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aidanchaser · 1 year

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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter 3

Table of Contents Read on Ao3

beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer and @aubsenroute

Chapter Three Monsieur Pigeon

Ladybug was not entirely sure how she and Chat Noir would be able to successfully free Monsieur Ramier from Hawk Moth’s control. When Monsieur Ramier had been transformed by Hawk Moth in the past, he was given the power to control pigeons. Tonight, however, Hawk Moth had granted him an ability to get revenge on those teenagers who had harassed his pigeons by transforming them into the very pigeons they had come for. Now no one in the city was safe; merely the brush of a cursed pigeon’s wing would transform them into another bird in Monsieur Pigeon’s flock.

Ladybug and Chat Noir ducked behind a chimney and pressed themselves flat against the wall, hoping to hide from Monsieur Ramier—or, rather, they ought to call him Monsieur Pigeon while Hawk Moth had control of him.

“My lady—” Chat Noir pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. In a nasally whisper, he continued, “I think he’s got us pinioned down.”

She ignored the terrible pun. This was hardly the time. “This power of his is new…” She tried not to sound too doubtful as she unclipped her magical bandalore from her waist, but she couldn’t see a solution yet. “How can we possibly get close enough to find the cursed object?”

“I can distract him,” Chat Noir suggested. “My sneezes will make it easy for him to find me, and you can find the object Hawk Moth has cursed.”

“He doesn’t need to find us. Any of his pigeons can touch us and that’s it…”

“Hawk Moth won’t want our miraculous gifts to transform with us,” Chat Noir pointed out. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage—”

He stopped as a flash of orange on a nearby rooftop caught his eye. It stood out strangely in the dark night, especially when most of the movement in the sky was made of gray and black pigeon feathers. But before he could mention it to Ladybug, Chat Noir sneezed.

A nearby pigeon called in response, and Ladybug and Chat Noir ran. He pulled Ladybug in the direction of the orange blur, unsure where else they ought to go. He hoped that, just maybe, it was a stroke of luck, the sort that Ladybug could turn into a victory.

Ladybug and Chat Noir slid over a roof top and down to the street level, just in time to see something orange and white slip into one of the many tunnels that ran under the city. Underground certainly seemed safer than the skies, so they both followed.

Chat Noir dropped down beside her and rubbed his nose. “It might smell down here,” he said, “but it’s easier to breathe than among all those feathers.”

“What was that orange… thing?” she asked.

Chat Noir glanced around, but he saw no sign of the orange blur that had led them here. “I hope it’s help.”

Ladybug cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello?” she called, and her voice echoed down the tunnel walls. She hoped that the birds would not have bothered to explore the tight, underground maze that ran beneath the city. Of course, they would eventually get to her and Chat Noir, but she should have enough time to make a plan.

“Ladybug?” a soft, feminine voice called back. “Is that really you?”

“Who’s asking?” Chat Noir’s voice echoed in the tunnel. He leaned casually against his baton, but his senses were fully alert. His ears twitched with the magic that pulsed through his veins and his green, cat-like eyes shimmered in the dim light of the underground sewers as they searched for movement.

A girl stepped out from an alcove, and Chat Noir’s shoulders twitched with the urge to pounce. She had long, dark hair with a reddish tint to it. In the front, her hair had been pulled into two red tails with white tips, reminiscent of a fox. She wore white trousers tucked into black boots, and a bright, orange sash wrapped around her waist and trailed off into a sort of tail, white-tipped like her hair. She wore a tight orange bodice edged with black lace and black gloves that ran the length of her arms. Her shoulders and neck were bare, decked only in a gold chain from which hung a curved orange pendant. A pair of tall orange ears sat on her head, not unlike Chat Noir’s own leather cat ears, and her face was covered by a mask in the shape of a fox’s head.

The part of her that drew Chat Noir’s attention, however, was the large bamboo stick in her hand. He kept his brilliant green eyes trained on it, waiting for her to lift it into an attack position.

“Ladybug, I was so hoping I would find you,” the girl said effusively. “Those pigeons—they attacked my family.”

“I think we’re safe here for the moment,” Ladybug said, but Chat Noir was still hesitant to relax his guard.

“How did you get away from the pigeons?” he asked.

The girl touched the pendant at her neck. “This is the gift of illusion. I was able to hide myself. It did not last for long, though…”

“You’re all right now,” Ladybug promised. She held out her hand to the girl. “We’ll help you, and we’ll save your family.”

“Thank you! I know if anyone can help, you can, Ladybug.” She took Ladybug’s hand and squeezed it.

Chat Noir eyed Ladybug and decided he ought to trust her judgment. They were a partnership, but they were not exactly equals. She was the captain and he was more like her first mate who supported her decisions. If she thought they ought to help this girl, he would go along with her plan.

He re-clipped his baton to his belt and gave their new friend a dramatic, sweeping bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your cat-quaintance.”

Ladybug and this new friend were equally unimpressed with his chivalry and humor.

“You said you had the magic of illusion?” Ladybug asked, as if Chat Noir had done no more than clear his throat.

The girl nodded.

Ladybug smiled. “Illusion just might be the distraction we need without risking turning Chat Noir into a pigeon.”

Ladybug tossed her bandalore into the air and called for her Lucky Charm. There was a bright rose-colored light from her bandalore. Her spots flashed and the magic of creation flowed from the bandalore until it had finished constructing the lucky item that she needed. The object that fell out of the light and into her hands was warm and buzzed with magic. She examined the curved reed, red and decked in black spots like her dress. She pursed her lips, unsure exactly what she needed to do with it.

“Do you think you're supposed to hit Monsieur Pigeon with it?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug glanced over at their new friend and the bamboo reed in her hand. “Can you make both sound and images with your gift?”

The girl nodded, and Ladybug laid out their plan.

Chat Noir didn’t like it, but Ladybug was in charge, and so he did as Ladybug asked. He stood on the fifth bridge from the palace and stared at the dark water below. It looked cold. At least his allergies would probably be unaffected while he was in the water.

With a sigh, Chat Noir put the hooked end of the reed in his mouth and jumped into the river.

He could not see well in the water, but the dark itself was not much of a problem for him. The city was well-lit at night, which left her alleyways and the depths of her river dim to the average person, but for Chat Noir it was easy for his cat-like eyes to adjust. He stayed below the surface, careful to keep the top of the reed above the water so that he could breathe, and waited for Ladybug’s signal.

It was not long before he saw what he was waiting for. Ladybug and Chat Noir approached the river bank, pursued by a flock of dark pigeons, whose wings reflected iridescent purple in the city’s many lights.

The illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir hesitated at the water’s edge, apparently cornered. Monsieur Pigeon, in his dark pink and purple suit approached.

“Which will it be?” the man asked with dark glee in his voice. “Join my pigeon army or hand over your miraculous gifts?”

Chat Noir watched Monsieur Pigeon closely in search of the object Hawk Moth had infected in order to amplify Monsieur Ramier’s anger. In the past, it had been Monsieur Ramier’s pigeon call whistle, but Ladybug had warned Chat Noir to be careful and sure before he made his move. They would not get two attempts with Ladybug’s magic of creation, nor Chat Noir’s magic of destruction.

Monsieur Pigeon lifted the whistle to his lips. It was as black as ink, and Chat Noir was certain that he was using it to control the monstrous pigeons. It must be the object they needed. Around the reed in his mouth, Chat Noir muttered, “Cataclysm.”

His ring burned and dark energy gathered in his palm. It may not have hurt, but it required a lot of focus to hold onto.

The first time Chat Noir had summoned his power, he had hastily grabbed a lamp post to keep from losing control and shattering a building; the lamp post had crumbled to dust beneath his hand. After that first night testing his new powers, his fay had warned him that the stronger his emotions, the stronger his Cataclysm would be. In those early days of grieving his mother, it had been almost impossible for him to use it effectively.

But he had learned to control it, and the freedom of being Chat Noir combined with working alongside Ladybug had given him hope in a future again. His Cataclysm had become manageable from not only use and practice, but thanks to a quelling of his grief.

Now, it was a tool he could manage as easily as Ladybug used her Lucky Charm. It cracked and popped in his hand, eager to destroy the first thing it touched, but he held back and waited. He watched as the illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir removed their illusory miraculous gifts and dropped them into the river.

Chat Noir’s mouth quirked into a small smile. Their new friend had no idea what he and Ladybug looked like underneath their masks, and he thought the tall, plain looking man that took Chat Noir’s place an odd choice. Whoever that man was, though, Chat Noir figured his life was probably easier than Chat Noir’s true identity.

Monsieur Pigeon, as Ladybug had predicted, dove into the river after the miraculous gifts. Chat Noir made his move.

He shot forward in the water and grabbed the whistle out of Monsieur Pigeon’s hand. It crumbled to dust in his grasp. Like ink dripping off of a quill, the suit Monsieur Pigeon had been wearing fell away, and Monsieur Ramier reappeared. He swam up to the surface hastily for air. Chat Noir did the same, careful not to lose sight of the dark iridescent butterfly that flitted through the water.

As Chat Noir broke the surface, Ladybug extended a hand to help him up. Chat Noir reached for her hand and was shocked as his hand passed through hers. Ladybug vanished, and nearby, their new fox-like friend laughed.

Chat Noir climbed out of the river and turned to help Monsieur Ramier. “Ladybug?” he called, annoyed with both himself and their new friend. Carefully, he shook the water from his arms. He hated the way it clung to him. It made him feel sticky, unable to slip easily and invisibly through the night.

Ladybug—the real Ladybug—hurried across the bridge. The large pigeons that had surrounded the illusions returned to their normal size and color, and Ladybug no longer had to avoid them as she chased down the dark butterfly that was struggling to fly away with wings weighed down by water. She unleashed her bandalore on it. The circular clay on the end of the string slid open and captured the butterfly within it. There was a flash of white light as the butterfly was sealed inside, and the bandalore returned to Ladybug’s hand.

Once she had whispered the incantation to purify the cursed creature, Ladybug opened her bandalore and released the butterfly. The butterfly, now as white as snow, flitted off into the night. Ladybug wished it well on its journey, as she always did. And as he watched, Chat Noir’s heart fluttered as it always did; he loved her for her confidence, determination and intelligence, but her kindness, more than anything else, left him full of adoration. His love never waned, no matter how many times he watched her wish a future of hope onto a creature that had been turned into an agent of destruction.

Their new fox-like friend stepped out of the shadows beside Chat Noir and watched as Ladybug threw her bandalore into the air and her Lucky Charm undid all the damage to the city and its citizens that Hawk Moth had wrought through Monsieur Pigeon. There was a sweep of red, flitting ladybugs that swarmed the pigeons, the streets, and then hurried down the alley, finishing their work throughout the city.

All was as it had been when Ladybug and Chat Noir had first transformed and slipped off into the night, except for the whistle. Ladybug’s magic was powerful, but the object that Hawk Moth infected with his curse remained damaged in whatever way Ladybug and Chat Noir chose to free the curse. It was the one thing Ladybug did not have the magic to fix.

But Monsieur Ramier had grown quite used to replacing his pigeon call whistles in the past year.

“Are you all right, Monsieur Ramier?” Ladybug asked.

Monsieur Ramier wrung out his dripping cap. “Did it happen again, Ladybug?”

“I’m afraid so,” she smiled. “But everything’s been set right.”

“I am so sorry,” he said. “But thank you for saving me. I know I can count on you each time.”

“Of course you can,” Ladybug promised. “And Chat Noir and our new friend, of course.” She gestured to Chat Noir and the girl in orange.

The girl in orange grinned and rested her flute-like reed over her shoulder. “You can call me Volpina,” she said.

“You have my gratitude,” Monsieur Ramier said with a bow.

Chat Noir wrinkled his nose in an attempt to stall a sneeze, but he was unable to stop himself. The group of pigeons lifted into the air in surprise, then followed Monsieur Ramier along the river’s edge, back towards his home.

“We really couldn’t have done this without you, Volpina,” Ladybug said, and held out her hand to the girl in orange. “I hope we’ll have your help in the future.”

Volpina took Ladybug’s hand and even managed a small curtsy. “Any time, Ladybug. I think I’ll be in the city for a while longer.”

“You’re not from here?” Chat Noir asked curiously.

Volpina’s mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “I thought you heroes liked secret identities.”

“We do,” Ladybug said quickly, “but it is surprising that you just showed up suddenly.”

The smile on Volpina’s face faded. Though her eyes were hidden behind an orange and black mask, complete with the snout of a fox, she looked sad. “My grandmother passed away recently. This pendant was hers. I didn’t know it was a miraculous gift until I put it on. I was afraid to use it, unsure that I could uphold the legacy she left behind, but when my family was hurt in Monsieur Pigeon’s attack, I called upon the power of illusion to escape and find you.”

All of Chat Noir’s wariness melted away in an instant. He knew grief. It cloaked him as thoroughly as the masks he put on for each of his identities.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said. “You were a great help today.”

The green emeralds on his ring flickered and the magic in one of the stones of the cat’s paw dimmed.

Volpina eyed it curiously, then said, “I think I need to take my leave.”

“Of course,” Ladybug said.

And as Volpina disappeared into the night, Ladybug’s earrings flickered.

“We ought to go too, chaton,” she said with a smile.

But he was loathe to leave his lady after their time together had been so brief. He looked down at the five glowing green emeralds set into his ring. Only one had flickered out. “I have a bit longer.”

Ladybug shook her head, but she was smiling. “It’s a good thing we met Volpina tonight.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Her smile faded ever so slightly. “Well… I might not be around very much over the next month. It’ll be good to know there’s someone else here to help the city.”

Chat Noir’s heart sank. But he swallowed down his own hurt and focused on her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but Chat Noir did not believe her. Ladybug was many things, but chiefly she was a hero, and a hero did not show her weak spots, not even to her partner.

“It’s just…” She struggled to find the words then finally managed, “In my other identity, I’m about to be very busy. I have a lot of people that I’m responsible to, and they’re all going to need my attention. I’ll still be around, and if Hawk Moth attacks I’ll be there, but these nights where we patrol… I don’t know how many of those we’ll have for a while.”

“Oh,” he said. He did not know how to put words to his heartbreak. Nights with Ladybug were the best part of his life. He wasn’t sure what he would do without them, and he wasn��t sure how to tell her about his own looming deadline.

Her earrings flickered again. Another emerald on his ring went out.

“Promise me something?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said readily.

“Try not to steal anything, please? I don’t want to come after you because Audrey Bourgeois can’t find her pearls.”

Chat Noir flicked at the silver bell that rested at his collar. It jingled softly. “I wear this bell for you,” he grinned. “Can’t get past any hunting dogs with this on.”

It was not entirely true. Chat Noir was good at sneaking around even with the bell around his neck, but it symbolized his loyalty to Ladybug more than anything. It had become an addition to his outfit only after he had fallen for her.

It had not taken him long. The very same night that she had first dragged him from the Bourgeois's manor only to send him right back in to return the rings he had taken, one of Hawk Moth’s monsters had attacked.

Chat Noir had readily run to help, and though he would never know it, it was his confidence that had encouraged Ladybug to join him. She might never have dared to use her magic to face the monster if he had never asked her to help protect the city.

Together, they had learned that they could defeat the monsters in a way that the castle’s soldiers could not, and that the gifts they bore from the Forest of Fay were gifts that could be used not simply for their own benefit, but to help and protect the kingdom. And, more than that, Ladybug could undo in a moment whatever damage had been wrought by Hawk Moth’s attack.

It was during that first fight that Ladybug had learned that Chat Noir was a better friend than he was thief, and it was during that first fight that Chat Noir had fallen in love.

So he had worn a bell, ever since that first fight. A faux-deterrent from stealing, because his lady had asked him to.

“Thank you, chaton,” she said, and smiled.

Chat Noir cherished her smiles as much as he cherished her laughter, but he could not bring himself to match her smile.

“I also have some bad news,” he said. The third emerald on his ring flickered out as her earrings flashed.

Ladybug’s smile faded and she tipped her head. “What’s wrong?”

He liked that she had echoed his question. He wished that he could, like she had, assure her that it was nothing.

“After this month, I don’t know that I’ll still be around.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have one more month before… well, before I assume some new responsibilities in my other life. I think they’ll make it harder to spend my evenings with you, Ladybug.”

It was not often that Chat Noir used her name properly. Ladybug knew that he was being serious, and not just trying to tease her or make her feel guilty for leaving him alone for a month.

She wanted to press him for details, but it would not be appropriate. She was the one who had set the boundaries between their daily lives and their lives as heroes, and it had been for a good reason. She was protecting him and his loved ones as much as she was protecting herself.

“Are you… sure?” she asked, unsure herself what she ought to say.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

It struck them both that from now on, then, any moment might be their last night together. And though it broke Ladybug’s heart to know there was a chance she might lose her best friend for good, she said, “You should go.”

The fourth emerald on his ring flickered out, and her earrings flashed.

“What if I didn’t?” he asked.

“Chaton…”

“Just kidding, of course.” But he had not been kidding, and he and Ladybug both knew it.

She kissed his cheek, then said, “This isn’t good-bye yet.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, and disappeared the way Volpina had gone, but whoever she was, she had already vanished

The final emerald on Chat Noir’s ring flashed and flickered out as Chat Noir murmured, “Plagg, claws in,” and his dark disguise vanished. The black suit fell from him and gathered in his ring, revealing a set of clothing that was just as dark but of much finer and more delicate cloth. The black wisps emerged from his ring and solidified into the form of the tiny black creature he had found in the forest almost a year earlier.

Prince Adrien Agreste leaned against the brick wall that formed half of the alley way and looked up at the sliver of stars visible above the close rooftops while the black cat-like fay dug through a nearby pile of garbage for some discarded cheese. They would need Chat Noir’s disguise to return home, but first the fay creature Plagg would need an offering of cheese to complete their initial bargain before he could give Adrien another turn with the magic of chaos and destruction.

