#Fellow is just so close to getting punt in the face | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leviiattacks · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.

author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.

Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.

"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.

"Soon?"

Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.

"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.

"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.

It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.

Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.

The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.

Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.

Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.

"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."

The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.

The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.

The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.

Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.

Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.

Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.

It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.

No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.

All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.

Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.

That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.

Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.

Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.

Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.

Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.

Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.

"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.

"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.

His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.

Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.

"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.

Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.

"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.

"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.

"If you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"

"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."

"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.

"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.

Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."

Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.

"Sorry-"

"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.

"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.

Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.

846, ii.

Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.

At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.

You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?

Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.

Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.

Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.

"Oi, come here."

Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.

"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.

"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.

Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.

You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.

You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.

"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.

"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.

Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.

847, i.

Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.

The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.

Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?

The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.

Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.

"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.

"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.

The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.

Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.

"Don't."

"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.

"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."

You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.

"Then die."

"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.

He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.

Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.

"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.

"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.

As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.

"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.

"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."

"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.

"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."

"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."

You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.

The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.

Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"

You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.

Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.

"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.

"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.

"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."

"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."

"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.

"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.

"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.

"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."

"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.

"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"

"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.

"We both know we feel the same."

You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.

That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.

You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.

But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.

Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"

"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.

Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.

"Swear you won't die on me."

Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.

“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.

Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.

"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.

"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."

Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.

You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.

Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.

Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.

The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.

You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.

Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.

849, ii.

You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.

Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.

The memories become increasingly bitter.

"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."

"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."

How wrong he was for thinking that.

You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.

850, i.

Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.

Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.

Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second. It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful.

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase.

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he��ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.

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fe-fictions · 3 years ago

Note

Ok for Yuri maybe the prompt with the love marks like Henry ? Or family fluff, as you like ! Love you !

(Love you too ;;;;;;)

Yuri…” Your husband was lounging on the bed after a lovely, long night together had given way to a lazy day of rest. The oen day a week the Archbishop didn’t have to run around like a headless chicken, trying to repair an entire continent.

Of course Yuri was happy to help you with your impossible task, but he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy the odd morning to lounge about and do next to nothing for a change. At least, that’s what he assumed was going to happen.

The feeling of relaxation dissipated when he looked up at your call, finding a sharp glare piercing his very soul.

“...Is there something I can do for you?” He asked as smoothly as ever, though you weren’t falling for it this time. You rose from your seat at the vanity, pulling back the fabric of your dress to reveal the obvious; several dark spots speckling your skin. Yuri fought the smirk rising on his lips. “It appears I already have done something.”

“I can’t hide this.” You said with a hiss, “Not without more makeup than I have available to me right now.”

“Are you asking me to go and fetch you some powder like a proper errand boy?” He asked from his spot on the bed, unmoving and unbothered like the little cat he was. Unlike a cat, however, you couldn’t punt him across the room.

“I am asking you to take responsibility for this and to buy some more powder immediately.”

“It is your day off, dear. Would it be so bad if you spent it in bed with me rather than rushing about? Or did you forget it was your rest day?” He mused, flipping the pages of the journal in front of him rather unbothered.

You sank onto the bed beside him, clapping the book shut and flicking his forehead.

“That was uncalled for.”

“I know what day it is, Yuri- I wanted to spend the afternoon with some of our friends, which we so rarely get to do, regardless. I’d rather not have to spend it being teased for letting my brash husband mark me like some sort of animal.”

“I wasn’t marking you.” He rolled his eyes, but pulled you to him regardless, circling his arms around your waist and resting his head against your back. “I was simply expressing my love for you. Is that truly such a serious problem for you, dear?”

“It is when it’s so blatantly obvious.” You huffed, though you softened some at his sweet touches. Yuri smiled against your skin, giving you a soft squeeze. “It’s almost as if you did it on purpose, so I wouldn’t go out and do something without you for a change.”

“Now that’s just ridiculous. You are your own person, Byleth. I wouldn’t dare try and lock you up, let alone keep you to myself. Even if our fellow friends are much too friendly with you.”

“So you didn’t do it because you’re jealous?”

“Never.” Yuri kissed you again, “I have no reason to be jealous; you pledged your undying love and loyalty to me, just like I did to you.”

“Which means you’re not being possessive at all, whatsoever, by leaving all these marks on my skin?”

“Correct.” He hummed, falling back onto the mattress. You turned to look at him, finding his eyes closed and the lavender-haired fox you’d married was basking in his victory. The way he danced around the truth was always impressive, though you weren’t amused this time.

“So then you’ll have no problem running into town to go and buy me a new powder at all, right?”

An eye slid open, meeting your gaze.

“Are you sure you want to do that? And cover up all those little love bites? The proof that I love you more than anything or anyone on the face of the earth?”

“Yes, because it’ll get me into trouble and land both of us in the hot seat with Seteth. It’s unbecoming of the Archbishop.”

“On the contrary,” Yuri rose, slipping his fingers into your hair and drawing you close, “I think it’s quite becoming, indeed. In fact, I don’t think there are enough.”

“Yuri…”

“Let’s delay a little while longer, hm? We have plenty of time before we need to go and waste time with others.”

You’d be lying if you weren’t tempted. You looked away, if only a moment, before exhaling softly.

“...You’ll go get what I need afterwards, right? Before we go out?”

“I will.” He promised, “Cross my heart.”

“I’ve never found your promises to be particularly convincing.” You sighed, but smiled regardless at the sweet expression on your husband’s face. “I suppose I’ll have to trust you this time.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” He pulled you on top of him with a single smooth movement, drowning in affection for his wife that was forever unceasing.

So unceasing, in fact, that it was long past time for you to go and visit your friends before you realized you were late for the engagement.

Well, that, and when you hurried out of bed in a fluster, you realized Yuri had covered you in yet more marks than before.

He was in the hot seat for a little while after that stunt (though he didn’t regret it for a second).

#yuri #byleth #fe 16 #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #yurileth #yuri x byleth #love marks prompt #fluff #just pure fluff #newlywed prompt #fe-fictions #fe fictions #f!byleth

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ninjacat1515 · 2 years ago

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Seeing Canon Archie being bullied, vampire Archie gets a step ladder and enchanted boxing gloves. He taps Thord's shoulder and when the Evoker turns his head, he sees an angry little face before his view is filled with a glowing glove that punts him into a wall; leaving him cartoonishly imprinted.

Vamp Archie climbs down and gives Canon Archie the gloves. Walda is strolling down the hallway mumbling to herself when she passes by Thord, doing a double take.

"By the gods, what happened??"

All she can hear is a severely muffled response, so she has her Vex pull him free.

"Archie." Thord's voice is nasally due to his nose being broken and Walda regards him suspiciously.

"You're telling me Archie did this to you, knocked you into this wall? That Archie?"

"No, it was...a different one."

Walda rolls her eyes and takes her leave. Thord searches for the other Archie, angrily marching around.

"When I get my hands on that tiny, red eyed worm, I am going to crush his pathetic throat."

Thord senses he is no longer alone, and grins. Had the little moron been sneaking up? Well that was just-

Instead of hallway he turns right into a rumbling wall. An armored, rumbling wall. His face had smacked into the chest of an enormous Pillager, who held nothing but utter and hateful contempt in his blazing red eyes.

"What was that you were saying? That you would crush the throat of my grandson?"

Thord feels his confidence and ego evaporating, and starts to sweat as his pulse races.

"I was only joking..."

Matias brings his face inches from Thord's and the Evoker can see just how big and sharp the teeth treally were.

"Just because you are a fellow Illager, doesn't mean you are protected from my wrath. Tread with care and do not go anywhere near Archie, or I will decorate these very halls with your entrails."

Thord comes close to losing control of his bladder, and nods as he swiftly takes his leave.

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uchihasakurawrites · 4 years ago

Text

A Lesson in Practicality (1)

Rating: T for language & depictions of violence

Summary: It takes a near-death experience in Yukigakure for Sakura to realize that Sasuke has her back in more ways than one.

Word Count: 3,154

A/N: This idea was going to be a short drabble, but the storyline ended up going in a direction that I didn’t initially plan for. There will be a Part Two (of 2). Part One has more implied SasuSaku - Sasuke will play a much more significant role in the next part! There’s a very high chance that this is going to be a prequel for the longer SasuSaku fic I’m currently working on.

Let me know what you think, please!! Thank you to everyone who has left feedback on my work thus far~

Cross-posted on AO3 and Fanfiction

______________________________________________

Sakura had heard enough stories from her fellow kunoichi about birthday gifts from their boyfriends to know that Sasuke’s definition of a gift was unique, to say the least.

Sai’s most recent gift to Ino was simple - a modest bouquet of flowers, carefully cultivated to convey a special message, a basket of cherry tomatoes from his personal garden, and a painting of the two of them on what Ino later told Sakura was their engagement day. Naruto once took Hinata on a two-week getaway to the hot spring resorts of Yugakure for her first birthday after they became official (though Hinata later let it slip that Naruto hadn’t informed Hiashi of their vacation and was subsequently banned from the Hyuuga compound for the foreseeable future). Chouji hosted a surprise birthday party for Karui just a few months after she migrated to Konoha, complete with her closest friends from Kumogakure and a home-cooked buffet. Even Shikamaru had stepped up his game with a private couple’s cooking class at Amaguriama, knowing that Temari would punt him to Suna if he showed up with just the personalized shogi piece he had originally planned on giving to her.

Temari had still barely let him escape, fully aware that Shikamaru had organized the class in hopes of never having to go out of his way to buy her favorite sweets again if she could just make them herself. Watching him burn three batches of roasted chestnuts was enough of a gift in itself.

Sasuke hadn’t been in the village for any of Sakura’s birthdays since before his defection back in their genin days. Even then, she couldn’t remember him going out of his way to give her a gift beyond grumbling out a low “Happy Birthday” if team training happened to coincide with her birthday.

To say that Sakura was shocked when she awoke to the tap tap tap of a messenger bird at her window before dawn on her nineteenth birthday was an understatement. Her grumbles at being awakened at such an hour on a day Ino had explicitly banned Sakura from working stopped the second she recognized the bird as Sasuke’s hawk. After fumbling with the latch on her window for a moment - she swore that the hawk gave her some serious side-eye when it took her three tries to get the latch to unstick - she held out her wrist for the bird. It left in the next breath, right after Sakura untied the scroll it was carrying. Sakura frowned at the hawk’s manners as she hadn’t even gotten to send a reply but realized she shouldn’t expect much. Of course Sasuke’s summons would take on his taciturn attitude.

The note tied to the scroll was simple: A last resort.

Huffing a laugh at the note, which was so very Sasuke, Sakura made quick work of the scroll’s seal. She immediately recognized the script as a summoning scroll, though she couldn’t parse out exactly what the summons was. Most likely one of Sasuke’s if he had sent it to her - a hawk or a snake. She sincerely hoped for the former.

Her first Chunin exams had effectively wrecked snakes for her.

Sakura resealed the scroll with a small smile. She had learned what she was getting into quite quickly when she first realized her love for Sasuke ran deeper than a surface-level crush. Any relationship she had with him wouldn’t be normal, be it romantic or platonic. Sasuke’s definition of a relationship was understandably different than most others; she had to learn how to read into the small gestures and unspoken words he left between them - the forehead pokes, the thank you’s, and the occasional mumbled annoying. There would be no typical gifts, no grand romantic gestures, and she was okay with that.

She had hardly expected a congratulatory note for her birthday, let alone a physical gift. Sure, a summoning scroll might not be the most conventional gift, but Sakura figured the practicality of it summed up Sasuke’s approach to relationships perfectly: securing the safety of those closest to him. This particular gesture meant she was at least somewhere on his (very short) list of valuable people in his life.

So when she tucked the scroll away, she did so with a smile, knowing that the added weight next to her medical supplies was a comfort that Sasuke had her back no matter where he was.

* * * * *

Sakura discovered that sentiment was far more literal than she had initially thought as she fled the scene of an assassination mission gone wrong in Yukigakure. Eliminating the target - a noble displaced by the war who sought to sow seeds of discontent against the ruling family - was fairly straightforward. A quick henge, a few unconscious guards, and a convenient chakra-induced heart attack left no trace to Konoha or the royal family.

The bounty hunters on her tail were decidedly less straightforward.

Since the end of the war, Sakura’s field mission count had dropped drastically. With Tsunade out of the village, rebuilding and strengthening Konoha’s medical system fell squarely on her shoulders. Ino’s support with the Children’s Mental Health Clinic left some room in her schedule for diplomatic medical missions to neighboring villages as a show of goodwill after the Allied Shinobi Forces dissolved, but she was rarely included in combat units. Kakashi had only assigned her to this solo mission as a favor to Koyuki since she was already familiar with Sakura from her genin days. Relations between Konoha and Iwagakure had been steady enough after the war, but Kakashi couldn’t risk instability in a country so close to Iwa.

