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senorabond · 1 year ago

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Rumor Has It (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 1 Summary: You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Mature-to-Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex and masturbation (f), previous sexual relationship, office romance, references to gossip and slut shaming, sexist/patriarchal bullshit, daydreaming about "little Peña"

Reader/Character Notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

a/n: I started writing this thinking it'd be a quick and dirty PWP, but then the plot took over and I'm not sorry. Time/setting is pretty loose. This wasn't "officially" beta'd - all errors and weird formatting are my own. However, a very special thanks and kisses for @azure-waves and @kilamonster for reading early versions of this! 😘 Additional author's notes at the end.

Masterlist

Rumor Has It: Chapter One

Javier Peña thinks he’s hot shit. He struts about the office like he runs the place and conducts briefings like he's holding his own personal court. It'd be easier to chalk it up to pure ego and ignore him if he didn't actually have such an impressive resume to back it up. Unfortunately, that means putting up with yet another cocksure male flirting and fucking his way through the office your respective agencies share. At least he's easy on the eyes.

Since moving to Houston six months ago for a new position with the U.S. Customs and Border Protection, you'd clocked at least four broken hearts in Agent Peña's wake. In his defense, there are far more smiles than tears in the women's restroom when his name comes up in whispered conversation. You haven't heard this much gossip about a single guy since your senior year of high school when it was rumored that three cheerleaders got knocked up by the same football player as a pregnancy pact. For the record, only two girls were actually pregnant, and the alleged father ran off with the team’s water boy a few years out of college. They made a cute couple.

Favorite topics of conversation among Peña's admirers are his tight pants, who he's purportedly slept with, how good he must be in the sack, and contending reports of how big his dick actually is. Just that day you overheard one guy in the breakroom swear to a colleague that he'd seen ‘little Peña’ twitch while the DEA agent was briefing the latest developments in his investigation. You barely managed to hide your snort in your coffee, but had to admit the mental image was intriguing.

While not morally opposed to sleeping with somebody in the same office (that'd make you a hypocrite), you personally wouldn't want to risk the potential fallout of fooling around with someone as high profile as Agent Peña. The unfortunate reality is that women always bear the brunt of those consequences, and you aren't interested in putting your career on the line for a good dicking. As much as you may desperately need one.

You'd been out a few times since moving to the area, but calling those disasters “dates” would be too generous. One such encounter seemed like it was going well, until the guy answered a call from his mother, got into a shouting match with her over the phone, then cried over the bread basket. You promptly excused yourself and blocked his number from the cab ride home.

Since that night, the only dates you’d had were with some quality home entertainment and your trusty vibrator. The Magic Wand hadn’t failed you yet. Last night you enjoyed a delicious orgasm while watching a particularly excellent video featuring two men worshiping a woman’s body. That lucky bitch. It’d been way too long since you’d gotten laid, and it was starting to take its toll. Even with the regular, self-attained orgasms, you'd begun losing focus at work. Your mind frequently wanders into sexy daydreams about impossible scenarios in the war room.

At your desk, you think back to what the guy said in the breakroom about little Peña and giggle to yourself. That'd be a sight to see, and would certainly liven up a boring case briefing. Your thoughts drift, and a fantasy begins to take shape.

Agent Peña stands at the end of the conference table, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. One hand on his hip holds his charcoal suit jacket back; the other gestures behind him to the slides displaying the latest developments in his investigation. The lights are dimmed but his signature tight pants don’t leave much to the imagination. Your gaze takes him in slowly, lazily almost. Expressive eyebrows give way to deep set brown eyes. An aquiline nose slopes to meet his trademark mustache, and his lips make the perfect pout as he speaks. The broad motherfucker has a chest and shoulders for days, and his neck is almost too big for his collared shirt. When he moves his arms, the sleeves of his suit jacket are drawn tighter around his biceps. Down, down your eyes go, over the plane of his abdomen, past the unobtrusive belt buckle, and settle on the obvious bulge down the left side of his crotch. You can’t help but admire the outline of Peña’s cock; it twitches, and saliva floods your mouth as you squeeze your thighs tightly, your body responding of its own accord. Agent Peña’s timbre changes and you realize he’s said your name - you look up at him like a deer in headlights. “Like what you see?”

You hear your name again, but his mouth hasn't moved beyond a knowing smirk…

“Hel-lo?” You shake yourself out of your daydream only to realize somebody has actually been saying your name.

To your abject horror, the real Javier Peña stands next to your desk, a manila folder in his hands and a quizzical brow lifted in your direction.

“What? Yeah? What do you want?”

The questions fly out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. To further your mortification, you can feel heat blooming across your chest and face. He knows - he has to know - what is going through your head. Someone must have turned on the heat in the building, it's sweltering all of a sudden.

Peña shifts his weight onto his left leg, his right knee bent slightly. “I’m Javier Peña with the DEA -”

“I know.” Again, with the blurting.

“Right.” He works his jaw slightly. “I was told you were the one to come talk to.”

You focus on the manila folder in his hands and refuse to let your traitorous eyes dip any lower. They're just hands, for Christ’s sake. Large, strong hands.

“Yeah? About what?” Is your voice breathier than usual?

Peña fidgets with the folder, then leans over and drops it in front of you. His thumb swipes at the corner of his mouth and he places both hands on his hips. There’s an agitated tension in his stance, and he shifts from foot to foot like a horse ready to bolt.

“You’re with Customs,” he says, as though his meaning was obvious.

It's your turn to lift a brow at him.

“Yep. That I am.”

It’s easier to pull yourself together with something tangible in front of you to focus on. You flip the folder open and start leafing through its contents. There are copies of bank transactions, transcripts from what you assume are wiretaps, and surveillance photos featuring two Latino men in well tailored suits outside a storefront, one of them holding a briefcase. This was business, this was work – you could do this.

Peña clears his throat and smoothes down his mustache, the fingers of his left hand drumming on his hip. You wonder if he’s always this twitchy or if something could be making him nervous.

“My investigation is centered around these two men,” he waves a hand vaguely at the photos. “They run the stateside money laundering operations for some heavy cartel hitters, but they like to throw in some legitimate business dealings as well just to muddy the waters.”

He pauses to clear his throat.

“Uh huh…,” you prompt, looking up in time to see him tugging at his fitted collar. This was starting to get interesting. It’s obvious he came over to ask for your help with his case, but he seems to be doing everything he can to avoid saying those three little words, ‘I need help.’ What a typical man.

Leaning back in your chair with the folder and its contents in hand, you find it much easier to take in the man standing before you. It's no longer like staring into the sun, however sexy that sun may be. The Great Javier Peña, reduced to an average fed. You can’t help but be a bit disappointed.

Peña sucks in a breath like he's going to keep speaking, then wordlessly proffers his hand to ask for the folder. You pass it back into his hands and keep your expression neutral. Flipping through the photos, he finds what he's looking for and places it on your desk.

“That was taken outside an art gallery in Dallas. I think they know we’re closing in on some of their more lucrative sources of income and are trying something new.”

You look more closely at the photo in front of you and nod. “Art classes?” The second the joke leaves your mouth you cringe inwardly. Peña’s jaw twitches as his eyebrows scowl a fraction of an inch closer. Not the time or place.

“The gallery is run by a couple in their sixties, Frank and Harriet Mansford. I think they’re working with these guys to make some kind of art deal.” You gesture to the chair opposite your desk and he accepts the invitation to sit down.

“So, tell me, Agent Peña – where exactly does Customs come in? How do I fit into this picture?” Leaning forward, elbows propped on your desk, you fix Peña with what you hope is a confident stare. His fingers worry over the corner of his chair’s armrest.

“Narcos have gotten more sophisticated in their laundering operations, but this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve used art sales to clean their money.” His gaze is steady, but his fingers continue on their restless path.

“Unless they’re smuggling stolen goods into or out of the country–”

“They are,” Peña interjects. “I believe they are.” He lets out a frustrated breath. “I don’t have the evidence yet, but I’ve already been looking into this gallery. They specialize in European art – so they’re likely getting at least some of it from abroad. And an international sale would make the paper trail harder to follow.”

“As long as they’re legitimately purchasing or selling the artwork–” You hold up a calming hand as the agent makes to interrupt again. “Agent Peña, I’d like to help, but unless their crimes touch the border, it’s out of my jurisdiction.”

“I know. But that’s not the only reason I’m talking to you.” Peña takes a deep breath like he's gearing up for something and you brace yourself.

“I don’t know anything about art, ma’am.” He gives you the closest thing to a self-deprecating grin you think he’s capable of. “I’ve been trying to get the FBI’s art squad on this, but I can’t even get someone to take my calls – I don’t have an in.” He glances surreptitiously to see if anybody else is in earshot.

Your gut does an anxious flip. Please, don't let this be going where you think it’s going. He licks his lips and hesitates, avoiding your eyes.

“Word is you might know somebody in D.C.”

Your heart stutters. Shit.

Sounds like Peña isn’t the only subject of rumors around here.

---

Great, just great. You left D.C. to get away from people treating you differently because of who you choose to sleep with, but it looks like the rumors followed you all the way to fucking Texas.

You take a good, hard look at the man sitting across from you. For a moment, you seriously consider telling him he can go fuck himself. While social blackmail isn’t something you’re willing to tolerate after everything you’ve done to start fresh, you don’t want to miss your first real opportunity to get involved in a case since arriving in Texas. Javier Peña may be a god amongst mere mortals in this town – you’d learned enough about his career to know it wasn’t all bullshit – but you weren’t going to let him get away with using you for your contacts at the FBI. Well, contact – singular.

“The ‘word’ is?” You quote back at him icily. “And what word is that, Agent Peña?” Leaning back in your chair, you cock your head to the side a bit and rest your elbows on the arm rests. His mustache twitches the slightest bit at this change in your body language and tone of voice, but he doesn’t respond. You might be overplaying your hand here, but you’ll take that risk to find out how far he’s willing to go with this approach. Not wanting to be the first to break, you let the uncomfortable silence stretch.

Right when you start to think you’ve missed the mark and he’s going to walk away without another word, he nods, eyes never leaving yours. Mirroring your pose, he tents his fingers and licks his lips again. You force yourself not to look at his mouth.

“I’m not stupid,” he states. Here it comes. “I know what people say about me around here.”

Wait, what? Schooling your features, you decide to see how this plays out.

“I know you haven’t been here very long, but I’m sure you’ve heard some of the office gossip already.” He shifts in his seat and hikes his pant legs up, casually propping one ankle on a knee. You pride yourself on not looking at his crotch.

At that moment, a woman walks by your desk and gives the two of you a thorough once over. You stare her down until she meets your eyes, the smirk forming on her lips immediately dying. She scurries away and you turn back to find Peña giving you a bit of a smirk, and a certain glint appears in his eyes.

“Agent Peña–”

“Javi, please.” The balls on this guy.

“Agent,” you repeat purposefully, “I’m not sure what, if anything, you know about me.” You pause to take a steadying breath, but Peña continues in earnest.

“I know you worked with the FBI art squad on a number of cases during your time in D.C. that resulted in the arrest of several high-profile members of a forgery ring smuggling pieces into the country for sale on the black market.”

You blink. That wasn’t what you were expecting. At all.

He keeps talking. “But that was only in the last year or so. Before that, you worked your way up as a field agent and investigator at major ports of entry, developing a specialty in high-value contraband.” Peña slowly runs his palms over his thighs; the man is in perpetual motion.

As you listen to Javi rattle off various highlights and accolades that sound like they came directly from your personnel file, you notice the change in his demeanor and tone. He speaks matter-of-factly like he’s reciting a brief, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone besides simple curiosity.

“And then you landed the D.C. assignment. From what I hear, you could’ve been running that unit in a few years, but instead you took a boring ass admin job out here.” He gestures vaguely around you. This is where he’s comfortable – when he’s the one in charge, telling you what’s what.

“You’ve sure heard a lot about me, Agent Peña.” Your tone is cool and measured.

“Why?” He leans forward and braces his elbows on spread knees. His piercing eyes level with yours, pupils wide and locked in.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why’d you leave D.C.?”

A glance out to the common area nearby confirms there’s nobody within earshot, but you still lower your voice when you say, “You already seem to know everything there is about me.” Pausing, you feel your pulse flutter in your neck. “I would think you’ve heard that part as well.”

He’s testing you. That’s how guys like him operate. They pin you down to see if you’ve got enough in you to fight back. Fighting back is what earns their respect. The smile Peña gives you is subtle, edging on mischievous.

“I’ve heard plenty on that topic,” he confirms with a gentle nod. “There are a few prevailing theories.” He counts off the rumors on his fingers and glances up to see your reactions to each.

Pissed off the wrong politician is met with an eye roll.

Moved here for a boyfriend – “...or girlfriend?” Javi checks – earns an exasperated sigh.

“You fucked your way around–” Javi stops abruptly when an indignant sound escapes your mouth. This reaction sends Javi’s eyebrows dancing.

Kicking yourself, you decide there’s only one course of action: honesty. Keeping your voice low, you lean over your desk and Javi follows until your faces are barely a foot apart. You force yourself to look directly into his eyes as you say your piece.

“I didn’t ‘fuck my way around’ anything. Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I had a consensual relationship that never once interfered with our professional conduct or the work at hand. Got it?” Javi doesn’t speak, but there’s a glint in his eyes as they roam over your stony expression, lips pursed in a contemplative pout.

“Once the rumor mill starts, it’s only a matter of time before the woman is left to deal with the consequences – not that I’d expect you to care about such things.” You practically spit the last words out before you can stop yourself.

The air stills between you. Peña nods as if to himself, then leans even closer, until you can smell his spicy cologne. “Let’s set the record straight about one thing right now, Agent.”

You swallow thickly and look anywhere but at his eyes – the long line of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the stubble on his cheek. His voice drops into a deeper register when he says, “I don’t give a shit who you choose to fuck or not – as long as it doesn’t get in the way of me getting the job done. We’re all adults here and can make our own grown-up choices.” He raises a finger, and points first to you, then himself as he speaks. “My one rule is: I don’t judge you, you don’t judge me.”

He pauses, giving you a second’s reprieve. “Are we on the same page now?”

You nod once, gritting your teeth at his condescending tone. Back in a normal register he says, “Good. Now about this investigation of mine…”

Peña retreats and gestures at the case documents underneath where your arms were folded on top of your desk. You look down, having almost forgotten his whole reason for being here in the first place.

“Agent Peña…” you start, and again, he interrupts.

“Please, I asked you to call me Javi.” The fucker winks at you – winks.

“Javi,” you grind out, playing his game. “I don’t know what you think I can do for you, unless this whole thing is to try and get me to –”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” His voice is a rumble in his chest. “Don’t insult me like that, and don’t insult yourself.” Javi points at the desk. “I came here asking for help because you’re a damn good agent with experience in this shit. If you want to show this office that you’re not going to back down from another fight just because some dickless piss-ant is spreading rumors, this is your chance.”

You let his words sink in and hate that he’s right. You did back down from the fight in D.C., the second it got difficult. Your pride was wounded and you ran away with your tail between your legs at the first opportunity. With a steadying breath, you sigh and start organizing the documents and photos.

