gave the Crystal Gems hope that somewhere out there, someone had survived, someone was searching for them as they searched for her.

 A century before, during the initial stages of the rebellion, Bismuth gems destroyed warp pads that linked directly to Home World. Unless Peridot’s survived, even if they were Home World loyal, no one was present with the capacity to mend transportation. The rebels were stranded on the world they fought to preserve, and struggled each and every day to reconnect with some form of gem-life. It didn’t matter if they were enemy, pebbles, whatever – any sign of others would be appreciated.

 They took turns returning to the field, where the last stand had come. Usually in pairs, if Garnet was able to keep her shape. Sometimes being alone was good too, it gave them time to reflect with private thoughts and feelings. But being with someone, to prattle onto and help with burying the fragments and Gems left behind, it alleviated the loneliness and isolation each of them felt exiled to this world.

 Rose spent a good time with Garnet, keeping the fusion together – in an emotional sense. Sometimes Ruby and Saphire couldn’t bear to be a part, sometimes they couldn’t bear being one. Saphire felt immense guilt that she had not foreseen this, and thought perhaps she was defective after all, and that she belonged on the Earth. As if something could possible be wrong with her. Ruby assured her, she was the problem, she dragged Saphire into this, she was the unaccounted variable. There was cycling, blaming them self, fighting to alleviate the pain and confusion the other felt, and twisting around to assure the other gem that no, no-no, it wasn’t you, it was me. I did something wrong.

 Some days Pearl and Spinel couldn’t bear to be around the fusion, retracted from the cruel irony of the rebellion. Garnet was – for this time – the only Crystal Gem that didn’t understand the truth. Pearl couldn’t speak on the tragedy, and Spinel was frightened of revealing the truth. Thus, it couldn’t come to pass that Garnet would learn, since she never came together and confronted them about it. There was some stupid comfort in that.

 “We’ll get through this,” Pearl assured.

 Spinel scoffed. “Is that you talkin, or Rose?” She ignored the fierce glare sent her way, and shrugged.

 The forest was a nice change of pace, the search extended to new terrain, recently unexplored territory where they hoped, hopelessly, that someone might be found. This location was pure and untouched by the colony’s advancements, certifying that no gem could possibly be here, but they held out for possibilities. Unseen pathways. The improbable which Garnet begged them to consider.

 “Ye, of course,” Spinel resumed. “Like we have a choice. Hello, Home World. This is the rebellion calling. You missed a SPOT!”

 “Keep your voice down.”

 “Oh, who’s gonna hear? The trees? The flowers? The non-sentient rocks?” She shuddered. “We knew it was coming. She… sensed it. She could’ve saved… more. She could have.”

 “Rose barely saved us.” Pearl crossed her arms and stepped into a small clearing where a patch of light plunged. “You can’t keep revisiting what ‘could have’ and ‘might have’s’, it’s over and done. You could be so… immature at times. We have to move on.”

 “You always do that.” But Spinel didn’t want to elaborate. Since the Song, Pearl had viciously latched onto every word, every passphrase of encouragement which kept them collected and sane.

 Not that Spinel was any better, she redirected her resentment onto Pearl. They were the precise opposite of Ruby and Saphire. More could have been done, it was your fault, not mine. Their co-existence stagnated. Their satchel of truth drove on the whirling spiral of resentment.

 “I wish she had left me in the Garden. I wish she never brought me here, never asked me to play this stupid game.” She never lost a game before. “I could still be my oblivious, stupid, gullible, naive-self.”

 Pearl shivered and shook her head. “What if. Might’ve been,” she repeated. It looked like she wanted to say more, turning around to face Spinel, but rethought. “Come along. We have miles to cover before we can avert our course.”

 They walked in silence for some time. Spinel noted Pearl was doing no sort of charting; they walked onward aimlessly, forgoing duties. Nothing mattered anymore. They had nothing to work towards, aside from burying foe and friends.

 “Do you still love her?” Pearl posed. It made Spinel flinch.

 “Of course! Everything’s gone all wrong, but… I can’t help— She’s all we have left! I mean, look at this place?” She rotated while walking, extending her arms a little further out to showcase the tallest trees, the beaming sun, the blue sky. “This is my Garden now. This was worth hhHHH—”

 Her foot caught on a root and she tumbled. Really went down for the count. Pearl gawked, as if Spinel said something repulsive. Or maybe because Spinel had gotten her limbs into a tangle with foliage and her eyes spun counter-wise in their sockets.