While Sakura had kept up with her combat skills as well as she could through spars and periodic demonstrations at the Academy, she could feel the rust in her reaction times as she adjusted her own fighting style to the unfamiliar terrain. Snow meant additional chakra expenditure to maintain body temperature and keep her feet planted firmly on the ground; it took her the first few moments of the pursuit just to adjust her fighting style so that she wouldn’t go skidding across ice when she followed through on her punches.

It was the split second of hesitation between her noticing the first hunter rapidly approaching from behind and actually lunging to the left to avoid his attack that cost her a kunai to the thigh. The wound was deep, but Sakura was less concerned about the fact that she could clearly see the muscle fibers in her leg and more concerned about neutralizing the unknown poison that was trying to spread from it. Sewing the skin together enough to stop the bleeding was second nature; it was maintaining a chakra net around the wound to contain the poison that required a bit more focus.

Based on both their speed and specialized jutsu, Sakura guessed the hunters were at least jounin-level. Ten to twelve total based on a quick extension of her sensory jutsu. Had this been a different situation, Sakura would have been flattered that someone thought she was dangerous enough to send so many high-level shinobi to ambush her. She made a quick mental note to thank Karin for training her in a variant of the Kagura Shingan jutsu.

Running forever wasn’t an option, especially at the pace she was being forced to keep. She needed to start picking these guys off - she figured she had faced far worse odds and won.

Sakura slid to a stop and waited precisely six seconds for about half of the hunters to catch up before she drove her fist into the ground. Unsteady ground and low visibility from the snow she had loosened caught the two closest hunters off guard, and she pressed her advantage to neatly slice their jugulars open with chakra scalpels. She took note of their appearance, standard shinobi gear in shades of white and grey and curiously blank hitai-ates linked around both of their necks, and paused just long enough to snatch one of the headbands for later inspection. She tucked it into her medical pouch before rounding to face the next wave of hunters.

Most of the remaining nin were smart enough to keep their distance; they must have done enough research on her to know that engaging her in close-combat was the fastest way to lose. The nin fell into a loose semicircle formation around her, half close enough for mid-range attacks and half further back. If they were Iwa or Yuki missing nin, she could expect mostly Water and Earth-style jutsu - the same affinities she had, but probably much more practiced.

Keeping a firm hold on her Kagura Shingan to track her opponents, Sakura quickly formed the seals for Suiton: Kiri Shikaku she had picked up during a brief stay in Kiri and saw an immediate improvement in her vision. She caught four hunters in her visual range and charged forward, hoping to close the distance between them fast enough for her to get a clean hit. All four flew through the same familiar sequence of hand signs she had seen from Iwa nin during the war, and a solid rock wall about ten feet high erupted in her path.

Not deterred in the slightest by the barrier, Sakura augmented her speed with chakra and drove a fist into the wall. The rock gave more resistance to her wrist than normal, so she quickly adjusted the chakra concentration in her knuckles to absorb the additional force. The hunters, she guessed, had infused their chakra into the wall in hopes that the reinforcement would injure her wrist or at least slow her down.

Sakura smirked as her fist drove clean through the wall and followed her punch up with a roundhouse to shatter it. Their chakra control was good if they could spread it so finely across the surface of the wall - but hers was better.

She darted towards the closest target and delivered a punch to his gut that snapped his spine clean in half. His partner appeared at her side in the next breath, driving his katana towards her neck and forcing her to drop to her knees to dodge. Sakura swept her leg underneath the nin’s feet, ignoring the stinging sensation of the snow on her skin as she followed the nin’s dodge up with a well-aimed kunai. The weapon landed squarely in the back of his dominant hand and forced him to change grips on his katana.

A small part of Sakura’s mind was immediately suspicious when the two other nin closest to them chose to charge her head-on instead of retreating. Perhaps she had given them too much credit if they were reckless enough to rush into a taijutsu battle with her just because she had taken a few of them out.

It made more sense when chains of water shot out from the ground to bind her ankles and wrists firmly to the ground - the work of the long-range nins�� combined Suiton: Suikusari no Jutsu. They must have been watching for an opening to slow her down long enough for the mid-range hunters to close in on her and deliver a killing blow.

The chains were sturdier than any suiton she had faced in the past, no doubt due to the number of hunters who were focused on restraining her. Sakura channeled a burst of pure chakra to the surface of the skin on her wrists, ankles, and torso; anywhere the chains touched, she honed in on. She could either drive her chakra into the chains, slow down the water molecules in them so that they turned to ice, and shatter them, or push her chakra directly outwards to free herself long enough to move away from the chains.

The first option would have been a more permanent solution, but the breath of a hunter nin on her neck forced Sakura into the second. With a shannaro! Sakura willfully tore her body out of the chains, redirected the chakra to her feet, and used the closest nin’s chest as a platform to fling herself over the chains and out of reach. She shoved one foot into the woman’s chest and used the other to bat a kunai with an explosive tag away from them both.

What Sakura didn’t account for was the nin she had planted her foot on reacting quickly enough to snag her ankle and drag her to the ground with her. She used the momentum of her fall to slide further away from the chains and twisted her ankle to free herself. Ice-covered rocks sliced at her forearms and stomach, but she drove her fingers into the ground to lever herself forward.

Crippling pain radiated from her ankle as soon as she was free, drawing a hoarse cry from her throat. She hadn’t seen a weapon in the nin’s hand, and there was no open wound. A second wave of searing pain nearly brought Sakura to her knees yet again, and she reached out for her medical chakra to send to inspect the area as she narrowly vaulted over a windmill shuriken -

Only to find that summoning her chakra felt like pulling a viscous liquid through a fine sieve. The chakra that had been isolating the poison around her wounds only stayed in place from sheer force of will. She spared a quick glance at her ankle, eyes widening at the black seal branded onto her skin.

Fuinjutsu.

Sakura didn’t recognize the seal and didn’t have time to inspect it further. Water chains exploded from the ground beneath her just as four hunters lunged at her from each direction. She jumped into the air, twisting to narrowly avoid a series of kunai. A loose shuriken lodged into her calf. Sakura immediately recognized the signs of poison digging into her system; she also recognized with a growing trepidation that it took far more of her concentration than she could spare to dredge up the medical chakra necessary to isolate it.

Whatever seal the hunters had placed on her was blocking her chakra flow, but not in a way she had experienced before. Training with Shizune’s poisons and Hinata’s tenketsu blocks hadn’t prepared her for this. Her chakra wasn’t completely inaccessible, but it was as though a fine mesh had settled over each of her chakra points. It was as though the hunters hoped she would continue trying to mold her chakra, exhausting herself enough in the process that they could take her out.

Her dread grew when she reached out for her Byakugo only to feel the same fine mesh blocking her access. She could still feel the mass of chakra settled behind her forehead, but she doubted she could summon enough of it fast enough to make a significant difference in this fight.

Sakura had a sinking feeling that this seal, which she hadn’t even come across in the Uzumaki fuinjutsu scrolls Naruto had lent to her, was designed specifically to hinder ninja with her level of chakra control and reserves. It didn’t matter how much control she had if it took her six times as long to drag her chakra to a specific point. Keeping the poison in her system at bay occupied enough of her attention at the moment. Evading the seemingly endless water chains that followed her and the four nins on her tail only added to her exhaustion.

One of the hunters managed to land a kick squarely on her side, cracking at least two ribs. Sakura took another blow to her back, and she twisted to catch the nin’s ankle. She snapped it cleanly in two, baring her teeth as she drove a kunai into the kunoichi’s neck before she could finish the seals for an Earth-style jutsu.

She managed to keep with this rhythm long enough to incapacitate another two nin but knew that she was reaching her limit. She took a half dozen more hits from the closest hunters and a particularly nasty cut from a katana before she pulled back, focused on her seal, and pushed. Black lines twisted down her face and startled the hunters long enough for her to shunt what chakra she could get ahold of to the soles of her boots. The force of the chakra from her seal was enough to push what little she needed through.

Sakura took off at a sprint, running as far and as fast as she could in the opposite direction of the hunters who immediately followed suit. Knowing her options were limited, Sakura scrambled behind the first large boulder she could find and snapped the highest level genjutsu she could manage over the surrounding area. Her jaw clenched to choke off a scream at the fire that lanced through her chakra network as she forced her chakra into the jutsu.

Her chakra control, it seemed, was not better than whichever nin had developed this seal.

She quickly surveyed her condition - several lacerations, at least two cracked ribs, and more poison in her system than she could afford to isolate at once - and realized that the seal on her ankle was not only making it more difficult to mold chakra but also draining it. Sakura immediately withdrew her own chakra, slamming her Yin seal down before the hunter’s seal could touch her reserves. Without her Byakugo, Sakura figured she barely had enough chakra to maintain her genjutsu and keep the poison around her major wounds locked in place. Healing herself would do nothing but leave her drained and vulnerable when the hunter nins eventually found her.

Her genjutsu skills had improved drastically under Kurenai’s tutelage, but the hunter nins would eventually figure out what she had done and double back to find her. They knew as well as she did that she wasn’t in a condition to flee very far.

Without hesitation, Sakura withdrew the summoning scroll Sasuke had given her from a pouch at her hip and snapped it open. She didn’t have enough chakra to summon enough of Katsuyu to be useful, and Sakura would be long dead before reinforcements came even if she did ask Katsuyu to send a message to Konoha.

As much as she hated snakes, Sakura desperately hoped for Aoda as she drew a bloodied thumb across the parchment (though the rational part of her brain noted she probably didn’t have the chakra to handle that level of summons either). She blanched at the strain the summons put on her chakra network and wondered belatedly if she had overestimated how much of what little chakra she had left she could actually direct towards the summons. Slamming her eyes shut with a choked cry, Sakura visualized grabbing onto the thin trails of chakra that creaked through her veins and pulled.

If she’d had the energy for it, Sakura is certain she would have screamed when it was neither a hawk nor a snake that appeared before her - but rather, Sasuke Uchiha himself.

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #part 1 #a lesson in practicality #sasusaku blank period #sasusaku fanfic #naruto fanfiction

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bubblesuga · 4 years ago

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Oblivious To Adoration - Prologue

A/N: Hi all! So this is a Prologue (written after the story, oops) that can work as a standalone but I highly suggest also checking out the rest of the story as well!

W/C: 3,757

Warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cum swallowing (if that should be a warning... idk lol), masturbation

Part 1

Exam season is finally over.

You throw your pencils into your bag and slip it over your shoulder. Despite having studied for ages on each test, you still couldn’t shake the fact that you may have failed. Thousands of dollars down the drain simply because you didn’t absorb the information enough. Jungkook tells you that you’re too smart to worry about things like that but it just wouldn’t leave your head.

You step out of the lecture hall and spot Jungkook leaning against the wall and talking to a girl. She seems to be flirting by the way she leaned next to him and batted her eyelashes. He seems uncomfortable, his eyes seeming to stare passed her. You roll your eyes, it’s not the first time that Jungkook had been hit on by a woman he was clearly not interested in.

The moment he sees you, his expression changes and his face is lighting up. He seemingly forgets completely about the girl and pushes himself off the wall and fights his way through the crowd.

“How did it go?” Jungkook questions, immediately leading you away.

“I’m not sure yet.” You shrug, sighing in frustration.

Jungkook gives you a look of sympathy, deciding not to press the matter while you head towards the exit of the building.

“Get outta the way bitches, (Y/N) just finished her last exam!” Jungkook yelled, his hand on the small of your back while he pushes fellow students out of your path. You roll your eyes at the attention now brought on you, attempting to hide your smile.

“Kookie you can’t call people bitches.” You groan as he pushes the door open. Jungkook abruptly slips his backpack off his shoulders and punts it down the long stairs. You gasp as it slips right in between a couple of students and Jungkook cringes in apology while he runs down the stairs to go pick it up.

You let out a laugh, skipping down the stairs yourself and returning in your place beside Jungkook. Instinctively, he wraps his arm around your shoulder while he leads you towards his car.

“Okay. Everyone has been waiting for today so we can officially celebrate the end of the year. Yoongi and Jin’s apartment at 8 tonight, alright?” Jungkook speaks as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Is Namjoon gonna be there?” You ask, picking at your finger nails. Jungkook tilts his head towards you, “Of course.”

You crinkle your nose jokingly, knowing that Jungkook didn’t like the fact that you and Namjoon teased each other quite a bit. Truthfully it made Jungkook feel jealous, as far as he was concerned you were his best friend and Namjoon had a way of sliding his comments into conversation so effortlessly that had you both laughing and hitting his shoulder.