Adrien considered, not for the first time, what might happen if he simply strolled up to the palace gates, and how his father might punish him for sneaking away. On his darker days, Adrien almost dared to do it. What was left for his father to take away from him? He had no control over whom he spoke to nor how he spent his time. Did he even really have control over whom he would marry, or would he just accept whatever his father asked of him? Shy of locking him in a dungeon, there were few ways for his father to restrict his freedoms much further.

But those were only on Adrien’s dark days. He knew that his father only wanted to protect him. He could not imagine how even his aunt might react, knowing the crown prince put himself in the path of danger almost nightly to protect the palace and the city from Hawk Moth’s attacks. He didn’t think she’d be any happier about it than his father. His mother might have understood, though. She’d have been upset, he thought, and worry, but he liked to think that she’d have understood.

“We need to do something about our new fox friend,” Plagg said as he dug through the piles of garbage.

Adrien tore his eyes away from the stars. “What’s wrong with Volpina?” She had helped them, despite his initial suspicions, and her grief had seemed genuine.

“Weren’t you listening?” Plagg disappeared into an old wooden box and re-emerged with a wedge of pungent, mold-covered cheese. “It’s not camembert, but it’s aged alright.”

Adrien wrinkled his nose in disgust as Plagg swallowed the cheese whole. He was not sure how Plagg managed it, considering the wedge itself was about twice Plagg’s size, but the fay creature seemed to stretch around the cheese, then compress back into his fay form.

“What do you mean about Volpina?” Adrien asked, when it was clear that Plagg was too interested in digesting his meal to return the conversation on his own.

“Did you notice how her pendant didn’t flicker with magic after she used her gift? That’s not a normal bargain. That’s a lifetime debt. Those trades don’t come cheap. Sounds like she may have stolen it from her grandmother.”

“Weren’t you listening? Her grandmother died. Surely Volpina just wanted something to remember her grandmother by.”

Plagg, however, was concerned for Trixx, who was his best friend in as far as fay creatures had best friends. Trickery and chaos went hand in hand. But he paused his concern for Trixx and took a moment to gauge the grief in Adrien’s eyes.

Plagg was not a sensitive creature by definition. He was born of chaos and destruction. His power was a curse, meant to inflict harm on others. And even then, it was mostly targeted at those who would hurt Tikki and her bondsman—or bondswoman, as was more often the case.

As a rule, Plagg did not express fondness for his bondsmen—or bondswomen, as it had been on several occasions—but Adrien was an exception. Plagg had observed many things in his year at the palace, but he had observed very little fondness. Adrien deserved a bit of care.

So Plagg shifted into his preferred form, a scrawny black cat, and threaded himself around Adrien’s feet. He nuzzled his whiskers and cheeks against Adrien’s ankles in a rare show of affection. It earned him a small smile from Adrien. It was still a sad smile, but most of Adrien’s smiles were sad. Someday Plagg would get a real smile from this boy. Something absolutely feral. It was what the boy deserved, especially after all he had been through, and especially given what was to come.

Plagg could not see the future—that was a different fay’s gift—but Plagg knew a few things about what went on in the palace that Adrien did not know. He chose to keep them to himself for now. Adrien would find out in time, and hopefully he would be ready to face those secrets when they eventually unraveled, as secrets always did.

Adrien knelt beside Plagg and stroked his spine. “We can’t do much more to investigate Volpina tonight. I suppose we ought to go home.”

Plagg tilted his head. “I bet we could still snag one of those pendants you were thinking about. Ladybug doesn’t have to know.”

The sad smile twitched ever so slightly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Something smaller then,” Plagg wheedled. “Something that really won’t be missed. Oh, we could stop by that boulangerie! It isn’t far. They’re the only place I’ve seen in this half of the continent that sells those fluffy cheese-filled pastries.”

“I can just order a bunch to be delivered to the palace,” Adrien said, but they both knew it would not be the same. There was something thrilling about slipping in and out of somewhere unseen, of having power and control over one little thing in his life when he was denied that power in so many other places.

When Plagg made no additional argument except to stare up at Adrien with pleading green eyes, the prince sighed. “Plagg, that’s a business, and the shop owners are very kind. I don’t want to steal from them.”

“Take the old stuff. It tastes just as good. We can leave something in exchange. Please,” he drew out his plea with a long whine. “We haven’t stolen anything in over a week, and you just promised Ladybug that we’d be good for another month. Can’t we have one last teeny-tiny hurrah?”

Plagg was Adrien’s closest friend and confidant while simultaneously being Adrien’s worst influence.

“Plagg, claws out,” he whispered, and the black cat at his feet stretched around him, spreading out from his ring, and cloaking him once more in the disguise of Chat Noir.

So when Marinette Dupain-Cheng finally returned home, well after her parents had retreated upstairs to bed, she found that three of their popular deep-fried, cheese-filled pastries were missing, and in place of the pastries, someone had left behind a small bouquet of budding hellebore.

#ml fairy tale au #fairy tale au #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ladynoir

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sweetness-pop · 27 days

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Hiya! 💗💋🍓🌸Sweetness*POP🌈🍭💀🌟 here!

Imagine someday for season 3, VivziePop will show us a very unexpected GIF as a sneak peak for a future ep:

(Warning: Contains such magical and elegant beauty from a certain hellhound)

Loona dressed in a lovely and beautiful formal fashion:

·A long hi-low strapless Japanese kimono-style dress that is midnight blue sparkled like a starry night sky. Has a sweetheart neckline that gives out a lovely appeal of her revealed heaving *C-cups* cleavage. A golden sash around the waist with a bow (also golden) behind. Pale blue diamond-like accents on the bottom of her pleated skirt. And silver crescent moons and blood red rose prints on the dress.

·Long black satin fingerless gloves with an upside down glowing white pentagram print on the front.

·Black dress sandals with straps, low block heels, and rainbow-reflected white rhinestones.

·Black choker with the full strawberry moon (June, is the month of the 🍓🌕) gem that is in a reddish pink color.

·Ruby red heart and rose gold crescent moon dangle earrings.

·Wavy half up/half down bun hairstyle with an Asian deep dark blue hair stick that has a silver crescent moon and pink sakura (obviously cherry blossom).

·And finally for makeup, Loona is not wearing her usual gothic makeup. In fact, she's not wearing a lot of makeup with the exception of sparkling red nail polish, a colorless eyeshadow with rainbow sparks and she's wearing cherry red lipstick. Loona actually being extremely beautiful without her gothic makeup. Like a hellhound revealed to be blessed with hidden natural beauty.

In the sneak peak GIF, Loona is seen at what looks like a formal gathering(like a party or an event) with rainbow-reflected diamond accents floating around the dark scenery. And Loona is seen giving out her beautiful genuine smile and sweet blush to a tall unseen figure(face not shown) who walked to her as she greets him by unexpectedly doing a........CURTSY. Could this be an "about-to-be dance moment" for our beautiful moon hellhound?

Would your comment be if you see this upcoming sneak peak GIF for a future Helluva Boss episode for either season 2 or 3?

🌌💎💅🌹🌙🐺💋👗👠🌸👘

#helluva boss #vivziepop #loona #helluva boss loona #hb sweets #helluva boss season 3 #finally posted this idea #my ideas #from my youtube comment #🌌💎💅🌹🌙🐺💋👗👠🌸👘

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danicadenniss · 10 months

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Leonard Diego, Marco Pedro, Megan Paola and Antonio Pablo Garcia-Clark

Home: Titan City, United Republic of Nations

Alias: Lee, Marc and Tony

Nickname: Sweetheart/Sweetie by their parents

Date of Births: September 8th 2018

Species: Human

Ethnicity: Multiple (Afro-Dominican, from their mother, French-Mexican American from their father)

Gender: 3 Males, 1 Female

Hair Colors: (Lee and Marc) Burgundy, (Megan) Natural Light Auburn Brown, (Tony) Natural Brown with Light Burgundy Highlights

Eyes Colors: (Lee and Marc) Hazel, (Megan and Tony) Amber

Skin Color: (Lee and Marc), Dark Brown (Megan) Warm Ivory, (Tony) Light Brownish Tan

Types of Skin: (Lee and Marc) Light Freckles, (Megan and Tony) Medium Brown Freckles,

Family Members: Mother-Karen Sara Garcia-Clark, Father-Cal Clark, Partial Aunt-Stella Mia Garcia-Naruto, Partial Uncle-Na’ Coda Naruto, Partial Cousin-Na’ Luzia Rio Garcia-Naruto, Partial Grandmothers-Savannah and Gloria Garcia, Material Grandparents-Mr. & Mrs. Clark

Appearance:

Leonard Diego Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby boy with short curly burgundy hair with short bangs, sideburns reddish brown eyebrows, hazel eyes, dark brown skin, light brown freckles on his cheeks and a thin figure. He wears a red t-shirt with pale red short sleeves, and orange t-rex prints on it’s front, orange shorts with a white diaper on it, reddish-orange socks and red and white sneakers.

Marco Pedro Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby boy with short wavy/curly burgundy hair with short bangs, thin reddish brown eyebrows, hazel eyes, dark brown skin light brown freckles on his cheeks and a thin figure. He wears a blue t-shirt with sea foam green turtle on it front, navy blue short with a white diaper on it blue graphic dolphin socks and black sandals

Megan Paola Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby girl with short curly/straight natural light auburn brown hair with short bangs, amber eyes, warm ivory skin, medium brown freckles on her cheeks and a thin figure.

She wears a bubblegum pink mid calf length dress with cap sleeves, magenta ruffle collar, light pink sash around her waist and white cat and a small hot pink butterfly prints on it’s left side front, a white diaper, white ruffle socks and magenta and white small floral petals strapped Mary Jane’s flats.

Antonio Pablo Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby boy with short straight/wavy natural brown hair with light burgundy highlights, sideburns light reddish brown eyebrows, amber eyes, light brownish tan skin, medium brown freckles on his cheeks and a thin figure.

He wears a graphic yellow tank top with Water Guppies prints on it front (parody of Bubble Guppies) a orange shorts with a reddish orange the Amazing Pets logo on it right side front (parody of Wonder Pets), a white diaper, white socks and yellow and black checkered slips on the sneakers. They also wear a red, bubblegum pink, light blue and golden yellow pacifiers on their mouths.

Personality:

Lee, Marc, Megan and Tony are so cute, adorable and cuddly babies.

#tmnt 2012 #totally spies

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copepods · 3 years

Photo

quick osmp techno design. bnuuy

[id: a colored sketch of technoblade from the origins smp as an anthropormorphic rabbit. he has mottled reddish-brown fur, and is wearing a white shirt, brown pants, light brown bandages around his wrists and ankles, a blue and purple cloak with fur lining, and a red sash and yellow blanket around his waist. end id]

#technoblade #osmp #mcyt #art #fish makes art

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bm-islamic-art · 3 years

Photo

Man Holding a Pomegranate, AH 1028 / 1618 C.E., Brooklyn Museum: Arts of the Islamic World

Card Catalogue: This drawing consists of the most popular formula in the single-male figure category: the isolated image of a middle-aged man seated in a contemplative mood in an outdoor setting. (Swietochowskhi, Cat. no. 30). The formula includes the offering of a fruit, a cup, a book, or other objects. Here the bearded man is holding a pomagranate in his left hand. His right hand rests on the ankle of his left leg. He sits on what appears to be a large scarf or cloak and wears a turban on his head. Next to him is a waterpipe, to his left is a rock projection from which a bush extends. Behind him and to his left is a tree, which stretches upwards to the top right corner of the drawing. The tree is flowering with yellow leaves. I nthe topoe left corner are swirling Chinese type clouds. The lsight color in the dreawing is a reddish pink: in part of the man's robe, around the rocks and base of the tree; the pomegranate; and what is either a book or a letter at the bottom of the drawing near the folded legs of the seated figure. His turban is painted white, the sash around his waist is blue and the cloak on which he sits is yellow like the leaves on the tree. The drawing is framed with a border of gold and set onto a gold specked blue paper. The blue paper is framed with gold lines which is set on a lighter blue paper with a gold leaf design. It is possible that the drawing belonged to an album. The drawing itself might have been cut down and it seems to have been varnished. There is a signature and date in the lower left corner, signed "Reza Abbasi" and dated 1028 A.H. / 1618 C.E. Size: 12 5/8 x 8 1/4in. (32.1 x 21cm) Medium: Ink, watercolor, and gold on paper

https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/5076

#museumarchive #brooklynmuseum #islamicart

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lorelylantana · 4 years

Text

Savageries of the Heart Chapter 1: Courtship

SFW

Zelda always hesitated outside of the King Daphnes’ door. Bracing herself for the twinge of disappointment that always came when she entered the room to find her father’s chair occupied by her uncle, she straightened her spine and stepped into the room with a schooled expression and a head held high.

“You called for me, your Majesty?” she asked, folding her hands in front of her abdomen as she stood in front of his desk. He didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, signing off one last document before looking up at her with a radiant smile that sent a chill down Zelda’s spine.

“Excellent news, my darling Zelda, I’ve found a husband for you.”

She sucked in a breath, “My husband?”

“Yes, my dear, at long last you're getting married! It was a challenge, mind you, but I’ve arranged for you to marry quite the accomplished Zonai warrior.”

She was speechless. As the first born of the royal family, Zelda harbored no false hopes of marrying for love, but she had at least hoped to stay within Hyrule’s borders, where she could at the very least continue her research.

“The temple will never allow it,” she insisted with a voice that shook in tandem with her beating heart. The smile on his face spread wider, though his eyes grew colder.

“The temple has always put too much stock on a bloodline bedtime story. Your mother was a gifted mage, but if present company is anything to go by,” he stood to walk around his desk and loom over her, “it was hardly a divine inheritance.”

“Zonai authority is established through combat prowess,” Zelda pointed out, “I fail to see why they would be interested in marrying me for my blood.”

“It doesn’t matter why they want you!” he snapped, the pleasant veneer of politeness cracking. He took a breath before placing heavy hands on Zelda’s shoulders, forcing them down into a slouch.

“What you don’t understand, Zelda dearest,” the King pushed through his teeth, “Is that we are vulnerable. Our military has been in shambles for an age, and ever since that wretched coup we have been surrounded by factions that refuse to fall in line. With the Zonai on our side, those other races will think twice before moving against us.”

In the ten thousand years since the continent was fractured there was never one incident that pointed to ambitions of conquest from any of the other five nations, but that didn’t matter to Zelda’s uncle, who had moved to a map of the continent. He stood in front of the east portion of the map, where the Akkala, Faron, and Necluda regions were painted Zonai green.

“My fool of a brother didn’t see the threats, but I do,” he whispered, frowning. He spun around to face her once again, “All you need to know, sweet Zelda, is that in a month’s time you will cross the Bridge of Hylia and make your home in the quaint woodlands that were once a part of our great nation.”

Zelda opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“Everyone wins!” he proclaimed, “We get the support of the largest nation on the continent, and at long last you can finally do something to help your country. As princess.”

Zelda sighed at her defeat, “I don’t know their language.”

“A month should give you a decent enough head start,” he insisted, sweeping a hand towards the door, “I suggest you get started.”

Zelda rushed out the door, desperate for a moment to process. Her plan was momentarily foiled by the arrival of Nohansen. The young prince was an unfortunate reflection of his father made all the clearer by his sinister smile.

“Ah! Have you heard the news, dear cousin? You must be ecstatic! The biggest day in any young woman’s life is her wedding day, and yours is a mere thirty days away!”

“I fail to see how we’re to organize a royal wedding in one month,” Zelda muttered. Nohansen’s smile sank into a smirk. He ruffled her hair, knocking her tiara off in the process.

“Oh, the wedding won’t be held here” he laughed, twirling the gold in his hands, “Of course not, we can’t have those barbarians running around our castle now, can we?”

Zelda took a breath to speak-

“No,” he said, holding up a finger to stifle whatever she was about to say, “We will be taking you to them. Your glorious wedding shall take place deep in the savage Zonai wilds. They even have a little spring said to be protected by a goddess. Does that not please you, O Daughter of Hylia?” he ended with a sneer.

Zelda snatched her crown back, the gold biting against her grip as she pushed passed him to rush through hallways stained burgundy with banners bearing her uncle’s crest to climb her tower, rushing up stairs and crossing the bridge to her study, the most remote room in the entirety of Hyrule Castle. She slammed the door and locked it before kicking off her shoes and climbing her desk to open the window high above it. She lifted her face to the breeze that rushed in. It was here, away from prying eyes, that she could truly relish in fresh air. She stood there a moment to relish the stillness before lowering herself to the floor and taking a seat in front of her carefully cultivated collection of samples of Hyrule’s most elusive flower, the Silent Princess. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get one to sprout within the confines of her study.

Her study was cluttered with several clay pots hosting their own samples. Stalks of Saffline and flowering Blue Nightshade gently glowing against the shadows. She also had several vials full of elixirs her uncle refused to consider implementing into the kingdom’s resources, citing a lack of reports backing her claims. Of course, any reports written by Zelda herself were disqualified because of a conflict of interest.

That didn’t mean her work went unnoticed. Zelda had built quite a rapport with servants and soldiers alike when she managed to concoct a working contraceptive elixir with ingredients common enough to distribute. From that point on Zelda became an unofficial medic to the people of Castle Town. Those employed at the castle had full access to the infirmary, but the same could not be said for their families. Since her activity outside the castle was heavily restricted most of her specimens were given to her by grateful family members who consulted her.

She was reviewing her notes on the Silent Princess when a knock at the door brought tension to her shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked, wary of her cousin coming in to gloat once again.

“You’ve been invited to dinner by his Majesty King Daphnes, he requests you come down immediately.”

“I’ll be right there,” she huffed, fixing the golden band on her head and straightened her hair before making her way down to the dining hall. To her aggravation, everyone had already been seated and turned to look at her as she walked in. Another one of her uncle’s tricks.

She sat at the last open seat at the head of the table. Her uncle intended to make a spectacle of her in some way, but she didn’t find out exactly how until dessert was served and the King knocked a spoon against his glass to call for the attention of the other nobles in attendance.

“It is my tremendous pleasure to inform you all as of today that our lovely Crown Princess,” he waved to a servant, who brought over a package “is officially engaged to be married!”