“I’ll take a look at everything and see what I can come up with.” Peña begins to stand, and you cut in, “But I can’t promise I can get you in with the FBI.”

You haven’t spoken to Special Agent Marcus Pike since you left D.C. six months earlier. If you were honest with yourself, you missed the time you two spent together, even when you weren’t having amazing sex. Getting takeout from his favorite Thai place and watching an old movie, or reviewing case notes over pizza after hours in the war room. Marcus was the most decent guy you’d ever known, and you hadn’t even answered the few times he called to check in your first couple months in Texas. It’d serve you right if he refused to speak to you ever again, if you could swallow your pride long enough to call him up.

“I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.” Peña sticks a hand out to shake. You join him on your feet and grasp his hand firmly. Some of your confidence was returning.

“I never pegged you as the desperate type, Javi.” You hoped your smile was enough for the agent to hear your words as the playful banter you’d intended. Fortunately, he huffed a quiet laugh and nodded appreciatively, boldly letting his eyes wander over you. The heat of his gaze leaves pleasant tingles in its wake.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow to talk about next steps.”

The agent departs, and you sit back down at your desk with a long sigh. As you watch the man walk away, your reverie from earlier comes back in startling focus with new details. You think back to how commanding and gruff his voice had sounded with his face so close to yours. The scent of his cologne lingered – spicy, with a hint of citrus and something else you couldn’t identify. How his thick fingers splayed over his hip or massaged the arm of his chair as he spoke. The crease in the middle of his bottom lip when he swiped at the corner of his mouth.

Clearing your throat, you try to focus your attention on the stack of papers and photos in front of you. You couldn’t let your libido cloud your judgment now that you had a real case to sink your teeth into. You’d always prided yourself on your ability to compartmentalize, but your head was still swimming after the man had been in your cubicle for, what – ten minutes?

You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.

***

Washington, D.C.

6 months earlier

“You don’t have to do this.” Marcus stands next to your desk as you finish packing your few personal belongings into an empty cardboard box. “I’ll talk to my guys, you don’t need –”

You still him with a hand. “Marcus, please. I’m choosing to do this; it’s a really good opportunity.” You hope he believes that.

Marcus sighs and rubs a hand over his face. After looking around to check that you and he were alone in the emptying building, Marcus leans into your space. “You’re telling me this has nothing to do with us?” His voice is deep, intimate.

He’s close enough for you to feel the warmth emanating from his body, and you catch a whiff of the aftershave that always leaves you feeling a bit heady. How is it still so strong even after a full day’s work? The frisson you experience whenever your bodies are in close proximity hasn’t diminished in the slightest, even after months of fucking on the sly.

You’d both maintained your professionalism at the office; you respect each others’ boundaries and careers too much to get sloppy in the workplace. The only thing that changed around the office since you started sleeping with Marcus was the other agents. Their eyes followed you around the office, conversations sputtered to a halt when you entered the breakroom, and snatches of whispered conversation filled your cubicle when they didn’t know you were there.

Clearing your throat, you force your eyes to meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Marcus, that’s what I’m saying.”

Marcus is a great agent, and an even greater guy. You know he’d want to stick up for you – as a fellow agent, and as a friend – but it’d only make things harder for you. Already your caseload had begun to dwindle and you were being consulted less and less often on issues squarely in your area of expertise. After several fruitless conversations with your supervisor, you weren't about to sit around and wait for your career to die – no matter how mindblowing the sex was.

The box is packed with your personal belongings and an assortment of stolen office supplies as your last petty ‘fuck you’ to the endemic sexism and double standards that plague federal law enforcement.

“Hey,” Marcus takes your hand in both of his and strokes his thumb over your pulse point as he perches a hip on the corner of your bare desk. “I can tell there’s something more to the story, and you obviously don’t want to tell me what it is so I’m not going to push…”

You roll your eyes at him teasingly and he huffs out a laugh, then pulls you closer so your hand is in his lap. He keeps stroking that sensitive part of your wrist and something in you thrums to life. “But?” You look at your joined hands. “I know there’s a but in there.”

“But – you know you can always talk to me. About whatever.” He shrugs a noncommittal shoulder and you step even closer, bracketing one of his legs between your own. His breath falters a bit as you turn one of his large hands over and graze your fingertips across his palm with a featherlight touch.

“If you ever need anything, please…” His voice drops into the register you only ever hear him use in private.

Fuck it – you’d been so careful and were still dealing with the consequences. Might as well have a little fun on your last day. You place a firm hand on Marcus’ thigh and glide it up to his hip.

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear.

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift your hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth.

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.”

Chapter 2

NOTE: The term “war room” originally described the place military leaders discussed tactics and strategies. It’s frequently used now in federal government, law enforcement, and business settings to describe any room used to strategize and plan – it could have various technologies (computers, A/V, video-teleconferencing, etc.) or be a plain old conference/meeting space with whiteboards.

Additional Author’s Note: I'm finally forcing myself to post this fic I've been working on in an attempt to get over my fear of people reading my work. It's the first fic I've written in the Pedroverse, and quite possibly the only fic I've ever posted publicly as an adult. I would love to know what you think! I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading!

#senorabond writes #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #the mentalist fic #peña x f!reader x pike #rumor has it fic

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sataara · 11 months ago

Text

Sibling Energy

"Ingo and Emmet talk after he explains where he was for the last few years"

Hello again! This is a small one shot that I wrote a long time ago and only now edited and cleaned it up so I could post it 😅

The bootleg merch mention comes from a convo that happened at @evtraininguniversity 's tumblr, here's a part of it but there was a lot more talked about at the time!!! Also go read Ev's stuff if you haven't already, she's great!!!

Either way, enjoy!!!

“Ok. Let me see if I got it. You still don’t know exactly how, but you were thrown in the past.”

“Correct.”

“Of another region entirely.”

“Right again.”

“Somehow you lost your memories in the way there.”

“Hm hm.”

“So you lived there, until a random kid brought Arceus to you and he gave you your memory back.”

“Yup.”

“And then, with your memory back, you asked to be sent back here after saying your goodbyes.”

“You are a very good listener, Emmet.”

“Shut the fuck up, this is the most bizarre thing you’ve ever told me and yet I have no better explanation. I could say that the old timey clothes you got in a museum or from reenactors, the destruction to your uniform from living in the wild for years, but how the fuck else would you get those extinct pokémon?”

“Guess you’ll have to believe me, then, asshole.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, but you are talking about fucking Arceus, over here.”

“I guess that is fair, I had the same reaction before seeing the supposed creator with my own eyes.”

“Calling him “supposed” wouldn’t be heresy, then?”

“I fought him and won, I don’t care.”

“You fought him without me?!”

“I knew you would say that, so technically they owe me for the mess they put me through, I didn’t want to go to Hisui but apparently I had to, because technically that had already happened? Something about time paradoxes. Regardless, their influence made sure that no one connected my image in the history books with Subway Boss Ingo, so no one would alert you or try to get me back before I was supposed to return. I didn’t choose any of that, though, so after winning I got them to agree to fight you too, next time we played the Azure Flute in Spear Pillar.”

Emmet punched the air in excitement. He had the look he always did when going through strategies on his head, until a thought made him get back on track.

“Right, so, assuming you really did spend these last three years in ancient Sinnoh,” Ingo huffs in amusement at his brother persistent disbelief, “does that mean you know why they don’t have a rail system?”

That grabs his attention and suddenly he is furious.

“Professor Laventon kept making incredible remarks about trains and how helpful they are, I added my own agreement and yet! The construction corps were so prideful! They didn’t want to look into the system to see if they could adopt it as well! They kept saying that those “metal beasts” could not be safe!” His hands in constant movement, following his rage. “And now, the kid that helped me, told me that they have been starting construction in Jubilife City and that Sinnoh now regrets how long it took to adopt the rail system!”

“Oh, I did hear news of that a few years ago, I had bigger worries then.”

That gave Ingo’s rage pause.

“I’m sorry, Emmet, I wish-“

“Nope! Can’t change the past, it is what it is, do not go down those tracks.”

“Did your therapist tell you that?”

“More like he drilled it into my head.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“We can talk about me later. Don’t give me that look, I know I can’t avoid your older brother tendencies forever. But, that is why you want to go back there, then? You want to supervise the construction?”

“I don’t want to go back exactly, I want to give them our expertise on the subject, we might not have started the subway and train systems in Unova but we did expand on it. I also can not say I told you so to Kamado, so I want to do that to the closest descendent of his that I can find.”

“You are such a petty bitch sometimes.”

“Go fuck yourself, Emmet.”

Despite the jabs, that were all friendly at the end of the day, Ingo loved listening to his brother snickering laugh. Oh, how he missed his favorite problem while walking through the vast expanse of Hisui.

"Oh, and before I forget, I did get something in Hisui that reminded me of you." He leaned over the arm of the couch to reach the basket he had brought with him. "Emmet, I want you to meet Impostermet. I hope you two will play nicely."

Emmet left a bark of a laugh, he couldn't believe that, depite being stuck in the past, his brother was still able to find their bootleg merch.

"Impostergo is a part of a set now! I can not believe you, Ingo!"

"Since we're already on the subject, you didn't burn The Blanket, did you?"

"I think Crustle found it in a day he was very mad and it became rags, sadly, you can find my teeth around the house, I use it to clean."

"That's a terrifying sentence Emmet."

"You have no one to blame but yourself. I never told you to buy that fucking monstrosity in the first place."

"Oh, how terrible my brother is, I buy a gift of his likeness to bestow upon him and that's how he thanks me."

"If I wasn't so happy to have you back I would fucking kill you right now."

"As if you ever could, I'm the bigger twin after all."

"We're identical, you fuck!"

And that's how they ended up wrestling on the floor of their living room, Ingo having his brother in a headlock while Emmet kicked and refused to surrender. Eelektross glared at his trainer and his brother's antics, before giving a slight shock to the pile of squirming limbs, making them release each other with pained yelps.

"Eelektross is right, we have far more important things to do."

"Eelektross is always right! He is the best boy! We need to go to a police station and then do a looooot of paperwork to prove you're alive and to get you your job back."

"Maybe I should have stayed in Hisui."

"Oh no, you're not running away from the paperwork!"

"I think I can hear Sneasler calling me, Emmet, I have to go."

"Come back here, Ingo!"

"Well, who arrives first at the station is free from paperwork!"

"You're already at the door, that's not fair! Ingo! Ingo, stop!"

The twins should be thankful that their pokemon were as intelligent as they were, Chandelure stopped the siblings using psychic, while bringing them back to get their pokeballs and properly lock the door, before they actually teared down the streets, throwing quips at each other and laughing until they were red in the face. They tied at the end, as Emmet saw Ingo was about to win, and decided to tackle his brother inside the station, making them end up crossing the threshold at the same time. Ingo could only wheeze as his brother fell on top of him and crushed all of his precious organs, only moving when the depot agents came over, helping them stand up and properly welcoming back the siblings to their home, finally together once more.

#submas #my writing #pokemon #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #i wrote this just for the hell of it #it was a lot of fun 💕#small edit bc I found a typo #can't ever run away from them dksvsksbsm

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butterflywannabefree · 5 months ago

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Moodboards for @camhues

So, I've been getting a bit bored with my life lately and decided I needed to do something to get busy. My art skills are killing me and I'm trying to practice but I gave up for a while. Then I'm scrolling through Tumblr and admiring everyone's amazing OC's and I wish I could draw like them and some of them are underrated more than should be so...Why not just celebrate them ?! I can't for my own life draw anything good but what I can do is find good aesthetic choices and I love making moodboards and such for characters. So that's what I'm doing for OC's of people who need more attention ! Today we are starting with the beautiful and talented @camhues. If you don't know them, she is a artist of Tumblr mostly known for her LMK OC's and does a lot of doodles with them. And she makes only women and OH MY GOD, THESE ARE THE MOST GORGEOUS WOMEN IN MY LIFE AHH- Enough, I need to get on. She has a lot and I did one for all of them ! (Sheesh-) Or at least the ones I know. So Here's the Moodboards for them and a quick summary of what I think of them.

First off, Mama Jun. Her main OC from what I know and sort of a mother figure to MK and a reincarnation like Pigsy and Tang. Um, she's so gorgeous. I want that braid and the simplistic design works in her favor because there is something so simple and charming about her when I look at her. Also, her Mama-Son bond with MK is adorable-

Then there is Daiyu who from what I know is a Plant-Controller Demoness...or something ? Oh, and she's shipped with Red Son and their name is RedJade. Not as simplistic as Jun but it works in her favor here because she could step on me and I wouldn't be offended. Just let me smell the roses you grow, Daiyu !

Next here is Ling who is a Jade Maiden and is probably one of my current favorites. One of the simpler designs which I love and the lore behind her is also something I wanna find out. Her aesthetic was something I struggled with but it worked out. And as for who she is dating, it is unclear as Cam said she could be with one of three characters. Azure, Wukong or Macaque- I think she and Azure would be really cute-

Here we have Miss Suyin, secretary to the Spider Queen and Resident Mommy according to those who repost her- That's why I added that 'Mommy, sorry-' picture, I couldn't skip the joke. This woman is one of the many reasons I like women with glasses and she's a spider and her 4 eyes look cool-

Another one of my favorites, Baozhu. A Monkey Painter who is someone who I really wanna exist in real life so I can touch her fur and hair because it looks so fluffy ! I mean, look at this girlie ! She's FLOOFY ! I wanna touch the floof ! <333

And now we have domineering Lady in Ao Jiang who from that name I believe is somehow related to Ao Lie ? And is part of Mei's family ? I don't know that much yet but yeah, I love this one. Also, the little jewels hanging from her horns ? *Chef's kiss*

Space Lady Polaris who is giving me stars in my eyes for how cute she looks alone. She looks like someone who would be waiting in my dreams so I could just talk to her. I don't wanna burden her with my troubles though-

Brave Knight of the Falling Stars Asterius who I think might be related to Polaris in some way. They are both Space related in a way. I wonder if there is a connection ? But I love how she looks. She seems like a tomboy and I love tomboy characters :)

Lychee, Oh Lychee, how I tried to do justice for you ! But your aesthetic was something I couldn't nail down much. But at least I added real Lychee's for your sake and put some baking and wrestling into it. Please don't hit me...Or you can. You're gorgeous as you are friking intimidating. For a wrestler and a baker anyway.

Meihua who is honestly one of the most wholesome characters I have seen in a while. She gives me hopeless romantic vibes which I tried to add in here. The flowers for his florist work as well and mainly pink for this one because it matches her hair. Younger me would've loved her while current me thinks she's a lovable character who needs protection.

This woman, however, doesn't need protection as she can use her heels to murder her way through the crowd. Xin Yan, everyone. An evil woman who is gorgeous and she knows it. I heard she was a dancer and singer and the owner of a nightclub so that inspired this a lot. Xin Yan looks like she could kill me with a stare...and I would thank her for it.