Jungkook pulls into your apartment complex a few moments later. You lean over the center console and wrap your arms around his shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”

As you turn to get out, Jungkook grabs your wrist, “We’re going to get wasted tonight, by the way.”

“Mm,” you nod, humor evident on your face, “can’t wait, Kookie.”

~*~*~

You already hear music playing lightly through the door of Yoongi and Seokjin’s apartment. You don’t have the chance to knock because Hoseok swings open the door, “Get in here, girl.”

Hoseok grabs your wrist and pulls you in, your hands gripping the bottle of tequila tighter.

Suddenly you felt over dressed, spotting your group of friends gathered in the living room as Seokjin and Taehyung yell about some fighting game on the television. Hoseok takes the bottle of tequila from your hands and grabs three shot glasses.

“Jungkook! (Y/N) is here!” Hoseok calls out to the living room, causing Jungkook to whip his head around. He hops over the couch and immediately reaches for one of the shot glasses.

“Ah, to possibly making or breaking our future careers!” Jungkook doesn’t wait to tap his shot glass on yours, downing the shot in seconds and reaching to pour another.

Okay, clearly you had some catching up to do. You could smell the remnants of beers on Jungkook’s breath, and you mentally cursed yourself for running a little late. You follow his lead, pouring yourself a couple more shots and downing them while Jungkook watches you with shiny eyes.

Hoseok seems to sense your discomfort of sobriety, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a beer of your own. You silently thank him and pop it open on the edge of the counter, chugging it down.

Jungkook leads you to the living room and the two of you sit in the corner of the sectional. Already you could feel the heat of the alcohol coursing through your veins, and for once in your life you were grateful for being a lightweight.

“Ah,” Namjoon spots you, “who invited you?”

“Awh, don’t be so sad, Joonie. I know you’re secretly really happy I’m here.” You grin, seeing humor alight in Namjoon’s eyes as he turns his attention back to the screen.

Jungkook notices the exchange between you and Namjoon and can’t help but burn holes into the side of your head. Not that he could do anything about it though, it’s not like he could stop you if you and Namjoon had decided dating or something. Though he cringes at the thought.

The only thing that steadies his mind the the feeling of your head hitting his shoulder while you giggle at Jimin beating Seokjin at the game and cheering in victory.

Jungkook relaxes against you, his hand picking up a piece of hair at the back of your head and twirling it softly between his fingers. It takes every bone in his body to prevent him from leaning down and pulling you in for a kiss but he just couldn’t. Even if you wore such a short dress and pranced around in front of him more times than he’d like to admit, or when he can’t help but stare when you bend down to grab something only for Jimin nudge him out of his trance.

You didn’t like him like that, it just wouldn’t work out.

The night is going by as every night that you found yourself in one of the boys’ apartments with liquor running through your system. Jungkook and you have been fed drinks constantly and you could officially say that you were drunk, but that was the whole point of this night anyway.

Yoongi and Hoseok were in the middle of doing awful karaoke, singing some song from a movie that you had never heard of.

You were practically on top of Jungkook’s lap at this point, the two of you giggling as Hoseok’s voice cracks on a particularly high note.

“Oh come on you’re better than that Hobi!” You shout over the music and laughter, your eyes glossed over. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you close, your hand flying to his chest and your fingers dancing across his hands.

“Shut up!” Hoseok shouts back, his voice echoing from the reverb of the mic. Yoongi laughs in the middle of his verse and you realize that these guys truly made you happy, you couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends.

Especially the man beneath you, who’s strong arms made you feel safe from the beginning of your friendship onward. He always made sure to protect you, but was also well aware that you didn’t need the protection. You allowed him to protect you because you loved the way he could send a boy away from you with a simple look and his arm snaking around your waist.

You were suddenly hyper aware of how close you were to him, but you didn’t care. You like how he smells too much to stop cuddling him.

In fact, the feeling of his abs tensing beneath your body caused heat to wrack your lower half. You see him shirtless often, so you didn’t have a problem imagining what he would look like holding himself above you. You tried to push the feeling down, but the alcohol was winning this fight. You needed to have him and you needed to have him now.

“Jungkook?” You ask him quietly, turning his head towards yours.

“Yes?” He responds, his forehead shining from the heat of your body on his but he didn’t want to push you away.

“Do you want to come to another room with me?”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “Uh, sure?”

You stand abruptly, but everyone else seemed too enthralled in the performance in front of them to notice. You quickly tug Jungkook with you, a giggle leaving your lips when you notice how he struggles to keep up with you.

You open the first door you see, spotting a keyboard and guitar in the corner of the room. Jungkook immediately sits on the bed, laying back and groaning. The way his shirt rode up his abdomen ever so slightly and revealed the ‘v’ dipping into his jeans caused you to swallow.

“So what’s up? Get a little overwhelmed?” Jungkook asks, rubbing his eyes then keeping his gaze trained on the ceiling.

Now that you had him in the room you were unsure of how to handle the situation. So, you decided to let your instincts guide you.

You shakily press a step forward, then another, until your knees bump against Jungkook’s. He tears his gaze away from the ceiling and eyes you curiously, causing your face to go red. He smiles comfortingly, “What’s on your mind?”

Without responding, you climb onto his lap and rest a knee on either side of his thighs. Immediately Jungkook tenses at the movement and sits up, your hands landing on his shoulders. This is different from your usual drunk touchy habits, your heat was a mere 3 layers from his, and the thought alone causes his mouth to water.

“What are you-”

Jungkook doesn’t get the chance to finish his question because you slam your lips on his.

Jungkook freezes entirely, every fiber of his being telling him to kiss you back but the shock of the situation causes him to shrivel in a puddle of confidence-lacking ooze. He had wanted to kiss you for so long - years at this point - and now that you were suddenly kissing him he had no clue what to do.

Instead of pulling away and accepting defeat, you poke your tongue between your lips and swipe it across Jungkook’s bottom lip and instantly he opens his mouth.

You smile in victory, your tongue entering his mouth and exploring. The taste of tequila and lemonade laced his tongue, and in a surprising turn of events Jungkook wraps his lips around your tongue and sucks softly.

He pulls away, meeting your eyes, “How far do you want this to go, (Y/N)?”

“Need you,” you whine, your fingers wracking over his clothed torso, “need all of you.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook groans, leading your hands beneath his shirt and allowing you to feel his hot tanned skin directly. He falls back onto the bed while you push his shirt over his head and toss it behind you, hearing the twang of a guitar string. You glance back to make sure the guitar is okay before hearing Jungkook giggle softly.

He leans his hand up, reveling in the feeling of your soft skin against his, and pushes your hair behind your ear, “You’re so pretty.”

You press your lips against his again, “Tell me I’m pretty when I’m covered in your cum.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and you can nearly see the switch in his eyes from Kookie to Jungkook. His fingers fumble with his belt and he quick to unbuckle it, tapping your hip to tell you to lift your body so he can slide his pants down.

His semi doesn’t take long to harden completely once he feels your hot breath through the thin fabric of his briefs. You bite your lip, looking up at him as you loop your fingers through the hem.

“No, baby. You’re wearing far too much clothing right now.” Jungkook says, his thumb running over his swollen lips.

You raise an eyebrow, standing up staring down at Jungkook’s mostly naked body. You smile, your cheeks flushing while you slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders. Jungkook watches your every move, his eyes following your hands while you slide the black material down your body and step out of it.

Your underwear is by no means flashy, you didn’t expect anyone to see them tonight and you’re about to apologize to Jungkook for the plain pink matching bra and panties but his eyes tell you that you do need to.

“Off.” He demands, gesturing his hand to you. He wasn’t one for strip teases but he could watch you undress every night and never get tired of it. You reach behind you, unclasping each clasp slowly until the band of your bra falls loose. You’re quick to catch the cups before the slip off, walking closer to him.

You allow the bra to fall in has lap, your nipples hard with anticipation. This was the first time that Jungkook has seen you so exposed, and he was enjoying the sight. He leans forward and clasps his teeth around one of your nipples and you let out a moan at the feeling.

You liked this side of him, dominance radiating from him and causing you to drip.

“I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby.” He groans, and in seconds your tossed onto the bed beside him. His lips attack your neck, sucking and biting in places you didn’t know could be so pleasurable. Or maybe it was just that fact that Jungkook was the one doing it. Either way, you writhed beneath his lips as he trailed kisses down your body. Reaching your hips, he presses a kiss to each of your hip bones. Looking up at you hesitantly, you see him loop his fingers around each side of your panties.

“Well what are you waiting for?” You tease, biting your bottom lip.

Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, “Just making sure I’m not dreaming.”

With that, he drags your panties down your legs almost painfully slow. His eyes don’t leave yours, and you wonder if he’s second guessing his decision. He must have noticed the doubt in your eyes, so he presses a kiss softly just above your mound, right on your pelvic bone.

You relax instantly, his eyes large and filled with lust when he finally tears them away from yours. Jungkook holds both of your ankles in one hand as he finally slides off your panties the rest of the way. You exhale a shaky breath, Jungkook’s position just in front of the bottom of your thighs caused your mind to wander. There were so many ways you wanted him to take you, and your feet on either side of his head was the first way.

Jungkook lets go of your ankles and you keep your legs raised, slowly opening your thighs where Jungkook finally turns his gaze.

Your stomach flutters while Jungkook lays on his stomach in front of you, and swipes his ring finger up your slit. Instantly, a loud moan falls from your lips and Jungkook chuckles confidently.

“Who knew you’d be so wet for your best friend, huh?” He doesn’t allow you to respond, as his tongue darts out of his mouth and swipes a long stripe from the bottom of your heat to your clit.

You lurch forward, your hands lacing through his hair.

“Oh god, that feels so good.” You moan, arching your back as Jungkook begins to press two fingers into your cunt. He wasn’t hiding how much he was enjoying this, either, because he moans loudly against your cunt as you tug at the roots of his hair.

You watch him carefully, biting your bottom lip and your face contorted in pleasure. Jungkook’s eyes were closed, all his energy going into pleasing you.

He begins to rut his hips against the duvet, whining against you for some sort of release but he doesn’t stop until your coming undone beneath him. “Oh fuck me,” you moan, “Jungkook!”

You feel his smile against you as you ride out your high against his tongue, your hand gripping his hair harshly.

“Wow,” he pulls away, his thumb collecting the moisture of your release around his lips and then slipping it into his mouth, “you taste even better than I imagined.”

Your mouth falls agape, “You imagined what I taste like?”

“Oh baby,” Jungkook stands for a moment, slipping his boxers down his muscular thighs, “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

Your eyes drop to the apex of his thighs, his cock springing upward and hitting his abdomen. He’s huge, you thought, he’s going to tear me in half.

And you couldn’t wait.

You gesture for him to get back on the bed, and in seconds your spreading your thighs. Jungkook strokes his cock for a moment, his eyes washing over your body and he silently pleasures himself at the sight of you. You could come just from watching him, but you were so enthralled with the way his large hands stroked himself that you forgot what you were doing in the first place. It’s not until he’s about to thrust inside of you do you snap back, “Condom?”

“Ah,” Jungkook blushes, “sorry, one second.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. The tiny silver foil was a welcoming sight, and you grin.

Jungkook spots your salacious smile and can’t help but mirror it, walking over to the side of the bed. He stands tall above you, and he hands you the foil packet.

“Put it on me.”

You don’t hesitate, your teeth tearing open the condom and placing the bubble at the top in your mouth. Jungkook hisses when your hand grips the base of his cock and strokes him a few times before you lower your mouth onto him, rolling the condom down his shaft with your tongue running underneath.

As you reach the base of his cock, you hold yourself there. Jungkook feels your throat contract around him and thrusts in softly, “If you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna need to stop sucking me off.”

You fall back easily, spreading your legs once again and reaching your fingers down to rub your clit in a few circles.

Jungkook places himself between your thighs again, and presses his cock into your heat slowly.

You watch the way his thumb shakes as he falls in, his body crashing above you as he catches himself. He can’t help but capture your lips in his as he finally feels you pulse around him like he wanted you to for so fucking long.

Jungkook has never had so much trouble trying not to cum, but you just felt so good. Your warmth was enticing, and kissing you was distracting him enough not to release.

“Move, please.” You whisper against his lips, grinding your hips against his.

Jungkook pulls away until just the tip of his cock is inside, then he slams back in. Still, his lips stay steady on yours and you cry out his name while he thrusts into relentlessly.

“You take me so well, baby,” Jungkook’s voice was throaty and thick, much different than what you were used to, “squeeze around me so good.”