There was a round of polite applause before King Daphnes cleared his throat, continuing after they quieted down. The attendant placed a solid wooden box in front of Zelda after a maid cleared her unfinished cake away.

“In honor of this momentous agreement the groom in question was so kind as to send a gift to his beautiful bride to be and I thought it only right to share this celebration with you all by letting you bear witness to the first gift between our dear Zelda and her fiance!” the King turned to her then, laying another heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be shy now. Open it.”

At first glance Zelda thought the box itself was the gift. It was finely crafted, polished wood with a reddish tinge that she hadn’t seen before, and the various symbols and runes carved into it had her itching to go to the library. Zelda lifted the lid and reached in, pulling out a knife crafted by some creature’s polished jaw bone.

The room burst out in raucous laughter.

“My word!” a woman’s voice yelled, “I knew they were backwards, but to think they would present a young lady with the remains of some animal!”

“Well of course,” cried another, “If they couldn’t fashion a proper metal blade, what hope could they have of crafting jewelry?”

Zelda fingered the spiral carved into the lid’s center as she considered pointing out that the handle was made from silver wrapped in silk, but she doubted it would make a difference.

“Well she can always wear it about her neck if she wants to show off her engagement!” Prince Nohansen laughed.

Zelda did not wear the knife around her neck, but she did take to wearing it on a sash tied at her waist. The morning after the engagement was announced Zelda descended to the lower floors of the castle to reach the laboratory. Diplomatic relations between Hyrule and Zonai were nonexistent, but there was one researcher that spent a fair amount of time in Faron to study some of the plants there, and Zelda had gotten quite acquainted with him upon his return to the castle.

“Owlan!” she called, a smile growing on her face as the old man came into view, working diligently on documenting the fruits of his research.

“Come to glean Zonai secrets, your Highness?” he asked with a raised brow and his ever present gentle smile.

“You’ve heard the news then?” she asked.

“There’s not a soul in this castle who hasn’t. It’s the talk of the town,” he closed the book he was writing in and turned to face her, “Would you like a tutor in their language?”

“I would, but that’s not the only reason I’m here,” Zelda set the box she’d received the night before on his workspace, “What do you make of this?”

He took the box in his hand, giving the intricately carved lid, “If nothing else, you know that he’s a gifted carpenter.”

“You think he made the box himself?”

“Rather than a ring, Zonai engagements are marked with a dagger. Typically the suitor in question will present said blade with a personal touch. A seamstress would wrap it in a sash for her beloved, a gardener might send flowers along with the blade itself, and your betrothed,” he tapped the box lid, “sent a carved box. Would you mind terribly if I took a look at the knife in question?”

“Go ahead,” she said, taking an empty seat beside him. She turned back to him holding the knife in question with a frown.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s common for particularly capable warriors in the Zonai nation to slay a beast and have a bone fashioned into the blade. It’s a way of showing off, you see,” Owlan said with a mischievous smile, “but I can’t tell what creature it’s from.”

Zelda took the dagger in her own hands, running a ringer across the large fang at the point. Now that she had a closer look, she could see etchings on the bone as well, depicting a long horned serpent curling under the teeth.

“What should I send back?”

“I’m sure a reciprocal blade would be appreciated,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Zelda left shortly after to visit the blacksmith to have a dagger commissioned before heading to the library. After consulting a librarian she had several books on the Zonai language sent to her room while she perused the shelves until she came across the tome she was looking for.

The Hylian Bestiary was one of the oldest books in the castle’s collection, the original copy was written back when the kingdom encompassed the entire continent. She hefted the book onto one of the empty tables and flipped through the illustrations of beasts both alive and of their remains. She rested her head on her fist, nearing the end of the section and still at a loss. She turned a page, a little discouraged until she scanned it’s contents.

There wasn’t much information on this beast, apart from reports of different colors and different regions it had been spotted in. There wasn’t a live illustration either, but there was a careful sketch of a skull. Zelda opened her box and took out the dagger just to be sure. She held it up to the page.

Her fiance had sent her a Lynel’s jaw.

If his intent was to impress, he’d certainly succeeded. She had never seen one herself, but there had been occasions where her uncle had dispatched knights to slay one that had wandered a bit too close to hylian villages. It was one of the few times the King would approve of Zelda’s assistance of the medical staff, because they always needed extra hands afterwards. Zelda returned the book to its shelf and entered her study. The books she’d asked for were stacked on her desk, but she bypassed them for her cabinet of finished elixirs. She opened the doors and considered, wondering which one she should send to her betrothed. She considered a poison she’d extracted to coat the dagger in, but decided against it. With the language barrier as high as it was, she didn’t want to risk him drinking it. She ended up making a defensive concoction that would give him an extra layer of protection, which he might need if he made a habit of facing Lynels.

She was called down to the blacksmith’s a few hours later to approve of their handiwork. The blade was serrated, as she’s requested, and a fair bit longer than the knife around her waist, but she gave her approval and had it shipped off with her elixir to her fiance before returning to her study and reading through the basics of the Zonai language.

A week after she sent her own engagement dagger she had received another gift from her fiance. Unlike the first, this gift was contained within a basket. Zelda had the good fortune to intercept the servant on the way to deliver her gift to her uncle. The maid in question was a regular consumer of one of her contraceptives, so it didn’t take much convincing before she was walking back to her room with the basket tucked under one arm. She sat on her bed, and somewhat excitedly opened the lid of the basket-

And slammed it back down again. She stared at the basket as though it might combust for a moment, heart slamming against her ribcage. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, Zelda gingerly picked up the basket and placed it on her desk, ond once she put a few paper weights over the lid, paid Owlan a visit.

“Good afternoon your Highness! Are your studies going well?” he asked, looking up from the medication he was crafting.

“How do the Zonai feel about snakes?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Well I would say they’re quite fond of the little creatures,” Owlan explained, “Snakes in general are held in high regard due to their resemblance to one of their guardian deities. The Faron Python in particular is a common pet.”

“A snake is a common pet?”

“Contrary to popular belief, they can be quite friendly. The Faron Python is known for being affectionate and gentle, that coupled with their penchant to hunt pests earned them a spot in many a Zonai household.”

Zelda found herself in the library once again looking for answers regarding the nature of an engagement, and returned to her room with an illustrated guide to Faron Pythons and their care. Once she was once again seated on her bed with the basket placed in front of her. She made sure to turn to the page to a diagram of the snake’s physical characteristics to make sure she could verify her suspicion. Not wanting to spook the creature, she took the lid off slowly, giving the snake a moment to adjust to the light of her room before taking a closer look.

The serpent itself was shockingly beautiful, bright white scales with splashes of blue along its body that looked almost translucent reflecting the light filtering through her windows. After a few tense moments, Zelda carefully reached in the basket. The serpent didn’t shy away, so she felt secure enough to tuck her hand underneath a section of its body to gently lift it. First it was only a few inches, giving the sweet creature a chance to escape, but it only curled around her hand in an embrace that felt softer then it looked. The snake slowly turned to look at her. A tongue flicked out of an upturned mouth, and Zelda was lost.

From that day forward, it was common to see the Crown Princess of Hyrule walking through the castle with a serpent coiled around her neck. She liked the reaction her new friend had on those around her, even her uncle and cousin seemed to give her a wide berth whenever they caught sight of the python leisurely draped around her shoulders. She never mentioned the snake’s name because she liked the watchful respect she acquired and refused to undermine it by advertising that the intimidating serpent’s name was Noodle.

With this new edge to her authority Zelda made doubly sure that any gifts from her mysterious groom came directly to her hands. The benefits to this policy were two fold, the first being insurance that her uncle wouldn’t make a further mockery of her engagement or perhaps keep the gift if he took a liking to it. The second was the prevention of any diplomatic incidents. As much as she loved Noodle, Zelda was well aware that a snake in a basket could be interpreted as an assassination attempt.

As thanks for her new friend, Zelda sent one of her old journals she thought had a thorough description of how she made some of her earlier, more basic elixirs. She knew there was a chance he might not understand Hylian, but she thought it would be a good way to get to know her. She had tried translating the recipes, but gave up after the first few and sent the incomplete list rather than spend her remaining month translating a single journal. Her Zonai vocabulary was primarily conversational and sadly didn’t include scientific vernacular.

She must have gotten her point across, however, as just a week later she was delighted to find a few vials full of her fiance’s attempts to recreate her recipes.

Zelda was also surprised, quite a feat after Noodle’s auspicious arrival, to find a Silent Princess pressed into glass. At first she was perplexed, wondering if her fiance had simply ventured a lucky guess, but then she recalled the day she began researching the flower and attempting to foster it on her own was also the day she filled that journal, suggesting her fiance had read to the last page of her journal before preparing his third gift.

Her elation at this discovery was fueled by a torrent of relief. She had heard the stories of arranged marriages gone wrong. She had considered countless times in the past weeks that the gifts sent could be a ploy to gain her affections only to have such generosity evaporate as soon as the final wedding vow was spoken. Yet the Silent Princess in her hands whispered tales of a considerate husband, who took the time to read through all she had written and took the time to learn her interests. Deep in Zelda’s chest, she felt hope flicker, foolish as it might have been.

#zelink #zelink botw #botw au #link botw #the legend of zelda #the legend of zelda breath of the wild #zelda botw #arranged marriage au #zonai link #fanfic

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fallout-fallen-knight · 3 years

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Caroline Keene and her family

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a black ghoul woman with short braids. She is wearing a cowboy hat, long duster, cowboy boots, and a shirt and pants that are all brown with tan accents. She has a metal prosthetic hand on her left hand. She has a revolver and a knife strapped to her hip and a repeater on her back. She is holding a hammered tin cup. End ID]

Caroline Keene is a ghoul and former ranger - both of the Mojave and National Park variety - who lives at and runs Black Meadow Ranch in 2289. She, along with her three wives, raise brahmin, bighorners, and other animals, as well as disaffected youths who find their way to the ranch.

More under cut. CW: contains content related to domestic abuse.

Caroline first came to Black Meadow Ranch in 2272, shortly after the passage of the Ranger Unification Treaty, at which point it was owned by the Buckner family, a family of pre-war ghouls. She first came on as a hired hand, guarding the ranch from bandits, and saw firsthand the cruelty of the Buckner’s patriarch, Samuel. There she also met her first wife, Madison Buckner.

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a ghoul woman with reddish pink skin and long blonde hair. She is wearing a white top with golden cuffs on her arms and blue shorts, and is holding a banjo. She is smiling at the camera. End ID]

Madison and Caroline became close, and Madison began to share with Caroline her dreams of going to New Vegas to become a musician. However, her father forbade her from leaving, using her brother to keep her in line. One night, when Caroline found Madison bruised and bloody, she had had enough, and put both Samuel and her brother in the grave.

After inheriting the farm, Madison wed Caroline shortly thereafter, and Madison began recording her songs on holotape.

[image ID: a large super mutant woman with green skin and brown hair that is tied back in a bun. She is wearing a white shirt with blue jeans and a brown sash tied around her waist, and brown boots wrapped in similar brown cloth. She holds a frying pan, which she extends towards the camera, and an open book with some text and an illustration of some plants inside. There is a campfire behind her and a baseball bat strapped to her back. End ID]

Caroline and Mary met some time after the former took over the ranch, while on a supply run to nearby Jacobstown, where Mary was working at a restaurant in the ski resort. Instantly enamored with each other, Mary did not make contact with Caroline due to her own insecurities, especially after Caroline began bringing Madison to the restaurant. Nonetheless, they soon became acquainted, getting to know one another over dinners, and eventually Mary moved down to Black Meadow Ranch.

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a tanned woman with short blond hair. She is wearing a black leather jacket over a blue jumpsuit and has a necklace around her neck. She is carrying a shotgun, which is pointed to the left, a sniper rifle on her back, and a pistol holstered on her hip. She has two tattoos on her neck - two black horizontal lines that extend below her collar. End ID]

Beth and Caroline first encountered one another when the latter was still a Ranger, while establishing contact (or lack thereof) with the Boomers. Though Caroline and the other Rangers would stay well outside of the Boomers’ bombardment range, Beth would sneak to the roof of the hangers to watch them through binoculars. After Ace established contact with the Boomers and they opened borders to visitors, Caroline traveled there to search for hired hands willing to help out at the ranch. Recognizing the ghoul ranger she had seen as a teenager, Beth immediately asked Caroline for a job, and returned with her to Black Meadow Ranch to work as a guard and handyman. Usually a woman of few words, she confessed her feelings for Caroline one night, and found that she reciprocated.

#cw / abuse #cw / domestic abuse #okay to rb #ranger of the wastes #fallout OCs

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ananas-pineapple-thing · 4 years

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for day 3 of @heaptober-2020 pls pretend i didn’t do this a day late 😌

jenna nicko and septimus after being reunited in queste uwu

[image description: a digital drawing of Jenna, Nicko, and Septimus Heap from the Septimus Heap series. Jenna has her arms thrown around Nicko’s waist and she is grinning with her eyes shut. she is wearing a dark red dress with gold accents on the sleeves and a golden sash. Nicko is in the middle and has one arm around Jenna’s shoulders and the other around Septimus’s. he is grinning and wearing a light blue tunic with a dark brown belt. there are colorful bracelets on the wrist of his right hand. Septimus is to the right of Nicko and has his left hand on his brother’s shoulder. he is smiling and wearing a light green tunic with a reddish brown belt and a dark green cape. the background is a muted pink with a darker rectangle of pink around the siblings. there are two white hearts to the left of Jenna’s head, three white lines to indicate excitement to the left of Nicko’s head, and two white stars to the right of Septimus’s head. end of description.]

#heaptober 2020 #heaptober2020 #my art #Septimus heap #nicko heap #jenna heap

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the unseen one - 18

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: (fun fact i wrote this listening to beautiful ghosts which i have now formally induced into the fanfic’s playlist bc im a nerd who rly likes soft music) this is probably my longest chapter, yay me for writing a long one. hope you guys enjoy it xx

Next Chapter >>

Y/N looked at her reflection on the golden mirror standing in front of her. She studied the features she always saw in her own mirrors, the same face, the same eyes, same nose and same lips, however the reflection staring back at her was somehow different, similar to those renaissance paintings of mythical female sirens, goddesses, princesses and other deities. She had her once free flowing hair in a hellenic up-do filled with various flowers and a gold like chain intertwined with one of her brains. A few perfectly curled ringlets fell to frame her face which was still makeup free from last night, with a blossoming red tint on her upper cheeks.

She was dressed in a garment made of two parts, a linen white tunic and a clock held together by an ornamental claps with Hecate’s torch insignia at the shoulders and a light pink sash at the waist. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would think of her clothing. When she was younger, she would religiously dress as a Greek Goddess for Halloween yet nothing she’d worn compared to what she looked right now.

Minthe had been silent throughout most of it, sometimes even giving her judgmental looks whenever she questioned about the fabrics and flowers being used to adorn her. She didn’t completely blame her for doing such things, deities were only found of mortals for two things: war and procreation. It didn’t take long for her to return to the gardens, being placed in front of Hecate who was commanding her maidens like a captain on a ship.

- Do you know anything about gardening? - she looked down on the mortal dressed in deity clothing, which she had to admit, seemed to fit her better than the cheap satin piece she was wearing.

- I can manage. - Y/N rubbed her hands out of anxiety when talking to one of the goddesses of the Underworld.

- Well, pick something and get to work. - Hecate pointed aimlessly towards the groves and their dying flora. Y/N heart tightened at seeing the muddy green colour that the plants had beginning to take, a stark contrast to the lively, colourful flora of its surroundings. Her eyes locked on a particular rose bush whose roses were brownish white, some of its petals constantly falling to the ground whenever the slight summer breeze hit it. She took it upon herself to tend to it, walking over the to wilting bush and sitting gracefully on the grace, hands softly touching the dead flowers which she once imagined to have been the most beautiful flowers.

Y/N decided to take care of the flowers the way she took care of her little plants back in her flat. She started by getting rid of the dead leaves, carefully pulling them from the branches and onto the floor, trimming it to the best she could possible manage. Y/N kept on trimming, eventually reading the thorny white roses, some which were just in desperate need of water and others which were past the point of no return. She directed her attention to those, pulling a few out and onto her robes until a specific one found itself a challenge. The young girl extended her hand deeper into the rose bush, pulling the flower at its base, finding it rather hard to pull it from the branch. She kept on pulling and the flower eventually gave up, detaching from its base and sticking one of its thrones deep into her thumb. She let go of a tiny wince, not wanting to bother the other maidens.

Carefully, Y/N removed the thorn from the flower, throwing it forcefully on the ground before turning her thumb so she could face it. It had a tiny wound, so tiny that if she hadn’t known it was there, she would’ve never realised it was there. However, it was bleeding heavily, the scarlet liquid dripping and running from her skin to the green grass nearby the bush, staining it the same colour as the liquid.

She sucked on her thumb, mindlessly dabbing it against her clothing and returning to get rid of everything that did not belong to a healthy plant. Y/N was so into her craft she didn’t notice James returning to the Elysium. He watched her from afar, her lips and nose crunched as she inspected the rose bush with a might which in his mind was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

- Did you discover anything? - Hecate walked up to the God of the Underworld, curious for any developments.

- We are not entirely sure of who stole the pomegranate but we did discover her friend is an oracle. - Hecate rolled her eyes, if there was any type of witchcraft she hated the most it was prophecy telling. The prophecies were always unnecessarily over-detailed and more like riddles than actual pieces of helpful information. She already couldn’t stand the Fates and their seeing eye, but mortal oracles? They were the worse.

- Tell me you turned her into a fish ... or a plant. - Hecate was particularly found of permanent punishments. She thought curses and death were much too simple, however James was one to dabble in cursing rather than metamorphism.

- Y/N wouldn’t be very happy with that.

- Y/N is not the Goddess of the Underworld is she?

- You have absolutely no reason to despise her that much, Hecate. It is out of character for you to judge before meeting.