Zhenzhu who I don't know much about but damn I really wanna give her a hug because she looks so sad in this picture. She's a handmaiden from what I know for the Empress of Heaven. HOW IS SHE A HANDMAIDEN WITH THE LOOKS OF A GODDESS ??

Chenguang is the ancestor of Jun who once went on the Journey to the West disguised as a man. Her aesthetic was hard to nail down but I eventually went for one that has themes of independence, journeys and outdoor backgrounds.

Ehuang who I thought was another version of Wyldfyre from Ninjago: Dragons Rising. If I didn't know she couldn't control fire, I would've thought fire would be her entire thing. That's why I added boiling water. Along with potions and lots of red.

And last of the OC'S, Chyou ! Who I really don't know much about except for the fact she is an Egret Celestial. So she's graceful as the bird itself and as beautiful as it as well. She is really lovely and the flowers in her hair are a nice touch <3 And that's all the OC's belonging to @camhues ! Or at least the ones I know. If I missed anything, I apologize and I'll make one for them on another day. But for now, have this. These were so much fun to make ! :)

Also, Cam, if you are looking at this, this is for you:

This moodboard is for you ! Don't take this the wrong way but you give me Chaotic Academia vibes- That's not an insult ! I'm sorry, your art is lovely and should be viewed by everyone ! Maybe I'll do this again but I don't know yet. I have to find time to do so. For now, have these gorgeous women ! And guys, please go and take a look as Cam's stuff. They are a very talented artist with a unique style and just a lot of women who you will grow to love ! For now, I'm Vee and I'll see you later when I can :D

All these beautiful characters belong to @camhues (Do not steal from her)

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gatheredfates · 3 months ago

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Hi everyone and happy weekend! I'm drowning at work, but I wanted to put out a Compendium update—thank you to everyone who submitted! I don't think I missed anyone but, if I did, I'll update accordingly. ✨

As of 08/10, the following communities have been added to Sea's Community Compendium for XIV Creatives.

LARGE-SCALE COMMUNITY DISCORDS / SPACES

Final Fantasy XIV Ontario — This server was created to connect gamers in (or near) Ontario, Canada who love playing Final Fantasy XIV. Events include monthly map nights and irl meetups!

COMMUNITY FOCUSED / EVENT SPACES

Dragonhead — An open-world roleplay event for Ishgardians (and their neighbours).

Echelons of Etheirys — A community fostering political and court life roleplay in the world of Final Fantasy XIV, featuring regency-inspired tropes and themes; located on the North American data centre.

Buscarron's Druthers — A weekly roleplay community effort to encourage in-character, open-world engagement in the South Shroud and beyond.

The Bloodsands — Interested in combat RP? We have the place for you!

Lark's — An Ishgardian club for men.

The Regency — A gentleman's club.

Eorzean Museum Network — A network of free, player-run, venues; encouraging, supporting, and growing cultural venues and events anywhere in the FFXIV community.

Azure Moon Lounge — A welcome respite from the elements, the room is always cool and the drinks are plenty. Hosted by @rhela-xiv.

MISC

Compendium of Non-Weapon Held Objects — This is an ever-growing compendium of non-weapon held objects found in FFXIV for modders and gposers to reference. It includes a description of the object, the set/base/variant for adding it in Ktisis/Anamnesis/Brio, as well other technical information. This database is currently maintained by Nhaneh, Ainyan, and Pointyhats.

Have you thought about joining our Tumblr Community? You can find it here!

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here or send me an ask with the relevant information!

Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. This is all publicly available on the document.

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads. (Though these get posted to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community when I find them!)

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include IC tabloid blogs or other ventures used to generate roleplay.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

I want to put my community on the Compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my Community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community/resource on the Compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it. The same goes for resources; if it's relevant to the game, it'll be useful to someone.

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, contact me asap!

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv community #final fantasy xiv roleplay #ffxiv roleplay #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea's community compendium

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atinycafe · 1 year ago

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BENEATH THE SURFACE — ch 01 [24 karat]

PROMPT; mermaid!reader literally gets robbed by ateez and then falls in love w them after like they didn't just steal from her??

FEAT; pirate!ot8!ateez x mermaid!reader (yeo focus)

IN THIS CHAPTER; literally the finding nemo plot but the reader lost her necklace & yeosang has a fat crush on her

WRD COUNT; 3.4k

NOTES; i want a pet shark 2 life is not fair ; this takes place during the say my name era (i go crazy 4 woo w grey hair) ; san is so cute, he's so bbygirl ; yeo is QUICK 2 b attracted 2 her but that's only because i have a soft spot for him, for most of the members it's gonna take more time 4 them 2 b attracted or trust her even TAGLIST; no one yet! lmk if you want 2 b added!

In the enchanted realm beneath the endless expanse of cerulean waves, a mermaid and her devoted companion, a magnificent tiger shark, engaged in their timeless play. With grace and agility, they twirled and glided through the crystal-clear depths, their laughter echoing through the ocean currents.

The mermaid possessed a beauty that could rival the most vibrant sunrise. Her tail shimmered with iridescent hues, a kaleidoscope of azure, sapphire, and emerald, adorned with intricate patterns that mirrored the delicate intricacies of coral reefs. Silver and pearl accents adorned her fin tips, reflecting the sunlight in a dazzling display of elegance.

Her tresses, filled with a myriad of braids, cascaded in flowing waves, kissed by the salty sea breeze, entwined with shimmering seashells. Each braid, intricately woven and adorned with delicate seashells, created a mesmerizing tapestry that told stories of forgotten treasures and ancient legends. Clinging to her upper body, a bra crafted from intricately woven seashells created an enchanting contrast against her radiant skin, its luminescent luster accentuated by scattered flecks of ocean dew.

But it was the necklace, the jewel that held the essence of her being, that captured the mermaid's essence. Passed down through generations, it was a masterpiece of oceanic artistry, crafted from rare pearls, glistening gemstones, and the ethereal glow of moonlight captured within a crystal pendant. Suspended delicately around her neck, it symbolized her lineage, her connection to the sea, and the profound love her parents had bestowed upon her.

Days slipped by in an endless dance of laughter and adventure, as the mermaid and her shark companion reveled in their eternal bond. The mermaid, with her ethereal voice, serenaded the waves, casting a spell upon all who heard her melodic enchantments. The shark, with his sleek and muscular form, swam beside her, a guardian and playmate, his razor-sharp teeth concealing a heart of unparalleled loyalty.

Yet, amidst their carefree existence, destiny weaved its intricate tapestry. Unbeknownst to the mermaid, her treasured necklace had slipped away, lost in the vast embrace of the ocean depths. Days passed in blissful ignorance until a haunting emptiness settled within her soul, a deep ache that could not be soothed.

It was on a tranquil morning, as she basked in the gentle caress of sunlight cascading through the shimmering waves, that she absentmindedly reached for her necklace, only to find it absent from its rightful place. Panic surged through her, pulsating with each beat of her fragile heart. Frantically, she searched, combing through her precious troves and secret hideaways, but her beloved jewel was nowhere to be found.

With growing desperation, she confided in her steadfast friend, the tiger shark who had shared her every joy and sorrow. As she poured out her anguish, her voice quivered with raw emotion, every word an echo of her profound loss. The shark, his eyes filled with empathy, listened intently, his silent presence a pillar of strength.

Days turned into nights, and nights into weeks, as the mermaid's sorrow lingered like an ever-present shadow. But amidst the depths of despair, a faint glimmer of hope emerged. A whisper of intuition guided her restless heart, and a determination blossomed within her very being.

She called upon the enchanting power that dwelled within her. With a gentle whisper, she sent out a plea to the inhabitants of the ocean, beckoning the creatures of the deep to aid her in her quest. From the majestic dolphins to the graceful seahorses, every creature received her message, carrying it through the currents with a sense of urgency.

Among the coral reefs and beneath the shimmering surface, the message spread like ripples in the water. The shimmering scales of tropical fish flickered with anticipation, while the wise sea turtles nodded in understanding. Even the elusive octopi, masters of disguise, shared the mermaid's plea among their fellow beings of the sea.

Time unfurled its wings, as she patiently waited for a response. And then, on an unexpected morning, a small and timid fish approached her, its vibrant colors contrasting against its shy demeanor. With trembling fins, the little fish revealed that it had seen a shimmering object in the southern waters, nestled near the Grand Coral Barrier.

The young girl's heart leapt with hope, even as concern creased her brow. For the south, near the coral barrier, was known to be a gathering place for pirates. It was a treacherous and unpredictable territory, where danger lurked beneath the waves. But the mermaid's determination burned brightly within her, fueled by her longing to reclaim what was lost.

With gratitude in her eyes, she thanked the small fish for its bravery and shared information, with a small peck to its mouth. She listened attentively as the fish described the exact location, painting a vivid picture of the treacherous waters and the coral formations that marked the way. The mermaid's voice, soft yet resolute, promised the fish that she would not forget its kindness.

As the mermaid ventured deeper into the heart of the Grand Coral Barrier, a shroud of darkness enveloped the waters, casting eerie shadows upon the once-vibrant reefs. The light struggled to penetrate the murky depths, leaving a sense of foreboding that hung heavy in the surrounding gloom. The corals, once bursting with vibrant colors, now appeared muted and lifeless, their intricate formations reminiscent of gnarled fingers reaching out from the abyss.

In this treacherous realm, her heart pounded in her chest, a symphony of fear echoing through her very being. Every flicker of movement caught her attention, each shadow playing tricks upon her anxious mind. The once-familiar fish that had greeted her with joyous dances now swam with moody eyes, casting wary glances her way. Their expressions carried a silent warning, cautioning her about the perils that lurked in the bottomless pit.

The silence was broken only by the distant sounds of creaking ships, their ghostly presence a haunting reminder of the dangers that lay ahead. It was as if the coral barrier itself held its breath, a stillness that spoke of secrets buried within the abyss, waiting to be discovered. The mermaid's senses heightened, her every nerve tingling with trepidation.

With each stroke of her shimmering tail, the mermaid pressed on, her movements cautious yet resolute. The uneven terrain of the coral barrier posed challenges at every turn, its jagged edges and hidden crevices threatening to ensnare the unwary. Yet, fueled by her determination and the glimmer of hope that flickered within her heart, she pressed forward, pushing past her fears.

In this unsettling environment, the mermaid's vulnerability was magnified. She felt the weight of the unknown bearing down upon her, the weight of an ocean that held both beauty and danger. And yet, within her fear, she summoned the strength to face the darkness, to conquer the shadows that threatened to consume her.

"Neptune, do you see it?" she whispered gently to the sleek shark gliding by her side, who seemed to possess an uncanny sense for hidden treasures beneath the darkened depths (the gems adorning his teeth being the living proof of it). "I feel like it would be easy to notice it, you know? One would think it impossible to miss such a sparkling beacon."

The shark halted in its fluid motion, swiveled to face her with a discerning gaze. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his toothy maw. "You underestimate the allure of shadows. A jewel requires light to reflect its brilliance, and alas, light eludes this realm, dumbass" he retorted with a hint of sarcasm, elicited a gentle pout and an affectionate nudge from the girl.

Before she could muster a retort, Neptune swiftly vanished, a streak of power and agility slicing through the water behind her. Bewilderment danced across her face, her beautiful eyes searching for answers. And then, as if in response to an unseen call, her attention was abruptly captivated.

"What are you—" Her words evaporated when her eyes finally captured the cause of his sudden departure.

There, in a clandestine embrace, her necklace entwined itself around the slender body of a solitary fish. Yet, the challenge was not the possession but the surrounding company. A mesmerizing tapestry of iridescent sardines encircled the coveted treasure, their synchronized movements reminiscent of a beautifully choreographed ballet. Navigating through their shimmering ranks proved to be an enigmatic puzzle, as if the very currents conspired against her.

With unwavering determination, Neptune launched himself into the intricate dance, his every attempt to seize the prize met with the evasive dispersion of the sardines. A sigh of frustration escaped him, mingling with the rhythmic symphony of the ocean's depths.

Undeterred by the elusive nature of her aquatic companions, the mermaid approached the congregation with gentle "steps", her voice carrying the delicate lilt of a siren's plea. "Greetings, my shimmering kin. I simply yearn to retrieve my beloved necklace. I am in dire—"

A cacophony of hurried murmurs echoed in response, the voices of the sardines blending into a sea of hurried commotion.

"No time to spare!"

"We are tardy for our duties!"

"Come back another time!"

"Far too occupied!"

"Return when tides are kinder!"

Undeterred by the chorus of reluctance, she exhaled a wearied sigh and sought respite upon a craggy coral formation. Perched high above the shimmering sea floor, her gaze remained fixated upon the enigmatic congregation. Her resplendent tail swayed gently against the ancient rock, an outward reflection of the ceaseless churning within her mind.

As Neptune persisted, his every valiant attempt met with disillusioned defeat, an unseen peril began to unfold. Unbeknownst to them, a looming net descended ominously from a boat from above, a trap concealed by the shadows. Neptune, in his tenacity, once again lunged to apprehend the elusive fish, only to catch sight of the imminent net and narrowly elude its grasp.

In a desperate cry, Neptune's voice pierced the underwater tapestry, summoning the mermaid from her pensive perch. Her eyes widened, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within their depths. As her gaze fell upon the ensnared fish, deep into the net.

Trapped

"No, no, fuck no, no, no fuck!" the situation had been further compounded. The fish was now beyond her reach, ensnared in the clutches of humanity, likely to retain possession of her precious necklace instead of coming rightfully back into her ownership.

With desperation gripping her heart, the mermaid grasped the coarse strands of the net, her delicate hands fiercely tugging against its relentless grip. Neptune, always loyal, joined in the struggle, his powerful presence lending her strength. Together, they strained against the resistance, their determination radiating through the turbulent waters.

But the net, woven with human cunning and unforgiving strength, fought back with a stubborn tenacity. The mermaid and her faithful shark could feel the weight of their adversary, its unforgiving pull threatening to yank them into a world of captivity. Their hearts sank as they realized their efforts were in vain.

As if obeying an invisible command, the net began its ascent, inch by agonizing inch. Helpless, they watched as their chances of recovering the necklace slipped through their fingers. The mermaid's cries echoed through the depths, a mournful lament for the loss of her cherished symbol of heritage and love.

With a final heave, the net breached the surface, lifting the ensnared fish and the precious necklace into the realm of humans. The mermaid, defeated, surfaced alongside the disappearing net, her glare fixed on the vessel that now possessed her beloved treasure.

Unbeknownst to the mermaid, her presence had not gone unnoticed aboard the ship. Yeosang, the skilled helmsman, stood tall upon the quarter deck, his gaze intently fixed upon the enchanting figure before him. Clad in a black fur coat, shielding him from the relentless winds, he exuded an air of quiet confidence amidst the bustling crew.

As he observed the mermaid with an unwavering focus, his eyes drank in her captivating form. He was struck by the way she wore the sea itself upon her, for intertwined amidst her flowing locks were tendrils of seaweed, verdant and alive. They danced and swayed with each ripple of water, whispering. It was as if the very essence of the ocean had entwined itself within her hair, a testament to her intimate connection with the watery realm.