He doesn’t leave your lips, breathing heavily through his nose as he continues to thrust harshly. You reach up and drag his bottom lip through your teeth, trying to quiet your moans as you suddenly remember the 6 other people in the apartment.

Then again, maybe you didn’t care if they heard you. Maybe you liked the thought of the boys hearing Jungkook make you scream.

So, with Jungkook thrusting particularly harshly, you let out a scream of his name and toss your head back, electricity sparking in your tummy. He reaches deep and slows his thrusts once he feels that your close, long strokes replacing them.

The fact that Jungkook lay so close to you as he thrusts, the scent of him overwhelming in your nostrils, played a huge factor in pushing you closer and closer to the edge. As you finally feel the twist building in your stomach uncoil in flashing heat, your jaw drops open, “I’m coming!”

“That’s good,” Jungkook kisses your jaw, “you’re doing so well.”

He stops his movements and you moan,falling back and trying to catch your breath.

You open your eyes and meet Jungkook’s, grinning and reaching up to move his fringe away from his forehead, “Did you cum?”

He shakes his head, “You said you wanted to be covered in my cum, right?”

You nod hastily, and Jungkook slowly pulls out of you. You groan at the emptiness, but quickly recover when you see Jungkook slip the condom off of his member.

Again, he stands proudly above you, “What? You think I’m gonna do this myself?”

You giggle, reaching forward and beginning to stroke him. You’re much faster this time, and Jungkook is thrusting his hips in your hand. He’s gripping your wrist but following the movement of your hand with his eyes screwed shut and his head tossed back.

Then you hear him suck in an air of breath and you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue and feeling the saltiness of his release paint your tongue. He looks down quickly, as if not wanting to miss the way his cum rests on your tongue. He grips your jaw in his hand, “Swallow.”

You eye him mischievously, sliding your tongue in your mouth and swallowing, then opening again to show him.

“Good girl.” He whispers, his eyes still black with lust.

He places another kiss to your lips, and you pull him down onto the bed with you.

You both lay, catching your breath and watching each other. Jungkook’s grin is just as wide as ever, and you realize exactly what you had just done.

You just hooked up with your best friend. Your first friend on campus, the person who’s there for you whenever you’re going through anything. You may have just completely ruined your friendship with him because you let alcohol take over your thoughts.

Well, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. It definitely wasn’t the fact that you had been suppressing your attraction to him for years. Nope.

Definitely wasn’t that.

#i know I said i was gonna write an epilogue #but like #ya girl gotta work and sometimes my brain doesn't like to write what i want it to write #yanno?#no? just me? fuck #anyway #hope y'all liked it #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook friends to lovers au #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios

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vventure · 5 years ago

Text

Played - Atsumu Miya Must Die, Ch. 3

Series Mini Mlist: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, Drama

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: cheating

Summary: Atsumu Miya is a player; dating three girls from three different friend groups so they don’t find out. What happens when they do, though? And how does [Y/N] play into their plan for ultimate revenge?

A/N: Alright, this chapter really finally gets into the drama. I know it’s longer than the other chapters but it had to be this length in order to fit everything I wanted into it! I hope you guys enjoy it, and I can’t wait to share all the scheming to come with you all. <3

Taglist: @for-ests @miyuswriting @babyboytsutomu @captain-shittykawa @writeiolite @lunarknox @heccingdead @yams046 @infamouswhitepawsies @hideewrites @lilolpotato @burnthoneymint @bb-noya - let me know if you’d like to be added (or taken off)!!

Last Time:

Chika laid down the facts: Atsumu was dating three different girls from three different friend groups. It was a secret to everyone but he and Chika, and now you, that he was doing this. Atsumu would only come to Onigiri Miya when Osamu wasn’t working. He was somewhat of an idiot in that respect, and Osamu had caught him with different girls at the establishment before, but the bleached twin had played it off as him seeing different girls every week; something that wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility for the player.

Chika went on to explain that while Atsumu used to work at the onigiri shop for his brother, he had taken time off in order to focus on university and his club volleyball team at the school. He was arrogant and self-centered, and often lied to his brother even about small things. The picture Chika painted was far from flattering.

You sat looking at her during her spiel, your jaw basically on the floor.

“So, yeah,” she finished. “He’s kind of a mess and a jackass.”

“Thanks for the warning, I’ll try to avoid him.”

“About that,” her smile strained as she spoke her next words: “He’s moving into the same dorm as you tomorrow.”

The day rose in a blaze of sun, the perfect weather for a barbecue on the quad at your new university. It was too hot for wearing anything other than a tank top and shorts since there was no way you were going to make it through the two-hour long event with no shade if you wore anything else.

A cacophony of laughter and raucous excitement reached your ears as you stepped onto the lush green of the expansive quad, taking in the plethora of grills and the several volleyball and badminton nets set-up to enjoy with fellow students. Clusters of students from every year were scattered about the lawn, drinking from plastic cups and munching on snacks while trying to find the courage to jump into an activity and break free of their timidity.

It should have come as no surprise, but Atsumu Miya had no issues with running head first into a new adventure. He was playing 2-on-2 volleyball at one of the nets, showing off just how high he could jump to slam the ball down on the grass on the opposite side of the net. His athleticism shined here, clearly leaps and bounds beyond the others he was volleying with who looked like they were about to pass-out from heat stroke while desperately trying to match his pace.

It would have been almost comical, the difference in skill between someone who was obviously well-versed in volleyball and someone who had never touched a ball in their life, except that Atsumu looked so smug every time he scored a point for his team. It was hardly a competition and even from this distance you could tell he was letting it get to his head.

Turning your attention away, you nearly collided with another person as you moved to grab a drink from one of the coolers. The person you were now face-to-face with wore a black t-shirt with “RA” in white lettering across the place a breast pocket would be.

“I’m so sorry!” You blurted out, backing up slightly and raising your hands. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Don’t worry about it!” They replied, a genial smile splitting their face in response to your sudden panic. “You look familiar. I think you moved onto my floor yesterday! Yeah, [Y/n], right?”

“Guilty,” you quipped, looking at them closely. It clicked into place once you noticed their black bangs pinned back with their high pigtails. “You’re the resident assistant on my floor...Nanami, right?”

“Yep,” she replied, giving you a thumbs up. Her cheerfulness seemed a bit forced, but you smiled back at her regardless. “It’s actually good ya bumped into me ‘cause I was looking to round up the girls to play some volleyball. You in?”

“Um, sure, I don’t really have anything else to do.”

That’s how you found yourself entangled in a lot more than you’d bargained for: an icebreaker activity with Atsumu’s three girlfriends.

“Let’s say our names and then a fun fact about us,” Nanami said once the small group of girls she could find was rounded into a seated circle. “I’ll go first. My name’s Nanami and I love going to concerts!”

Dead silence befell the group as they all looked at her, expressionless. It was hot and she was making you all sit in the sun and tell a fun fact about yourselves? Weren’t you supposed to be playing volleyball?

“Cool,” said the girl clad in sports attire, repping the school’s colors. “I’m Sara, I play for the soccer team here and love kick-boxing.”

Sara used her thumb to point to the girl on her right, taking charge of the situation so they could all get it over with.

“I’m Izumi,” came the soft voice of a girl with her eyes turned shyly downward. “I work in the library in my spare time.”

Could this be any more dull? So much for a fun barbecue.

The next girl down the line stated her name and a fact about herself that slipped through your mind like water until it was Atsumu’s final girlfriend’s turn.

“My name’s Aiko, and I play the violin,” she said, flicking her long hair over her shoulder and fiddling with the hem of her pure white blouse.

Once again, this elicited no response and all eyes now rested on you as they waited for your name and riveting factoid.

“I’m [Y/n] and I work at an onigiri shop off-campus and just moved here from Miyagi.”

A pregnant pause followed your statement as the small group merely blinked in acknowledgement of each other’s existence before Nanami’s voice cut through the heavy air: “Let’s play volleyball!”

The group stood, returning shredded grass particles to the ground and moved like cattle to the volleyball nets.

“I’m gonna ditch, my boyfriend wants to get boba,” the girl whose name you couldn’t remember whispered into your ear before skipping away from the group now composed of only you, Sara, Aiko, Izumi, and Nanami.

Just perfect, you were going to be playing volleyball with three girls dating the same guy and the person who would be watching every move you made in the dorms for the year, what could be more ideal? You almost wished Osamu had put you on the schedule today, but he’d given you the first week of classes off to acclimate to the new university.

It was done now, so you’d make the most of the situation and maybe get a new friend out of it. Izumi seemed really sweet and down-to-earth, so you’d give chatting with her a shot. Walking up beside her, you opened your mouth to say something before the realization that you knew a dirty secret she didn’t about the guy she was seeing hit you. You snapped your mouth closed and walked the remainder of the expanse of green to the free volleyball net.

A collective gasp sounded from the group as you approached the net, causing you to look up from the ground you’d been examining in order to avoid tripping. When you saw where their heads were turned, you sighed internally.

Of course, every single one of them had their eyes locked on Atsumu finishing up his game on the make-shift volleyball court next to the one you’d soon be playing on. He had sweat pouring down his face from what you could imagine was the heat and exertion, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he lifted his shirt to wipe at his face exposing the glistening muscles of his abdomen.

What was this, a teen movie? No one looked that hot after playing a taxing sport and it was highly unfair that someone so vile could look so good.

“Okay, girls,” Nanami said, clapping her hands together yet again. “I’m gonna ref, so choose your teams.”

Aiko immediately flocked to Sara, likely taking in the fact that the latter was a college athlete and would be better poised to win the game. Izumi didn’t look particularly thrilled to be stuck with you as her teammate, but she’d have to deal for the short amount of time you’d be playing.

Sara served first, landing a solid ace across the net that punted against the grass that neither you nor Izumi received, giving your opponents the first point. Aiko and Izumi looked at each other through the net, their eyes suddenly serious. You furrowed your brow, watching how Sara was now in a fighting stance, until the sound of Atsumu’s voice reached your ears.

“So, yer the RA for the boys’ and girls’ floor, eh?” He said, leaning toward Nanami who looked less than pleased to be conversing with him at the current moment.

“That I am,” she replied stiffly, trying to keep her eye on the ball. “I’m kind of busy right now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I’m sure ya don’t mind if I stay and watch a little bit?”

Nanami shrugged, turning her attention completely away from him. He didn’t appear to care, and didn’t press her any further.

Atsumu was watching the game, that’s why these three were acting like their lives depended on winning a casual volleyball game on the quad. This asshole knew exactly what his presence would do to these girls and was eating it up like a Korean drama.

Whatever, he wasn’t your focus and would never be your focus, so you returned your attention to the game. Your heart clenched in your chest as you watched Aiko look over at Atsumu, sending him a salacious wink just to receive a smirk in return. In the time that your eyes left Sara’s serving form, hoping that no one had noticed the exchange, the volleyball was colliding with your head and sending you reeling.

“[Y/n]!” You could hear Nanami call before her knees were thudding onto the earth next to you, her black pigtails dangling over your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you responded, sitting up to notice that Atsumu had departed with his hand on the upper back of another tall male walking away. A feeling of impending doom flowed over you as you looked at the girls standing near the net, their faces directed at each other expressing confusion and mounting anger. “What’s going on?”

“We’re at the quad for the barbecue, do you have a concussion? What year is it?” The RA asked, clearly not anticipating this at the event.

“I’m fine! What about them?”

“Why were you winking at my boyfriend?” Izumi seethed, her kind and calm demeanor slipping away easily to reveal a nasty underside.

“I was winking at my boyfriend,” Aiko replied, stepping closer to Izumi but remaining on her side of the net. “Atsumu Miya.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Sara bellowed while stomping towards the two already in the throws of their disagreement. “Who’d you say your boyfriend was?”

Izumi and Aiko replied in unison: “Atsumu Miya.”

The trio of Atsumu’s lovers sat a safe 6-feet from each other in the grass, ice packs pressed against the bruises they’d given each other during the scuffle that eventually had to be broken up by the University Police. You’d also tried to pry them apart, which only earned you a split lip and a disciplinary mark on your record for the trouble.

“So, I get the pleasure of explaining what your punishment is,” Nanami said, sitting down on the grass with exaggerated annoyance, producing a map and setting it in the space between everyone. “The resident director thinks it would be a good idea for you guys to clean up around town. So you’ll be tackling the areas I’ve marked every other day and clearing them of all the litter you can see.”

“How long?” You asked, pressing the ice pack to your lip in an attempt to get it to stop stinging so horribly.

“Ten hours, which is pretty lenient,” she explained. “Since you guys don’t have any other infractions she didn’t think it was worth more than that. And she wants you to do it together to learn some cooperation and teamwork.”