- I know how this ends, Hades. You are not the first god to take liking to a mortal and trust me it never ends well. - she sighed, arms crossed in front of her white gown. James had to agree with her, he knew way too many myths of when a mortal relationship went wrong but he couldn’t help it, she was just so magnetic and entrancing. Besides, part of him wanted to be next to her all the time and make sure no harm came to her which harshly differed from other deity/mortal relationships which were normally based on lust or petty jealousy between other deities. - You’re a King before you are a man. Remember that.

Y/N got up from her crutching state, standing on her legs as she patted the dirt and petals off her garments and onto the floor, a proud look on her face as she looked at the relatively healthy looking plant. She let out a little happy sound, hands clasped in front of her collarbones as she turned on her heel to go and find something else to do. Instead, her eye caught James’ figure who was standing next to Hecate in what looked like a innocent conversation.

She wanted to wave at him, maybe even give him an innocent kiss but Hecates’ words were still very much present in her mind “You are not to be intimate with the god of the Underworld” so were Minthe’s remarks about how he was expected to be seen with someone of higher blood. She wouldn’t want to get him in trouble and perhaps they could speak some other time when they weren’t surrounded by other people.

- What are you doing standing up there? - Minthe came up from behind her, a condescending tone present. - Ogling the god of the Underworld?

- What? No. - her cheeks turned into a colour that matched her pink sash, as she tried to hide her face in her hands. Somehow, the fact that he was, well, he was who he was, made her feel like she needed to keep everything shrouded in secrecy. - Is there something else needed?

- You know what? - her face contorted into a calm expression she couldn’t really figure out. - We could use some help from some new maidens.

- New maidens? - Y/N felt like a child, questioning everything and everyone around her.

- Yes, you see if you go straight ahead until you reach the river and ask the Charon to take you South you’ll be able to find them. Tell him it’s for Hecate.

- Oh, alright. - she nodded her head and wandered off into the groves, looking around at the decay. It looked like that particular piece of land of the Elysium was doomed to disappear. She kept on walking as instructed by Minthe until she reached the river where a boat was awaiting her with the same faceless figure. She had to admit that it freaked her out that someone without a face could speak but she tried her best to stay climb as she climbed on the boat, putting on her best courageous face. - Hecate asked for you to take me to the South.

- The South? - his voice was rather warm for such a menacing figure. - Are you sure?

- Yes.

She couldn’t see him do anything, however, she understood he had accepted her request once the boat started to move. Y/N remained silent, repeating Minthe’s words in her mind. How hard could it possibly be to lead a few maidens back to the Elysium? It was easy, she kept telling that to herself even as the boat reached shore. The sky had turned into a dark scarlet and the chirping of birdies could be heard no more. She looked around but all she could see was darkness.

- Are you sure about this, miss? - the Charon questioned, noticing the uneasiness of her step as she disembarked. - I’m sure Hecate can arrange for someone else.

- No. - she shook a forced smile out of her worried expression. - It’s fine. Thank you.

- Of course, m’am.

You can do this, she told herself as she stepped onto the darkness. There was no sound, the once dark scarlet sky had faded into pure darkness and it was cold, so cold. Her hands went to her own arms, rubbing them in order to keep warm as she dwelled deeper into the unknown, the only sound heard being that of her shoes clicking against the pavement.

- Hmm ... Hello? - she spoke up, gathering every bit of courage. She was in the Underworld after all and this was no longer the Elysium.

She kept on walking until she hit something, a blue and reddish tint coloured the dark room but once she saw what she had hit, her heart stopped beating for a second. She was standing in front of a skeleton. As she place her hand over her chest to regain her breathe the bony arm grabbed her cloth, forcefully pushing her and ripping her tunic.

- STOP! - she pushed her hand against the skull, trying to get away from the grasp, eventually gathering enough force to walk back. Screw this task. However, once she tried to find her way back she found herself surrounded by more skeletons and translucent figures all coming towards her. - HELP!

James and Hecate were still in their friendly debate with the goddess being of the opinion that all of this was madness and mainly caused by both of them being ignorants, something he had already heard before. As he was about to shut her to go and tell Y/N of the developments, a bunch of water nymphs came running their way with worry written all over their faces.

- My Lady, there’s been a security breach in the Tartarus. - they all said at different speeds and different pitches, which made James’ head hurt at all of that. Hecate took a defensive stand, turning to look at James who just moved his head is disbelief.

- How is that even possible? It’s probably just a false ala ... - he was about to dismiss their claims until he noticed a very missing Y/N from her once beloved spot. His eyes scanned the crowd of maidens looking anywhere for her but she was nowhere to be found. - Y/N!

Once he heard no one calling back, his mind immediately rushed to the Tartarus. She couldn’t be there, she had barely been in the Underworld besides no one would take her there, she was a mortal. However, in a snap of his figure he’d been transported to the Tartarus, staff in hand as he strutted down the halls of the Tartarus. He hit one of the walls with his staff, which turned dark blue, giving light to the constantly dark Tartarus. With the new founded light, he could see a bunch of condemned souls surrounding a particular spot.

- THAT’S ENOUGH! - he screamed in a tone that could scare even the biggest of deities, even Gaia herself. The souls, noticing their leader was amongst them, broke their surrounding, returning all to him. - NOW DON’T MOVE IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU.

James strutted further into the Tartarus, finding bits and pieces of white linen which could belong to her along with several fresh white roses. Maybe she had been picking them prior, he did not know. His heart clenched as he called out for her name but heard no answer, maybe it wasn’t her, maybe she wasn’t ...

- B...Bucky? - James heard her faint voice and as fast as he could followed it until he found one of the souls pressing her against one of the walls, boney hands around her neck. He hit the staff against the ground, the once pressure around her neck vanishing as she slide to the ground, hand coming to touch what he guessed was a very sore spot now. She lifted her head to stare at him, a look of regret and fear in her beautiful eyes. - Bucky, I’m so sorry.

- Y/N. - he rushed over to her side, leaning so he was standing at the same height as her, hands coming to hold her jaw. - Are you hurt?

- I’m okay, I’m okay. - she leaned her head onto his shoulder. It didn’t take long for him to feel his clothes had begun to dampen. - I messed up ... I messed up.

- Hey, look at me. - he tried to move his shoulder so that she would look at him, but she refused, maintaining her face buried them. - Y/N, c’mon, sweetness.

- I don’t want you to see me cry. - she sobbed through her speech, arms coming to wrap around his body. Bucky pulled the pin that was barely keeping the now very messy hairstyle up, throwing it onto the floor as her hair descended from the once tight hellenic hairstyle before proceeded to card his fingers through it, every once in a while kissing the top of her head. Y/N eventually stopped her crying, removing her head from his shoulder to stare at him, the look of uttermost regret slowly breaking his heart even more as he saw it on her expression. - I’m so sorry.

- This is not your fault. - he helped her get up, holding her hands in his as if something returned to dare and harm her. Not that they would, they’d have to be crazy to mess with the King of the Underworld. - I should’ve never taken my eyes off you.

- Bucky. - she wrapped her arms around him and for a second it felt like things were back to normal. It felt like things were normal again that she didn’t know he was the God of the Underworld and that she wasn’t doomed to remain in the Underworld. He melted and relished into her hug but couldn’t help but feel how cold she was. She was still a mortal and remaining in the Tartarus would do her no good.

- Let’s go before you freeze to death. - he joked, not expecting to get a laugh out of her after the current events, however she showed him a small smile.

He held her hand as he guided her through the Tartarus, her eyes scanning the souls that once were harming her now stood without moving, not even daring to make a sound in front of their King. Something in that made her courage swell up, seeing them helpless standing around her without being able to touch her again. Her head held up high however once she noticed the fresh white roses on the ground, she couldn’t help but stop her step.

- They’re beautiful. - she mumbled under her breathe.

- Are they not yours? - he questioned at her astonishment with the flowers.

- No, I wish I could have such beautiful roses. I thought flowers only grew within the Elysium.

- Don’t bother your head with it. - he reassured her, although the question was still very much puzzling to him. - C’mon, let’s go.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319

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stellahibernis · 4 years

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Lan Wangji: Armored in Silk and Lace

AKA Lan Wangji’s costumes in the Untamed, part 3/9

Today it’s time to discuss the outfit that’s definitely in contention for the title of Most Extra™. As usual, I’ll talk of the costume both in terms of what it consists of and how it ties to what’s going on in the plot.

Lan Wangji wears this outfit during the evil summer school in episodes 11 to 14, and is furious for about 90 % of the time. He also confesses his love, only for Wei Wuxian to pass out without actually hearing it, so things are going just great for him all in all.

The Costume

This was a fun one to analyze, because it looks fairly simple at a first glance, the silhouette is much like his first outfit, but when you start to really look at it, you’ll spot a lot of detail going on. Also for some reason getting good screencaps of this one was a nightmare, but I think you’ll get the gist even with what I got.

This outfit is notable for a couple of reasons; it’s his first completely white outfit (excluding the forehead ribbon and waist ornament, those are the same as always), his other fully white outfit is the next one. It’s also the first time there’s no cloud embroidery anywhere, the other time is the outfit he wears when they go to the temple in the end. I’ll talk of the in-universe reasons in the context section, but the fully white look is a very wise choice also from the costuming perspective.

As you can see above, the silhouette is once more a formal one, with the wide sleeves and the robe falling freely over sash. The color is pure white, as opposed to Nie Huaisang’s off-white in comparison, but you might go back and look at the first outfit for example, and notice the white here seems warmer than in any of his other white outfits. Usually, while the white fabric in LWJ’s costumes is always pure white rather than a tint of any kind, it takes a little of the blue hue from the inner robes. It obviously doesn’t happen here, and the fabrics used are also somewhat less shiny than in his other costumes, which helps it reflect the warm tones back (as opposed to the next, also all white outfit, which is made of shinier fabrics).

From costuming perspective the choice makes sense, because this outfit is worn outdoors under sunlight, in Qishan with its reddish light, and in the cave in firelight, all of which are environments where the full white works at least as well (natural sunlight) or better (Qishan and the cave) than with the blue underlayer. The textures of the fabric also look great especially in the dim light of the cave.

Now let’s get to the details! The most obvious thing is of course the lace overlay on the outer robe which is not only gorgeous, but a relevant factor in consideration whether this is the Most Extra™ outfit. I also love the texture of the fabric on the lapels and sleeve ends, with the same fabric also used in the layer below. In the title I called this outfit his armor, and it is so for him psychologically, which I’ll talk about later, but it’s also reflected in the very structured cut of the second robe, which has much starker pleating than his outfits usually do. There’s also a bit of lace in the panel on the front, and the sash is similarly criss-crossed as it was with his previous blue outfit.

I had to settle for a screencap of him crouching to get even a half decent look of the bottom of his robes, because mostly you can’t see half of the detailing. First, there is the panel of lace that continues all the way down in front, and you can also see the pressed pleating. Also, if you look at his right knee (resting on the ground), you can see yet another fabric that has a sort of circular texture going on (may have to zoom in on this one), again something that you’re likely to miss on the screen, but must have been great for Wang Yibo to know that every bit of the costume was as elaborate as LWJ’s should be.

And finally, my favorite detail and the one that in my book yields the title Most Extra™ for this outfit, the boots! Sorry about the awkward cropping, I didn’t want to have the leg wound visible, since that’s potentially a less than great surprise in a costume post, and this was pretty much the only scene where you could get a good look at the boots.

I mentioned in part 1 that it's a hell of a power move from the Lan Sect to have white boots in general, but look at these. Boots made of white brocade? Truly incredible, and obviously used here since we get a good look at them by virtue of LWJ’s leg wound. Once again I applaud the costuming department for commitment.

The Context

LWJ is back in white, which broadly means that he feels drawn to his duty to his sect more keenly, and in this case I’d argue it’s mixed with mourning for the burned Cloud Recesses and the loss of his home, hence the all white outfit. He’s also terribly vulnerable and alone when we first see him in Qishan, he’s escorted in by the Wens rather than arriving with an entourage like the others, he’s been questioned and beaten for who knows how long by that point, he’s injured and has to use his spiritual energy just to walk upright, and he’s worried about his family. Of course, he’s not going to let the Wens see it’s getting to him, and his outfit is one of the few things he can control, so he does, to a degree at least.

The lack of cloud embroidery might in-universe be because he was not allowed to have it, considering the embroidery acts as a talisman that can protect the wearer from some forms of harm (remember how in episode one the puppets didn’t like them).

They may be made of silk and lace, but his robes are his armor right then, the very formality and how impeccable they are despite everything is giving out the signal that even in these circumstances he’s still the Second Jade of Lan. It’s costing him though, and he again has drawn a wall around himself and doesn’t spare a glance at the others, including WWX, he’s laser focused on Wen Chao with all the fury he has. Of course, the day ends absolutely miserably with them having to relinquish their swords just to add insult to injury, and giving him even less things he has control over. (This is not a weapon design post, but Bichen is really pretty.)

There is a huge difference in the way he now interacts with WWX compared to where they left off in Qinghe, even taking into account that LWJ didn’t actually let WWX see quite how much he’d softened toward him, but now the barrier is fully up again, and WWX is doing his best to batter it down once more. He can of course see it’s different compared to how their early interactions were, now LWJ isn’t annoyed at him but just ignores him, likely at least partly out of necessity because he has no energy for anything else, but also because he’s so aware of representing his sect in this dangerous time, and he can’t afford to be distracted. WWX of course finds out only later what has happened since their parting, and then understands better why LWJ behaved as he did.

Of course, LWJ might be on his last legs and tied by his duty, but the fact he cares about WWX hasn’t changed, and while he can ignore both the questioning and the antics, he won’t just stand by and let him be hurt. This, of course, is a mutual feeling for the two of them, as we see later during the walk toward the cave. In fact, they’re on something of a mirrored journey right here, having to think of their duties toward their sects, but when push comes to shove, they will always help each other.

When they're left behind in the cave there is a brief lull in the push and pull conflict going on in both their hearts, and for a bit they can just focus on surviving together. WWX pulling LWJ’s ribbon off is a neat symbol for it, as if removing the duty for a bit, and the conversation following is fully personal even though their worry for their families is there at the back of their minds at all times.

There’s also the only moment of peace for LWJ while wearing this outfit; when he falls asleep and WWX gently covers him with his robes, and later in the morning puts his ribbon back on. LWJ really had no defence against falling in love with WWX, when assaulted both by the fact WWX isn’t at all bothered by the icy aloofness he portrays, and the casual caring acts.

After the relatively calm night it’s back to no fun times to be had, with WWX nearly dying in the aftermath of the battle. Here we get perhaps the most pointed example of how LWJ is at this point in his life pulled into two directions. He sings the song he composed and named after the two of them to WWX, even saying the name aloud and practically confessing to his feelings, and then leaving without waiting for WWX to wake up when they’re saved, because he knows that since he can, he needs to return to his family and see what they can salvage of their home. A “fun” thing for him to contemplate, by the way, is whether things would have gone differently when they reunited in episode 20 if he’d stayed at least to see WWX back awake. Who knows.

Next time we’ll have another fully white outfit and LWJ not having a particularly good time wearing it. Hopefully there’ll be plenty of scenes from which to get good screencaps, it feels like struggling with both the angst and difficulty of capturing should be too much to ask. 😅

(You can find the rest of this series via “lwj costume series” tag below, or through my blog contents page. I’d link for ease of access but the links make it disappear from tags, so. 😒)

#the untamed #cql #the untamed meta #cql meta #lan wangji #costume design #lwj costume series #cql rambles

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henryobsessed · 4 years

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The Widow and the Witcher Chapter 18

Summary: Well its a wedding :)

Word Count: 2600

Warning: Fluff, Emotions, Acceptance

A/N awwwwww

Chapter 18 – The Wedding

It was night, the sun had gone to bed and the sky was blanketed with stars. As was the custom in this village he was preparing to ride to claim his bride. Geralt stood dressed in his formal dress blacks, the only Jewellery the medallion hanging around his neck. His thick hair the whitest it had ever been after Jaskier insisted that it be washed with some special soap. He smelt of Chamomile and Honey. Funny, Julia had never commented on his smell except for when he had been around the horses too much. But tonight, he would have bathed in the petals of roses if he thought Julia would like it, and Jaskier did understand the female gender better than he did. The last thing he held was his bouquet of flowers to present to Julia. As Visenna and Yen had walked home with him he had remembered Tobias the day he went to get his bride, and how important it had been that he got it right. Well, this small bunch of wildflowers they had picked on the way back to the inn was not expensive or exotic but they represented him.

His Brothers, Father, Mother, Daughter, and closest friends behind him on their horses moved through town to the road leading to the estate. He was not sure what to expect as he had been waiting at the estate when Tobias and Renee were given to each other. All he was instructed to do was to ride to the house and kneel before Tobias asking for his blessing as the man of the house. As they reached the road leading to the estate, he saw an eery glow, as he got closer, he saw Villagers lining each side. The whole village must have turned out because It looked like the road to the estate was completely lined with Lanterns.

As he slowly pasted each lantern the villagers smiled at him and fell in behind the small band so that by the time, he got to the estate a large crowd was following. Geralt had never felt so accepted and loved. He dismounted at the entrance to the estate and the rest of his family followed suit. Jolna, Petra, and another servant took the horses as the progression walked the final distance to the house.

As he drew nearer, he stopped, the breath knocked from him at the sight of Julia holding her lamp the symbol of her love for him. She was breathtaking, her reddish-brown hair hung in curls around her shoulders and the top part was braided around her head to symbolize a crown. It was dotted with small white flowers and covered with a thin sheer vale. Her dress was made with the finest white silk edged with ivory and a bright royal purple sash accentuated her small waist. Around her neck was the finest lace wire that held the most beautiful mix of purple and ivory crystals. To Geralt she was perfect.

With moist eyes he made his final steps to the house, as instructed he went to Tobias who was standing with Renee. Kneeling before him, Geralt suddenly felt nervous, the whole village was watching, listening, and the words seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat. He looked up at Tobias who was smiling down at him. This gave him courage so he spoke with a clear baritone voice "Tobias Son of Julia of Wolnosci I have come here today to humbly ask for your blessing, I have fallen in love with your mother, and I wish to ask her to be my wife. I promise to cherish her all the days of her life and to honour this family all the days of my life."