Yeosang's gaze lingered upon her with an intensity that betrayed his fascination. His raven-black hair, sleek and parted in the middle, framed his face like a midnight sky, a stark contrast against his pale complexion. His eyes, a striking shade of light green, fixated upon her with unwavering determination, as if he could glimpse the secrets hidden within her depths.

Around his neck rested a peculiar necklace, a compass of intricate design, serving as both a navigational tool and a symbol of his unwavering dedication to his craft. It gleamed against the expanse of his pristine white shirt, a token of his commitment to charting a course through the unpredictable seas

Caught in a moment of stolen longing, Yeosang found himself bewitched by the mermaid's presence. The weight of responsibility as helmsman momentarily forgotten, he yearned to bridge the divide between their worlds.

Captivated by the mermaid's unwavering glare, Yeosang couldn't help but find her inexplicably adorable. It was an enchanting paradox—this small, delicate creature staring down his crew, notorious for their ruthless reputation upon the sea. Their infamy preceded them, feared by all who dared to cross their path. Yet, here she was, exuding a quiet strength and defiance that seemed to belie her petite frame.

Curiosity danced within Yeosang's mind as he pondered the reasons behind her intense gaze. What had brought her to fix her eyes upon his crew with such determination? It was the first encounter he had with a mermaid, but he had long known of their existence, whispered tales and legends passed down through generations of sailors.

Was it possible that his crew had encroached upon her realm, depriving her of a bountiful meal that was rightfully hers? Or perhaps, in the perilous dance of predator and prey, they had become her potential feast, their presence serving as a tantalizing invitation for her primal instincts.

Regardless of the answer, Yeosang found himself irresistibly drawn to her. Her eyes, though small in comparison to the vastness of the sea, radiated a captivating power that commanded attention. They held secrets untold, a glimpse into a world beyond his own, and he yearned to unravel the enigma that lay within those captivating orbs.

As his eyes lower themselves on her small pout, Yeosang found his thoughts wandering into treacherous territory. Her lips, delicately shaped and adorned with a hint of natural allure, beckoned to him like the siren's song. It was an uncharted territory of desire that stirred within him, a magnetic pull that defied reason and logic.

His mind, usually consumed by the demands of the sea and the perils of their pirate pursuits, now found itself drifting to thoughts of a different nature. Thoughts of stolen glances, stolen moments, and stolen kisses. The allure of her pout, a mere glimpse into her tender vulnerability, ignited a flame of longing within him that burned with an intensity he had never known. Was this the true power of a mermaid? For in her presence, he fell under a spell of enchantment without a single note escaping her lips.

The black haired boy's attention was abruptly torn from his reverie by a cacophony of screams emanating from the ship's deck. Curiosity piqued, he swiftly turned to observe the source of the commotion, his gaze landing on the master-at-arms. A radiant smile graced the man's face, showing off his dimples, as he proudly held up a stunning necklace, while cradling a captured fish in his other hand.

"Behold, ATEEZ!" San exclaimed with undeniable excitement, his voice filled with triumph. "Look what I've discovered!"

The necklace, a breathtaking masterpiece of aquatic elegance, held the beholder's gaze captive with its sublime craftsmanship. Strands of silver, delicate as moonlight on water, intertwined gracefully, forming a sinuous chain that embraced the neck with a gentle embrace. The metal seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, as if infused with the essence of the sea itself.

Adorning the necklace were an array of luminous pearls, each one a testament to the ocean's boundless beauty. They shimmered like iridescent tears, their opalescent hues dancing in harmony with the sunlight. Light cascaded across their smooth surfaces, creating an enchanting play of colors that evoked the depths of the ocean's mysteries.

At the heart of the necklace, a captivating gemstone held court, commanding attention with its mesmerizing allure. A deep azure jewel, it gleamed with an otherworldly radiance, as if it held the secrets of the sea within its crystalline core. Its facets caught the light, casting shimmering reflections that mirrored the ebb and flow of the tides.

Upon closer inspection, delicate engravings adorned the silverwork, tracing intricate patterns inspired by the natural world. Seashells, rendered with meticulous detail, seemed to whisper tales of distant shores and hidden treasures. The craftsmanship revealed the skill and artistry of a master jeweler, their hand imbuing the necklace with a sense of wonder and enchantment.

As the necklace dangled delicately in the master-at-arms's hand, it seemed to possess a magnetic pull, drawing the eyes of all who beheld it. Its beauty transcended mere adornment.

San, his black hair composed of red streaks bouncing on his head, continued to regale his crewmates with tales of his discovery, the necklace serving as a tangible testament to his triumph.

San's cute laugh resonated, its pure and unadulterated sound cutting through the ruggedness of the pirate ship, "it seems our little fish friend has a taste for jewelry!", San's laughter continued to ripple through the air as he delicately lifted the fish, cradling it in his hands. With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he brought the fish closer to his face, their gaze locking in an amusing encounter. His joy-filled laughter seemed to dance in his eyes, forming gentle crinkles at the corners—a captivating aegyosal that radiated warmth and sincerity.

The crew watched this endearing scene unfold, their laughter blending with the rhythmic lapping of waves against the ship's hull. The contagious joy mirrored in San's eyes illuminated the camaraderie among the pirates, weaving a tapestry of shared laughter and the beauty of genuine connection.

Finally understanding the reason behind the mermaid's anger, the helmsman turns to look at the pretty girl, only to find her crying.

Yeosang's heart sank as he beheld the mermaid's tears streaming down her ethereal face. The crystalline droplets fell relentlessly, yet her gaze remained distant and vacant. It was as though she was unaware of her own weeping, her soul consumed by an insatiable longing for the stolen necklace. The sight shattered his heart into countless fragments. Oh, how he yearned to reach out and gather her fragile form into his arms, whispering words of solace and assuring her that nothing could harm her with him by her side. His fingers itched to snatch the pendant from San's clutches, to restore it to its rightful owner.

Descending with resolute determination, Yeosang strode purposefully across the deck towards San. With a swift motion, he seized the pendant, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and anguish. His gaze darted around in search of the mermaid, intending to fling the precious artifact to her. Yet, to his dismay, she had vanished. Disappeared without a trace. A sharp pang of longing pierced his chest, leaving him bereft and yearning for her presence.

His trembling hand tightened around the necklace, the temptation to cast it into the depths beneath almost overwhelming. Surely, she resided beneath the waves, seeking solace in the depths she called home. But his selfish desires held him back. If he held onto the necklace, would God be kind enough to reunite them? Would he be blessed with another glimpse of her, as she ventured forth in search of her stolen treasure? His steps faltered, uncertainty gripping his heart.

In a moment of reckoning, Yeosang made a decision. Swiftly, he concealed the necklace within the depths of his coat pocket, a silent vow to protect it until the day she crossed his path again. With a heavy sigh, he retreated to the solace of his chambers, the slamming of the door serving as an unspoken signal to his fellow crewmates that he sought solitude. Confusion etched upon their faces, they remained behind, perplexed by the enigmatic turn of events.

[next]

#beneath the surface #ateez #hongjoong #mingi #yeosang #seonghwa #jongho #yunho #san #wooyoung #pirate #mermaid #fluff #x reader #poly #reverse harem

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ivanttakethis · 3 months ago

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Before Round 5 - Tov’s Log

Rose (?) vs. Sai (?) -> ??? Win

————————————————————

Cassio arrived home well after midnight.

They murmured a soft greeting and goodnight before retiring to their room.

Tov was still on the couch, trying in vain to process all of the events of Round 4.

She kept coming back to that image of Himei, covered in blood that wasn’t her own. The lost look in her eyes.

Her heart twisted painfully.

Tov needed to talk to her. She wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t.

She turned off all the lights in the living room, quietly shut her bedroom door behind her, and punched in the number for Himei’s room phone.

She’d memorized the number off of a contestant call sheet Cassio left lying around.

Tov tried not to think about whether Cassio left the paper out on purpose or not as the line rang.

And rang.

Finally, a soft click.

“…Hello?” It was Himei.

But it also wasn’t Himei.

Her voice was too hollow, too flat and distant to be that of the friend Tov knew so well.

“Himei?”

“Tov?” Himei sounded surprised. “Are you still here?”

Tov frowned. “At the competition? No. I’m at home.”

“Oh…”

“Cassio brought me back here after my— incident at the end of Round 3. They wouldn’t let me come back for Round 4 to see you perform.” She continued.

Himei didn’t respond.

The only reason Tov knew that the line was still connected was because she could hear Himei’s uneven breathing.

Tov waited.

She was used to waiting out lulls in conversations. They never made her uncomfortable.

“I won.” Himei said blankly.

“I know.” Tov said. “I saw.”

“I… I won.” She still sounded far away, but not in space. In time.

She was stuck in a loop. Stuck back on that stage. Stuck reliving Min’s death over and over again.

Tov needed to break her out of it.

“Where’s Tallis?” She asked amidst another long stretch of dead air.

The silence stretched longer.

Himei shifted on the other end of the line, her voice no louder than a murmur, “He doesn’t think he’ll win his round.”

Tov closed her eyes and sighed.

“He will.”

He has to.

If Tallis died, part of Himei would die.

Part of Tov would die too.

She couldn’t patch them both back up.

When Tov opened her eyes again, her gaze was drawn to the window.

Azure, Moran, and Stasya’s constellations adorned the dark sky just outside.

Tov hadn’t had a chance to tell Himei about them yet. That gave her an idea.

“Can you see the stars from your room window?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah. I can.” Himei sounded caught off guard, but a little bit more like herself.

“I named some more constellations after our late classmates.”

“Stasya… and Moran.” She said, her voice tinged bittersweet.

“Azure too.” Tov added. “They’re up in the sky near ours. I can point them out to you, if you want?”

“Yeah,” Himei sniffed, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Do you want to name one after Min too?”

She was quiet again, but only for a moment. “I think… I think she saved my life.”

“Me too.”

“She thanked me, but I never got the chance to thank her in return.”

“This could be your thank you.” Tov said.

“You’re right. I’ll try.” She can hear the small smile in Himei’s voice.

Tov turned fully to her window and set her eyes on the sky, “Remember, use the North Star as our guide…”

————————————————————

This is basically End of Round 4 Part 2.

It spawned almost entirely out of my interpretation that Himei hallucinated seeing Tov after Round 4 in @lookatmysillies’s follow up log from Himei’s POV (so sorry if I misinterpreted what you wrote, my brain went straight to hallucination and would NOT let me go 😭)

Plus this gave me the chance to honor Min ( @starry-skiez ) since she saved Himei’s life, and therefore saved what remains of Tov’s sanity.

Himei and Tallis belong to @lookatmysillies and Min belongs to @starry-skiez.

Azure ( @azureitri ), Moran ( @geospiral ), and Stasya ( @billwasnot ) are also here haunting the narrative!

#and by the narrative i mean tov’s every waking thought #their ghosts have her in a chokehold fr #she needs a break #let’s hope round 6 is normal (i’m delusional)#alien stage #alnst #alien stage oc #alnst oc #alnst oc: tov #alnst oc: himei #alien stage fan season #alnst fan season #alien stage season 39 #alnst season 39 #tov’s log #tw blood #cw blood

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our-happygirl500-fan · 2 years ago

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LMK/LEGO MONKIE KID SEASON 4 SPOILERS

Something I was thinking about was what if the Camel Ridge Trio, were each supposed to act as counterparts to DBK, Macaque & SWK

When we see SWK’s brotherhood in season 4 we see six characters at a table set for eight this could be a reference to how in JTTW had a brotherhood with six other great kings/ great sages going from memory they were:

The Demon Bull King

The Dragon Flood Demon King

The Peng Demon King

The Lion Camel King

The Snub Nose Monkey King

The Macaque King

Out of the characters that we see as part of SWK’s brotherhood in LMK the Demon Bull King is the only one who was actually part of SWK’s brotherhood in JTTW.

It appears that LMK might be combining various characters that SWK faced during the journey with members of his brotherhood, most likely to create more tragic relationships; combining Macaque with The Macaque King, the Azure Lion with The Lion Camel King and Peng with The Peng Demon King.

Along side LMK combining those three characters, it also appears that LMK has changed SWK from having a brotherhood with six others to seven others in order to include the Yellow Tusked Elephant who was one of the three rulers of Lion Camel Ridge along with the Azure Lion & Peng

It might be possible that the two empty seats we see are supposed to represent the Snub Nose Monkey King & the Dragon Flood Demon King who are the remaining members of SWK’s brotherhood that have not yet appeared or been combined with another character.

Going back to the theory that each member of the Camel Ridge Trio, were each supposed to act as counterparts to DBK, Macaque & SWK the first clue that that might be the case are how all the characters at the table are seated; Azure Lion & SWK are both seated at the heads of the table, DBK & Yellow Tusk are seated across from each other and Macaque & Peng are also sitting across from each other.

If the positions at the table are clues on how each member of the Camel Ridge Trio, were each supposed to act as counterparts to DBK, Macaque & SWK, then Azure Lion is supposed to be SWK’s counterpart, Yellow Tusk is supposed to be DBK’s & Peng is supposed to be Macaque’s.

MK: Is this what dying is like?

SWK: Relax a little telepathic communication never hurt anybody, I think

Mei: Is this what dying is like

Azure Lion: Eh a little astral projection never hurt anyone

SWK: You

Azure Lion: Me

At the start of season 4 Azure Lion presented himself as a helpful mentor figure to MK & Mei in SWK’s absence before his true intentions where revealed even saying lines similar to SWK. It might not be much of a stretch to view SWK & Azure Lion as possible counterparts in the story that LMK is trying to tell as they both seem to be opposed to one another.

DBK: A true leader should be big! Strong!

Yellow Tusk: The Demon Bull King was our last hope of reforging the brotherhood

In regards to DBK & Yellow Tusk being counterparts to one another though we do not see DBK & Yellow Tusk interact much it’s clear that they had held respect for one another, on a more meta scale DBK & Yellow Tusk could be regarded as counterparts as in contrast to LMK adding Yellow Tusk onto SWK’s brotherhood, DBK is the only member of SWK’s brotherhood in LMK who was actually part of SWK’s brotherhood in JTTW

Peng: You always were the most cowardly of the bunch Macaque

Peng: Your characteristically quiet Macaque

Peng: As for Macaque, well, that coward has tucked himself away somewhere even I can’t sniff him out

In regards to Peng & Macaque being counterparts it’s clear that Peng is the one in the brotherhood who interacted with Macaque the most outside of SWK as Peng is the one in the brotherhood who talks to Macaque directly & includes him in conversation. Peng’s focus on Macaque might be that LMK is trying to form some form of connection between Peng & Macaque that is similar to the connection between Azure Lion & SWK as similar to how Azure Lion would say similar lines to SWK, Peng appears to taunt Mei in a similar way to Macaque in season 3

Macaque: Little girl you can shoot me all you want it won’t do you any good

Peng: Greetings little girl

This is all mostly just speculation but I thought it would be interesting if each member of the brotherhood was meant to act as counterparts to one another.