 “I’m stuck.”

 “How can you be stuck?”

 “I’m stuck,” she repeated, dourly. Limbs tugged and slithered, but she couldn’t put her body into sorts. This was so embarrassing. Unfortunately, no one else was present to see this. “Um, I think maybe….”

 “Try… never mind. Don’t move, let me see.” Pearl knealt and worked to loosen the knots. “I don’t see how you managed this.”

 “Bet Garnet could’ve seen THAT coming.”

 “You’re making it worse. Stop moving!”

 “That tickles.”

 “You’re impossible. You’re doing this on purpose.”

 “No, I really am stuck. Wait, wha’s this?” She twisted an arm looped behind her back and ripped up her hand, undoing her fist. “Huh? This ain’t gem tech.”

 Pearl cupped her chin and tilted her head. The gem in her forehead scanned the wadded material. “Hmm. It’s not wires. No metal components. Completely organic. Yet, unnatural to the native fauna? A trap, perhaps?”

 “Pathetic trap.” She used her free hand to snap at the tangled mess barring limbs. “Okay, if you could push my foot counter-clockwise, and bend my elbow.”

 “That makes no sense!”

 “Look, would you just trust me? I don’t tell you how to pull a spear out of your head!” Tentatively, Pearl followed Spinel’s instructions, ludicrous as it was, and the moment she spun Spinel’s shoulders on her torso, the lanky gem snapped back into her typical shape with a ssSSSSssss – POP!

 “Mulch-mulch, better.” She dusted off her limbs. “I think that’s enough expedition today. Can we head back?”

 Pearl fanned her hand. “No. I still want to— ” A muffled, distant shriek caught her attention, and she shared a look with Spinel. “It can’t be.”

 “A gem! It has to be. Which way?”

 “Spinel, wait!” Pearl groaned, and took off in the direction the gem bolted. “It might be reconnaissance! We should withdraw!”

 “Home World wouldn’t bother!” she hollered back, zipping and dipping through the foliage. “They’d send something Eye Balls! Last I checked, Eye Balls don’t scream.”

 “Red Eyes!” Pearl corrected. “We can’t take the risk!”

 “Risks are my specialty!” The shrill came again, a different resonance unlike the first. Spinel changed course, and Pearl skipped across a shallow stream, struggling to keep up. “Don’t be silt! If it’s another gem, I wanna meet them!”

 The two tore through the undergrowth, tackling pathways that met their physical prowess best. Within traversing the mile, a clearing burst open around them, expanding for meters this and that way in neatly trimmed lines. Spinel nearly toppled again as her feet lost traction on the ribbed terrain. Pearl yelped when she plowed into a hedge of tall plants and artificial lattice work. Spinel skid to a halt for the novelty of pointing and laughing.

 “Spinel! Control yourself!” Pearl wretched within the collapsing material and became more ensnared. “This isn’t funny!”

 “I can’t – I can’t—” Spinel pitched forward unable to stay upright, while wild cackles zipped through her body. It didn’t work for Pearl to fight her way out, the more she struggled the more tangled she became, the more ridiculous she looked. “Do you need—” She broke into intense giggles. “I swear, I’m gonna poof!”

 “WOULD YOU— ” Another cry, this time very close. It was peppered with new sounds, shouting and wailing. And something else.

 A wretched squeal unlike any song or shriek, pierced the blue sky, spurring birds from distant trees into flight.

 Spinel stopped laughing and sat up in a mashed patch of leaves. Pearl did her best to meet the source, eyes wide. “What was that?” the Pearl mumbled. She snatched a spear from her head, and in three sharp slashes, tore down the threads and wood.

 “I don’t like this,” Spinel uttered. She picked her way over the rows and stood beside Pearl. The cries became more panicked, some of the phrases made sense but came in varied pitches. Always, there came the wretched bellow. A trail of smoke lifted from distant structures, designed by purpose and not by chance.

 “We’ll see what’s there,” Pearl reasoned, “and then leave.” Spinel shook her had and took a step back, but Pearl snatched her hand and moved. Spinel protested, but Pearl led her onward. “It won’t alarm us if we’re together.”

 “What happened to, ‘Eugh. Let’s go back’?”