Tobias replied to Geralt an unshed tear glistening in his eye "Geralt of Rivia, Renee, and I have watched from the beginning of your time here. We both saw the spark that lit between you during the days of your recovery. It has been an honour to watch as that spark became a flame. I have also observed your integrity, compassion, and gentleness as you worked with the horses, shared chores with the servants, and assisted the community. The greatest joy I had was watching you with Ciri and Julia, your love was evident for them both in every action, tenderness in touch and cherishing of spirit. It would be my honour to give you our blessing and welcome you into our family as a husband to Julia and Father to our house. But I can only give you my blessing, there is only one who can accept your offer."

Julia watched as Geralt humbled himself before Tobias, this tall muscular warrior was on his knees for her. It made her heart swell when he made his pledge to cherish her all the days of her life and her family all the days of his. To know that even when she was gone he would still be there to protect and love her family filled her with joy to almost overflowing. Tobias was talking to her and a chuckle could be heard coming from the crowd making Julia realise she had missed something. Geralt's facelifted in a gentle smile as he looked at her holding out a beautiful bunch of wildflowers "Ohh" Julia spoke softly taking the simple and yet beautiful bunch which spoke of Geralt's heart for her. Turning to Tobias she said with a soft but mischiefs voice "sorry I was distracted by this handsome warrior before me, presenting me this sweet bouquet. Can you repeat the question?"

Laughter bubbled loudly from the crowd as Tobias said with a chuckle "Mother, Do you take this man to be your husband, to fight life's hardships together by his side. To cherish each day and hold the memory's close. As you walk life's journey together?" Julia looked up into Geralt's Yellow amber eyes moist with tears the most precious gift he could give her and said in a firm and loud voice "With every fiber of my being Yes I will"

A great cheer rose from the Village as Geralt lifted her vale and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Together they turned to Geralt's family. Julia had practiced what she wanted to do next as unlike most weddings she would not be presented to Geralt's mother but before she could speak a woman with red hair stepped from the crowd of his brothers. She looked to Geralt who only nodded the unspoken request. She came close to Julia and held out her hand taking Geralt's and Julia's hands she said in a voice that carried across the valley "My name is Visenna I am Geralt's mother." Julia gasped in shock and surprise at this regal woman standing before her. Geralt's free hand drew Julia close to his side as Visenna continued to speak "I know this is a surprise for you but if you are willing I would like to say a blessing over you" Both Geralt and Julia tears now flowing silently down her cheeks nodded their consent.

Visenna began to sing a lilting melody that floated around Julia and Geralt "May the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon the fields. May the light of friendship guide your paths together. May the laughter of children grace the halls of your home. May the joy of living for one another trip a smile from your lips, a twinkle from your eye and today may the spirit of love find a dwelling place in your hearts" Lifting her eyes to the couple before her, Visenna declared, "I pray that life will be sweet for you both but above all that you will live a long full life together." With that Julia pulled the woman into a hug holding her tight. At first, she felt the resistance and fear but the longer she was in Julia's arms the more she relaxed and returned the hug.

Standing back from Visenna Julia looked to the rest of the family. Seeing Ciri she beckoned her to come forward and pulling her into her side 3then smiled at the rest. Julia spoke loudly enough that all the Village could hear "To you Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert and Coen, To you Visenna, Yennefer, Ciri, and Jaskier. This Home is now your home this Village is now your Village and whether you stay a day, month, or a lifetime we will always call you family." The Village once again gave a cheer, Tobias who stood closest to the door now turned and said with his loudest voice "Welcome Family it's now time to celebrate"

Geralt, Julia, and Ciri turned together and were ushered to the front of the line to enter the house. Excitement grew in Julia as they headed to the banquet hall, she had been itching to see what the girls had prepared for her and Geralt. Hannah, Ruth, and Nessie were waiting by the door to welcome them to the banquet. All three of them had bright smiles and unshed tears in their eyes. Pushing the doors open they let Geralt, Julia, and Ciri into the room.

Julia quickly put her hand to her mouth as a sob escaped, the room was almost like it had been all those years ago. But it was oh so much better. The Columns had ivy wrapped around them from floor to ceiling and randomly were hung Crystals of every colour. The tables were adorned with Ivory clothe, Ivory and Gold crockery, and Crystal glasses. The centerpieces were mixtures of wildflowers representing all the colours of spring and Candles surrounded by Prisms creating floating rainbows that danced over every wall. To say Julia was overwhelmed was an understatement. She felt Geralt's hand on her back as he slowly ushered her to the honoured seats of the bride and groom.

The room filled to overflowing and Julia found out later that they had set up chairs and tables in every spare room to accommodate the whole village. This was her family that Wilfred and Julia had cherished and now they were cherishing Geralt and his family. It warmed her heart and so did the warm body beside her. Geralt had tucked her against him as a sign that from today if he could make it happen, they would never be parted. At this, the night progressed with delicious food wonderful music, and the sounds of joy and laughter.

As Midnight approached Geralt leaned down to whisper into his beloved's ear, "My love I think it will be acceptable for us to be excused now." A soft smile lingering on his breath. Chuckling Julia looked up into his handsome face, she could see the candlelight dancing across his strong jaw and white hair which she had noticed had been washed and was right now awash with coloured rainbows. This caused her to giggle maybe she should call him her rainbow boy from now on. Still, it was the look in his eyes that caused her breath to hitch. They were soft and yet held a hunger that she knew they had worked hard to keep in check. Returning his gaze and hoping he could see the same desire in hers she breathed "Yes"

Geralt stood and helping Julia to her feet lifted her into his arms, smiling to the room he declared "Well folks keep eating drinking and making merry, Thank you for celebrating with us but we hope you don't mind we are ready to go do some celebrating on our own." Julia blushed at Geralt's brashness but smiled a farewell to the room. As they left the banquet Geralt walked swiftly down the hall to their chambers while Julia snuggled deeper into his arms. This strong warrior was her husband they no longer needed to steal kisses and keep battling with temptation. Tonight, was theirs to enjoy.

Julia smiled as they entered their chambers, the girls had been busy. The Fire had been lit, and a small table of fruit, cheeses, and bread along with two wine goblets and a flask of wine was now placed near her chair. Around the frame of the bed was threaded with fresh honeysuckle the fragrance lingering in the air. Geralt let Julia down but not relinquishing his hold of her lifted her face to his. His eyes were shining with warmth as he lowered his head to hers. They both were now breathing in each other's scents, enjoying the closeness.

Julia lifted her hand to his hair and fingered it lightly smelling something different she brought it closer to inhale "Chamomile and Honey?" she giggled the only smells she associated with Geralt was sweat, onions, and horse. Grunting a slight annoyance Geralt replied "Jaskier said you would like me better tonight if I didn't smell like a horse. He insisted I wash with this" Julia made a mental note and planned on thanking Jaskier later. She felt Geralt's hand reach around to her back as if searching which made Julia slightly nervous. They had taken pleasure from each other but it was all done in the dark, and without thought. Tonight she wanted to enjoy, to take him in slowly but she was also nervous what if he didn't like what she looked like in the light.

Geralt felt strange, here he was finally able to cherish his beloved, and yet unlike the last few months, he wasn't sure how to proceed. He wanted to see her, to enjoy what up till now had been kept hidden so had started to feel for a tie, ribbon, or buttons to remove her garment. As he did he felt Julia stiffen in his arms. He halted and looked at her closely for a moment. Was she alright? Was she nervous? Noticing the blush in her cheeks He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips and pulling back whispered "would you like some wine?" he felt her body relax and then she smiled at him nodding.

While Geralt was pouring the wine Julia walked over to the bed and spotted a light blue bundle tied up with a pale green ribbon with a note on top. Julia picked up the note and read "Julia, we wanted to give you this special gift I hope that it will bring you much joy tonight. Love Renee, Ruth, Hannah, and Nessie." Placing the note to the side she started to pull at the ribbon. She felt Geralt come up behind her, placing his hands around her waist ,and resting his head on her shoulder looking at what she was doing. The bundle came apart and she looked in awe at a piece of sheer ivory fabric. Picking it up she fingered it finding it soft, delicate, and almost completely translucent. Blushing Julia heard Geralt's appreciative hum into her neck as he whispered close to her ear "I'd like to see you in that" a shiver ran down her spine as his breath grazed her neck. Nervously giggling Julia leaned back into Geralt's chest. "How about we have some of that wine first"

Geralt turned around and picked up the filled goblets handing one to Julia, he watched as she gently tipped the goblet to her lips taking a mouthful. Her tongue licking a small trickle that had escaped her lips. She smiled a small shy smile at him and picking up the bundle turned and went into the bathroom. Ohh that woman, he didn't know if she knew what she was doing or if she just naturally made his body burn for her.

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A/N Thank you for reading my story to this point. As a new writer, I am very interested in what people think and content, storylines.

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varian-and-the-seven-skies · 4 years

Text

Cor Meum | Chapter Two: Pieces Set, Start

Synopsis: In a world of floating cities and steamships, Captain Rapunzel runs the fastest ship in all the skies. But this rowdy crew is not without its secrets—or its treasures— and Hugo, newly-hired, is ready to discover them all. Now if only Varian, the whip-smart lead engineer, would get out of his way.

A TTS & 7k AU of epic proportions, featuring cool fight scenes, steampunk machinery, and an inevitable romance. Written by @littlemisslol-fic and @izaswritings.

Notes: Thanks so much for all your guys’ support for this new fic! Your comments were a joy to read, and we’re so excited that you guys are excited! We have a whole lot in store for y’all— we hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: There is mild reference to implied child abuse—nothing explicit or graphic, but please be wary! If there’s anything in this chapter you think we missed, let us know and we’ll add the warning up here.

AO3 Link is here!

Fic Playlist can be found here!

Chapter One can be found here!

Chapter Two: Pieces Set, Start

. . .

Standing in the burning midday sun, hand half-shading his eyes, Hugo stares up into the shadow of the Aphelion and thinks: This is too easy.

He almost feels bad about it, honestly. Like stealing candy from a kid—not that it’s going to stop Hugo from robbing them blind, blah blah blah should have held onto it better—but still. The fact remains that this will be painfully easy. It’s been maybe two hours since he set foot in Corona, and he’s already been hired and secured a place on the ship. Fastest infiltration he’s ever done.

“She’s perfect,” he says, with a smile that maybe shows a bit too much teeth. Oh, well. Hugo’s probably fine. What does this kid—Var-something, Varitas, Varian?—know of threats and dangers anyway? The cotton-weave shirt, the brass cuff bracers, the worn work-pants and even the shine of his boots; given all that plus the oil and grease streaking his face, and the way he barely even notices, Hugo is almost positive that this kid has never even stepped three feet outside of a workroom.

Hugo doesn’t have a good opinion of this kid’s instincts, either. After all, it’s taken everything Hugo has not to laugh in his face from the moment he got hired, pint-size here being his new ‘boss’ or no, and the other teen hasn’t even noticed.

“So?” Hugo says. “Do I get the grand tour?”

Varian (Hugo is, like, 85% sure it’s Varian) doesn’t react. He seems distracted, staring hard at the ground with a furrow to his brow. He jumps at the sound of Hugo’s voice, and shakes his head hard as if to chase away his own thoughts. At his feet, that creepy little rodent automaton chases circles around them. “What? Oh. Um, yeah. If you want.” He gestures, listless. “It’s, uh… just up the ramp.”

Hugo eyes him, just a bit—where’d the fire go? The sass? The really annoying attitude?—but he doesn’t actually care, in hindsight, so he shrugs and dismisses it, heading up for the ship ramp. The closer he gets, the more impressive the ship looks: Hugo hadn’t been lying, at least, when he’d called her perfect. She’s a mish-mash of colorful cloth-weave and metalwork, and even from here Hugo can tell she’s a labor of love. The Aphelion is… beautiful isn’t a strong enough word for what she is. Stunning, maybe. Ethereal is closer. He can’t even imagine what the work inside looks like. What sort of pipe system do they use? What model are the engines?

By the Maker, Hugo is almost excited.

He just barely keeps from bouncing on his feet—he’s not a child, he knows how to control himself—and when he reaches the deck, he takes a moment to step out and turn around, taking it all in. It's huge, wide open and two-tiered, with heavy metal chains and cables of thick braided wire trailing up to the sails and envelope high above. The railing is a mix of shiny brass and dark, reddish wood; the whole deck is varnished with a nice coat of gloss that keeps the wooden planks waterproofed even through the heaviest of storms. Hugo slams his foot down, just to be sure, and—yep. That heavy thunk tells him all he needs to know. No leaky roofs on this ship, no sir.

Gods above, she’s fucking gorgeous. Hugo might be a little bit starstruck.

“Where to first?” he calls back, still staring up at the sails. Is that embroidery? Holy shit, it totally is. This ship is ridiculous, and Hugo hasn’t even seen the inside yet. “Engines? Captain’s quarters?” A thought strikes him. He keeps his voice casual. “Cargo hold?”

He can hear Varian step up behind him, still quiet. “Well,” the other says, a little dryly. He holds out one arm, and that raccoon automaton of his runs one last time around his feet and then jumps up on his shoulder. Varian rubs at its ears. “I have to find Yong, and you’re stuck with me, so… probably going to start with the library and work our way from there.”

Hugo clicks his tongue, disappointed, but knows better than to argue. He’ll see it all eventually, he knows, and has to bite back another mean smile at the thought. When Varian makes his way for a massive door of intricate iron,Hugo follows him.

“Yong,” he echoes to himself. “Assistant to engine-man, right?”

“Xavier.” Varian looks up at him, half-hidden in the shadows of the sails, his eyes flashing bright and burning. “Yong is— fire prone, so it works out pretty well for him. You’ll see.” He scowls. “And learn people’s names, would you?”

“Hm.” Hugo makes a show of thinking about it. Leans back on his heels, resting his chin in his hands, humming—and then grins. “No.”

“You—!”

“Varian!”

Varian’s eyes snap away from Hugo, and he’s almost sad to see them go. Hugo looks towards where the voice had come from, seeing a younger teenager standing in front of them with her hands on her hips. She’s tall, taller than Varian even which is hilarious. Her curly black hair ripples in the gentle breeze of the dockyard, pulled up in a perfect little up-do that Hugo can already tell takes her way too long in the morning to perfect. She’s got dark skin and amber eyes, and she’s fixing them both with a scrutinizing look, mouth pulling into a low frown when she notices Hugo. She’s wearing a purple tunic cinched tight around her waist by multiple brass-buckle belts, a sash of dark brown silk tied overtop, and dark leggings that look almost black in the sunlight. Her little heeled boots are purple as well—Hugo can sense a bit of a theme with her—and they click against the polished deck as she impatiently taps her foot.

“Nuru!” Varian says, ignoring her pointed glare. “Haven’t seen Yong by any chance, have you?”

“Afraid not,” she says, eyes flicking from Varian to Hugo. Hugo can’t help but feel the need to size her up, maybe due to the suspicious look in her amber eyes. It’s obvious she doesn’t trust him; if Hugo wasn’t absolutely certain his true identity was still secret he might even feel nervous. Ah, well— something to work on.

She finally tears her gaze away from scrutinizing Hugo, looking to Varian once again. “Why, are you looking for him?”

“Xavier is—” Varian shrugs. That creepy little automaton on his shoulder makes a mechanical chitter, a puff of steam fluffing out from between the mismatched plating making up its body. Varian doesn’t acknowledge it, his voice strong over the steam. “—and I’m giving our new junior engineer here a quick tour while I look for him.”

The title boils Hugo’s blood, it really does, especially in the self-satisfied way Varian says it. It’s like an insult, this idea that this pipsqueak is suddenly better just because he has some fancy position handed to him by his beloved Captain. As if that makes the fact that Hugo is older, smarter, and better than him null and void. Honestly, infuriating, but Hugo grits his teeth and bears it. Once this is over, once the target’s acquired and the money’s made, Hugo’ll just pitch the annoying little shit off the edge of the ship and watch him fall. It’ll be like a present to himself, a reward for a heist well heist-ed.

Hugo’s so wrapped up in the delightful image of Varian screaming as he’s tossed over the rails of the top deck, he nearly misses the conversation continuing on in front of him.

“Are you going to introduce us, then?” Nuru says primly. Her glare flicks back to Hugo, who straightens his spine a little under the scrutiny. Something in her makes Hugo wary; he’ll have to keep an eye on her.

“Oh!” Varian shakes his head. “Duh, obviously. Nuru, this is Hugo, Rapunzel’s new hire for the junior engineer position.” At least this time Varian doesn’t say the title in a way that makes Hugo want to punch him. “Hugo, this is Nuru, our assistant navigator. She’s usually up on the bridge, but you’ll see her around. Aphelion isn’t that big a ship, after all.”

Understatement of the year, really. The Aphelion is minuscule when compared to basically every other ship in port. Just a tiny trading ship, small and unassuming. Kinda like the brat who built it, Hugo snickers to himself. She might be a well made, ethereally stunning machine, but she’s small. Fast too, from what Hugo’s heard. Fast enough to outrun a band of pirates, even—

“A pleasure.” Nuru’s nose wrinkles in a way that makes it obvious this is anything but. Hugo schools his face into a delighted—it’s always so much fun making new friends—and locks eyes with her in a challenge.

“I’m sure it is,” Hugo smirks. Nuru doesn’t back down, the two of them glaring over Varian’s head. From the corner of his eye, he can see Varian scowl at being ignored, before the younger boy bodily shoves his way between them.

“Okay, enough of that,” Varian says, putting a hand out to either side, pushing Hugo and Nuru apart. “We’re all going to have to get along if we’re going to be stuck together for six months, right? Can we at least try to be civil?”

Hugo wants to retort with the obvious fact that Varian has been nothing but borderline hostile since they met, but Nuru speaks before he can, taking the stage with ease. She nods once, and steps back, almost diplomatic.

“Of course,” she says, giving Hugo one last once-over before turning back to Varian. “Have you tried the dining hall for Yong yet? Lance said he was making ginger molasses cookies, and I think Eugene was trying to rope some people into helping him steal some.”