#lego monkie kid #lmk spoilers #lmk

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jsqforknowledge · 2 years ago

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(2022-12-19) Ransomware And The Impact On Your Hybrid Identity Environment

For many years, organizations have been using Active Directory (AD) as their central on-premises identity directory service. Throughout those years many system and/or identity related configurations have been made to support different requirements. About just more than a decade ago Azure Active Directory (AAD) was officially released. For those organizations adopting AAD, something was needed to…

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#Active Directory #Active Directory Federation Services #Azure Active Directory #Azure AD Connect #Disaster Recovery #Federated SSO #Pass Through Authentication #Password Hash Sync #Ransomware

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megashadowdragon · 3 months ago

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judge's similarities to peng from journey to the west and the possibility that his science involved in the goroseis defeat

I've already mentioned Judge's similarities to Peng before: But could Queen and Caesar be the Elephant and Lion in JTTW? Together the demon lords were some of Wukong and the groups greatest adversary's, but Peng in particular had to be defeated by Buddha. Luffy beat Caesar, Sanji beat Queen. But Judge has not been actually 'defeated,' according to the story. Just put into life debt. Peng/Garuda in the story, carries a JI/Spear and a flask that can trap and kill even immortals. Would that mean Germa may have the key later to defeating the Gorosei?

In fact, the way Peng/Garuda is defeated according to this, falls in line with Judge not being really defeated but put into debt. Peng was forced to agree to become a protector and submit.

Yeah. It's just looking it over it fits. Peng got tricked with meet/bait by Buddha and pacified/made to become an ally and put to work rather than defeated like the Azure Lion Elephant. Judge was given bait (the marriage and alliance) and put to life-debt and pacified, instead of properly defeated like Caesar and Queen.

Another parallel to Sanji like the others. Since; ""2. In Journey to the West, Garuda has a counterpart named Peng. Golden eagle demon who is haughty, stands beside a throne, and uses a ji(chinese spear) as a weapon, ahem: JajJI, ichiJI, niJI, sanJI, yonJI. Also, spears. Judge uses spears, Sanji has been compared to a spear by Zeff. --Chapter 86, Chivalry vs Fishman Anger. 86 in Goroawase is yari, yari is spear."" -Quoting myself from a forum. So then for parallels that leaves us.... Both Princes, who were later adopted by non-royalty. Both come to serve a future Pirate King. Both rival a future WSS. Both (hopefully for Shanks) despise their birth families. Spear references. Look alike. Fire based abilities. Judge = Flamelike sun hair. Garling = Moon hair Judge and Garling = Not good people. Judge and Garling = Spear references. The parallels keep growing.

The name, Garling, derives from the Old English and Germanic word, 'geri,' meaning a spear. The suffix of 'ing' is added to mean, 'kin' or 'person' Garling's name basically means Spearman. Interestingly, a 'shank' is also part of a spear.

youtube

Sanji's TRUE POWER is The Key to DEFEATING the GOROSEI: One Piece Theory

judge was originally called st germain a famous alchemist and here is a theory that the gorosei are connected to alchemy

@pernanegra @monkeydluffy19920

#one piece #op theory #one piece theories #sanji theory #black leg sanji #germa 66 #blackleg sanji #kuroashi sanji #sanji kuroashi #vinsmoke judge #judge vinsmoke #op gorosei #Youtube

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naruto-ol-protags · 6 months ago

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What are each of the Naruto Online Protagonists backstories?? I wasn’t aware they had any, or if they had a lot of profiles with that listed their own attributes. If you could describe them or provide a link for me to check them out I would really appreciate it!

This is kind of a complicated question, mainly because they are split into: the Orichara contest versions, the first beta versions, the second beta versions (some info on them was retconned), and the current game version (the question is whether browser and mobile count as the same or canon divergence XD). There is also the scrapped intro cinematic video where the protags are kids in the Ninja Academy who seem to be friends? It's honestly a mess that doesn't add up a lot of times unless you follow exactly one version and disregard everything else.

I've been working on a spreadsheet/masterpost on all kinds of canon info available for each protag but it's still being put together and has some personal commentary... Please feel free to take a look at it though 😅

You can also go through the #character trivia tag for more details!

A condensed version would be:

Azure Fang - she is determined to cure illnesses of the world and specializes in medical jutsu and chakra control. She's compassionate, curious, lively, and often shows her cute/girlish side. Despite being a medic she also readily uses poisons. In fights, she's shown to favor her tantō. Her mobile voice lines suggest that she's rather casual with others when at work and socializes easily.

Breeze Dancer - she's said to be a "royal sister type" and a few of the game ads have suggested her being in some way tied to Sunagakure and the Three Sand Siblings. Interestingly enough her nindō is intertwined with Orochimaru (although they don't seem to be on good terms). She has travelled a lot and thanks to that gained a mature outlook on society. Breeze is the only one who is vocal about having a distinction between good and evil, it seems to be one of her motivations for fighting. She fights using her metal fan, multiple clones, and seduction tactics (on men). Funnily enough, she prefers the company of girls.

Crimson Fist - he's liked and trusted by others and looks more mature than his age would suggest. He specializes in taijutsu and close combat. Crimson is a calm guy who cares for his friends a lot and trains hard to be able to protect them. He also likes to cook and garden, and occasionally sass at the other guys (usually to show off his manliness). Nothing is known about his clan but he has the wood release and a kekkei genkai.

Midnight Blade - younger by one year from the rest, works as a bounty hunter, knows an ANBU skill (up to interpretation whether he just picked it up from someone or was/is in the organization), and fights mostly using kenjutsu. He's cold, not talkative, and pragmatic, his main motivator seems to be money. His ideal setting is a 1v1, when faced with more opponents he loses his advantage. Despite being very professional and concentrated while on duty, he has been, in fact, portrayed as disliking work.

Scarlet Blaze - his lineage is connected to the Uchihas (not said to what degree), he also experienced a clan massacre, it's unclear if he's the last survivor or has some living relatives. He's calm and collected, hardworking, pragmatic, interested in all kinds of the world's ninjutsu, and aware of his good looks. Prefers to engage with opponents by his genjutsu first, and is good at finding their weaknesses. Preferred weapons seem to be kunai but he has been getting some variety with the latest skins.

I'm also putting the relevant profiles under the cut:

^ Above are presented the beta profiles (longer and shorter versions)

^ The more detailed profiles released on the official forum website and in-game

^ My Ninja Way intro screens with each character's phrase in the bracket

#asks #thank you for coming by #it was a delight to answer this and sorry that it's so long/kinda messy #the trivia tag has most of the voice lines translated and also covers symbolism/meaning of some of the clothing choices of each protag!#naruto online

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11thwardtls · 5 months ago

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Memory Defrag | TRACK 5 - Data Corpulence | Azekawa Kinari's Ward Mayor Novel Translation

Warnings and Disclaimers:

This translation is not professionally done and is not proofread. Edits and clean-ups may come at a later date.

Not a 1:1 translation either and some liberties into localization were taken into account.

This novel will contain spoilers for the Ev3ns Main Story: "Chained Up Scarlet".

Appropriate Content and Trigger Warnings will be added if needed.

May be used for quotebots/masterlists etc.

I am not fluent and self-studying Japanese (albeit at turtle speed), this was translated by ear and with the help of a JP dictionary, so please feel free to point out any errors!

—/—/—/—/—/—

I came out of semi-conscious mode and awakened all at once.

By my bedside, there was a plastic water bottle, with a note stuck to it: “Are you thirsty? Here, if you don’t mind.” in Raito’s handwriting.

As I am an android, my mouth does not get dry, yet I drank from the bottle anyway.

The room’s interior has been plunged into azure-hued darkness.

I could hear the flapping of the nocturnal birds resting in the trees behind me.

———[At the very least, you could say what’s on your mind in your own words.]

Father’s words repeated several times within my auditory system.

Whenever I recall these words, I start to feel something, slowly.

It’s something that I’ve not been able to properly verbalize.

But now, I’m searching for a meaning within Father’s words, of which I had previously felt nothing upon hearing them.

“Were his intentions similar to Master’s own words?”

I threw my question into the void.

I suppose that the true nature of Father’s hopes for me, was similar to Master’s own desire to treat me as if I were a fellow human being.

What Father wanted at the time was not for me to be in a state to channel Kinari’s spirit, but for me to speak out using my own words.

Rather than words that have been programmed into me, he must have wished to hear my words from the heart.

As I thought, I still deeply regret that I could not do that even at his deathbed.

Yes, there’s some sort of feeling of regret. Likely so. Surely, I thought.

And this sort of emotion is quite surprising in itself.

Because, as an android, I feel an emotion called ‘regret’.

But looking back on this incident and understanding how I felt while reviewing those memories, perhaps someday I too will gain those 21 grams.

By analyzing, considering, and reflecting……

As Kuguri has previously said, these records can turn themselves into memories.

[Further verification is still required.]

For that purpose, any and all records shall be preserved without being deleted.

I thought about it for when I have the free time to browse these past data bit by bit, but a message box appeared hovering over my retinas.

[The additional information related to the emotion base is building data corpulence at this time. Would you like to delete those additional parts?]

This newly acquired data is a highly valuable resource that is connected to 21 grams, therefore it cannot be deleted. I selected [No].

[The screen glitches for a moment.]

The moment that I’ve made my choice, the image reflected in my retinas became distorted and a noise appeared.

“...?”

I checked on my systems to see if a small error had occurred, but there was no problem.

Right now, I cannot afford to shrink down on my memory any further.

The everydays that would increase from here forward would be also valuable pieces of samples.

With that in mind, I laid down on my bed.

—/—/—/—/—/—

“Today’s a whole extra super awesome ‘nother lesson day~! After finishing with warm ups, we’re doing formation checks, alrightyyyy?”

Chihiro’s cheerful voice resounded throughout the lesson room this morning.

He always took the initiative whenever it came to practicing.

As always, I put out the tablet and started to record our dance formation———

—But he appeared troubled almost immediately.

“Oh whoopsies! My hard disk is full already~ I can’t record anymore.”

“Isn’t that a large capacity tablet? Why’s there so much data…? Plus, didn’t you say the same thing last month?”

Tao rushed in to check quickly. Chihiro pouted, cheeks puffed up, “I’m an influencer, aren’t I? Don’t tell me you forgot?!”, he retorted.

These two always have this kind of conversation all the time.

“Hahaha, well yeah, your job’s to take pics and all that. So I guess my smartphone…

Ah, right… I dropped it in the bath yesterday and it broke.”

“Haaaaa. It’s like, soooo unbelievable that such a high-key moronic guy exists in this world!”

Raito made an offer to do it on his behalf, but then was quickly rejected.

Kuguri gave Raito the stink-eye, as he had no intention of ever lending his own device.

“Welp, there’s no choice then. Kinyari~ can Chii twouble you to do it?”

“Understood.”

In the past eras, humans have used their eyes as a camera when photographic equipment cannot be used. Their video recordings would be burned onto their retina, be available as an output and viewed on another device.

I began to film our dance routine while looking into the mirror.

“Tao, stop. Your hand placement is off by three centimeters.”

“Tao, stop. Your arms are not fully extended.”

“Tao, stop. You mustn’t do this move from your chest, but from your shoulders.”

I added detailed annotations about our mistakes, and by the time I finished them, Chihiro would hug me and say, “Luuuuv ya, Kinyari!”

Chihiro does this more often than not. He also happily rested his cheek by my hair.

“Ahhh, you smell so nice, Kinyari~ Haaaa, you’re just the bestest, the cutest, I loooove you~”

“Mm. Thank you.”

“Oi, Chihiro, quit messin’ around already. Keep doing that and it’d count as sexual harassment.”

“But if it’s me and Kinyari, we make a super mega cute picture together, so it’s a-okay!”

“Eh… That so?”

Tao warned him, but Chihiro bit back.

He seemed a bit distressed after listening to Chihiro’s absurd reasoning.

Raito laughed softly as usual, saying, “I’m glad that we all get along so well.”

On the other hand, Kuguri interjected, “Nyushi, if I were to join in as well, wouldn’t it be even prettier?”

This sort of interaction between us unit members had now become the norm.

Chihiro often talked about me so lovingly, yet according to Tao, “Ain’t it because Chihiro used to be an idol otaku and likes cute things?”

Can this kind of love be classified as something that fulfills my father’s hopes and wishes that [Someone who loves you will surely appear]?

I don’t know it yet, but I have long since accepted this circumstance.

“Man, at the end of the day, I was still the one who made the most mistakes again.”

“Tao, you’d be training on your own again today, wouldn’t you? I’ll join as well so let’s do our best together.”[4]

“By the way, Kinari. I accidentally let it slip that you slept longer than usual this morning to Ushio. He seemed quite worried so if you could, please show yourself to him later to let him know.”

“Plüss, won’t you at least punish this wretch of a man for saying something so unnecessary?”

Chihiro and Tao started to whisper amongst themselves about everyday this and that, while Raito and Kuguri, who were wiping away their sweat, also chatted for a little while.

I’d say, “Shall we proceed to play and observe the formation video I took on my camera on another device now?”, all four of them, Kuguri—to an extent, would watch somewhat seriously.

Thus, our discussion on how we could further improve it would then begin.

I, for once, would like to repeat this moment an innumerable amount of times.

……The thought of it was not at all unpleasant.

“Please give it your all in singing, dancing, your idol activities and live happily!”

This is my firstmost and top priority order I needed to fulfill. It is my very core of being.

My most important standard of behavior.

However, rather than having to meet that standard, little by little, the desire to fulfill it instead is being born.

What to call this sort of ‘emotion’, I don’t know it yet.

But, I can feel it. I know so.

Emotions that I cannot name yet will continue to grow within my heart.

Surely. Probably. Maybe.

Someday, even…

———is what I thought.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Translation Notes:

1 - This chapter’s title name was very… difficult to word, as 肥大 in particular could be any of the words related to gaining weight/fat. In accordance with this, I used the word corpulence instead to achieve the same meaning across.

2 - Took liberties with Chihiro’s gyaru-speak. Also yes he did say all of that part (I have screenshot receipts).

3 - Again, Tao did actually say that. Quite literally in fact too!

4 - I don’t know who said that, but basing off the prose that followed, it seems to be Chihiro? I’m not sure if he’s ever called him anything other than Taotao so please correct me if I’m wrong here!

—/—/—/—/—/—

Directory:

#18trip #18trip translation #azekawa kinari #kinari azekawa

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maximalttigers · 5 months ago

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Pride Month 2024- Main cast of Hunted Butterfly

Since I sadly was really busy last year for Pride month, I decided to post what the sexualities of my main OC characters are from my Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go! series 'Hunted Butterfly' as a way to add more personal lore.

The basic summary for the characters:

Amy is a straight ally, not interested in dating at the moment.

Skyper is Asexual since his mind doesn't actually process lust, I have yet to decide if he is Aromantic as well but asexual is official.