 “Just a peek.” The two didn’t get more than five steps from the structures perimeter, when a creature sprang out and crashed through a built square frame with an animal pelt drawn tight. The being gazed back, teeth bared and face etched with lines. Very expressive.

 Spinel growled. “It’s just a hooman! Or course they would survive annihilation! What nerve!” She snapped her hand out of Pearl’s grasp.

 “Why is it so frightened though? That’s not typical behavior.”

 “They experienced a spontaneous whiteout sponsored by Home World! What sane animal wasn’t freaked out!”

 “Humans don’t live that long….”

 “You would know, wouldn’t you!” Spinel threw her hands high. “It felt just like yester—” Intense yaps and shrieking cut through her words. More of the humans raced across the open gaps among their small village, some carrying small children.

 Then they discovered the source of the bestial snarls.

 It was a big thing with vibrant colors across its body, thick forelimbs and no real distinct head. But it did have a maw filled with gnashing, jagged teeth. The creature seemed to have only front limbs, and only a back end that was serpentine or all tail. It dragged itself, stuttering and screaming, shredding through village homes, following the noises the human creatures made.

 “My stars, what is that?” Pearl hugged the spear to her chest.

 “Uh, ah-ah, hooo, ver, egh…” Spinel choked, trying to come up with the correct word. She snapped her fingers. “Hunter! Nailed it! Nothing to see here, let’s go home!” She swung away. Pearl reared back and snagged her shoulder.

 “No-no, wait! It’s attacking the village!”

 “This looks completely normal and ordinary to me! They are the hoomans, and that is the hunter. We shouldn’t interfere. Rose said—”

 “She doesn’t like it when the humans are harmed!”

 “Plenty of humans shattered during the war!” Spinel slapped Pearl’s hand away. “What’s! Your! POINT?!”

 “They were warriors! These are… they don’t have the right weapons!” Pearl stamped her foot and gestured to the creature, while it continued tearing through roofs and walls. The large head swept down, checking on the bickering gems. “This is not a fair fight!”

 “Pfft, like I care?” Spinel let her arms dangle at her sides.

 “You should! They were what we were fighting for!” A look crossed Spinel’s aloof expression, and Pearl had to shut her eyes. “Rose would want—”

 “You’re not my Diamond! And I’m not a warrior! Not anymore! You want to help so bad, you deal with this all on your own.” Spinel hopped back several steps, expression dark, scowl deepened in her brows.

 “You can’t seriously leave all this to me!”

 “That’s your decision! I’m opposed to interfering!”

 Pearl growled and whipped around, drawing up a spear. The beast thing bellowed and dipped forward, its long tail portion shot forward spearing the ground where she stood.  But Pearl was gone.

 She tumbled through the rows of vegetation, coming to a halt on her knees and flung her spear. The big beast reared backwards, evading the projectile with ease. The body twisted rotated and it fell onto a building, continuing its mindless destruction. More humans tore through the open gaps among wreckage, and the beast peered at them. It had no distinct eyes, aside from patters along the vague shape of its muzzle. It expelled another shriek and darted among the village structures, using its body to corral a group of humans.

 “Hey! Hey, you!” Pearl hollered. She glanced Spinel’s way, but there was minimal change in her expression, aside from a snarky grin. “I said, HEY YOU!” She pulled another spear from her gem and took aim.

 The big beast reared up and cocked its head her way.

 “Yeah! YOU! PICK…” she stalled, “ON SOMEONE… YOUR OWN SIZE!” Her face burned blue as Spinel was consumed in fits of cackles. “UGH! Immature, stubborn….” She grumbled to herself, and bolted into the fray. The beast lost immediate interest in her, and resumed tearing through roofs.

 With a kick, Pearl launched herself as high as she could and chucked the spear with precise accuracy. The creature gave a mournful wail and plowed through a roof – in the midst of Pearl’s descent, the long tail swept sideways and knocked her aside.

 Spinel barely managed to recover and wiped the glee from her eyes. “Wow! This is gonna be priceless! I need to find a better spot to watch!” She darted off, scanning the general zone for a high point. Not far beyond the village’s region she spied a rising hill and tall trees growing on the slope.

 “I’ve got to get it away from the humans,” Pearl muttered. Her strategy for combat was eroded, and the unknown creature’s tactics and overall goal was spontaneous. It lost interest in tearing up the village, and pursued humans if they were careless enough to get too close, sometimes it took interest in Pearl’s movement, but lost focus when a flurry of bolts pelted up its backside, and resumed working at the tall structures at its elbows.