The tension in the air was suffocating at this news and not a single girl could look the other in the eye, opting to stare at their feet while nursing their wounds.

“This is all your fault, Aiko,” Sara spat.

“How is it--” Aiko began before you cut her off.

“I don’t know,” you spoke up, raising your hand in defense as Aiko shot you a glare, her white blouse sullied with dirt. “Seems like you all got played, right? He told you all that he had to keep his relationship with you secret, right?”

A grumble rose around the small area between the 5 of you.

“Okay, so he was lying to you so he could mess around with other people, so who’s fault is it really?”

You had no idea the trouble your logical mind had gotten you into.

#Atsumu Miya #Miya Atsumu #Atsumu Miya x reader #Miya Atsumu x reader #haikyuuwritersnet #tw: cheating #tw cheating #Haikyuu!!#Haikyu!!#hq!!#Haikyuu!! angst #Haikyu!! angst

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a-trying-writer · 4 years ago

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[gw2 based fic, with oc interactions. thanks @shadow-daughter for allowing me to borrow her character, Majpi, for this story. It was fun, and I enjoyed writing her in my own way. just let me know if there is anything you like for me to edit, shadow, and ill do my best to do it asap. i think its all right to reblog/like, if she is comfortable with it too!]

Chrys kept close to the shadows as he journeyed across Tyria. He couldn't help but feel lost and misguided since he departed from his fellow courtiers, but he also felt free. Free to do as he liked without the squires and counts that watched him at all times in that suffocating gilded hall (which he was grateful for leaving as well, since he was stuck in there long enough to believe that the gold was burned into his retinas.)

As the day grew dark, Chrys climbed up into a tall tree to find the thickest branch that could hold his weight. Once he made sure he was safe and comfortable, he shut his eyes to allow his mind and body to rest.

Only to be disturbed by the rustling of leaves, despite the fact that the wind was gentle.

He slowly reached into his coat to grab a hold of his dagger, while taking slow even breaths to pretend that he had fallen fast asleep. When a small animal leapt towards him, he did not hesitate to swing the dagger, but missed and fell along with the creature from the branch to the ground, between the thick roots of the tree.

Chrys struggled to stay awake, fighting against the darkness that took over him in the end.

The smell of smoke and the sound of fire crackling stirred the sylvari awake from a dreamless sleep. He sat up quickly only to be stunned by the vision of the stars sparkling before his eyes. There was no choice but to lay himself back down, feeling helpless and defenseless to whatever or whoever started that fire.

“Who-” he tried to speak, but was quickly interrupted when he felt a sharp pain on his back.

“Ah! The plant has woken up!” someone, a child it sounded like, called out. “That's good – very, very good.”

Chrys sucked in a deep breath between his teeth as he turned to follow the voice. “What happened?” he forced himself to ask.

“You slept, fell, and got yourself hurt,” the child replied. “But don't you worry, plant, I got something for you to feel better instantaneously!

Before he could say another word, the child poured a foul tasting liquid into Chrys' mouth, and forced him to swallow it down, which knocked him out cold again in a manner of seconds.

When he opened his eyes again, Chrys noticed that he felt groggier than ever. However, as he slowly sat up on a makeshift bed, he quickly realized that his vision was clear, and that the burning sensation on his body was gone. He then noticed a small creature, with big purple eyes, and short pointy ears that stuck out from her green hair, tinkering with something in her hands. An asuran child -- or rather a progeny, as they are properly called.

“Still around?” he asked, surprising her.

“Ah! Oh, it's just you... and alive!” She gave the sylvari a grin, revealing her naturally sharp teeth. “I thought I- oh, never mind.” The asuran shook her head as she got up and walked up to him. “How are you doing, plant?”

“Just fine, I guess,” Chrys shrugged. “Who are you?”

The child giggled happily as she sat before him. “Majpi! And you?”

“Chrys. Well, the name I've chosen is Chrysares, but Chrys is just fine.”

“A name you've chosen? What do you mean by that?”

“It's... complicated,” he lied, since he had no desire to explain it to her. “Anyway, I assume you're the one who took care of me, correct?”

“Yes! Yes I did! With a special medicine that is reserved for emergencies that I created myself!”

“I see... and were you the one who knocked me from the tree above us?”

Majpi suddenly fell silent as her large eyes darted away from Chrys. “I don't know what you mean...” she muttered quietly.

“You do know what I mean,” he snapped at her. “What were you trying to do, progeny?”

“N-nothing! Actually, I should be asking what were you trying to do up there!?”

“Sleeping.” He gave a brief chuckle from the look of surprise on her face. “Don't tell me you don't sleep on tree branches.”

“Y-yes I do! I was planning to sleep on that tree myself, actually!”

That was such an obvious lie, that even a newborn sapling could see through that. “Really? With those wings on your back?”

The progeny dropped the object from her hand to poke the sylvari's nose. “Got a problem with them, plant boy?”

Chrys would have liked to grab this child and punt her into the nearest river, but he wasn't in the mood, nor physically able to do anything so drastic, yet. “I'd like that you keep your pointy little hand to yourself, child,” he said as he pushed her back. “I wasn't saying that your wings are horrible, but rather that they seem rather uncomfortable to sleep in. Aren't they one of those fashion accessories people like to wear?”

Majpi paused as she backed away while gently grooming her wings. “Oh, um... Well, if I do that, then it will hurt a lot. And I mean like, a lot. I mean, I worked hard on putting them on there, and I'd rather keep them there, if you know what I mean.”

It took him a moment to understand what she'd implied and nodded firmly in response. “Can you even use them?”

Majpi let go of her wings to pick up the object she dropped and resumed fiddling with it. “Why yes, I can. They are super helpful in getting around certain areas. I highly recommend getting a pair of your own, plant boy.”

“It's Chrys, thank you, and I'd rather not.” An unpleasant memory stirred from the depths of the sylvari's memory, making him rub his heavily scarred arm that didn't grow out right since the incident.

“Well, it's not for everyone, I guess,” she shrugged. “Anyway, what are you going to do now, plan- Er... I mean, Chrys.”

Chrys shrugged before he laid on the makeshift bed. “I will think about that once I get some more sleep.”

“What?! Sleeping already?! You just woke up!”

“And I'm tired.” He let out a snort. “Now if you don't mind, please leave me alone.”

“No, I won't!”

“If you don't stop bothering me, I will make you suffer. Don’t you understand, child?”

A haughty chuckle escaped from the progeny. “You won't!”

“Oh, yes I will,” he growled. “Now leave.”

“No, I-” Majpi quickly jumped away from Chrys as he attempted to grab her, and stuck out her tongue. The sylvari groaned as he got up from the bed while reaching for his dagger, but realized he didn't have it on his person anymore. In fact, he didn't have any of his weapons.

“What- where-...?”

“Don't you worry about where your belongings are, plant boy. They are safe.”

Chrys stared her down, but she wasn't the least bit intimidated. In fact, Majpi seemed amused. “Listen, why don't we make a deal, okay? You see, I got a lot of questions about you, plant boy, and you got answers, and with every answer you give me, I can give you one of your belongings in return.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What would happen if I don't answer your questions, and instead shake you up until you tell me where my weapons are?”

She let out a laugh. “I hid your stuff well, to a place only I know! Besides, I know you sylvari – you wouldn't hurt a fly unless you believe it's to be fated.”

Chrys frowned from those words. “You see me as an ordinary dreamer... Amusing... but...” He paused to take a moment to think. “Okay, fine... Let's play this game of yours, child. I also promise that I won't lie to you.”

“Oh? That won't give you any bonuses you know.”

“That's fine by me. So, tell me what's on your mind, Majpi.”

#a gw2 fanfic #oc stuff #thanks again shadow.#it was fun!#i enjoyed annoying chrys like this.#hehe.

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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My Wild Heart Bleeds || Morgan, Adam, Blanche, Margot, & Constance

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: UMWC Humanities Dept

PARTIES: @walker-journal, @harlowhaunted, @g0t-ri5h, @constancecunningham, @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Constance sits in on Morgan’s lit seminar.

CONTAINS: Mild gore, death tw

The afternoon section of Fear and Loathing: Western Literature of Speculation was crammed into a corner seminar room designed for intimate grad-level meetings half the size, baked into the side of the building through its set of large windows like a hothouse. Even with zombie strength, they wouldn’t slide up more than an inch to let in the cooling September air. Morgan smiled brightly at her students, as if enthusiasm alone could make the central air in the building work double time for them. “I really like the place you’re coming from with that point! Do you think it’s fair and accurate for me to rephrase your thought as, ‘the debate between Carmilla and Laura’s father in the dinner scene ends formally unresolved, with Carmilla having the last word, positioning her as a possible victor in the exchange, a position which then renders credibility to her reasonable points and, by extension, to her own perspective and humanity?’” Morgan nodded encouragingly at the girl, Maxine. Her rephrasing was a bit of a generous take on her thought, but not completely unfounded.

“Uh...sure?” Maxine replied.

“Amazing! So, going off of Maxine’s thought, what possibilities open up for us when considering the figure of Carmilla? And, does recognizing the humanity behind her perspective complicate the more critical, even predatory ways of viewing her we discussed on Monday?”

The class trudged on in spite of the heat, fixated on passing through each moment that brought them closer to the end of the seminar. Around and behind them, the windows blazed with light. A fissure down the centermost panel glared like liquid metal as it spidered outward, spreading crooked fingers as far as they could reach, as if it meant to rip itself free, seemingly of its own accord.

The refulgent heat made Adam even less inclined to engage with class then was usual for someone who’d entered higher academia mainly to play football and have somewhere to stay while stabbing monsters to death after practice. Thus Adam had chosen his curriculum purely on the basis of what made it easier to flirt with his adamic advisor or what sounded vaguely tangential to his higher purpose of putting bullets in horror movie rejects.

What was literature of speculation? Who knows? Adam, Terry, and Andros had privately speculated on Professor Beck’s ‘assets’ at various points. Thus Adam figured they’d satisfied the syllabus requirements.

The DIE fellows were sweating in the back of the class and praying for death whenever one of their more enthusiastic classmate decided to ‘try hard’ on this Gothic Lesbian stuff.

She just wanted to go home, but Blanche had to rush to work after class to help Mercy on some assignment - which probably meant she was going to be stuck on photography stake-out duty again. At least her car had working air conditioning. She was technically a nerd (Blanche had really done the reading), but it was too hot to really do anything comfortably - even listening to Morgan talk about Carmilla and humanity and thinking deeply.

Blanche went rigid in her seat the second she felt the presence, her colored pen dropping down onto her notebook. She wouldn't have been overly concerned (she felt ghosts pass through campus all the time), but her conversation with Morgan after she warded up her house meant trouble or worse. As calmly as Blanche could manage, she tuned the lecture out as she sat back in her chair, quietly scanning the room with narrowed eyes as the temperature in the room plummeted. Fuck. Fuck. She swiveled around her seat, looking straight over the DIE boys and Adam’s head and straight into the ghosts’ angry eyes.

Oh fuck.

The color drained from her face as Blanche’s hand immediately shot into the air as she almost flew out of her seat. “Morgan-I-Have-A-Really-Important-Question!” Blanche blurted out immediately.

Margot had all but fallen asleep in the sweltering heat of the classroom. It didn’t help that she’d been up half the night, awoken by her recurring night terror. Her mind was so tired. Still, Morgan was trying her best to be an engaging professor, to lead the class discussion in a formative direction. It was a pity Margot wasn’t interested in the class. She would Google the SparkNotes later.

Her eyes were just now closing, lulled by the dulcet tones of Morgan’s voice. It reminded her of a lullaby one of her nannies used to sing. So -- soothing… Sleepy...

Interrupted, jolted awake by the student behind her, knocking Margot’s seat as she stood up and began shouting for attention. Margot turned to give Blanche a hard stare, the girl flapping her hand back and forth. How rude.

Morgan was teasing out a comment from another student. Everyone was melting in their seats in the worst way but they were so close to stumbling upon the paradoxical existence of Carmilla’s complex humanity and the inhuman treatment she received in the narrative’s third act, the fear behind that swerve--- and then Blanche interrupted. “Uh...yes, Blanche?” This wasn’t usually her way, and neither was the two-notches-away-from-full-panic expression. “Go ahead. Unless the question is about excusing yourself because you’re not feeling well, because you can just...go, in that case.”