Eki is Asexual due to her background and that she generally doesn't process the concepts of intercourse/the lust side of things (She's a pure bean yet understands how babies are made), like Skyper I have yet to decide if she is Aromantic as well but being asexual is official

Kaneki is officially aro/ace. While he in a way identifies as non-binary, he does tend to lean towards the male pronouns, I would later find that 'Demigender'/'Demiboy' would best for Kaneki too. Kaneki identifies with they/them but will tolerate he/him.

Chrome is an interesting one as he doesn't really bother with the whole 'labels' thing for sexuality stating that he's in love when he's in love. However for the sake of things, Chrome would be bisexual and Demisexual, he only fell in love after strong connections were made and they just so happened to be of both genders; His first love was a young woman named Ayla who was sadly killed then his second/current love is Otto.

Ruby Mace and Azure Spear are both Homosexual and Demisexual, only ever fell in love with each other which they are happily married.

Tech is a straight ally, not interested in dating at the moment.

Salem is a straight ally, not interested in dating at the moment as he is busy with helping raise his godson. (I realise that I should have added trans ally as well)

Octavia is Demisexual, she only fell in love with Gibson after they got to know each other.

Finally Coco is Demisexual and Asexual, she generally isn't into lust and she only ever fell in love with Antauri. I guess for them it was more 'love at first sight' kind of thing but they fell more in love as they got to know each other.

And that is really it, not much but it does allow me to share more personal lore about the charcters.

Happy Pride Month!

#oc #hunted butterfly #srmthfg hb #digital art #srmthg #pride month #lgbtq #Otto #gibson #srmthfg antauri #antauri #srmthfg otto #srmthfg gibson #asexual #aroace #bisexual #demisexual #demiboy #pride

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 2 years ago

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Begged & Borrowed Time (xiv, ao3)

(Chapter fourteen: The human queens arrive at last, and Cassian tries his hardest to make Nesta blush.) (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

The Archeron dining room had turned into a war tent, breakfast a meeting of commanders. Papers lay scattered across the cherrywood table, plans of the estate interspersed with all their gathered intelligence on the queens, notes made in Azriel’s near-indecipherable hand.

As the clock struck nine, Cassian sat in the same low-backed chair he’d occupied the night before and watched as Rhys frowned. A leaf of parchment dropped from the High Lord’s fingers, fluttering to the table as he massaged the centre of his forehead with his fingers.

“The only thing they don’t have is the measurements of the damned door handles,” Azriel said darkly, pushing away a sheath of papers and taking up his teacup instead. A single shadow glided along the edge of the teaspoon, following the curve of the saucer as a crease formed on it’s master’s brow. “Why do they need the layout of the sitting room? The position of every chair and side table? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Cassian only leaned back in in his chair, his wings stretching around the low back as a hand dropped to the dagger strapped to his thigh, finding comfort in its steady weight. The mantle of Night Court General settled easily around his shoulders, its shape and feel so familiar. It was like slipping back into a summer jacket after a long winter, feeling his muscles stretch and strain as, for the first time since Amarantha’s curse, he prepared himself for war.

“I don’t like this,” Azriel continued. Another of his shadows skirted a patch of sunlight as he tapped his fingers against the side of his teacup, siphons gleaming brilliant and azure as that frown grew deeper. “There’s too much we don’t know, too much they’ve kept back. We don’t even know how they’re planning to arrive.”

“You don’t trust them,” Rhys surmised, curling his fingers into a fist beneath his chin.

“No.”

Cassian snorted. “You don’t trust anybody.”

Azriel shot him a withering look, one of sufferance, as he sipped from his tea. Beside him, Rhys shook his head. His sable hair seemed to swallow the sunlight as the Lord of Night looked up, his eyes roaming the ceiling as if looking beyond the plaster and the moulding to the rooms above.

“Even if they try to wrong foot us, we’ll be prepared,” Cassian continued easily, tapping the hilt of his blade. His voice was effortless, but it was undercut by a savage kind of purpose, a lethal kind of determination as he added, firmly, “I’m not letting a thing happen to anybody under this roof.”

Not while she’s here, he didn’t need to add. Not while my mate is in the room.

Azriel’s face softened and, looking at the empty seats around that table, Cassian wondered if there was anything in the world more perilous to diplomacy than mated males, because if a single one of those queens so much as sneered in Nesta’s direction…

He curled his hand into a fist.

Her presence made things alarmingly simple, startlingly straight forward. If the queens or their guards dared to make a move, he’d kill them with his bare hands.

Simple.

He looked for her now, glancing over his shoulder towards the door.

He had hoped to have seen her already that morning, but the only Archeron to cross his path so far had been Elain, bringing in the teapot before departing swiftly, calling over her shoulder that if they needed anything, she’d be in the kitchen with Nesta preparing breakfast. Cassian had glanced after her and wished he could follow but— he couldn’t. Instead, he had swallowed his disappointment, thanked her for the tea, and taken the papers that Azriel had pushed towards him. Profiles of the queens, descriptions. Names, territories, lists of connections.

Glancing at the clock against the wall, watching the minute hand tick like a metronome, Cassian forced himself to focus.

“What time do they arrive?” he asked, willing his mind to remain fixed on the impending arrival.

“Eleven,” Rhys supplied. “On the dot.”

Cassian nodded. He drummed his fingers on the table, watching the steam rise lazily from the spout of the teapot set in the middle. As though this were a pitched battle, he began to form the lines in his mind, to map out their best strategy.

“Az and I will take up spots by the doors,” he began, an air of command seeping into his tone, giving it weight and authority. “Rhys, you and Feyre should—”

“Hasn’t anybody ever told you it’s not polite to bring arms to the table?”

The dining room door opened, and Cassian’s words died in his throat— overtaken, replaced by silence and a searching gaze as he caught the sound of familiar footsteps and a scent that reached out, called to him. He turned in his seat, muscles shifting and wings stretching as he sought the source of that voice, chastising him already.

Nesta.

Bearing a tray of scrambled eggs and an expression of hauteur that made him wild, Nesta’s eyes found him, caught and captured his attention, and as she breezed into that dining room, Cassian was the most willing prisoner alive, reluctant to ever be free of her. Elain followed behind, a tray of bacon in her hands, and he swore he saw her roll her eyes as she sidestepped Nesta entirely, setting the bacon down on the table with a flourish.

He barely even noticed.

“Well,” he shrugged, his eyes fixed on his mate as she approached the table. He plucked up one of the silver knives. “You wouldn’t do much damage with this, would you sweetheart?”

“And are we in such mortal peril, even at breakfast?”

She raised an eyebrow tartly, a perfect arc that had a grin splitting his lips. Her face was impassive, carefully blank, but her gaze turned languid as she took in each and every one of the blades that adorned him. The daggers buckled at his hip and thigh and forearm, all seven siphons. A sheathed Illyrian sword rested against his chair, its point buried in the thick fibres of the rug.

“You never know princess,” Cassian said, his voice practically dropping to a purr. Insanity— it was insanity, to flirt with her so brazenly, so openly. Rhys’ brows furrowed with disapproval, but Azriel only snorted into his tea, and Elain became suddenly fixated with spreading butter on her toast. “All sorts of danger could befall you. You might take one look at my handsome face and faint, for example.”

Nesta hummed as she sank into the chair beside him. “In that case, the sword might be useful after all. I may throw myself upon it to escape your vanity.”

He shrugged, feeling his skin grow tight as she gave him a sideways glance. His fingers drifted to the hilt of his sword, a smirk borne of menace and mischief curving his lips.

“Go ahead,” he drawled. “It would certainly do the job. The blade is a… considerable length.”

Her cheeks reddened. Nesta Archeron - infallible, unflappable Nesta Archeron - blushed as he recited the line he’d read aloud the night before. It was delectable, exquisite, the way her eyes sparked, the way her lips parted. She’d broken him off with a kiss last night, before he could read any more about that considerable length— and it had bruised him, that kiss. Marked him, made his soul tremble with want as a lethal kind of desire took him over. He felt his smirk grow wild as he watched the flush spread across her neck now, dipping below the neckline of her dress, and he knew that she was thinking of that kiss too.

Azriel cleared his throat, shifting in his seat to kick Cassian’s ankle beneath the table.

He let his smirk soften, let it slip into something gentler. Nesta’s blush eased, faded, and when she reached for the teapot, her hands were steady— elegant and graceful as she tilted the pot to fill Elain’s cup first. He felt the bond stretch - pleasant and content - between them, a comforting kind of warmth as he thought of how those fingers had been in his hair last night, tangling and twisting as he kissed her senseless. He thought of how undone she had been, how raw he had felt as his palms caressed her skin, following the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips, so maddening he didn’t think he’d ever find sanity again—

It earned him a second kick in the ankle from Azriel.

Cassian coughed, shot Az a wry look that was both apologetic and grateful. Rhys gave him a look of warning, disapproval flickering in star-flecked violet, and Cassian almost laughed, almost fell apart. Rhys still thought Nesta was happily married. The High Lord had watched her blush and still thought Cassian didn’t have a shot with her, even as she sat there with his kisses causing her scent to shift, to merge with his own as the both of them thought of that kiss, that desk, the touches they had exchanged and the ones they hadn’t.

No wonder Rhys still hadn’t noticed that Feyre was just as enamoured with him as he was with her. Given how oblivious he was lately, Cassian rather thought the stars could align and spell out the words Feyre loves you, you prick and Rhys still wouldn’t get it.

Azriel cleared his throat again.

“So the queens arrive at eleven,” he said firmly, like a rudder, steering the conversation back to where it had been before Nesta and Elain had entered— before Cassian had all but forgotten about the queens entirely, too committed to making his mate blush. “Despite our reservations, I don’t think we should be openly defensive.”

Cassian hummed in agreement— and just like that, the breakfast table was a meeting of strategy once more. Where to hide the blades they couldn’t conceal beneath their leathers, where to stand and who would sit— a dance of diplomacy that skirted far too close to preparations for battle. Feyre and Mor joined them at last - both resplendent in jewels and fine clothes - but the planning didn’t pause, the plotting didn’t waver.

And throughout it all, Cassian felt the press of Nesta’s attention. She didn’t turn to look at him again, but he felt the keen edge of her focus taking in his every word. He caught each sideways glance, every half-turn of her head, and only when the clock began to inch towards half past ten did he feel her concentration shift.

As the planning lulled, Nesta rose smoothly to her feet. Elain glanced up, brow raised in silent enquiry.

“Someone should make sure everything in the sitting room is prepared,” she explained, brushing down her skirts with a firm hand. Elain nodded, and Nesta didn’t bother to wait for somebody to stop her or question her. She turned on her heel and walked away, and Cassian watched her go, feeling the air grow cold by his side, the sudden emptiness jarring.

Thirty seconds.

He made himself wait thirty seconds before pushing up from his own chair.

At the table, Mor’s lips pursed, pressed together with disaffection— but Cassian simply didn’t care enough to unpick it, to cater to her displeasure as inside his head, Rhys gave an exasperated sigh.

Try not to be so obvious, brother.

“I want to make sure we have enough blades hidden in case things go south,” he announced casually, shrugging innocently as he checked the dagger at his thigh. With the eyes of the entire table upon him, he let a guileless smile flitter across his lips.

Feyre frowned. “I thought they asked for no weapons?”

“They did,” Cassian said breezily.

The furrow in the Cursebreaker’s brow deepened as he winked.

He plucked up his sword - wondering whether it would fit behind the sofa cushions, or if he’d be better off stashing it behind the curtains - as Feyre opened her mouth to protest. But Cassian only shot her a devilish grin and stole from that dining room before she - or anyone else - could stop him.

***

Nesta was plumping the cushions when Cassian peered around the doorframe.

For a moment, he simply watched her. Studied how the sunlight danced across her cheekbones, played along her jaw, brought out the grey in those devastating eyes. He could have stood there for hours, watching her from a distance, but—

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to help?”

Cassian stilled, watching as Nesta’s eyes flicked to the door, pinning him in place as his fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword.

“You want me to… fluff cushions?”

Nesta shrugged. “Those muscles must be good for something.”

He watched as her eyes tracked a path over his arms, his chest, lingering on his hands. A cocky, arrogant sort of grin spread across his face, splitting his lips as his blood grew heated beneath her watchful gaze, kilned in his veins.

“They’re good for plenty, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick, brought low with suggestion. He stepped purposefully into the sitting room, strides even as he drew close enough to his mate to reach out and touch her. “How about I show you?”

There was no blush now— no flush of delightful colour staining Nesta’s cheeks. Nonplussed, she merely folded her arms firmly over her chest and raised a single imperious eyebrow. Cassian might have bought it, her little display of nonchalance, had he not heard the quickening of her heart.

“Please,” she answered, indifferent. A passive blink accompanied a waved hand, an almost bored tilt of her head towards the circle of chairs set equidistant in the middle of that sitting room. “Do.”

Gods.

He was alight— her apparent apathy setting him aflame like a match to kindling. Every nerve he possessed was suddenly more alert, trembling with recognition as he prowled forwards, and though he knew this was a game, he couldn’t for the life of him tell who was hunting who— who was the cat, and who was the mouse.

It was almost intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and teasing, coaxing him towards some kind of edge, crossing the line of propriety. He huffed a dry laugh as he set down his sword, his gaze unflinching as he cracked his knuckles, his muscles growing tight beneath his cotton shirt as he flexed his arms. Shameless— it was an utterly shameless display, but Nesta’s eyes widened, darkened as he stretched his wings behind him and rolled his shoulders.

He knew exactly what flickered in her eyes— felt the sharp edge of desire, of hunger, tightening and coiling in his own chest, mirrored on her face as she watched him. He hummed, low and sultry, as his wings flared and the siphons on his hands glimmered. Taking a strip of leather from his pocket, Cassian slowly - slowly - tied back his hair, watching with triumph as Nesta’s throat bobbed, her eyes taking in the deft movement of his fingers, the slope of his neck. When he had fashioned it into a rough, messy sort of bun, he shifted his shoulders again, letting his muscles strain against the thin fabric of his shirt. With a dark smile, he took the first cushion in hand, battering it between his palms as he noticed, with a great degree of satisfaction, that a hint of beautiful colour touched her cheeks at last.

I win, princess.

Nesta tore her eyes away, turned her attention to another cushion, another chair. Cassian might have left it, might have considered the game done, but he was dancing along the edge of exhilaration and he didn’t want this to end, not yet. He felt another smile pulling at his lips, rakish and daring as he dropped the cushion roughly into the chair and plucked up another.

“Did you sleep well?” he began lightly. Nesta’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as his smirk turned manic. “Or did you lie awake all night thinking of me?”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.” A pause, one in which she pointedly drove her fist into a cushion. “I started my new book instead.”

“I trust it’s as good as the first?” he asked, but a moment later hummed, pausing his ministrations on his cushion. “Even if it is a poor substitute for me.”

“It’s a miracle you can even lift your head with an ego that size,” Nesta muttered. Cassian grinned, about to make her blush in earnest by mentioning other sizeable parts of him, but she tilted her head before he could, turning to face him with an expression of curiosity that gave him pause.