 In conclusion, the thing was an irrational mess, unpredictable, and with no strategy. All living creatures or sentient things, had an order to follow. The beast was hollow of reaching for base needs; this much was apparent, when it departed the village and began tearing apart the trees that wouldn’t scoot out of its way. It screamed at the trunks, occasionally going after Pearl when she appeared to batter its body. It departed the heart of village, but the humans couldn’t move fast enough to escape the vicinity it claimed as demolition.. It followed sounds, or bellowed and bit into the rocks that gently caressed its limbs.

 “No fluid,” Pearl noted. The beast knocked a volley of spears from its torso and wailed skyward. “Breaks in its body, but no organic leaks. What is it?” In her distraction, the creature grazed her with its third arm and Pearl went pinwheeling.

 Spinel nearly plunged from the tree, but caught herself with her legs and wound herself back up. She was in hysterics, trying to hug the branch with one arm wrapped tight, and pounded her fist against the bark. Never had Pearl looked so beyond her element – poor elegant, graceful, ferocious, renegade Pearl.

 “Had enough?” she hooted. “Huh! Have you? Call it quits! That thing has nothing to lose!” Her grin widened, and the tears only came thicker, wetter, in sappy globs. She sniffed and wiped her face.

 Pearl shrugged off leaves from the shrub she crashed through and hastened across the growing path of destruction. A cry snapped out, but it was not from the horrendous creature. Despite its coloration and shape, she had all but lost it among the thicket. If she wasn’t following the howls, then the petrified shrieks of the natives gave course.

 A group of humans backed up into a deep alcove, a few trying to climb the steep rock face while a small portion stood at the front with stone weapons, some carried tools like hammers. The primitive tools proved ineffective, aside from causing the beast creature mild confusion when a hammer pinged off its snout.

 “Get away from them!” Pearl zoomed in and peppered the multicolored body with bolts, concluding by heaving the spear full force at its body. Another spear, another volley of energy to draw the creatures attention and keep it distracted. She continued to draw on reserves, as the creature rotated to her, knocking down trees and bulldozing rocks. It had been decades since the war, since Pearl was forced to exert herself to this degree. Even without a premonition from Garnet, she saw her chances would be very-very slim.

 The humans cringed into the partial cover of the rock cliff, huddling together as the tail segment lashed above their heads.

 “Here! Come here! I’m your opponent!”

 With a churning growl, the beast wound around and lashed its tail out.

 Meanwhile, Spinel was swinging her way down the trees with long sweeps of her arms. “Stupid, stupid, righteous Pearl. Ya dodo. Rose this. Rose that.No one here’s impressed!”

 Another dodge, and Pearl ducked in close to swipe at the limbs. It worked more in her favor if she got in close, used her agility to keep the creature befuddled – it kept looking for her, distracted perfectly. Some of the humans were able to inch their way from the alcove, but the beast maintained a close distance and its body writhed and rolled. Pearl very nearly collided with its arm when it slapped a palm down, whizzing past her nose by mere inches.

 There in the wrist she saw it. Yet, couldn’t believe it. Unrestrained despair tainted all tenacity for fight and protect.

 A gem stone shimmered against her eyes, her face reflected in the polished surface. No. This wasn’t right. Something terrible, something awful had come about. She froze like a board, saucer-eyed, unable to grasp meaning or build comprehension. This wasn’t an animal. This… this was.

 A set of jaws clamped down over Pearl’s shoulder, nearly piercing her form through. The beast creature flung her around and around, twisting its body, not letting go, impossibly fast and erratic movements she couldn’t detach from until vertigo overtook her. Any second now she’d be lashed against a boulder, and her gemstone would crack. Any second, she would know nothing. She would shatter.

 Something, or a lot of small things, happened all at once. The jagged teeth unlocked from her shoulder, and momentarily her body revolved without restraint or equilibrium. This endured for mere seconds, wherein something caught her by the wrist – one laced across her chest and locked to a spear (it was all she could manage to keep her limbs from snapping loose off her body) – and tugged her out of the dislocating spiral. She was rotating over and over midair, the difference was it had control and poise. She creaked one eye open.

 “I got bored!” Spinel spat. One arm was latched to Pearl, the other limb coiled tight around her own entire body. “Got your wits?” Pearl nodded, still stunned, unable to verbalize. “Okay then. Have fun!”