Behind them, the window’s spider veins multiplied. The glass trembled in its pain, whimpering under the pressure of Constance’s grip. What had she expected when she drifted up to the campus, looking for signs of the woman? And yet, what could have prepared her for how blindingly smug she looked as she lectured her students? How shameless and bitterly ironic, to speak on humanity, on true feeling and justice? Constance barely noticed the blonde girl look at her. Her gaze was steadfast on Morgan, who sported neither a scratch nor an ounce of regret. Constance focused her energy on the glass, wispy tears running down her face. It wasn’t fair. If she didn’t get to have her life, she shouldn’t have to watch a Bachman run amok with theirs either. With a shriek, she burst the window inward, hailing glass down on the whole class.

Morgan ducked to cover her face gave Blanche a look that said, Oh, is that what you meant?

Adam’s eyes had flicked up when Blanche’s body language had changed, gaze scanning the room for anything new before settling back on her face. Adam was well aware that Blanche could perceive things he couldn’t. Just as Adam constantly felt waves of ice-hot inhumanity rippling off Professor Beck whenever he was in the same room as her, so too could Blanche be a sexier and less creepy version of that 6th Sense kid.

Honestly Adam couldn’t tell if Blanche just was having a paranormal activity moment or was just nerdgasming about a vampy lesbian flick with a depressing lack of sex scenes. Blanche ticked off Miss Narcolepsy over there and for a few seconds Adam, Terry, and Andros sat up in mutual of some awesome cat-fight action.

Then in one shitfuck moment glass was falling down and lots of people were doing the duck and panic thing.

If this was a roomful of Hunter kids here, all Adam would have had to do was designate the extraction point at the nearest Safe Space and watch as everyone fell into a coordinated boot camp pace outta here.

Still he wasn’t sure if this was some structural thing, ghost stuff, or someone just popped some X-man powers from a Victorian sexual awakening. “Yo Harlow,” Adam said across the room as he tried to shake glass shards from his hair. “Got any Caspers?”

Blanche had just grimaced at Margot when screams echoed from the surrounding students as glass scattered over the class. Pure driven panic flew through her, and she froze until she heard Adam yell out to her. Caspers. A much less important part of her mind screamed at talking about ghosts in public, but it was enough to check her back into reality

“Adam, she’s after Morgan!!” Blanche swore, clamping her hand over her ears as Constance let out another anguished scream. Fuck, that was disorienting. Students continued to panic, some running out the door as fast as they could as lights overheard started flickering and then exploding, the temperature dropping to a cool chill. Desks started flying towards their beloved professor, crashing against the whiteboard behind them.

“Fuck, my bag, where’s my bag?” It had just been right next to her.

The panicking students had punted her bag - full of salt, iron rods, an iron dagger, a gun, and wards- away from her and she was trying to strong arm her way through to get to Morgan. Some poor student went flying as a chair was ripped from under him, a crunch of metal as the chair bent and snapped before their eyes. Blanche shoved someone out of her way, rushing toward the front of the room.

“Morgan, no!”

The sharp end of the now broken leg of the chair was rammed straight into Morgan’s stomach, pinning her to the whiteboard behind her. And then all hell broke loose.

Margot covered her head with her hands as glass sprayed across the room. She could feel the shallow cuts on her forearms where shards had spliced her skin, but the pain was an afterthought. Were her eyes deceiving her? Margot couldn’t fathom the chaos that was taking place. Flying desks, shattering windows; were they experiencing some kind of tornado?

While other students fled the room, Margot was frozen in place, watching as her professor was impaled by an invisible force and Blanche was shouting about her stupid bag. What purse was so important at this moment? “What the fuck is going on?!” Margot screamed over the chaos.

None of this was real. She had surely just fallen asleep in class. Yes, this was all some part of her twisted nightmares. “This is a dream.” Margot whispered to herself. “You’re about to wake up.” She repeated this mantra as she pinched herself. Only she wasn’t waking up.

The world shattered around Morgan. Sharp edges and razor points pinwheeled toward her face, too fast for her to catch her horrified reflection spliced through each piece. The fog around her senses parted; Morgan swore later that she felt every groove in the wood grain as it raced through her body, heavier and slower than the pole that had killed her, but no less painful. “Fuck you…” She hissed in a whisper, her lungs wheezing as they remembered the blood rushing through them, the bite of concrete at her back, and the numb feeling of death in her mouth.

Constance screamed again as she drove the chair leg harder into the wall. “Stop! What’s wrong with you? Just stop! Stop and die!” The old overhead lights buzzed anxiously. Sparks burst and showered down on the class. Children. She hadn’t even been thinking about the children. Constance drifted back, staring with wild confusion as students phased in and out of her, neither seeing nor caring, much less understanding… What was she becoming? Constance reached out for a small one, squeezing himself under a chair as tightly as he could. “I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s her. She’s making me do this, she can’t leave me alone!” The chair flew back against the wall and snapped in two.

Morgan’s body trembled, trying to fix itself and coming up against the chair leg in her chest. She gripped it with both hands and pulled, gasping as it inched out, dripping with dark, tar like blood. Her eyes found Margot’s as she struggled. “This. Is. Real,” she said between gasps. “Help Blanche or get out of here.”

Adam was a normally laid back guy, preferring to let non-monster life just proceed at its own pace. But he’d been conditioned to respond when the spooky side reared its head. He hollered to Terry, and Andros to get people out. Luckily instincts from the football field asserted themselves and the two other DIE started ushering students off.

Adam’s backpack would probably be a national security concern and unfortunately most of the stuff in here could only harm physical threats. But nevertheless Adam withdrew a long cruel length of barbed wire that’d done more then its fair share of strangling and trip-wire duty lately. The cold iron glinted beneath spots of rust and dried blood.

Technically it was a weapon against Fae, but iron was iron.

Adam could trust Blanche to do her ghostbusters stuff, while he could only help those he could see. He vaulted over twisted chairs as if they were track hurdles, trying to navigate a room quickly becoming a telekinetic warzone. Adam knelt beside Morgan, spooling out the suspiciously-stained barbed wire in a circle around them both.

“Oh you’re still alive Prof ….cool, uh just a sec.”

She’s making me do this, she can’t leave me alone. For a single moment, Blanche could almost understand Morgan inherently wanting to destroy Constance’s soul. There was no time, however, to dwell on Constance’s blatant hypocrisy woven in her rationalization of endangering a room full of people. She ducked under pieces of flying debris as Adam launched himself at Morgan. Blanche, already in a poor mood, wondered only briefly if she should be concerned about Adam killing Morgan for her obvious inhuman nature of surviving being impaled - would Morgan be necessary to kill for humanity?? - but decided that the only thing she could do right now was trust him, even through the underlying anger.

Constance launched herself at Adam and Morgan, her infuriated scream echoing in Blanche’s ears as she realized she couldn’t pass the invisible wall the iron circle created. Blanche wasn’t thinking clearly as she frantically searched for her bag, head whipping around for the stupid thing. Before she knew it, though, she was throwing herself in front of Adam and Morgan just as a large piece of desk ripped from the floor and was thrown at them.

Blanche’s hands raised out in front of her and there was a loud crash.

She hardly registered the pain, she was used to it. Honestly, she was more thrown off by the large broken window in the back of the classroom the desk had flown out of. Whoops, maybe she had given that a little too much juice. The desk had sailed away from the three in front, going straight through Constance and crashing through the window. Screaming was erupting from the remaining students in the classroom.

“Please, get my bag!” Blanche snapped at Margot, breathing heavily. “It’s pink and white and it has things that can stop this. Now! I’ll try to stop her from doing any more damage to anyone else but I can only play ping pong for so long before I pass out!”

Despite Morgan’s words Margot couldn’t make herself believe this was reality. The black strands of blood that oozed from the professor’s wounds were enough to convince herself this was some kind of fever, probably the result of a concussion or even blood loss from her shallow wounds. Nonetheless Margot felt some kind of control, different than how her nightmares usually felt.

Margot watched as one of the remaining students, she thought his name was Adam, bound over the anarchy that had taken over the classroom, before surrounding himself and Morgan in some kind of strange, ritualistic circle. Wow, her brain was so very good at conjuring things up, it had even given Blanche some Carrie-esque superpowers. Doing as Morgan had instructed, Margot turned to Blanche who was in the midst of quite the battle.

“Okay, okay! I can do that!” Margot yelled back to Blanche’s request. Pink and white, pink and white. She repeated the description to herself as she searched. Margot dodged the multitude of flying furniture as her eyes scanned the classroom floor for the bag. Margot thought back to where they had been sitting before all of this had started up. She looked in this direction, spotting the bag. Margot scrambled towards it on all fours, her palms and knees burning as she did so. “Blanche! I got it!” Just as her left hand clasped the object, she heard a deep crunch. A large overhead light had fallen, or rather, had been dropped onto her wrist by an unseen force. Margot could feel a shattering in her bones and glass in her skin. She cried out. For a dream, this pain felt so very real. She reached out with her other hand, taking hold of the bag. Margot shook the heavy light fixture off of her and cradled the injury. “Here.” She whimpered, holding it up as high as she could manage, the splinters and glass digging in deeper.

Morgan tugged on the chair leg in her chest. She could imagine how it splintered around her body and all the screaming she would’ve been doing if she’d still had a life to lose. Should she scream now? Would it make anything any better if she made a big ol’ holler and begged for someone to make this stop? Would any of this be any less ridiculous? Morgan started to laugh. It was a deathly, wheezing little rattle at first, but as the chair leg popped free and she fell into her student, it grew stronger. “Well that was weird and random and lucky, right?” She said to Adam. The classroom was still flying in chaos. Half the students had made it out but half a dozen remained, most of them cowering in corners or frozen in shock. “Class dismissed!” She called chucking the chair leg at Constance. It sailed through her and clattered against the wall, bopping Maxine on the head. “Apologies! But, seriously, go!” What else was there to do? There was some very gnarly looking wire around her and Adam that looked suspiciously purposeful. She gave him a sidelong look, brow arched in a silent question as she knelt down and reached outside it for her bag. “Can you see what’s going on?” She asked, running her hand through, but finding everything but what she was looking for. She undid all the zippers and flaps and started to dump the contents on the ground. “Don’t see many frat boys carrying this in their backpack. I’m not sure if that’s technically allowed on campus…” But anxious blabbering wasn’t actually making anything better. She needed to find-- her salt! “Perfect.” Morgan opened the velvet pouch and heaved the contents across the floor. The salt pattered the ground like rain. It spread thin, rolling wide across the dusty tile. Constance flew up to one of the chairs still standing, unharmed. She clenched her fists as she took in the double barrier between her and her ‘prize.’ “Sorry to keep disappointing you,” Morgan sneered, her eyes drifting downwards at her failed ploy. The feeling was mutual.

Adam had known Morgan was an inhuman since first being in class with her and feeling the frigid fire sensation her proximity set off all through his body. But though Adam had been born with the clairvoyant ability to sense all supernatural creatures, well those with physical bodies anyway, his Hunter vibes weren’t as specific as those who’d undergone more specific mutation. Morgan could have just been the world’s biggest pixie for all he knew.

But since the prof was taking this whole impalement thing like a champ, Adam was placing his bets on one of the undead. Since he’d seen her during the day without wickerman shit going down, the Hunter was going to very tentatively put his money on his gothic lit teacher being a zombie.

Was Morgan Beck actually a two hundred and twenty something year old Mary Shelly moonlighting as a Texan? Time would tell.

Morgan asked some rather uncharitable questions of why a gentleman was carrying bloodstained barbed wire in his bag and if he could see anything. “Trying to keep cows outta the keggers,” he explained cheekily before turning to survey the madness going on. He wanted to help Blanche and not just chill in this iron circle, but the simple fact was: “Can’t see anything except shit flying everywhere and Harlow doing some cheer squad poses.”

“Morgan! Adam! Stay in the circle!” Blanche yelled frantically. Playing telekinetic interference was harder than she thought, and she didn't want them to get hurt chucking trying to chuck salt. Out of frustration, Constancee stopped aiming at Adam and Morgan and aimed at Blanche herself, seeing it faster to go through her. Debris was building up as Blanche redirected things to slam into the walls, Constance howling in rage at her failures.

Finally, Margot yelled to her, and Blanche heard the best news of the day. Unfortunately, Constance wasn’t deaf. “No! Fuck -” She saw the light fall, and feared the worst - but Margot was okay, for now, holding her bag high enough for all to see. “Margot, run! Or take cover!!” Blanche reached out her hand, and her bag flew through the air. Constance tried to rip it down away from Blanche, causing salt and books and a small dagger to go clattering to the ground. Blanche tugged back, the pain in her head excruciating as she gave one hard mental yank, and it flew back into her. Blanche wasted no time; she finally grasped her iron rod tightly, throwing her bag to the side. Constance threw things, trying to knock her off balance to get her away or worse. There was no use. Blanche ducked or threw them away herself before she was close enough to --

“This doesn’t concern you! Run like the others, why don’t you! Run, before I--”

Blanche cut Constance off with a hard swing of the iron rod. She dissolved with one last scream, and the presence faded away quickly. Blanche felt like her skin was on fire, but the tiny pin pricks in her skin were gone. They were alone. It was over. She looked back to where Adam and Morgan were, their figures blurring as the rod slipped from her hand. “She’s gone. It’s safe.” Blanche’s knees buckled underneath her and she collapsed, utterly exhausted. “Call 9-1-1, Margot’s hurt.” Blanche called quietly. She laid backward, unable to keep herself upright as she closed her eyes tight and sank into darkness. Time to rest.