“There was something I didn’t understand,” she began. “The characters in it— it said they were bonded, but I’ve never heard that before. What does it mean?”

Like an arrow knocked off course by a sudden wind, Cassian’s fist missed its mark.

His knuckles connected instead with the back of the chair, missing the centre of the cushion entirely. He lifted his head to meet her eye, but his tongue suddenly felt unwieldy and difficult, almost too heavy for speech.

“You’ve never heard of a mating bond?”

Nesta shook her head. “Should I have?”

Well, fuck.

Cassian had spent the past few days agonising over how to tell her about the bond, but he hadn’t considered that she might not know what a bond was in the first place and— fuck, fuck, fuck.

She was waiting for an answer, and not for the first time in her presence, Cassian found himself speechless. The arrogance was gone, dried on his tongue like ash, leaving behind a sour taste and a heaviness in his gut. He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair as he grappled for the words, searching in vain for something to say.

“It’s… difficult to describe,” he began after a long pause. He kept it careful, considered, detached— as though this were hypothetical, theoretical. As though he weren’t searching for the words inside his own fucking chest, giving name and shape and form to the emotions he felt every time he looked at her.

“Most of us above the wall believe that each of us are born with a mate, like a soul split between two bodies. It is a gift from the Cauldron, and if we are lucky…” He paused, his voice growing sombre. “If we are lucky we find them, that other half. The bond is what links them together, what binds them. A union of equals, evenly matched in every way.”

“Like a marriage?”

Cassian shook his head. “Stronger,” he said firmly, his voice weighted by something heavy, a fervour he could hardly breathe around. “Far stronger. Deeper. A mated male would sooner see the world burn than have any harm come to his mate.”

Nesta’s eyes dropped to her hands, to the silver band on her third finger. Cassian wanted to cast that ridiculous wedding ring into the sea, but Nesta’s face turned contemplative, turned pensive as she let out a soft oh.

“I think I know what you mean,” she said, in a voice that was quiet and hushed yet still had the power to bring Cassian to his knees.

He couldn’t think— could barely even keep himself standing as he watched her twist the ring on her finger. He forgot about the cushions, forgot that they were standing in her father’s sitting room, that they were short on time and that the queens would be arriving soon. All of that was inconsequential, meaningless.

“You do?” he asked, his question little more than a breathless whisper as he took a step nearer, his heart pounding in his chest so hard it hurt.

Nesta nodded. “Are Feyre and Rhysand…?”

A pause.

A beat.

A moment - a single moment - where Cassian released the breath that trembled in his lungs, grasping for the strength he needed to speak, to blink, to look at her and not drown in the wave of disappointment that threatened to bury him.

“Yeah,” he said, when he remembered how to use his tongue.

Nesta frowned. “And he expects her to give herself over to him, just like that? Just because some magic cooking pot deems it so?”

“It’s not like that. She could reject it, if she wanted,” Cassian countered. He took a step back, letting the distance between them stretch even though it strained and pulled behind his ribs. His heart began to beat an unsteady rhythm, off-kilter and uneven. “You don’t think it’s a good thing then? A bond?”

Nesta shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she said uneasily.

Cassian kept his face blank, his lips tightly closed. It shouldn’t surprise him, some logical part of him whispered. After all, she hadn’t even known what a bond was until right now, so how could he blame her for her trepidation? How could he fault her for not falling headlong into it, for not knowing already what he was? What they were?

After a moment, Nesta’s eyes shifted to the sitting room door.

“He’ll keep her safe?” she asked softly.

“To his dying day,” Cassian answered, but he wasn’t talking about Rhys, not thinking about Feyre.

Something inside him shifted, morphed. He watched as Nesta pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watched her eyelashes flutter across silver-blue eyes as she dropped her gaze to her hands again, to the ring on her finger. He felt resolve harden in his gut, purposeful and strong. He would say nothing— not yet. Not until the bond was no longer something so foreign to her, not until she was ready.

He had already waited five centuries for her. He could wait a little longer.

A moment of silence followed, and Cassian sighed as he drifted closer to her again, as though pulled by some invisible length of rope. Nesta smiled a little, a candid curve to her lips that Cassian knew she hid often and hid well, and he couldn’t for the life of him see why. It was the most beautiful thing in the world, the most precious, to see that wry, soft smile on her lips as the sunlight kissed her face.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock, the gentle swing of the pendulum. After a minute, Nesta blinked and gave a single shake of her head. Her shoulders straightened, the set of them dignified and proud and utterly proper as she turned from the cushions and clasped her hands before her, perfectly prim.

“The book I gave you,” she said. “There’s a thank you note inside.”

Cassian tilted his head, welcoming the change in subject like the first rain after a drought. “Who for?”

“Whoever you keep getting these books from,” Nesta said dryly.

“Her name is Emerie,” he answered. “You’d like her.”

“Well then,” Nesta said briskly. “Will you give her the letter? Or is it only Rhysand you play messenger pigeon for?”

Cassian smirked, stepped forward as he felt familiar ground beneath his feet. Teasing— taunting. Flirting. This— he could do this, as easy as breathing. He closed the distance between them, feeling a hum start low in his chest, vibrating in his throat.

“Pigeon,” he repeated with a scoff. “One day, princess, you’ll come up with some better insults.”

She raised an eyebrow, as if preparing to upbraid him, but she didn’t stop him as he dared to reach out and rest a hand on her hip, his thumb brushing the bottom of her ribcage.

“One day,” she shrugged, leaning in to his touch.

He was about to shift closer, about to close the distance entirely and kiss her swiftly whilst he had the chance— but before he could so much as blink, there was a sharp rap on the door. He felt his hand drop from her waist as she pulled back, his fingers mourning the loss of her as Elain stuck her head around the door.

“It’s almost eleven,” she said pointedly, opening the door wider. “Are we ready?”

***

At five minutes past eleven, Nesta watched in silence as the ere-noon sun drifted easily through the wide windows, the warm light shining on the golden furnishings and glinting off of the jewels that adorned each queen, diamonds sparkling like fallen tears.

You will wear a crown one day. One crafted of gold, laden with diamonds— without price, beyond value.

Her mother’s words, carried back to her now across a decade of grief and sorrow and loss, emptier than ever. You will be a queen child, Mama had promised, and yet Nesta stood with her back to the window, the only piece of jewellery her misbegotten wedding ring.

But as she looked at those queens, unease snaking down her spine as they ignored her entirely to focus their attention on Rhysand, standing by the hearth in a crown of darkened silver, Nesta wondered whether her mother had been wrong. Mistaken, all along.

Distantly, she heard Rhysand give the queens a polite “Well met,” his voice smooth and elegant despite its rumbling depth, but she was barely listening, recalling her mother’s promise as she looked at each queen in turn, trying to count the jewels.

Five queens— but it was the crown on the youngest that caught Nesta’s attention.

Diamonds of pure white shone stark against her bright golden hair, held fast in a crown that arced upwards in elegant swathes of silver. Studded with diamonds and rubies and a single large opal - its heart aflame with colour - Nesta wondered if that was what her mother had wanted, all opulence and nobility and finery.

And yet it meant little— was worthless when Nesta’s eyes slid past that gleaming crown and settled on red siphons shining against the opposite wall, more beautiful to her than any of those rubies in any of those crowns.

Mama had promised her a prince, but perhaps that wasn’t what Nesta wanted.

Perhaps she wanted the bastard-born general, standing with his arms folded, watching intently as Mor invited the queens to sit.

Menacing— he looked menacing, his gaze dark and calculating as he watched the meeting unfold. His face was stern, lips pressed together, and the sheer size of him, muscles straining against his leathers, was enough to make one of the human guards balk— even though the guard had a sword and Cassian was, ostensibly, entirely unarmed. Nesta knew better. Knew that he’d donned a leather jacket to hide the blades strapped to his arms and had tucked the one at his thigh inside one of his boots.

When the guard’s eyes dropped to Cassian’s hands, strong enough to kill a man, Nesta bit back a smile.

She had memorised every callous on those hands by now, mapped every inch from the tip of his fingers to the base of his wrist. Powerful and deadly— and yet soft enough to make her sigh, to urge her closer whenever he kissed her.

She still wasn’t listening.

Distracted, she watched as another guard took up a spot by the window, only a handful of feet from where she and Elain stood.

Cassian’s eyes turned brutally sharp, lifting to study the space between Nesta and that guard. His hazel gaze met hers briefly, but Cassian didn’t smile. The glare he gave the guard at her side should have been enough to chill her bones, to terrify her, and yet as she watched him in command, intelligent eyes scanning that room, all trace of mockery and jest gone…

He was fearsome.

Deadly.

And gods help her, it was the most attractive thing she’d ever seen.

As if sensing it, Cassian caught her eye again and this time— this time his lips quirked, pulled up at one corner. Just the barest of smiles, and yet Nesta had to shift her gaze to keep from returning it.

“We know war is coming,” the oldest queen said as Nesta dragged her attention back to that circle of chairs, suddenly remembering why they were gathered. “We have been preparing for it for many years.” Her voice cracked, like embers in a grate, but her eyes were sharp and cold as she lifted her chin high.

Feyre sat forward, the crown she wore the golden twin to Rhysand’s. “We have seen no signs of such preparation.”

The golden queen waved her wrist, shook her head.

“This territory is a slip of land compared to the vastness of the continent. It is not in our interests to defend it. It would be a waste of resources.”

Silence— for a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence, stunned and heavy and breathless.

And then Feyre’s lips parted as her eyes widened, and for a moment Nesta wondered if it was a joke, some jest made in poor taste. Then the queen shrugged, a blasé rise and fall of her shoulders, and Nesta’s ears began to ring, a high-pitched sound as though she had been standing too close to a firework when it exploded.

And she understood, then.

The ringing was their death knell.

“Surely the loss of even one innocent life would be abhorrent,” Rhysand said flatly.

No— no. no. no.

The eldest queen began to answer, but Nesta could hear nothing but that godsdamned ringing, muting all else as though her head were submerged in water, as though she were drowning. She blinked, thinking she must have misheard, misunderstood…

“…always a horror, but war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it.”

No, there was no misunderstanding.

Each word was a blow— a wound, and Nesta felt herself bleeding around each barb, felt them tear into her chest and steal her breath—

“There are good people here,” Feyre said, her voice raw and pained, as though she were bleeding, too.

“Then let the high fae of Pythian defend them.”

The world snapped into focus with a jolt, the queen’s words brutal and harrowing as Nesta broke through the surface of her fury. The ringing in her head silenced, the breath sawed from her throat, and without thinking, she lurched forwards, hands curling into fists as the golden queen shrugged once more.

“We have servants here,” she hissed. “With families. There are children in these lands, and you mean to abandon us?”

Beside her, the guard closest reached for his sword, the steel singing as he pulled it free an inch.

Across the room, Cassian’s face darkened with an unholy fury.

The eldest queen looked at Nesta with something like pity, her hands crossed demurely in her lap. “It is no easy choice, girl—”

“It is the choice of cowards—”

“Please,” Feyre interrupted sharply. Nesta’s head whipped to her sister, only to find Feyre’s hands held out, palms up in supplication. “Please. I was turned into this because one of the commanders from Hybern killed me. Now their king plans to shatter the wall and destroy all of you. Please give us the other half of the book.”

Rhysand’s eyes shuttered, glimmered briefly with pain, and Nesta felt her breath catch, her anger sharp enough to shred her heart.

It had all gone so drastically wrong, and she didn’t know how or why or when, didn’t know how to claw it back, how to fix it. She was drowning, grasping, sinking and sinking and sinking—

Lost, she glanced across the room.

And when she found Cassian watching her - not Feyre, not the queens, her - she felt the world slow, felt it tremble like the first breath drawn after a heavy rain. His hand hovered by his side, ready to unsheathe a hidden blade, and though her anger was still hot enough to scald… His eyes met hers across that expanse of staggering wealth, glittering crowns upholding desolation, and she felt her aching soul settle, like he was the rock she could to cling to in a storm-tossed sea.

Slowly, he blinked.

Didn’t tear his eyes away, not for a second, and Nesta felt her breathing turn less ragged, more even, eased by those hazel eyes.

“Give us proof,” the eldest queen said sharply, pulling Nesta’s spiralling attention back. The queen looked at Rhysand, challenge in her eyes. “If you are, as you say, a male of peace… Give us proof.”

“Proof,” Rhysand echoed flatly. The queen nodded, and Rhysand considered it for a moment before his eyes turned dark, like a moonless night in the depths of winter. “Very well,” he said. “I will get you your proof.”

Feyre twisted her head, the gold of her tiara glinting as her eyes went wide. In a whisper that seemed to strain against her throat she asked, “Velaris?”

The Lord nodded tightly.

Velaris. Nesta had heard the name before— when Cassian had dropped off Rhysand’s second letter, the day she finally broke and told him the truth about her marriage to Tomas. I’ll kill him, he’d said. I’ll take you to Velaris.

She didn’t know where it was, or why Feyre seemed so distraught, but her sister’s unease was evidently shared by the rest of the fae in that sitting room, because as Nesta looked to Azriel, she saw even his stoic mask crack. He directed a sharp look at Rhysand, his jaw growing tight as his shadows slunk further against the wall, as though hiding behind their master’s bulk.

But Rhysand ignored them— only straightened the lapels of his jacket and said,

“We will summon you when we have it.”

The golden queen scoffed. “We will not be summoned.”

He exhaled, dark eyes growing somehow darker.

“Then come at your leisure,” he countered, the words slipping easily from his lips as though pleasant and polite, but there was enough bite beneath, enough of a snap, that the guards by the wall stepped forward.

Nesta blinked, let her eyes remain closed for a heartbeat, and when she opened them, the queens were rising, pushing up from their chairs in whispers of silk and chiffon. Diamonds glittered as they smoothed their skirts and prepared to leave, and before she could think, before she could speak—

They were gone.

Folded into nothing, as though they had never been at all, and in the tense, thick silence that followed, Nesta understood that they had failed.

That whatever peace this meeting was supposed to procure, whatever alliance it was meant to foster… It had failed.

***

The queens gone, Cassian watched Nesta dart from the sitting room.

We need tea after that, Elain had said, stepping away from her spot by the bay window. She had batted away Rhys’ insistence that they leave for Velaris immediately, promising that tea would fix everything, make it all seem a little less bleak. She had smiled, and Rhys had looked to Feyre, who looked pale and drawn out, nodding almost numbly as she sank back down into her chair.

So— they were staying for tea, it was decided. Cassian had taken a single step forwards, about to cross the floor and take his place by Nesta’s side, but his mate didn’t miss a beat. She was hurrying from that room and fleeing for the kitchen before he could so much as blink, instructing Elain to stay put.

I’ve got it, she said as she departed, her face blank and stony.

And now Cassian stood there, listening to Rhys and Mor and Feyre deconstruct whatever the hell had just happened with the queens— trying to figure out where it had gone wrong, how it had gone wrong. Az sat grimly on a low sofa, wings settled over the back, and though there was space for Cassian too on that sofa… he remained standing. Warring with indecision.