 Pearl traced the remaining portion of Spinel’s coiled arm, saw where the hand was fixed to. The beast was mid recoil, a blazing slash dazzled the side of its muzzle. The hand was locked to its teeth. With their interaction concluded, Spinel recalled her arm, whirling her body – with Pearl – at a terrifying speed. Pearl locked her fingers onto the spear and waited the moment when Spinel released her wrist. In a blink she was driven downward, the next instant her spear cut through the core of the beast.

 An explosion of green dust settled around Pearl. She stood shaky, turned to see the glittering stone drop among splinters and leaves.

 A Gem’s stone.

 Spinel crashed through the canopy and bounced across the earth, knees bent way backwards over her head. A graceful faceplant. Her legs flopped to the ground.

 “Bad idea,” the muffled proclamation came.

 “Spinel,” Pearl uttered. She moved to the gem stones side and dropped to her knees. “Look at this.”

 The Spinel stumbled over to Pearl and leaned over. When she saw the precious stone in question, she recoiled. “Whoa-whoa-whoa! What?!”

 Pearl shook her head, and bubbled the gem. “I don’t… it was in its wrist. In her wrist.”

 “Embedded?”

 “I think… it was supposed to be there.” She shook her head again. “No. Not supposed to, but… she formed around it. Formed from this gem. A gem stone. Someone.”

 “No-no-no, don’t say that! You can’t say something like that! We don’t know! It— We just don’t—” Spinel gave a holler and stomped away, tugging at her hair. “No! Just No!”

 “We need to show this to Rose and Garnet.” Pearl stood with the bubble on her palm, and dismissed her weapon. She looked over, as humans from the dismantled village began emerging from their shelters and hiding places throughout the foliage. “Oh dear.”

 “Look at the mess it made!” Spinel stormed off. “You can deal with it! I’m goin’ home!”

#steven universe #su au #spinel fanfic #crystal gem spinel au #spinel fanfiction #pearl fanfiction #steven universe fanfiction #su #pearl gets to fight #spinel is nope rope #corrupted gem #gem monster #steven universe the movie

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 1/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series.  Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell... D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

"There's no such thing as a painless lesson, they just don't exist. Sacrifices are necessary. You can't gain anything without losing something first. Although if you can endure that pain and walk away from it, you'll find that you now have a heart strong enough to overcome any obstacle. Yeah... a heart made Fullmetal."

-.-

Edward Elric stared out into the window of the train compartment he had claimed for the trip. Sitting across of him are Alphonse and Mei, both of them snoozing away throughout the duration of the trip. Xiao-Mei tucked tightly in Mei's arms, the tiny softly snoring the trip away. The Eldest Elric couldn't help but smile every time he turns his sight of his younger brother and his future sister-in-law.

Loud tutting sounded off from the back of the compartment, signifying the four of them weren't entirely alone. Sitting at the back of the compartment are several of Xing's Advisors and ambassadors, half of which are giving Alphonse and Mei either looks of wariness or dislike. Edward could recognize the latters for not liking Alphonse for whatever reason or another. Or maybe for the fact he isn't someone they would have preferred to marry the Xing Princess... Eh... whatever the reason, they don't like the younger Elric Brother.

Looking back out the window to see the moon shining high in the sky, Edward is wondering if Winry is looking up at the night sky. With the thought of his fiancé, the Elric wonder just what exactly waits for him back home. Just what exactly is waiting for him when he gets back home? The wrench of Doom? A maiming? Fresh Apple Pie? The possibilities are endless at this point. If he ends up in the hospital, he'll blame Colonel Bas... Excuse him... General Bastard for it. He still has no clue what exactly he told Winry.

It is for that unknown Edward sent Xerxes to the Rockbell Residence and with a clear order to wait for him to return. The last thing he wanted is that feeling of the temptation of wanting to write a letter asking Winry just what was informed to her.

For Edward, he rather faces whatever Winry will throw at his his face now, than in a letter. This way he won't know of his future demise ahead of time. For now the Colonel needs to keep his mind onto what awaits for him at Central. He could already sense the massive piles of paperwork that are waiting for him once he gets back.