The bag flew from her grasp, and at Blanche’s order, Margot reduced her form to a fetal position, not knowing if she could make it to the exit. She covered her head and drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind forgetting, or rather, repressing the memory of what had just occurred.

Margot was awoken by Constance’s piercing scream, her ears continuing to ring from the sound for minutes afterwards, but at least she was back to the real world. Finally she was out of the strange scenario her brain had conjured up after the tornado, or hurricane, or whatever it was.

She began to stand, holding her head. “I’m okay. I’m fine!” Margot assured Blanche and the rest of them, though her body was throbbing. “Blanche?” Margot could see the girl’s crumbled frame on the ground. “Blanche!” Margot ran to her and kneeled beside her. She brought her head to Blanche’s chest and heard the slow thumping of her heart. At least she was alive. Margot took Blanche’s hand, not knowing how else to be useful. “Professor, are you okay?” She looked back at Morgan and Adam.

It never felt like it was over, with Constance. Morgan stayed still, trembling and on high alert. It wasn’t until Blanche’s body slipped to the ground with a thud that she snapped back into step with the rest of the world. All the wrecked furniture leapt out at her eyes, super saturated with violence, confounding her sense of space with their jutting wrong angles, dusty debris, and bloody ends… blood…

“I-I’m fine,” Morgan stammered, stepping over Adam’s wire ring. “Who all is still in here? Adam, you’re good, right? Margot--” She stumbled over to the girl, looking at the mess of her wrist. “You’re gonna need to get to student health, or the hospital. But you’ve in one piece, and you’re gonna be okay!” She squeezed the girl’s shoulder, nodding encouragingly. If it wasn’t for the dark stain of dead blood on her cardigan, you wouldn’t have known she’d been run through and stuck to the wall only minutes ago. “Blanche--” she sighed, shrugged, and stepped over the girl. She would be okay. Morgan could carry her out to her car and get her squared up in her own apartment easy. “Carlos!” She gave the boy a sharp look.

He was grinning sheepishly, scrunched up in the corner, as if it would make him any smaller than his six feet two inches. “Sorry. It just seemed, like, better to try to be invisible? But I’m going now. I’m--”

Carlos paled and bent double as he vomited cheetos, acid, and clear fluid on the floor.

Morgan followed his line of vision and found-- “Shit, Maxine! Maxine?” She pushed the rest of the classroom furniture aside and knelt down to where she lay on the floor. There was a deep gash in her head, soaking her sandy brown hair black. Her eyelid hung down the wrong way and there was some kind of matter sticking up through her hair. Morgan’s stomach clenched. She didn’t dare touch her like this. There was no telling how few barriers there were between her brain and Morgan now, or if there was any tender, fresh-peeled skin she’d crave taking a bite of-- Maxine had been quiet, depressed, wry humored, blunt when you could get her to open up. She really wasn’t good at explicating literature into coherent theory, but she was young and soft and struggling, and now she was nothing. “Carlos--” she said, voice shaking. “Please leave. All of you…” She turned around and collected Blanche off the floor and into her arms. “Grab your stuff, or don’t, but we’re not staying here. It’s not safe.” It was starting to seem like nowhere was.

“I’m alright Professor,” Adam quietly gathered both his and Blanche’s occult paraphernalia while the Medium was being attended to by Morgan. Though salt, iron, and other instruments were unlikely to arouse that much suspicion, it didn’t make sense to take any chances in this town. He packed up his backpack and Blanche’s bag and slung them as a shoulder as the room was vacated.

But though Adam pretended to be wholly engrossed in packing and ushering the vomiting remaining students out the door, the Hunter kept an eye on Professor Beck. If Morgan was what Adam thought she was, or some other rarer variety of undead, then she’d have to be closely observed when around the wounded students.

If she slipped up? Well with those gnarly injuries it’d be pretty plausible that a beloved literature professor perished in the hospital complication. There’d be a whole weepy story in the student paper and everything.

With Blanche safely cradled in Morgan’s arms, Margot let go of the girl's hand. She sensed that Blanche was in safe hands with the professor. As everyone began to exit, Margot took a second to gather herself. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but she was not in any mood to find out right now. Using her one good arm, she hoisted her backpack over her shoulder. There was no way she was leaving her laptop behind. How else was she going to figure all of this out?

The room was empty now, the rest of the class being ushered out by Morgan and Adam. Margot stood in the doorway for a few moments, admiring the destruction, before following the rest of the group out into the hall and presumably to the hospital.

Constance screamed silently, reaching within her soul for something to sew herself back together again. The world broke into starlight flashes, too bright and formless to mean anything. Her mind blazed. Was she dying again? Was she going back to the purgatory before this new world? To hell? She wondered the same every time she was struck and dissipated. The magic of death was strange to her and she did not know when it would be ripped away as suddenly as it had been ripped into her. When the winds of fear that had scattered her to the wilds fell and the world was still once more, she could see the room where she had shattered it, and within, puddles of salt laid to tell her how much she did not belong and was not wanted, as if she did not spend her existence with that clarity in abundance. But beyond the salt, and dripping slowly into it, was the darkness of thick blood protruding from the head of a young girl.

Constance flew to the broken classroom walls. She would reach all the way through to the girl if her body would only will itself solid again. But she was only air, and the salt had spilled too close to the wall for her to come through. She spied the dead girl only from a distance, taking in the judgement from her unblinking eyes. What have I done? She thought. What have I done?

You have crushed me, the girl’s body seemed to say. You have proven them right.

If Constance could have wept for them both she would have. What cruelty was this, that she set out to strike down only one soul and take a life as miserable and innocent as her own had once been? She sent the thought away on the wind, lest it destroy her further.

“I will show them,” she whispered to the air. “I will show them all what true monsters are.”

#wr adam #wr blanche #wr margot #wr adam chatzy #wr blanche chatzy #wr margot chatzy #wr chatzy #death tw #wr group chatzy #wickedswriting

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mosaicofdreamsanddragons · 4 years ago

Text

Facing Fears

The chapter two to Born of Denial that just sort of happened. You do have to read the first one to understand what’s going on. It’s here.

And this chapter is also on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074746/chapters/66287293

He almost blew their cover right upon coming into existence. It was just a lot. The suddenness of being able to feel heat and taste dirt in the air had made him want to cry out. But no sound came and as he frantically searched his not-memories for a reason he was called up again, he saw the danger such an action could bring. He’d never thought he’d actually be happy for the minute long wait for speech to catch up with him.

With his creator moving into position for the big finish, he got ready for his part. He picked up the staff and briefly considered his options. He needed to get the Bull Demon King’s attention somehow.

His eyes fell upon the rocks surrounding him. And a memory, his own not his creators, slipped in to his mind.

The new weapon had broken. At this point, he’d been actively planning for that to happen. Weapon down: time to give one last half-hearted try and wait for Mr. Tang to pull him out. Mei was down, as usual, but Sandy was still fighting his way through the bull demon minions and wasn’t yet at her side. And…and he wasn’t going to make it.

The bull demon minions are closing in and no one can get over there. Mr. Tang is with him and they’re even further from Mei then Sandy. There’s no one left.

A rock hits the bull demon minion closest to Mei. It stops and turns around. There, silhouetted in the evening sun stands Pigsy, another rock at the ready. The boy doesn’t even notice as Mr. Tang pulls him away. All he can think about was Pigsy and how…

…he looked like such a hero.

Time to be a hero. He grabbed the rock and threw it at the Demon Bull King. And then said, with the first sentence he said since returning, “Yeah! I got more rocks where that one came from!”

He could barely make out the terrified face of Red Son before a massive hand shoved him to the wall, and his entire vision was consumed by one massive purple face. He was pulled closer to stare into the glowing blue eyes – pretty – of the Demon Bull King while he spoke.

“You have been an utter disappoint. I had hopped you would have learned more of the great Sage’s little tricks.”

He didn’t know.

The demon bull king didn’t know.

It was the first day, after their second loss. Mr. Tang collapsed in front of the monitor and replayed their battle from the footage on Mei’s body cameras and other security tapes. He’d watch and replay and watch and replay, analyzing every second. When that was done he’d expanded his search by playing other footage.

“Well?” said Pigsy. “What have you got?”

“Nothing,” said Mr. Tang. “I can’t find the source of the minions, I can’t find where we went wrong, and I can’t find the Demon Bull King. I just…” he let his hands fall from the monitor, “I just don’t know.” Then he shakes himself, sits up, and starts scrutinizing the footage again.

That night, when the boy tried to dream of monkeys and peaches he instead watches his team get consumed one by one by a glowing blue vaguely bull-shaped figure. Its mouth opens and its laugh is the sounds of Mei’s redials and Mr. Tang’s replays.

The boy stared into the eyes of the source of his nightmares, his nightmares not his originals, and realized he was buying every minute of this. Really was only one thing to say to that, “I don’t know what to tell you dude,” he said striking the coolest pose he could muster with only half of his body.

He felt the hand around him constrict. It hurt, but more importantly he realized he might have egged the demon bull king on too much. His original might not be in position yet. “No wait!” he gasped out before he felt himself vanish.

Oh well. His original would have to make do. As he faded into the original’s consciousness he only wished he could see the look on the demon bull king’s face when he realized he was a clone.

…he was spit back out surrounded by dozens of his fellow clones. And yes, there’s the sudden rush that comes with sudden life, but its overwhelmed by adrenaline and the sight before him. Staring up at him and his brothers, glowing blue eyes wide and purple jaw slack, is the Demon Bull King. The boy couldn’t help but grin at the shocked expression on his, his not his creator’s, enemies face.

He felt elated. Like he could do something. And yeah, as a clone born from denial and repressed fear, he couldn’t do much. But there was a reason he hadn’t let Mei change his outfit.

He’d already been cosplaying a hero.

He grabbed his creator’s hands and used his weight to throw him towards the problem. He knew how exhilarating such a feeling could be.

One second he’d been in front of the demon bull minions, the next he was in the air, staring in shock down at Sandy.

As he arced through the sky all he could think about was how he hadn’t known Sandy could throw him this high or this far. He ended up landing on Mr. Tang but he couldn’t even hear the sarcastic quip as he was shoved into the car, his mind was still filled with the rush of weightlessness and a blue form growing more and more distant.

He bit back the memory of being punted to safety. Instead he focused on the present and the sweet sense of accomplishment that comes from successfully completing a move he’d only seen done to him. He tried to suppress a grin as he let gravity do its work.

It felt good to use that skill for offense.

He fell down with his brothers in a rush of red hairbands and orange jackets. Left and right they poofed out of existence as they gave their one good hit or got smacked by the Bull Demon King’s flaying hands. Still he presses on, throwing everything he’s got into the fight with the reckless abandon that reminds him so much of Mei

Mei fought like this was the first battle. She laughed and grinned and practically bounced in between her strikes. She’s a green whirlwind. Its captivating to watch, even though he knows how this will end.

A flailing hand catches him and he knows he’s not got much time left. But just as he starts to disappear, he catches sight of a glowing blue canister falling to the ground. And he lets himself vanish with a feeling of deep seated relief.

Mei won’t be dialing the same number over and over

Sandy can make tea without fear of running out of teabags.

Mr. Tang won’t be watching the damage they couldn’t prevent on loop.

Pigsy can go back to his store.

They won.

#monkie kid #monkie kid clone #monkie kid MK #Qi xiaotian #demon bull king #Pigsy #Sandy #Monkie kid Mei #long xiaojiao #Mr. Tang #my fic

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save-the-spiral · 5 years ago

Text

Fingerprint of Midas, Trace My Reflection

Dialogue of parent’s crystal and Gortez’ monologue are direct from Pirate101. I based the end fight off of my own experiences solo-ing this dungeon. Warnings for graphic depictions of violence and blood.

(read it on Ao3!)

Darling Alexander Dove was a young captain of just seventeen when he earned what little was left of the legendary Captain Gunn’s treasure. The meager pile atop a volcano was followed by a very contrite Ratbeard. As first adventures go, it was pretty damn good, especially with the freedom he now had to explore the Skull Island Skyways.