Did they notice, Cassian wondered. Did they realise?

Rhys, her sisters, the queens— did any of them see just how much Nesta cared?

It had stolen his breath during that damned meeting. Entranced him, the way she had risen to protect those she had never met. A fire burned beneath her cool exterior, and though Cassian had once thought her selfish and heartless, he understood now that she had never been either of those things.

And when the queens had turned their gaze on her, acerbic and sour, Cassian had felt his power tremble, quake. Even muffled as it was beneath the wall, he felt the vastness of the power he’d been blessed with suddenly yawn, stretching like an endless chasm, delving to new depths as if she brought out something new in him, some new, untapped well of strength.

He’d have torn that manor apart, reduced them all to ash, if that guard had drawn his blade just an inch more from its sheath.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Sit,” he said, waving a hand at the space at Azriel’s side.

Cassian only looked to the door.

Shook his head.

“I need a minute,” he said, not caring enough to come up with some excuse about where he was going and why. He moved before he’d even finished speaking, not looking back as he left, letting the door close firmly behind him.

He didn’t bother to mask the sound of his footsteps either. He let his boots ring out on the marble as he headed for the kitchen, thinking with each footfall of the fury in Nesta’s eyes, the way her skin had paled as the queens had left.

The bond was pulling hard behind his ribs, growing anxious and unsettled as it thrummed with unease. He just needed to see the spark in her eyes, needed to know the queens hadn’t snuffed it out. He’d watched her stiffen as they turned their backs, watched something like fear alight on her face, and he needed to make sure she knew, now, that he’d let the world crumble, let each and every one of those queens die, before she suffered.

That he’d watch it all burn— all of it, if it kept her safe.

He found his way to the kitchen, following the sound of a kettle whistling on the stove, and when he entered, Nesta’s hands were curled tight around the edge of the counter, her grip tight enough to whiten her knuckles. Her head was bowed, her eyes closed.

“Hey,” he said gentle, voice brittle with concern as she looked up, opened her eyes. “Are you alright?”

She nodded briskly, her hand dropping from the counter. “Yes.”

“Liar,” Cassian answered, loosing a sigh as he drifted to her side, the bond pulling so damned hard it was difficult to breathe.

She looked… tired. Weary and worn to the bone, as though the meeting with the queens had sapped her of something vital, and it made him heartsick. She blinked, not even bothering to taunt him, to tease him, to chide him for daring to call her a liar, and he’d never thought the absence of an insult could hurt but gods, it did.

It really fucking did.

“We’ll figure this out,” he promised. “Whatever it takes, whatever we have to do. We won’t abandon you or these lands.”

“How can they be so willing to let us die?” Nesta demanded, her gaze snapping to his like lightning, a blistering frankness roiling beneath like thunder. “They’re going to do nothing, and just leave us like we don’t matter—”

“It’s not your burden to bear, Nes,” Cassian pointed out softly.

“But it is,” Nesta bit out. “My sister made it so. Your lord made it so.”

And Cassian could do nothing but shake his head mournfully because… she had a point, didn’t she? They had laid this burden at her feet, dragged her into it when they’d used her as courier for Rhys’ letters, and now war was coming and his mate was here, beneath the wall, entirely defenceless.

“Leave,” he breathed, even though his heart cracked around the words. “Take Elain and get on the next ship. Get as far away from here as you can.”

“I can’t do that. You know I can’t.”

“If you’re worried about your husband—”

“No.” Nesta cut him off with a wave of her hand. “If he happens to die in the battles to come, I don’t think even his mother would mourn him.” She paused, met his eye and refused to look away, her gaze unflinching. Raw. “How could I get on a ship and leave the rest of mankind to the mercy of this fae king? How would I ever sleep again?”

She searched his face, and Cassian swore her eyes asked a third question, one she didn’t voice. How could I leave you?

And damn him— how could he blame her? How could he expect her to leave, when he wouldn’t dream of it either? When leaving her felt like the most potent pain in the world?

He had no answer, and so Cassian did the only thing he could— he took her in his arms and held her tight, not caring who might find them. He only pulled her to his chest, wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I’ll find a way to keep you safe,” he murmured. “I swear it.”

“Why?” she asked, her words muffled as she buried her face in his leathers. “Why bother?”

He let out an aching laugh, a bitter huff. “Because you’re…”

My mate.

You’re my mate.

“Everything,” he finished softly, settling for words close to what he wanted to say, yet not nearly close enough. “You are everything the world should be.”

He wanted to tell her— so badly he could taste it, could feel the words forcing their way up his throat. And yet—

Not yet.

He smoothed a hand down her braids, his palm cradling the nape of her neck, wrapping her more tightly in his embrace. Keeping her there, as if he could keep her safe, keep the world outside from touching her if they just stayed right here, like this.

She curled her fingers into his jacket, nails digging into the leather.

“Tell me,” she breathed, tilting her head up, still pressed against his chest. “Tell me about the proof they wanted. The place they mentioned. What’s it like?”

“Velaris,” Cassian whispered. “The Night Court’s most closely guarded secret.”

Nesta pulled back, a groove between her brows as she blinked. “You’ve mentioned it to me before. Doesn’t seem like that much of a secret.”

He tugged her back against his chest, let his cheek drop against her hair as a rueful smile pulled at his mouth. “Evidently I have incredibly poor judgement when it comes to you.” He shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a secret. Not a soul outside of the Night Court knows of its existence. Save for you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a place of light and beauty. Safety. The High Lord that founded the city wanted to let it flourish before the world discovered it, and over the centuries it just… remained secret.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said softly, and Cassian huffed, breathing her in as his arms tightened around her middle.

“I know,” he said lightly, shrugging as he skirted her question, sidestepped it. She pulled her head back, fixing him with a questioning stare— but how could he answer? How could he explain that he’d told her about the secret city because even back then, back before he knew what she was to him, he hadn’t been able to hold anything back. Hadn’t been able to hide anything from her.

He shook his head.

“It almost terrified me, the first time I set foot there,” he said instead, his voice idle as he dragged a palm down her spine. “I’d grown up in the wilds of Illyria, so when Rhys’ mother brought us to the city for the first time… I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop marvelling at the size and the noise. Windhaven suddenly felt so small in comparison, so removed.”

He paused, smiled fondly. He felt Nesta’s hand round his waist, fingers flattening on his back beneath his wings. She relaxed as his arms engulfed her, as if hearing him speak was the distraction she needed.

“There’s a house carved right into the mountains that surround the city,” he continued, his hand still running a path up and down her spine, soothing and steady. “High— high above. It’s extravagant and palatial and yet… I didn’t sleep a wink all night. I couldn’t get comfortable in the bed.”

He shrugged. Swallowed as he felt a piece of himself grow raw. Bared in a way it never had been before.

“The sheets were too soft, you see,” he said in a whisper. “Far softer than any we’d had in Windhaven, and I’d only just gotten used to those. I’d spent so long sleeping on the ground that even the feel of a mattress and a blanket was strange to me, and there I was— lying on a bed grander than anything in Rhys’ mother’s cabin, in sheets a thousand times softer.”

There was a pause, one where Nesta said nothing, only studied his face with something like understanding— one soul raised in poverty recognising another. At length, Cassian hummed.

“That’s what Velaris is like. Comfortable. Vibrant. Alive.”

More silence, and when she rested her cheek over his heart once more, Cassian tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He let his fingers delve into her braids, holding her close.

“One day,” he promised. “One day I’ll show you.”

“One day,” Nesta echoed, but it was numbed, her words muted as though she didn’t quite believe it. A dream that was slipping through her fingers like mist, evaporating and dissolving now that the queens had proven themselves so unwilling to help them fight this war.

It had Cassian pulling back, lifting a hand to curl a finger beneath her chin and tilt her face up to the light. His eyes searched her face, lamenting every line of grief that he found, every strand of worry. He longed to take it all away, to go back to that morning, when his greatest concern had been how next to make her blush.

“I swear,” he said again. “I swear I’ll keep you safe.”

It echoed in his bones like a vow he couldn’t break, something fundamental and cardinal that he was powerless against. I’ll keep you safe, like it was his sole purpose— a basic fact that everything else merely revolved around. It had him dropping a hand to his waist, finding the dagger hidden beneath his jacket.

He slipped the blade free, watching the blade shine in the weak light as he flipped it in hand and held it out, hilt first. Nesta glanced at it, but made no move to take it. Cassian pressed it into her palm and curled her fingers tight around it, willing her to grip it as tightly as she’d gripped him.

“Use it, Nes. If ever you need to.”

“Use it on who?” she asked dryly, her eyes fixed on the way his dagger fit in her palm.

Her fingers slipped into the imprints left behind in the leather, shaped by his grip. It was his oldest weapon, forged for him not long after he earned his siphons, and one that he had taken meticulous care of over the centuries, sharpening it and oiling it until it shone, every night, like new. His favourite, balanced so perfectly in her hand.

“On whoever you need to,” he answered, keeping her fingers pressed tight around the hilt with his own hand. “Whoever tries to hurt you. No matter who they are.”

Nesta blinked, and he wondered if she recognised it. If she realised that it was the same blade she’d reached for that day on the road, oh, a lifetime ago now. If she did, she said nothing, only took the blade and tucked it in a pocket hidden in her skirts.

Cassian nodded with approval, something in him calming with the knowledge that she had something at least. That if he couldn’t be always at her side to defend her, then at least he’d given her the means to defend herself.

“Use the sharp end,” he said dryly.

That earned him a little smile, a slight roll of silver-blue eyes as she stepped away and took a deep, steadying breath. She shook her head once, sharp and brisk, before drawing away from him entirely.

Cassian watched as she reached for the steaming kettle, filling the teapot with water as she brought herself round, pulling herself together. Within a breath, her mask was back in place. Perfect, inscrutable, not a trace of vulnerability left. With a sharp look, she nodded to the tray of porcelain cups and saucers and Cassian understood that whatever moment they’d just had, it was over.

“Make yourself useful, General. Take the tray in, will you?”

***

Night had fallen by the time they had returned to Velaris.

When they had filled Amren in on the details of the meeting, when Mor had gone home and Feyre to bed… Darkness cloaked the city, and Rhys was sitting on the townhouse patio, a glass of whiskey in hand. Azriel had poured three generous measures, and they ended the day just as they had started it— the three of them, sitting around a table, trying to work out their next move.

Rhys looked out at the Velaris skyline. “We’ll go to the Hewn City soon,” he said, voice tired and weary. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I just want a few days off before I have to deal with Kier.”

Cassian snorted, drinking deep. “I think we all do,” he muttered darkly, cradling his glass in his palm as he crossed an ankle over his knee. He flicked his eyes to the house, to Feyre’s bedroom window, in darkness as she slept.

“You think she’s ready for it?” he asked quietly. “Who we are there.”

Bastions of cruelty and malice, pillars of arrogance and unforgiving, unwavering wrath— that’s what they were. The masks they would have to don. It was a marked contrast to the prince of starlight and benevolence that Feyre had come to know in Velaris.

Rhys looked at him flatly before draining his glass, deigning not to answer. He shook his head, and looked pointedly at the empty space on Cassian’s hip, where his dagger had been buckled that morning. He didn’t need to ask where it was or why it was missing now, and in the silence, Cassian sighed.

He looked again to that darkened bedroom window.

“When did you know?” Cassian asked curiously. “About Feyre. About the bond.”

A soft hiss slipped between Rhys’ lips, as if fearful Feyre would overhear. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Rhys shook his head slowly, reluctantly. “I knew after the curse was broken,” he said lowly. “Under the mountain.”

“And Tamlin—”

Rhys shook his head again, more sharply this time, cutting Cassian off with a look. His violet eyes narrowed, the stars suspended there all but winking out entirely as he leaned forwards, elbows braced on his knees.

“You shouldn’t have been so obvious today,” he said, his voice thick with something that seemed like a warning.

Cassian only laughed dryly as he tipped his glass back, drained it. “And why’s that?”

“Because it’s stupid,” Rhys countered evenly. “Reckless.”

“I don’t care,” Cassian shrugged. He set his glass down, frowning. “War is coming Rhys. That meeting might have been our last hope, and it might have just been snuffed out entirely. We could all be dead in a matter of weeks if this war goes poorly.”

It was all he’d thought on the way home.

With every beat of his wings, every leaden breath he drew into his lungs, he thought of how the time that had once stretched on before him might suddenly have grown short, grown limited, and Rhys might have had a point, because it did make him reckless, made him stop thinking of anything but how he refused to die without having spent as much time with her as he could, treasuring every single second.

Away from her, his bruised heart was wild in his chest, yearning to be back at her side, to feel her hand in his own, and if his chances were few now… If his days were numbered…

Suddenly, without even really thinking, he was rising from his chair.

“I’m sick of waiting, sick of being careful. I want to see her.”

Azriel frowned, looking up as Cassian stretched his wings as if readying for flight. One of his shadows crept forwards, brushing the edge of Cassian’s boots as if curious.

“Now?” Az asked, as that shadow went slinking back to its master, twining around his wrist.

Cassian nodded. “Can you winnow me to the wall?”

Rhys sighed heavily, rubbing his temples with a thumb and forefinger. “Cass, calm down.”

“Calm down?” Cassian repeated with a scoff as he straightened his jacket. “No.”

“She’s married.”

Cassian bristled, thought of that ring on her finger as his lip curled. A deep, primal sort of growl escaped him as he shook his head sharply, his patience snapping like an age-worn thread.

“She’s mine,” he countered, thinking of how he had been the one to hold her in his arms, to kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Thought of how it had been his voice to soothe her in that kitchen, that it had been him she had clung to.

Not her pitiable excuse for a husband, the boy who dared to think he could leash her with a feeble silver ring.

Rhys shook his head. “No, she’s not.”

“You don’t understand,” Cassian huffed.

“Don’t I?” Rhys snarled. “Don’t I? Feyre was going to marry Tamlin and I was going to sit back and let it happen, because if she chose him then it was up to me to make my peace with it—”

“Nesta didn’t choose him,” Cassian cut in darkly. “She isn’t happy.”

He felt a flicker of guilt, a fragment of regret for sharing her secret but— he couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t stand there and listen to how Rhys thought he knew better, when he knew nothing at all.

And for once in his life, Rhys was silent.

He blinked, but said nothing. Lost for words, he looked almost chastened, almost apologetic, as he met Cassian’s eye and sighed again, softer this time— resigned. Cassian only turned away and faced Azriel, the shadowsinger still seated in his chair.

Azriel let out a sigh of his own, wry as he rose to his feet. His shadows skittered, but his siphons were bright and his eyes were soft, the smile on his face almost indulgent as he extended his arm.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “She might kill you for turning up unannounced.”

Cassian grinned. “That’s part of her charm.”

Azriel smirked as he summoned his shadows.

“Well,” he trilled. “Let’s go, then.”

Taglist: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss @hereforthenessian @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @the-lost-changeling

#nessian #nessian fic #begged & borrowed time #in the interests of sticking close to canon most of the meeting stuff was taken word for word from the books #though some of it has been slightly changed

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