-.-

Edward fixed himself a cup of tea during the negotiations between Amestris and Xing. He was invited by the Fuhrer Grumman to join him for the meeting. It was a simple invite, one of which he could not refuse. Even if he wasn't invited to the meeting, the Colonel would have found a way to get in. Alphonse is part of the meeting as a sort of ambassador. Ended up brother dearest has dual citizenship, well that was new. Should he be surprised? Nope. Considering what he has been told and saw, not surprising.

So far, the meeting is going well, a couple of arguments here and there, nothing out of the norm. If anything, the meeting is going on schedule considering. The only part that seems to be the giant elephant in the room is to see which side will bring up the topic of magic. Now if someone would mention it, then it would be truth-tastic.

-.-

" How much longer do you believe this will take?" Alphonse asked his brother once everyone was excused from the meeting for a lunch break.

"Normally...weeks... months... depends on both sides likes or hate each other's guts." Edward replied with a shrug, he will never get used to being in full uniform for long periods of time. At least this one isn't loose and he isn't tripping over the pants sleeves. "Considering that old guy that's been giving you the stank eye asked about a Magical Alliance."

"In his defense, several of his grandchildren are magically gifted and is looking out for them. For your information... he wanted me to mention this Alliance, he's never been much of a talker." Alphonse stated defensively, he elbowed his brother in the stomach and speed-walked away from any possible form of retaliation from his brother. As I moved away, his traditional Xingese golden and emerald garment swished behind himself that highlighted the golden threads sewn into the outfit. Ling had given the garment to Alphonse to signify further his status to the Emperor.

"Dammit Al!" Edward cursed his brother and promptly chased after his younger brother.

"Hahaha!" Alphonse laughed at his brother's attempts at trying to catch him. "Having a little trouble over there, Ed?"

"Grrr....." Of course, Alphonse will go for a short joke. It didn't help that Alphonse is taller than Edward, even in his mortal form. "That's low, Little Brother."

"Hahaha!"

"Colonel Elric, you have a call."

Edward came to a complete stop at the mention of his name and the fact he had a call. A shiver ran down his spine when a thought came to mind, he could already sense his death is near. That sense only grew stronger with every step he took to the private room he was being escorted to. He didn't see his brother giving him a sympathetic look before he walked off towards a seemingly random direction.

-.-

"Edward, Roy told me about your new role in the Military..." Winry Rockbell sat in a wooden chair, talking to Edward through the phone. She kept fiddling with the cable as she listened to what was being said to her. "Ed...Ed... ED! Listen to me!... Do I have your attention?... Good. Edward, we are going to talk about this once you get back... WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT SUPPOSE TO MEAN?"

Winry slammed the phone without another word back onto the receiver with a loud huff, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the phone. Seconds ticked by and it seemed more like hours for the Mechanic.

"Hoot?"

Winry looked over to see Xerxes looking up at her with curious eyes. "Hello, Xerxes..."

"Hoot. Hoot."

"You do know I don't understand you?" Winry stated in a monotone voice, with a grumble, she reached down and picked up the tiny owl. Xerxes furrowed into Winry's arms and hooted happily at the attention. The Blonde looked down at the owl with resigned eyes, with a sigh she reached over to pick up the phone and dialed a familiar number. "Hello...? Could you connect me to Colonel Edward Elric?... Thank you."

-.-

Edward slammed his head against the wall repeatedly, mentally berating himself. Of course, it was Winry that had called him and they got into an 'argument'. Well, if that's what most would want to call it. There was shouting, curses were exchanged, and it didn't appear the typical relationship. What actually happened is Winry waiting for a phone call or even a letter from him, himself telling her what is occurring in his life; especially how it is connected to hers. What caused this little... episode... is the fact someone else informed her. General Useless just have to open his giant mouth. This wouldn't be happening if he was the one that told Winry of his new promotion and the job requirements in general.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Not even bothering life his head from against the wall, Edward picked up the phone and raised it up to his ear. "Colonel Elric speaking...Winry?... Hi... I miss you too... Yeah... I don't know how long this meeting will take... The moment I could leave, I'll take the next train back to Resembool... Have an apple pie ready for me?... I'll see you soon."

Edward waited for the click to signify Winry had ended the call before placed the phone back on the receiver. He couldn't help but smile, with a chuckle he pushed away from the wall and headed out of the room. Now to go back to the meeting and hope he will be excused to get back home... home. Heh, what a funny word to use...