Varian nods in thought, already moving forward. “Good enough place to start, I suppose.” He gestures for Hugo to follow, and they walk together across the polished deck of the ship, towards the back end where a large portion of the deck raises up into a second level. A large door of iron and brass stands centered on the wall, twin staircases spiraling up on either side. It’s embossed with faint carvings, suns and moons and the occasional star, all winding around a large, interlocking wheel made of solid brass in the very center. The whole thing almost looks like a square bank vault door. It’s certainly over the top, in Hugo’s humble opinion, but it’s also becoming increasingly obvious that the Aphelion, and the crew that sails her, are decidedly over the top in basically everything they do.

Ruddiger slips off Varian’s shoulders, the little automaton chittering in excitement as it hits the polished deck. The raccoon is gone in a second, scaling up one of the large chains with its weird little metal claws. It looks down on them with neon green eyes, the aperture clicking open and closed as if it were blinking. By the Maker that thing’s creepy; Hugo hates it on principle.

Varian grunts as he grabs the wheel, turning it with no small amount of effort. The spinning wheel retracts a series of pistons, a small plume of steam puffing out as the door swings open, revealing a long hallway made of the same polished wood as the deck. Large copper lights line the hallway, emitting a cheery glow that bounces off the glittering pipes of metal tucked away near the ceiling, running through the Aphelion like veins through a body. Hugo could almost call it homey, dare he say quaint, with a maroon carpet running down the length of the floor, and redwood walls lined with strips of warm brass.

It seems Aphelion is just as immaculate on the inside as she is on the outside. Hugo can’t help but grin. There’s nothing better than a ship that’s obviously been loved from her very conception.

Varian leads him on through the narrow halls, deeper into the labyrinth of the ship, roughly gesturing to the occasional doorway. “Library,” he says, pointing to a set of double doors, not faltering a single step.

“Crow’s nest.” An iron spiral staircase, spinning up into the ceiling above.

“Navigation room,” Nuru butts in, gesturing to another door. Varian smiles at that, nods.

“Navigation room,” he repeats, as they reach the end of the hallway. There’s another door like the one outside, with the same locking mechanism. Varian turns that one as well, and the first thing Hugo registers when the door opens is heat. Both Nuru and Varian continue like there’s nothing wrong, Hugo forced to follow or else get left behind. Through the door lies a metal catwalk, level with the wooden floor.

The ground, however, dips right away, the catwalk hovering at least three stories high as it crosses the length of the large room. In the very center is a large main engine, quiet for now, but Hugo knows that once Aphelion takes flight it’ll be near deafening. It’s so big Hugo has to crane back his neck to see the top of it, surrounded by a string of metal scaffolding, catwalks and ladders and stairs, an intricate mess of pathways. The heart of the Aphelion is a large monstrosity of iron and brass, a mess of metal panels and pipes, dials and gauges, all covered in the slightest sheen of grease. It’s obvious the heart has been well loved, shined clean and immaculate, but she’s a working thing. There’s dust in her corners, grease and oil in all the little nooks and crannies, dents in her panels and places where her casing is mismatched.

She’s the most beautiful thing Hugo’s ever seen.

The room below them is a mess of pipework and wires, weaving down through the many catwalks spider-webbing the large space. They cluster and split at random, and for a second Hugo’s truly shocked. He’s seen main engine rooms before, but never one so… busy. Hugo can’t help but feel awed at seeing an honestly perfect machine, one designed from the ground up with love and dedication.

Varian strides forwards into the room with the confidence of a man three times his age, and Hugo follows slowly, almost dazed.

“Main engine room,” Varian says with an air of pride, his voice echoing against the metal walls.

Hugo finds himself following in their footsteps, sandwiched between Varian and Nuru. He doesn’t get the time he’d like to stand and stare; the tour must go on, it seems. The engine block is in the direct middle of the Aphelion, from the looks of it. Across the catwalk they go through another iron door and Hugo once again finds himself surrounded by wood panels and vaulted ceilings. It’s almost like most of the living quarters surround the engine block in a ring, an odd design for a ship. Usually engines get tucked away in the back, closest to the rudder and turbines, hidden from sight. In Aphelion, her beating heart is on display like a piece of art.

Hugo’s sad to see it go, but he knows he’ll be elbow deep in the guts of that machine soon enough. The thought is enough to tide him over, as they continue Varian’s tour.

“Cassandra’s office, for the sky guard,” Varian says, passing a large wooden door. Ah, they’re back to the list. “By invitation only.” There’s a few marks that could only be made by throwing knives that are deep in the wood. Hugo thinks that maybe it would be a good idea to avoid that particular door as they move on.

Finally they get to the end of the hall, and Hugo knows they must have walked the majority of the ship’s length by this point. They come to the final set of doors, a double wide pair of solid redwood with intricate hand-painted flowers decorating the woodwork. There’s the sound of clinking kitchenware from inside, muffled but distinct.

“Dining hall,” Varian says, with a sense of finality.

Varian pushes the door open without preamble, gesturing for the other two to follow. Nuru does so without question, and Hugo follows only a step behind. Always good to know where the food comes from, after all. Beyond the door is a large room, decorated in the same style as the rest of the living quarters of the ship; large redwood panels of wood and perfectly polished floors. A large rectangular table takes up half the space, and Hugo can count almost thirty chairs surrounding it. Small ship, small crew, Hugo supposes, though really why anyone would want to eat with their crewmates, he has no idea.

The whole back wall of the room is made of windows, from floor to ceiling. The sunset is just beginning, painting the sky a bright, cheery cherry color. Red sky at night, Hugo thinks to himself, watching as the sunset plays off the brass panels of the rudder peeking up below the large windows. Varian moves further into the dining hall, peeking over to the other side of the large space.

The other half of the room is a wide open space with couches and side tables, a sitting room of sorts. A large carpet covers the floor there, the mismatched furniture looking well worn but comfortable after years of use; it’s the kind of place where one could sit to read a book and accidentally fall asleep. A large galley window is beyond that, embedded into the wall. Hugo can see the kitchen through it, the sounds of clattering pots and pans coming from within. He logs that information for later, just in case.

Large pillars of iron support the high ceiling, the paneling almost seeming to curve, and when Hugo looks straight up he can see a perfect dome of glass in the center of the roof, held up by large iron trusses in the ceiling. The fading sunlight streams through it, bright and cheery, casting the whole room in a warm and reddish glow.

“I guess Yong’s not here,” Varian grumbles, looking around the space with a sigh. “We’ll have to keep— hey!”

Hugo only just sees Varian get tugged behind a couch, the flash of a small hand around his wrist. Nuru lets out a small laugh, gesturing for Hugo to follow as she too disappears behind the ornate velvet backing of the couch. Hugo doesn’t do hiding behind furniture like a child, so instead he opts for leaning over from the side. He bites the inside of his cheek, seeing Varian, Nuru, and a smaller boy all giggling like a bunch of idiots, sitting on the floor without a care.

“Eugene said to wait for the signal,” the boy says, red eyes alight with mischief. “And then I’m supposed to cause a distraction!” With that the kid reaches into his red vest, drawing out—

Holy shit.

“Is that dynamite?” Nuru chokes out. “Yong, we told you after last time that you weren’t allowed that anymore!”

“She’s right,” Varian says, gently taking the dynamite from the kid— Yong? Hugo’s pretty sure this one’s Yong. Little pyro— Hugo likes him already. Everything from the kid’s wide smile to his wild hair, black and nearly standing on its ends as if he’s been caught in an explosion, is eye-catching. He’s short, laughably so, shaped like a little bowling ball with all that baby fat. He can’t be older than fourteen, Hugo thinks— just an infant, really. His big eyes are red too, as vivid and bright as maraschino cherries, an oddity in Hugo’s experience. Hugo’s noticing a trend here: apparently the crew of the Aphelion all seem to be colour-coded. The kid, for example, wears a red vest and pants, only just accented by golden buttons and trim. A white shirt puffs out from under the vest, the sleeves billowing in a way that makes Hugo think it’s a hand-me-down, one the kid’s supposed to grow into. Would make sense, as it’s not like there’s many places to buy clothes for a growing boy while out in the open space between the cities.

Varian’s hands are gentle as he takes the stick of dynamite off the kid, holding it out of reach.

“There are better ways to make a distraction, ” Varian says with a smile, reaching into his tool belt. He pulls out a small, hollow ball of glass, filled to the brim with a glowing green mixture. Yong’s eyes go wide at the sight, his chubby face splitting into a grin. The kid reaches for the ball, but Varian closes his hand around it, snatching it back. “Do you promise to go help Xavier after this?” Varian asks, fixing Yong with a warning look.

The kid nods quickly, making grabby hands towards Varian’s closed fist. “Yeah, of course!”

Varian rolls his eyes, but still hands the glass ball over. Yong snickers in glee as he holds it, the green glow lighting up his face in a way that seems almost manic. Nuru bites her lip like she wants to say something— but sighs, instead, as a quiet whistle echoes through the dining room.

All four heads snap around to look across the room. Hugo raises his eyebrows. Across the dining hall, a man is poking his head up from behind a large, wingback chair made of a dark wood. He’s handsome, Hugo will admit, in a pretty-boy kind of way. He’s got a rogue-ish kind of charm to his face, with large brown eyes and tousled brown hair. And… wait a minute.

His eyes narrow. No, there’s no mistaking him. Hugo knows this one. And how could he not? Everyone in the Seven Skies knows the wild tale of Eugene Fitzherbert, former-pirate turned to a life of good, praised for helping free the lost heir to the City of Corona…

Hugo lip curls at the thought. What a disgrace, really. Flynn Rider had been a legend, the peak of the profession, and he’d thrown it all away for sickly saccharine love.

What a fucking waste.

Eugene brightens when he sees them, probably excited to see more co-conspirators, before his eyes land on Yong. He gives the kid a thumbs up, gesturing towards the window to the kitchen. With a sudden yell, Yong lobs the ball through the window, sending it flying in a perfect arc across the room. Varian tugs Hugo down by his sleeve as it explodes in a shower of smoke and glitter, and three angry voices scream from inside the kitchen. Hugo goes willingly, ducking down behind the couch as a large man comes barreling out of the kitchen through a nearby swinging door.

“My eyes!” he cries, bringing two hands up to his glitter coated face. He’s covered head to toe in green dust and glitter, the colour making him nearly monochrome. He’s big, and Hugo’s suddenly glad he’d followed Varian behind the couch.

The big man isn’t alone. Two small girls, children almost, come sprinting out from the kitchen as well, covered in the same heavy dusting of glitter. The difference being that these two look downright furious, and they’re scanning the room in rage. Hugo shrinks down further behind the couch, just in time for the shorter one’s dark eyes to land on Yong.

Yong pauses, takes in the situation, tilts his head— then straightens, grins, and gives the girl a cheerful wave. “Hi Kiera!”

“Yong!” the girl yells, her black hair flying in a flurry around her face as she charges. The other girl, a redhead, follows right behind her, borderline snarling. Yong takes one look and then yelps, turning tail and sprinting for the double doors leading back to the hall. Hugo presses his back against the back of the couch as Yong bails, the two girls following close behind as they all rush from the room. Yong’s terrified screaming gets distant and small as he tries to escape, the sound getting progressively higher pitched until a sudden series of loud bangs echo through the halls and cut him suddenly and terrifyingly silent.

The large man finally gets the glitters off his face, revealing dark skin and brown eyes. “Girls!” he wails, giving chase as well. “Girls, please, we promised no more collateral damage!” He disappears into the hall after the children, and the doors fall shut behind him with a final and echoing slam.

There’s a beat of silence, as everyone involved in this debacle waits to see if the big man will come rushing back, but after a moment it seems safe to say he’s otherwise occupied. Crouching down next to Hugo, Varian sighs, finally rising back to his feet.

“So that was Yong, Xavier’s assistant,” he says, wincing as another crash echoes from somewhere outside the dining hall. “And Lance—the big guy—and his two daughters, Keira and Catalina. They run the kitchens.”

Hugo doesn’t really care, but he nods to pretend he does.

“Fun bunch,” Hugo says, standing as well. Nuru looks torn, her eyes flicking between where the chaos is obviously reaching a crescendo outside, and then back to the two engineers. Varian grins and hands her the dynamite, passing it like a torch.

“Maybe you should go check on them?” Varian asks, and her face lights up in a grateful smile.

“I should,” she says. Hugo would even say her tone is nonchalant, if not for the way she seems drawn to follow the sound of chaos. Busy-body, Hugo thinks, busy, busy, busy-body, and he almost laughs as Nuru spins on her heel and follows after the sound of chaos, leaving without another word.

“Hey kid!” comes a loud voice, and Hugo groans. Right, Fitzherbert. Hugo had almost forgotten.

Varian’s face splits into a grin as the man in question sashays from the kitchen, shouldering into the room with a plate full of ginger molasses cookies in his arms. Eugene already has one cookie shoved in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously, and he tosses another to Varian. Eugene is grinning around his mouth-full of pastry, and as Hugo watches, a chunk of it slips free and splats on his shirt. Gross.

“Thanks for the help!” Eugene says, though it sounds more like fanks fer dah hemp by the time it makes it through the sugar. “Couldn’t have done it without you, kid.”

Varian laughs as he catches the food, snagging a second one when Eugene offers him the tray. With a small motion he offers one to Hugo, holding it up. Hugo eyes their ill gotten gains for a second, before shrugging and taking it. He’s never been one to turn down free food, really, even if it does come from such an irritating source. Eugene seems to notice Hugo then, eyebrow raising in question. He swallows down his big bite of pastry, gasping for a second before shaking himself and looking back to Hugo. “Ah, did you finally make a friend, kid?” he asks Varian, smirking as Varian lets out an offended noise.

“Not particularly,” Varian says, crossing his arms. He’s pouting, but when Hugo glances at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement, he’s quick to turn it into a scowl. “This is Hugo. Rapunzel hired him on as a junior engineer.”

Eugene’s brows shoot up for the sky, and he looks over to Hugo. “Really?” he says, “just like that?”

“Just like that,” Varian mutters. Eugene purses his lips in thought before shrugging and sticking a hand out to Hugo.

“Eugene Fitzherbert, helmsman,” he says with a grin. “Welcome to the crew, then. Don’t let my vertically challenged friend here scare you off, I swear we’re nice.”

“Hugo,” the blond responds, ignoring Varian’s offended noise. “And don’t worry. All he’s done is try to sass his way out of admitting I was right and he was wrong about an engine part.”

Varian boreline screams at that, the offense clawing its way out of his throat as Eugene cracks up laughing. Hugo smiles at a job well done. At least someone on this crew had a good sense of humor. The man merely ruffles Varian’s hair, moving past them with his plate of ill gotten goods.

“Make sure Yong goes to Xavier!” Varian calls after him, crossing his arms. Eugene offers a thumbs up, casually shoving another dessert in his mouth.

Varian rolls his eyes and waves Hugo forward, back into the hall. “Come on. Captain’s this way. She’ll want to talk to you before we set off.”

Hugo hums, unbothered, but behind his back his fingers tighten. The Captain. Right. Okay, then— showtime. He pulls himself taller, and sets his shoulders. He’s sold them the lie, and they’ve swallowed it, but now he has to keep it going.

There’s only one room down this end of the hall— a wide curricular door with a crossed little porthole window and a brass handle. Varian knocks twice, waits until a voice calls back, and then pushes it open. He doesn’t walk in, though, instead pressing himself back against the door and then gesturing for Hugo to go first.

Oh, so it’s like this then. Hugo grits his teeth a little and then forcefully relaxes, stepping inside. He resists the urge to shoulder-check Varian as he passes— this isn’t the time for it; there’ll be other opportunities.

The Captain’s room isn’t what Hugo expects, first stepping in. It’s smaller than Donella’s by far, almost cozy, with tapestries and scarves hanging across the ceiling and hand-painted artwork scrawling the walls from floor to ceiling. There’s a wide open window deck and small personal balcony, like Donella has, but even that is smaller than Hugo expects.

Beyond small, it’s also breezy— every window open, every door thrown wide, as if trying to make the room seem bigger than it is. Hugo can practically see the whole sky sprawling out her window, the distant horizon and even the slight glint of the copper-panel lightning shields that make attacking Corona so troublesome. A small door on the side looks like it might lead to the Captain’s personal quarters, and in the center of the room is a huge desk overflowing with paper and ink and half-open books, ship logs and journals and one bizarrely placed cookbook.

Captain Rapunzel is standing at the balcony, flipping through loose papers; when Hugo enters, she tilts her head with a smile. She’s still dressed in that fancy noble’s gown, like the filthy rich kid she is, though the shoes have made a sneaky disappearance entirely. On her shoulder sits a strange chameleon-looking automaton made of some fascinatingly reflective material, looking almost mirror-like but without the fragility of glass. A little ways away, a tall woman with curly bobbed hair and sharp eyes leans against the far wall, absently flipping a knife through her fingers.

Hugo glances between them, taking in every detail in seconds before he straightens and gives both ladies a smirk. “Captain,” he says, nodding at Rapunzel. He turns his attention on the sharp-eyed woman next to her, and forces his smile wider, giving a second jaunty nod. “Random stranger.”

The woman snorts; Rapunzel laughs aloud, one hand rising to hide her smile. “Hugo,” she says, sounding delighted. God, she’s peppier than most puppies— how on earth did she get to captain of a ship like this? “It’s good to see you again! Sorry, I’ll introduce you—this is Cassandra, leader of our sky guard force.” The woman gives a short, disinterested wave with the knife. “Cass, this is Hugo— our new hire.” She turns back to Hugo, beaming. “Have you been taking a look around? What do you think?”

“She’s lovely,” Hugo says, honest for once. None of you deserve her, he thinks, also, but that comment is better left unsaid. “Aphelion is a beautiful ship.”

“She flies like a dream, too,” Rapunzel says, with a little sigh. “Ah, I’m so happy you like her! You’ll be working closely with her, so—” She pats the wall next to her head, almost fond. “Well, it’s always good to know ship and engineer agree with each other.”