-.-

It took the fact that Edward is tightly gripping the arms of his chair to prevent himself from speaking out or making a complete fool out of himself. He couldn't take his eyes off his younger brother as said sibling argued, protested, and... is he bluffing? Who the hell is this guy? This wasn't his brother what so ever! Earlier, Alphonse had mostly kept quiet, whispered out a few words to the Xing's ambassadors or advisors, and well... nothing like this. The youngest of the Elric Brothers are taking a complete lead. The topic that has him acting in such a manner is the... Magical Alliance.

Unlike before, Roy Mustang is now part of the meeting and is the only one that is more than willing to go up ahead against Alphonse. Too bad for him, Alphonse studied well and had excellent teachers to teach him the art of diplomacy and tranquil smiles. If anything, Alphonse is making the older man look like an idiot in his own right. If he could, Edward would be laughing at the look of Roy's astonishment or rendering speechless. Here is a young man he had more or less grow right in front of his eyes. Well, mostly. Considering in the majority of those years Alphonse's soul was in a suit of armor but that's not the point. He knows the young man and this... is just who he expected of an Elric. Now if he could get a word in without having the other spun his words around and make him look like an idiot. He shouldn't be surprised, Al has always been the more diplomatic one of the two brothers but to this extent? Heh... It has the General wondering on the what if's but there's no point on wondering. He has to focus on winning this argument on food. How they went from politics to foods, Roy has no clue.

The only person that seemed to be enjoying this argument is Fuhrer Grumman, the man is taking down notes of the types of foods the two males are arguing about.

'When will this meeting ever end?'

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Everyone in the meeting room turned their attention to the main entrance of the room, all of them wanting to know just who is interrupting the meeting. Everyone who is needed to be in the meeting is there and none of them are expecting anyone else. One of the guards that were standing by the door opened it and peeked his head out. There were loud whispers from the guard and whoever was on the other side.

A couple of minutes later, the guard returned to the meeting room with an armful of letters. Everyone, minus Alphonse, Edward, and Roy, did not recognize the waxed red seal on the envelopes. If anything, the fact that the eldest Elric brother started to curse under his breath. If he does not like this, then this is a bad thing.

"Colonel Elric? These just arrived for you." The guard said skeptically, he handed the armful of letters to the younger man before he quickly went back to his spot.

Edward glanced over at Grumman to see if the man is going to give him any sort of order. The only thing he got is that the Fuhrer looking at the letters curiously. The Golden Blonde opened the top letter of the stack and he couldn't help but pull a face at seeing who wrote it. "Cornelius Fudge... The bumbling pure-blood loving.... Ugh... the horrid pink thing.... Crap, crap, more crap. Let's see here... New Minister for Magic? Oooooh... this is bad."

"Colonel Elric?"

"Big brother?"

"Fullmetal?"

"We might have a tiny...huge... we have a problem. A very problematic problem."

"How problematic?"

"I give it a 6 or 7 on a scale to 10."

"Knowing you, that's actually a 20 or maybe a 30 to a scale of 5." Alphonse deadpanned. Everyone in the room had to agree to Alphonse statement.

"The current Minister is looking for someone to replace her next year, apparently, something about her health and mental stress. The one that everyone wants to puts in...is not suitable to run this society in my opinion..."

"Will this rise a complication for all of us?" One of the Xing's advisors asked in a serious tone.

"Severely. So... how about we finalize this Magical Alliance?"

Permanent Tag List:

@runestarchild​​​​​ @princesskitomi​​​​​ @fanfictionpromptsblog​​​​​ @souleateralicestein​​​​​ @vixen-uchiha​​​​​ @okami-knight​​​​​ @legendaryneckjudgestudent​​​​​ @weird-homosapien​​​​​ @justafanwarrior​​​​​ @vivilakitty​​​​​ @ravennightingaleandavatempus​​​​​ @if-you-give-a-chat-a-cookie​​​​​ @moonwatcher04​​​​​ @darkshadowguardian​​​​​ @two-faced-biatch​​​​​ @kris-pines04​​​​ @mewwitch​​​​​ @edwardhatori​​​​​​ @kuroko26​​​​​​ @tall-and-angry​​​​​   @bloody-no-kissu​​​​​​ @crazylittlemunchkin​​​​​​ @tbehartoo​​​​​​ @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry​​​​​​ @melicmusicmagic​​​​​​

#Alchemy Series #Tiny Steps #Pro!Snape #HP #FMA #FMAB #HP/FMA #HP/FMAB #Crossover #AU #Chapter 1