Varian snorts loudly. Hugo stills at the disrespect, shoulders going stiff and hands curling so tight his fingers ache— but all Rapunzel does is wrinkle her nose, giving the other boy a swift evil eye before turning back to Hugo with an apologetic smile. “Anyways, I just wanted to check in. I know I said you’ll be starting as a junior engineer, but unfortunately you’ll be on probation for a while before you can start properly. Aphelion’s engines and pipework can be… delicate, and we want to make sure you can handle her before we throw you into the fire.” She presses her hands together. “I hope you understand?”

Hugo wrestles with himself. Probation? He hasn’t been on probation since he was ten years old, and the demotion stings worse than that goddamn junior title. He can hear Varian snickering behind him, and that burns too— that this pipsqueak gets to deal with those burning, beautiful engines, while Hugo spends fuck-knows-how-long screwing in loose bolts? Fuck that.

But this is the Captain, her orders, her word, and Hugo thinks of Donella and the job and the payoff, and in the end he shoves his fury back in the corner of his mind, smiling wide instead.

“Of course,” he says. “Sounds… lovely.”

“Only for a little while,” Rapunzel repeats, sympathetic. The silver chameleon on her shoulder trills softly, and she runs her finger down the length of its spine almost absently. “Oh, thank you, Pascal. I almost forgot.” She looks back to Hugo and claps her hands. “Room assignments!”

“Yay,” Hugo says, dryly. He takes a breath, shaking off the disappointment about probation more firmly, and holds himself a little taller. It’s fine. The worst news is over with, anyway. Hugo doesn’t really care where he ends up; Hugo has never been picky about these sorts of things. So long as it’s quiet and he’s away from the annoying pipsqueak, Hugo won’t complain.

Behind him, Varian chants, in a very poor attempt at a low whisper: please be next to the boilers, pleaseeeee be next to the boilers, please please please—

Rapunzel’s smile grows wicked. “You’ll be in the empty room next to Varian’s.”

...Wait, what?

There’s a muffled thump as Varian dramatically falls over in shock.

“Also, the room isn’t ready yet—” Rapunzel adds with a grin, “—so tonight you’ll be sleeping on Varian’s floor.”

Hugo opens his mouth. Hugo closes his mouth. Hugo grits his teeth very hard, and reminds himself that mutiny two hours after being hired is not, unfortunately, part of the plan.

Behind Rapunzel, Cassandra is laughing so hard she’s starting to wheeze. Gods damn her.

Varian is still face-first on the floor. His answering “Fuck!” is muffled into the wood.

Rapunzel frowns at him anyway. “Language,” she says, but— holy shit. Is that a smile?

It is. They’re being mocked. By the Maker, she is laughing at them. What did Hugo do to her? He thought their first meeting went fine! What the hell!?

“Is this because I ate the last slice of pie yesterday?” Varian asks the floor. “Because I am sorry. For that. So sorry. Please have mercy.”

“Oh, c’mon, up— off the floor,” Rapunzel sighs at him, still laughing, and walks by Hugo to help drag Varian up to his feet again. The boy goes reluctantly, looking despondent. “I’m not doing this as punishment, Varian, please. He’s your assistant and you two are going to be working together very closely, so he’s your responsibility. That’s all.”

“But I—” Rapunzel gives him a look. Varian visibly deflates. “Fine, fine.”

Cassandra, Hugo notes, is grinning. He narrows his eyes. That’s all, hah, he doesn’t think so. They’re being played. Hugo can sense it.

Rapunzel draws away from Varian with one fond tuffle at the other boy’s hair, then moves back towards her desk. “That’s all I really had to say, I think… Eugene will drop off a spare blanket and pillow for you in Varian’s room, Hugo, and with luck we’ll have your lodgings prepared before tomorrow night. And… yep, that’s all! Unless you have any questions?”

“No,” Hugo says, a little stiff.

“Great! And just in time for dinner… well, I won’t keep you two.” Varian is already turning away, heading for the door without so much a salute; a moment’s pause, then Hugo reluctantly follows, unsure how to deal with this odd relationship between Captain and engineer.

“I actually hate you,” Varian says with a scowl.

Rapunzel laughs. “Save me a seat!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Wild.

They’re halfway through the door when Cassandra calls out after them. “Sleep well tonight, lovebirds!”

Hugo rolls his eyes, and he grabs for the doorknob even as Varian whips around ahead of him, face flushed and eyes wide. “Cass!” Varian shouts through the door, right in Hugo’s face. “Come on! I have STANDARDS!”

Hugo chokes on a laugh, ducking his head quick to muffle it in his arm. Rude! he thinks, almost grinning at the offended face Varian makes at his back, and then pulls the Captain’s door shut with a heavy thump.

Through the door, he can hear both Cassandra and the Captain laughing. Varian is still shouting.

Six fucking months of this. Supposedly it’ll all be worth it in the end, but…

Ugh.

Hugo squeezes his eyes shut, pinching at the bridge of his nose, and refuses to admit he’s smiling too.

Dinner that night is… interesting, to say the least. Most of the crew is taking advantage of their last night on land, so the dining hall is decidedly empty. Still, there’s enough people to call the room cosy, the lot of them lining up to receive their food. Hugo’s used to a certain system: grab your plate, get your ration, and fuck off. Easy peasy. Varian doesn’t seem to want to chat too much, but he still shows Hugo where the large stacks of plates and cutlery are so he’s not totally lost.

Hugo’s surprised when Lance dramatically unveils a spread of food across the whole of the wide window between the large room and the kitchen. He must be pulling out all the stops for the last night before they set sail, Hugo muses, watching as those before them pick and choose at random what to put on their plate. It’s odd. Usually with ships you’d be lucky to get something that wasn’t freeze dried or hard as a rock. There’s actual food here, chicken and roast vegetables, and— by the Maker is that actual, honest to god cheese? Hugo can’t help but get a little excited. Rapunzel’s money must be good for something, he guesses.

The Captain isn’t there, probably off eating in her own quarters like Captains usually do. No point in associating with the common rabble, after all. Varian scoops food onto his plate, idly passing a large spoon to Hugo when he’s done with it, the motion happening without any thought. It seems that’s how it works, Hugo scooping food of his own before he passes off the spoon to Eugene, standing behind him. This is so goddamn weird, Hugo thinks to himself as he scoops more food onto his plate. Who the hell actually eats food like this on a working vessel?

The weirdness doesn’t end there, either. The way Hugo’s used to things is simple: after you win the scramble for rations, most people tend to immediately piss off to their own isolated corners of whatever ship they’re on, hiding away to eat in peace.

The crew of the Aphelion do it differently, because of course they do. When Hugo goes to leave the room, Varian grabs him by the sleeve, dragging him over to the large table he’d noticed last time they were in the room. Yong and Nuru are already there, as are Cassandra and Xavier, and a few others Hugo doesn’t have names for yet. Not that he cares, of course, because none of them matter in the grand scheme of things anyways, and why is he bothering to remember their names again?

Varian greets them with a smile, setting his food down and taking a seat. Hugo stands awkwardly for just a beat too long, holding his plate just a little too tightly, before Varian takes pity. The younger teen kicks out the empty chair next to him, gesturing for Hugo to take a seat. He does, looking around as people fill in about a third of the chairs, the lot of them clustering around one end of it. The head spot is empty, probably because it’s so close to the wall with the way the table’s jammed into the dining room. The gentle lull of conversation takes over, only growing when Lance and his daughters join as well, once everyone’s sat down. Another oddity, the kitchen staff eating with the rest of the crew.

“I just have no idea where they went!” Lance moans sadly, “I swear I made three dozen ginger molasses cookies, but now I can only find two dozen.”

“That’s rough, bud,” Eugene says, playing with the tines on his fork. “We haven’t even taken off yet and you’ve already lost your mind.”

Yong snickers from his place across from Hugo, as does Varian to his left. Hugo has to bite his lip to keep from laughing too. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all.

Cassandra glares at them all, and they sit up a little straighter under her stare. The giggles stop, but then she smirks. “You guys tell me if he snaps,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I need an excuse to toss him in the brig.”

Lance makes a dramatic gasp, clutching at his heart. “You wouldn’t!” he wails, “I am a single father, and you would throw me in the brig?”

“Absolutely,” Cassandra says blandly. “And your kids would help me.”

“We totally would,” Keira pipes up from her place next to Lance. “If you’re not around, bedtime is never.”

They all let up a little as Lance begins to blubber into his dinner, wailing about ungrateful children into his peas. They muddle through a little more awkward small talk, everyone dancing around the fact that Hugo doesn’t seem keen to join the conversation, until one of the doors flies open with a loud bang.

“Sorry I’m late!” Rapunzel crows, Pascal on her shoulder. “Got lost charting some stuff for tomorrow.”

She borderline skips past the table, grabbing a plate and humming as she loads it with food from the spread. Hugo nods to himself, ah that must be what the chair at the head of the table’s for. They all watch her spin around and come towards the table, and Hugo waits to be proven correct.

Therefore, when Rapunzel sets herself down to Hugo’s left, he’s left a little confused.

What kind of Captain eats with their crew? The absurdity of it throws Hugo for a loop, the sheer oddness confusing at best. Varian snickers by Hugo’s other side, watching as Rapunzel begins to shovel food into her mouth like she’s been starving for weeks. When she breaks for air she turns to Hugo, leaning an elbow onto the polished wood of the table and balancing her chin on her hand. She looks at him with excitement, bouncing in her seat. What an actual lunatic.

“So,” she says, her grin getting wider, “how was the rest of your afternoon?”

“Fantastic,” Varian says, answering for Hugo, but Rapunzel flicks a pea at him.

“Wasn’t asking you,” she says as Varian throws another pea back. She slaps it out of midair, obviously used to this. “I was asking Hugo. So?”

“Nah, it was good,” Hugo says, trying to school his face into a smile. “Very… educational.”

“It’s a lot at first,” Rapunzel nods. “But you’ll get used to it— I promise!”

Varian snorts, but doesn’t say anything. The conversation drifts then, easy and light like they’ve been doing this for years.

Hugo realizes with a start that they probably have.

He shuffles food around on his plate, unseeing as he begins to think of a game plan. It’s obvious that he’s going to have to tweak his original idea. It seems as though skulking around like he usually does is only going to seem more than a little suspicious with such a tightly knit crew. A bit of a wrench in the engine, but nothing he can’t handle. Donella’s counting on him, after all; it wouldn’t be due to let the boss down.

Xavier seems to be going on about some legend or another, the whole table politely tuning him out. Eugene seems to be almost asleep, borderline leaning on Cassandra as he balances his chin on his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. Hugo can see a shimmer of something on his shoulder, startling when Pascal shifts into view with the faintest glimmer of shifting colour. God what a creepy thing to make. The chameleon shaped automaton wiggles on Eugene’s shoulder before letting his tongue fly, catching Eugene right in the ear. He wakes up with a shriek, loudy screaming as he jolts upright.

The whole table erupts into laughter, even Xavier. Hugo can hear Rapunzel gasping for breath through the loud laughs, cackling at her husband’s expense. Hugo can see Varian out of the corner of his eye, the shorter boy nearly face first in his dinner as his shoulders shake with giggles. Hugo fully turns to him, ignoring Eugene’s howls about goddamn awful frogs, and sees Varian just as he snorts on his own giggles, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Hugo stares for just a second, caught up in the sight of it—

Cute.

—Oh. Oh, fuck no, he is not going there. Even if Varian isn’t half bad to look at, he’s still a certified pain in the ass, not to mention part of the crew Hugo is here to rob. No amount of sass or big, baby blue eyes will ever change that. At the end of the day, Varian’s merely an obstacle between Hugo and his prize, and there is no way Hugo is letting anything stop him. Hugo tears his eyes away from Varian, shaking himself. Think of the money, stupid, he tells himself, think of the fortune.

The laughter dies down after a few more seconds, Eugene finally getting Pascal off his shoulder and onto the table. The little automaton scurries back to it’s master, Rapunzel scooping him up and petting along his metal back with a coo. It reminds Hugo of Varian and that stupid raccoon, the way she treats the automaton like it’s a pet. Strange.

Dinner settles into a companionable silence after that, everyone too busy stuffing their faces to really make conversation. This, Hugo can already guess, is probably the quietest they ever get on this ship. Hell, he’d even put money on it. They’re nothing if not a lively bunch, to say the least. Not really Hugo’s style of people; the whole peppy, loving-life, sappy crew that children dream to be a part of someday.

It’s disgusting, is what it is.

Rapunzel doesn’t try to loop Hugo into any more conversations, thankfully, the Captain disappearing from dinner just as abruptly as she’d entered. “Sorry guys!” she says, borderline tossing her plate into a square bucket by the kitchen window. “Can’t stay long, lots to do before tomorrow!”

Everyone calls their goodbyes, but she’s out the door in a swish of purple fabric before many of them can even speak. Varian just laughs and gathers his own dishes, holding a hand out for Hugo’s as well. The blond stands when Varian gestures with his chin, following across the room to a strange set of three pipes, all embedded in the wall. They’re brass, blending in with the warm wood well enough that Hugo hadn’t noticed them until now.

“Forks, knives, spoons,” Varian says, gesturing to each one. He holds a fork up in display before putting it into the tube labeled forks in looping, whimsical blue-painted script. The other pipes are labeled as well, and under each label the pipes have a small metal button in the center. Once the fork is in Varian taps the button with his thumb, the tube making a little shwoop-ting noise as the fork is dropped down into it. There’s the tiniest puff of steam before a little piece of metal pops back up as Varian releases the button, blocking the pipe once again.

“I made Lance an automatic dishwasher for his birthday last year,” Varian explains, “It’s not… delicate enough for anything made of glass, but for silverware it’s great.”

Hugo snorts, his brain running a mile a minute as to how to make it work for glasses and the like before he has to stop himself. He’s not here to make friends, and he’s certainly not here to be helpful. Hugo tries the knives chute for himself, delighting as the cutlery disappears into the void below. He might have to ask Donella about getting that for their own ship, really, not that Hugo would ever give Varian the satisfaction of Hugo asking how he made it.

They’ve only just made it out of the dining hall, before Varian is nearly bowled over by a frantic man with red hair. The new guy— tall and gangly and looking one good breeze away from falling right over the edge— is the throes of panic, half-way ranting even as he grabs at Varian’s shoulders. Varian holds up his hands and backpedals, nearly falling into Hugo, shying away from the frantic energy of the man in front of them.

“Woah, woah— Feldspar, what’s happened now?” Varian asks, not-so-subtly trying to inch away as the redhead gets closer.

“It’s water pipe eighteen!” Feldspar— Hugo doesn’t even know where to start with a name like that— crows, nearly tugging his own hair out. “It’s popped again, I don’t know what happened!”

“Again?” Varian mutters. “We’re not even in the air this time!”

Feldspar only nods, grabbing at Varian’s wrist. The short boy sighs, looking back to Hugo with a scowl. “Stay here,” he says, already letting Feldspar tug him away. “I won’t be long.”

Hugo nods, smiling and giving him a thumbs up. It’s obvious that Varian doesn’t believe the false innocence for even a second—Hugo can tell by the way his eyes narrow and Varian’s head cocks to the side—but Feldspar is already screeching about water damage and oh by the Gods it’s everywhere, and so Varian has no choice but to follow the hysterical man back to whence he came.

Hugo keeps his grin in place until they round the corner. The minute Varian loses sight of him, Hugo drops the grin like it’s wronged him, pivoting once on his heel and walking right away.

“Stay there, Hugo,” the blond mutters to himself, pitching his voice to be deliberately wheedling and annoying. “I’ll be right back... buncha bullshit.”

The halls of the Aphelion are long and winding, but nothing Hugo can’t handle. He skates his way through with ease, eventually finding his way back up to the deck. Hugo steps out from a different door than he’d come in from, this one decidedly smaller and more unassuming than the one Varian had shown him earlier this afternoon. It’s still in the vault door style Hugo’s noticed they like to use, a great iron door embedded in the wood with a spinning wheel for a handle.

Hugo slips out onto the deck as quietly as he can, cautiously closing the metal door behind him. It ghosts along on perfectly oiled hinges, silent in the inky black of the late evening. The deck is empty, save for Hugo, but he still takes his time. He needs to find where the cargo hold is, and soon—

A sudden bang comes from the dock below. Hugo drops to the polished wood of the deck on reflex, dipping down so he’s nearly pressed up against the boards. He chances moving towards the edge of the deck, peeking over the immaculate railing and down to the dockyard below.

Four large figures stand on the copper panels that make up the docks, all of them wrapping chains around… a very large something. Hugo perks up with interest when he sees it. Bingo, something in him whispers. Donella had never told him exactly what the Aphelion had been transporting, only that it was incredibly valuable. From the shady way Varian had dodged Hugo’s questioning earlier in the day, Hugo can hedge his bets: it’s the kind of thing that can make a man rich beyond their wildest dreams.

The box seems to be a containment chamber of some kind, a five foot squared box of metal panels all bolted together with perfect accuracy. There’s a single porthole of glass bolted into one of the sides, and Hugo can only justsee a neon green light filtering through… is that ice? Sure enough the window is frozen over, and Hugo can even pick out the beginnings of hoarfrost crawling up the corners of the chamber.

Puffs of frozen air seep slowly from the seams in the metal box. Liquid nitrogen, Hugo thinks to himself, sinking down a little deeper as the side of the Aphelion slides open, a great door in the outer wall of the ship. The men wrapping the containment chamber finish their work, and a metal crane extends from the guts of the Aphelion. This is pretty standard for larger pieces of cargo, of course, to bring it directly into the cargo bay from the outside, but in the dead of night? With minimal crew to get it in place?

Suspicious.

Hugo watches as the great metal box is lifted into the air, lifting off the cart the men had brought it in, the Aphelion reeling it in like a caught fish—

“Hugo?!” a frantic voice calls behind him, and Hugo whirls around, half-rising from his bannister hiding spot to see Varian, standing right behind him and looking undeniably pissed. “Hugo, you’re not supposed to be up here!”

If anything Varian looks spastic, and when he hears the commotion being made from the cargo being loaded onto the Aphelion, he outright blanches, going pale in the face. He grabs at Hugo’s sleeve and starts to pull.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Varian says, dragging Hugo away. The blond thinks about putting up a fight, but logic tells him that would end badly. Or, at least, with Hugo being fired before he can even get what he came for. He lets Varian drag him away, chancing one last look back.

He gets one last glimpse of the box, finally in the Aphelion, the doors beginning to inch quietly shut. In the next instant Varian has pulled him out of range, but the damage is already done.

Bingo, Hugo thinks again.

Varian bullies him off the deck, forcing him down into the labyrinthian hallways of the ship. “Why the hell were you up there?” Varian demands, stopping them once they are well and truly away from the deck. “You were supposed to wait for me near the dining hall, why did you wander off?”

“Got bored,” Hugo says, shrugging. Varian’s eyes narrow, as though trying to intimidate him. It’s adorable. “Needed some fresh air, goggles, is that a crime now?”

“It is when I told you to stay put,” the shorter boy snaps. “That cargo’s confidential; you weren’t supposed to know about it.”

“Need-to-know-basis?” Hugo asks with a smirk, remembering Varian’s words from earlier that afternoon. If anything, Varian’s scowl deepens, his teeth gritting just a little tighter.

“Exactly,” Varian hisses, “and you weren’t supposed to know, so you’d do well to forget everything you saw up there.”

Hugo holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Sure, goggles, can’t be that important.”

Varian huffs out a frustrated noise, and Hugo smirks. Better to feign nonchalance now that he’s been caught; if he tries to dig now Varian would be more suspicious than he already is. Varian can’t prove Hugo was snooping, and that’s enough to keep Hugo safe… in theory.

The shorter boy looks ready to punch Hugo, but he can’t, and it’s so delicious. Hugo would laugh, if he weren’t so irritated.

Varian finally settles for clenching his fist in the air with frustration, then motions for Hugo to follow him further down the hall. This is a new part of the Aphelion, one lined with doors on every side of the hallways. Varian leads Hugo to one of the doors near the end, opening it and gesturing for Hugo to follow inside.

He does, without question.

“Your room’s not done until tomorrow,” Varian mutters as they walk into a sparse bedroom. Hugo makes a face at the room: the automaton, Ruddiger or whatever, is already sitting on the bed, fast asleep. So creepy. “You’re bunking with me, like Rapunzel said.”

Yeah, Hugo knows; he hasn’t exactly forgotten that he’s going to have to share a room with this pain in the ass. He steps inside and stands still in the center of the room, hearing Varian close the door behind them.

Despite himself, his hands curl into fists, half-hidden by his sides. Irritation bubbles bitter and acidic in his chest. He knows better, he knew going in this job wouldn’t be that easy—but still. They were loading the stupid thing right in front of him, and if it weren’t for Varian, Hugo could have…!

Damn it.

He lets out a thin breath through his teeth, a low hiss— then turns and meets Varian’s narrow gaze with a bright smile. Varian looks annoyed to see it; Hugo smiles harder in retaliation. Behind his back, his fists clench. It’s been a long day, a tiring day, and Varian is the cause of most of the bullshit. Hugo is allowed to be pissed about it, okay?

“So?” Hugo says, and if it takes more effort than usual to keep his voice light, well. “Where am I sleeping?”

Varian’s expression sours at the reminder. “Right,” he mutters, and makes for the far wall, towards a small bolted dresser with shuttered doors. “Eugene should have put some blankets in here somewhere…”

The room is cozy, Hugo notes, almost absently; sparse and clean and rarely used, the bed made and sheets crisp. Something tells Hugo that Varian doesn’t spend much time here—wherever his workspace on this ship, Hugo would bet good money it’s a disorganized mess with a cot under the desk for all nighters.

Still, the room isn’t shabby—a nice size, with a dresser and side table and a wide bed. There’s a large porthole window looking out the right side of the ship, into the dockyard, and a copper lantern hangs from the ceiling like a droplet, swinging faintly with the sway of the ship. A heavy shag carpet takes up most of the floor, a dark gray turned multi-colored from past experiments. The rest of the walls are taken up by shelves, stuffed full of books and materials and spare parts. The smell of oil lingers faintly in the air. If Hugo hadn’t been so irritated, he might have even found it nice.

Instead he finds it vexing, and as Varian shakes out the extra bedding and lays it down, Hugo rakes his eyes down the walls and feels a sneer curl his lips. “Homey,” he says, mild as the weather, and makes it sound like half-an insult. “I bet it’s real fun to fix those shelves up again once one rock sends them sprawling, hm?”

“They’re locked in with magnets. My design.” Hugo scowls; Varian looks up, grinning a little. “Also, all furniture is bolted down, too, to avoid exactly that.”

It’s clever. Hugo hates it. “Lovely,” he says dryly, as unimpressed as he can make it, and wanders across the room with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes catch on the dresser. There’s only one thing on it: a metallic frame with a small sepia photograph, faded and worn with time. The photo is of a young boy, obviously Varian given the matching stripe in his hair, and a man—tall and broad-shouldered with deep set eyes, smiling wide and fond at the child sitting up on his shoulders.

“Who’s that?” Hugo wonders, looking at the frame, picking it from the dresser. The magnet sticks a bit, but he pries it up pretty easy. “Daddy dearest? I don’t think we’ve been introduced. What’s he do— swab the deck?”

Varian’s voice is very quiet. “Put it down.”

Hugo looks back, mocking. “What—”

He goes silent, his mouth snapping shut. Varian isn’t even looking at him. He’s staring at the photo, pale and a little wild-eyed, hands clenched. “Put it down,” he says again, and there’s nothing in his voice at all.

Hugo’s irritation flatlines; something in his gut drops. Shit. He’s crossed a line, somewhere, without even knowing it. He puts down the photo at once, stepping back, hands raised and empty. “I didn’t mean to—”

Varian shoulders past him, dead-eyed and cold. “Good night.”

“I—”

“Good night.”

Hugo takes the hint. He edges towards his bed roll, lips pressing thin, uncomfortable. He’d just wanted to push some buttons, not—this. He’s not sure what this is, or why he feels vaguely ill. Is this guilt? Oh, shit.

Varian shucks off his coat, under the covers before Hugo can even blink. Hugo settles on his own blanket pile just as the light snaps off. It’s dark.

Hugo looks down at his hands, staring until his eyes adjust and he can see the shape of them in the dark, listening to the ragged drag of Varian’s breathing. He doesn’t move, not yet. He just sits, and listens, and watches his hands.

And he waits. Just to see. Just in case.

But Varian doesn’t speak to him again.

Hugo opens his eyes to a dark morning.

A headache pulses behind his eyelids almost at once, and Hugo grits his teeth and presses a hand against his temples. He hisses a breath between his teeth as silently as he can. He’d planned for this, when he’d finally laid down last night to sleep—there’s no better time for snooping on the ship then in the dead-hours of morning, after all—but still. He’d had a long day yesterday, and a late night, and something in him despairs at the dark sky he sees outside Varian’s window. The sun isn’t even remotely up yet.

Ughhhhhhh.

He climbs to his feet, silent as a grave, pulling up his coat and boots to take with him. He stands, listening intently for any change in Varian's breathing, and once satisfied he moves noiselessly to the door. It’s time to get to work at his actual job.

He slips out the door, and eases it closed; it clips shut with only the slightest of thumps. So far, so good. Hugo pulls on his coat as he pads his way down the hall, boots still dangling from his hands. The hallway is dead silent, and dark, only one out of every four lanterns still lit. Hugo takes his time, listening, but no one else seems to be awake yet…

No, wait. Hugo stills mid-step, eyes widening. Because there, if he strains his ears…

Footsteps, high above him.

The deck.

...What was it Varian had said, yesterday? Leaving tomorrow, and I mean tomorrow. Which means—a morning lift off.

It’s ass o’clock in the morning, and the rest of the crew has apparently chosen this to be the time to trope on back indoors. So…

Hugo closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose, tired all the way to his bones. Oh, he thinks. Fuck me.

Well. He’s awake now, no changing that, and there’s no way he’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Hugo scrubs his hands through his hair and kneels down to put on his boots. He won’t be able to go to any of the places he needs to check out, but he can still take a look around. And if anyone asks, he’ll just say he couldn’t sleep.

Still: so annoying.

He steps up onto the main deck already frowning, and squeezes his eyes shut at what he finds—people, not enough to be loud but definitely too many to hide from, walking silent across the ship, carrying crates and tying down final shipments. They speak in muted, hushed voices; soft laughter drifts across the deck. Far-off over the edge of the deck, he can see sparks of lightning hanging in the air, Corona’s floating shields up and running even in this early hour. It’s still dark, but this high up Hugo can see the thin line of blue starting to band the horizon, the gold hue creeping into the distant clouds: dawn, slowly but surely on its way.

Hugo looks away, and beelines for the stairs leading up to the upper deck; if he’s going to be out here, he might as well get a view. He gets half-way up before he realizes the deck isn’t as empty as first thought—there, in the far corner, elbows resting on the railing and her eyes turned towards a slumbering Corona, is Rapunzel.

Hugo stills, preparing to back away—but it’s too late. She turns to look at him, and catches his gaze. Hugo doesn’t move.

After a long pause, Rapunzel smiles at him, something hushed in her expression. She gestures him to her, and Hugo, though reluctant, goes.

He steps up beside her, gingerly resting his elbows on the railing in a mimicry of her pose, and turns his face to the city too so he doesn’t have to look at her. He’s not sure what to make of this Captain, all things considered; she’s childish and naive and preppy, too genuinely cheerful by half, and these are all things Hugo holds in disdain. And yet, at the same time, the paradox: she is Captain of the Aphelion, the fastest ship in all seven skies, the jewel of the northern skyline. She is a legend.

He doesn’t understand her at all.

Hugo turns his face up into the wind, taking comfort from the cold. Corona is a dark blot on the slowly lightening skyline, as asleep as cities ever get, the lamplights burning a distant orange and the trains all silent. It is a dark city lit only by faint, distant dollaps of light like fireflies, but as Hugo watches, a thin band of gold haloes the highest point, the first spire of the Sun’s temple, a thin circle of sunlit glow like a crown.

The silence stretches, and Hugo shifts, a little uneasy. “What,” he says, for lack of anything better. “Homesick already?”

Rapunzel laughs quietly. “Do I look homesick?”

He glances at her from the corner of his eye and falters, because— no, maybe not homesick. Hugo doesn’t even know what that would look like. But there is something muted in her, something sad, a strange sort of melancholy as she looks out over the city.

“I don’t know,” Hugo says, and looks away, discomforted by his own honesty.

Rapunzel is quiet again. Then she sighs, soft, a heavy exhale. “No,” she says. “No, not homesick. I never really miss Corona, though I probably should.” Her smile twists, goes funny at the edges. “But no. Aphelion, this ship, she’s home to me. Corona is… just a place.”

Hugo makes a face at that, utterly involuntary, and turns away too late. Rapunzel hums, thoughtful. “You don’t agree?”

He thins his lips, fingers curling on the railing. He shouldn’t—it’s stupid and he knows better, never antagonize a Captain, and especially not her; Hugo can’t afford an enemy this early into the game.

But he’s tired, and his head hurts, and he’s so sick of it, this goody-two-shoes crew with their sweet sayings and friendship bracelets and lack of anything resembling a sense of reality, and his fingers are digging into the wood before he can even think to stop himself.

“What’s the deal with that?” he asks, unable to keep from sounding snide. “With all that ‘the ship is home’ shit. I mean—come on.”

Rapunzel tilts her head, brow furrowing. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean— ” He gestures, expansive, to the ship, something tight and angry winding in his chest, like laughter, only cruel. Because home? The Aphelion is beautiful, yes; Donella’s ship is lovely too, in its way. But Hugo has never been so stupid as to call a ship home. Ships are fallible, breakable, and crews shift like the tides; it’s a place of commerce and trading and battle. Not home, whatever home is, whatever that sort of thing looks like. Home stays on the ground; home is just Hugo, and all the riches in the world; home is—not necessary. Not needed.

“Look, I don’t mean any offense, Captain, but—how can a ship be a home?” He scoffs, scornful, and shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “It’s a place of employment. It’s a job.”

Rapunzel is staring at him now. She’s turned away from the city entirely, looking right at him. Her eyes are pale green and sharp as glass, and all at once Hugo realizes what he’s saying, who he’s saying it to, and he clenches his jaw and braces himself and waits for the verdict. Gods, if he gets fired over this, before liftoff, just because he couldn’t resist being mouthy, Donella is going to kill him. Hugo won’t even blame her. This was such a bad idea, in hindsight, so fucking stupid—

But after a moment Rapunzel blinks, and instead of going cold, or angry, or commanding, she does the most baffling thing she’s done yet: she smiles. At Hugo, directly at him, and it is a warm smile, a fond smile, a little crooked. As if he has said something funny, instead of something cruel.

And all she says is: “Give it some time. You’ll see.”

Hugo stares at her, utterly floored, for the first time unsure of what to say or what’s happening. And Rapunzel shakes her head, still smiling that strange, soft smile, and before Hugo can move she reaches out and pats his shoulder, once, twice, and then she takes her hand away and heads back to the stairs.

“I didn’t say it earlier, so I’ll tell it to you now, I think,” she says, face turned up to the wind. She’s smiling soft and small, and looks at him from over her shoulder. “Welcome aboard, Hugo. I really am happy to have you.”

By the time Hugo can even think to answer, she is already gone.

He stays there for a long time, just staring, not sure of what to do, or what to think about it all. For the first time in his whole life he feels—he’s not sure what this feeling is. Like being seen, or being known, like something Donella did at times, very rarely. Those brief snatches of a moment, when she’d look at him and her lips would curl into the smallest of smiles; those rare, rare times when she would reach out and ruffle his hair like he was her own. Something bizarre and strange and—

Warm.

He feels shaky. It unsettles him. He doesn’t like it—Hugo draws into himself, rubbing hard at his arms, turning back to the railing. He exhales, watching his breath mist, and shivers for a moment in the morning breeze. He—

He doesn’t know what to think.

Down in the dockyard, people are starting to shout. Dock workers are crossing to and fro around the shipyard, tossing ropes and chains, beginning to unbolt the line. The ramp up to the main deck begins a slow, laborious journey of being rolled back up for storage. The ship is waking up, getting started. He can feel the rumble of the engine starting to buzz beneath his feet with a distant hum. They’re going to fly, soon. In a few minutes’ time, they’ll be in the sky.

Hugo doesn’t move. As the blue line of the horizon turns golden with sunrise, he watches as the Aphelionslowly but surely awakens into life. The chains holding the balloon down fall first; next the fires of the engine, filling up the envelope. Muted yells are traded across the deck, and in the distance Hugo can hear Rapunzel calling orders. The sails are hoisted tall and high; in the back of the airship, the great copper turbine starts to spin. And little by little, bit by bit, the Aphelion starts to rise.

Hugo stares down at the city, unmoving. He can see the puff of steam rising from the first morning train; the wind is starting to pick up, a comforting howl in his ears. The ship rocks beneath his feet as she settles into the wind currents, and Hugo grips tight at the railing, riding out the first fits and starts of a ship finally waking up.

And just like that, they leave Corona behind.

It takes almost no time at all to leave the dock. Even less to pass the lightning shields, those chained-linked copper panels shining bright in the sun, a loose circle around the city. After all the work it took to get here… leaving Corona takes only a moment.

As the first bit of sun crests the distant hills, Corona is already falling into silhouette. It’s beautiful. Hugo has never put much stock in cities, but… even he has to admit it. The flying city is shadowed and soft in the early morning light, outlined in shining gold, and for a moment he can truly, honestly understand why it’s named for the Sun. There is something ethereal about it. Something fragile and light like a dream, a glow that exists only now, in these in-between daybreak hours.

He watches as Corona fades away, swallowed up by the clouds, and it is only when the city is at last out of view that Hugo lets up on his grip, exhaling hard.

He bows his head over his arms, feeling a tension he didn’t know he’d had ease away from his shoulders. He laughs, a little, then remembers the Captain and her words and—that, whatever that was, and feels the smile falter and fall off his face.

He exhales into his elbows. He lifts his head, staring blankly into the clouds. What had she meant by that? You’ll see. He thinks of last night’s dinner, of Varian’s hiccuping laughter, of the way Rapunzel looked at the dawn, and—

And he thinks: Does it matter?

Does it matter what she meant? Does it matter what she wants? Does it matter that Lance has two kids and Varian snorts when he laughs; does any of it actually matter at all? Of course not. Of fucking course not. Hugo’s not here to play games or play at being their friend—he’s here for a reason, for a job, for the money at the end of the journey. Their words don’t hold any meaning. They don’t hold any meaning, not in the grand scheme of it all.

Hugo’s expression firms. His eyes narrow. His fingers curl. He shakes his head, inwardly marvelling at his own stupidity, because—seriously. What a joke. That he’s hesitated at all, that he’s wasting time on this… he knows better than that. Or, he should.

The Captain—he’s underestimated her, he thinks. He understands a little better how she came to command the ship. For a moment, despite everything, despite all logic—

Hugo shakes his head again, shakes the last echoes of that conversation away, and straightens up to his full height, yawning into one hand. Stupid, really. He knows better, he always has; at least he’s gotten one good thing out of that odd, odd conversation. He’ll have to keep an eye on the Captain after all— she’s more of a threat than he first thought, and that means… Hugo’s going to have to watch his step.

He has a job to do. He has a treasure to steal. Corona is gone and the Aphelion is in flight: six months left, now, till they touch down in the City of the Moon. Six months to plan—to prepare—to pull off the best heist this side of the northern sky.

Hugo closes his eyes, and inhales deeply, and his conviction settles hard and cold in his chest. He’s ready. He has to be. The board is set—the pieces in place—the main players chosen. Hugo versus Aphelion; Hugo versus Captain Rapunzel. Everything is as it should be. All that’s left is to play the game.

All that’s left is to win.

Hugo opens his eyes to the first dawn of many to come, and grins.

“Game on.”

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