Avery gave him another task as a reward- to present a treaty to the Monquistan governor of Puerto Mico, an almost adorably small city of white limestone, full of stuck up little idiots. Alexander was only held back from punting them off their little dollhouse town by Bonnie Anne, his right hand, and a pretty good straight man for his ideas, considering she was a lesbian.

Now, leaving the ancient ruins, and entering the ex-monquistan governor Gortez’ realm, Alexander was excited yet again. His crew followed him as he walked across the village of wild monquistans and rebellious water moles. The thrill of battle was humming in his veins, ready to be set loose, perfect plans coming together and adapting. The exciting conclusion for another adventure.

How would this end? An exciting chase for treasure, for the golden monkey? More volcano battles, more crew mates gained, even if it is to the chagrin of the ever serious and practical Sarah Steele, his fellow Swashbuckler?

Alexander was challenged to fight the greatest warrior of the Valley by the wild monquistan leader, one on one. His crew looked at him funny. Lucky Jack Russel, a friend of his parents’, even offered to take his place, as if he stood a better chance just by raw muscle.

While many other captains would be insulted, Alexander knew what he presented himself as. He was young, barely growing a beard, and rather childish at times. He liked having fun, he liked sparkly, pretty clothes, especially in pink and black, his flag’s colors. He liked to drink his fair share of yum, liked to do daring things, and anyone who looked at him easily assumed he was a vain, vapid idiot. And, to be fair, they weren’t completely wrong.

But Alexander was a swashbuckler, learning from the best of Skull Island. He was the favorite of Avery, and had some of the finest up and coming pirates in his crew. He had a silver tongue, according to Bonnie Anne, even if he always preferred gold aesthetically.

Ordaz was large, sure. The huge warrior held intimidation in spades, throwing around barrels of dynamite as soon as Alexander hid himself from sight. The blinding squeeze of feathers and scales for one moment, and then even in broad daylight no one could spot him. It was easy to wait, watching as Ordaz worked himself up into an exhausting rage.

Then came Alexander's first and final strike, blades held aloft as he kicked off of a barrier of sandbags, knocking the large man down, and keeping him there. The gleaming black void of the warriors eyes, and the pulse he could feel rioting against his blades, reverberating up into his fingers, was invigorating. When the wild monquistan stared at him, startled at the sight of the first human to pass the trial, Alexander just smirked, twirling his shorter blade of the pair, and shrugged.

“Big guy must’ve been tired, it is quite hot out, y’know.” Alexander drawled in his Skull Island accent, plain in comparison to the soft musical rolls of the Monquistans’ speech.

His crew stayed in the small town as he went and got spider eggs, trying to prove himself a provider akin to Gortez in order to please the small taskmaster. This, too, was simple. After all, his cloaking abilities were not limited to battle, and the spiders crawling the area were not exactly attentative to their broods.

He returned easily, nose scrunched as he complained about the spider webs on his boots and stuck in his hair, causing Bonnie Anne to scoff and roll her eyes. He tossed a few extra eggs to Fan Flanders, who grinned a cute froggy smile in thanks for the snack, and gave the rest to the monquistan, eyebrows raised as the little ex-conquistador tried not to act flustered.

“Go into the Cave of Many Voices, and touch the glowing stones. Return to me when you have heard the spirit voices.” He ordered as a final task before finally meeting Gortez.

“Does it matter if my crew joins me this time?” Alexander was getting bored of being alone.

“It shouldn’t” The monkey frowned.

With another cavalier shrug, Alexander led his crew up to a cave entrance. Bonnie Anne and Sarah Steele flanked him, Ratbeard and Subodai behind them, Jack Russel and Fan Flanders trailing. Old Scratch was left on the ship, keeping The Bronze Hunter from being ransacked by cowards who would rather steal than fight for their prize.

The cave was far more spacious than Alexander would have guessed. Smooth, well trodden stone was under their feet, large glowing magenta crystals jutting out of every wall, down from the ceiling as well. A large bouquet of crystals stood out in the middle of the chamber, small offerings of feathers and bananas at the crystals’ base.

“Not exactly my color, but I’ll take it.” Alexander muttered, causing Bonnie Anne to huff and roll her eyes, Sarah and Fan snickering. “Stay back y’all, some amazing spirit listenin’ is about to go on, don’t want anyone caught in the crossfire.”

Bonnie Anne snorted this time. “Yes Captain.” She said, nudging him with an elbow before stepping back, nodding at the rest of the crew to do the same.

Alexander walked up close to the largest crystal, wider than him, scraping the stone ceiling. He saw his own reflection, a slightly stubbly young man, obvious Mooshu features, pierced ears, long black hair. The golden buttons on his coat and boots shone in the light emanating from the crystals, the blades at his hips sending small beams of purple light onto the walls.

He casually took off his gloves, stuffing them on the inside of his jacket pocket. He examined his nails, painted black and slightly chipped, for a moment, before continuing on.

Alexander placed his palms flat against the large crystal, head bowed, and was startled to hear an echoing, familiar voice.

“Son… hear me!” Rang out in the small cavern, feminine, with a hint of a rural Mooshu accent.

When Alexander looked back up, his reflection showed a strange, flickering vision of his mother. Her soft, round cheeks, the crows feet around her eyes, the intricate braid cluttered with small charms from her husband, her crimson tricorne with a deep black feather, all the same as the day she left, seven years ago.

A masculine voice, thick with emotion and a strong Grizzleheim trader’s accent, joined the first voice.

“Find us! Find our grave! We are waiting for you!”

The reflections showed a different person, taller, closer to Alexander’s height, with his nose, and long braided blonde hair, bright, mischievous eyes, now full of sorrow, tears streaking into the bushy beard that Alexander would complain about because of how it itches during hugs. Alexander leaned closer to the crystal, stunned.

“I’d know those voices anywhere.” Jack Russel mutters, not helping at all, just wanting to say something, anything.

“Shining city…” The voices of his parents warbled, echoing strangely again, “El Dorado! The Key to El Dorado! Find us! We are waiting… Go to the-”

The crystals dimmed, the reflections leaving without Alexander noticing- as if they hadn’t been there in the first place- and his hands fell to his sides, cold as ice. His soft features turned harsh, his usually smirking mouth twisting into a sneer, the tan skin of his face wrinkling in the same flash of a moment where his left hand moved, punching at the flat crystalline face of the gem.

“CAPTAIN!” Bonnie Anne dragged him back, her taller frame taking advantage as she yanked him off his now kicking feet, heavy heels digging into her stocking covered shins, before Jack Russel darted in front of Alexander, hands on the young captain’s shoulders.

“Captain. Captain- we have a job to do. You can’t let this stop you, you can’t-”

Alexander continued swearing and snarling, hands curling into fists.

Bonnie Anne stepped back, leaving room as she dropped him on his ass.

“Now is not the time to act like a fucking child, Dove. Don’t start acting like those stupid monquistans and go rogue on us.” Bonnie Anne’s accent sunk into her tirade, and though Alexander had years of experience understanding Bonnie Anne, he really knew he was in deep shit when she called him Dove.

Not Captain, not Alexander, but Dove, the little boy she met on the streets, the brat who couldn’t even hold a knife right.

Alexander stopped, hands scraped and bruised now, his knuckles purple with potential breaks. He carded his right hand through his hair, letting the tie come loose so he could fix it into some semblance of order as he calmed himself.

“Sorry Annie.” Alexander’s voice was hoarse now.

Bonnie Anne motioned the rest of the crew out of the cave, kneeling down and leaning on the sturdy Scaramanga musket Alexander fetched for her months ago, the black walnut, dark steel, and gold bands all gleaming with her meticulous weapon maintenance. Her pointed face of russet and white fur faced him, dark and clever eyes piercing him to the bone as always.

“It’s been years since you’ve lost it like that, Alexander.” Bonnie’s matter-of-fact tone cut him down even more.

“It’s also been years since I’ve heard my parents’ voices, Bonnie Anne.”

“I know better than anyone else, but Alexander, you can’t just break down like that. Not while we’re in the middle of a mission, especially not if lives are on the line. Imagine if that happened mid-battle, if you couldn’t direct us? The thing that separates us from every other amateur crew is direction is you, and your brilliant mind.” She poked his temple, careful of her short claws, and then held his hands. “You lead us, Alexander. You aren’t just an orphan street rat, not anymore, and I'm not either. We will find your parents. We’ll figure out this whole El Dorado thing, but not today. Today we bring Gortez to Puerto Mico, whether he wants to go or not.”

Alexander nodded, and roughly dragged on his pink gloves.

“There’s my captain.” Bonnie Anne grinned, small, sharp teeth on display, and Alexander hyped himself up internally, until he could smirk just like always.

“Onward, Right Hand Bonnie Anne.” He finally said, his Rs rough, enunciated like a proper pirate.

“Aye aye, Captain Alexander.” She stood, offering a hand, which he grabbed, letting her pull him back onto his feet.

They shared a nod, a resolve, and continued on. No one else in the crew spoke as they walked back to the monquistan giving the trials. The pair of Monquistans at the gate simply looked at Alexander and opened the gate, not even having to speak a word. The gate, a simple construction of reeds and long grass, whistled faintly as it opened, an ominous, low tone.

Fan, Jack Russel, and Subodai rested at the foot of the stairs, following Alexander’s earlier laid plans. A four person battle, just Alexander, Sarah, Bonnie Anne, and Ratbeard.

The gold of the temple’s head shone in the sunlight, clean and resplendent against dirtied, carved stone. Vines played at being tripwires, cracked steps and damp moss added to the hazards as they climbed ever upwards, stopping only once they reached the top, staring deep into the shadowed entrance, shielded now from the hot jungle sun.

It was no wonder this island drove these men mad, Alexander thought.

The jungle breathed humidity into your lungs as if you had just been saved from drowning. The bugs chittered and watched for weakness like vultures. The flowers were sickly sweet with death, be it a poison of touch, fragrance, or taste. The indigenous to this land were rightfully angry, knowing the island better than any conquistador. The Isle of Doom was a frightful place, it stared at you from every shadow and when it struck it was with an inhuman intelligence.

Alexander led the way into Gortez’ home, hands at his hips, fingers twitching with the urge to clutch his blades like a child would a teddy bear.

The dim lighting was annoying, and made it harder to get a proper layout of the large chamber. Alexander squinted and adjusted his tricorne hat, his gaze caught by the large figure in the room. The Gorilla was draped in pieces of Monquistan finery and armor, as well as painted with abstract yellow lines in his dark fur.

“Gortez, I take it?” Alexander called out, only to be ignored. That sent a sharp blade of anger through his mind, but he still smiled. After all, those who ignored Darling Alexander Dove one day learn to regret it.

“You’re here. Are you an assassin? No. I’ll tell you what you are. You’re an organ grinder, sent by circus clowns, to make me do a dance. I refuse.” Gortez’ deep timbre rumbled around the spacious room, from his roost atop a pedestal, lounging on a pile of treasure. The gorilla shifted, before speaking again.

“Those simpering fools at home, those tamed lapdogs- they’ve no right to judge me. They have no idea what I’ve found here. They’d refuse to see it. Look around you. The creatures that built these temples shattered mountains to raise their perfect pyramids. They drew gold down from the stars. They lived like Titans, and now they’re gone. But the trees remain. The jungle beat them- it will destroy us all, unless we become one with it.”

Gortez leaned forward, as if he were a mere inch away and not meters of distance, as well as a throne. His golden attire gleamed in the light, his form basking in the sun from the skylight above him. Already Alexander’s mind whirled with possibilities as Gortez continued his dramatics.

“The trees spoke to me and showed me the way. When I saw this place, shining gold burning like fire, I knew who I was. I found the Gold Monkey.” Gortez smiled now, tusklike teeth spreading his face unnaturally wide, unsettling, by how Bonnie Anne and Sarah both grumbled behind Alexander.

“The fools in Puerto Mico think the Gold Monkey is another priceless toy for them to steal. They are wrong- the Gold Monkey is me!” The wild man began to work himself up into a fervor, eyes shining with a feral intelligence, his smile ever widening. “They want to stop me- but they are too good to make the trip themselves. Cowards! I will send them an answer- your broken bones! Children!”

At his last, sharp bark of words, more small Monquistans came to attention, prepared for battle.

Alexander led his small crew to the front left corner as he moved away from the entrance, mind racing as the battle began a. He used a skill his trainer taught him, crossing his blades, readying himself to take a shot if it was intended for his allies. Sarah, as he always planned, cloaked herself in the shadows. Ratbeard moved forward, putting himself between the small group of Monquistans and the crew. Bonnie Anne loaded a round into her musket, growling faintly.

As Gortez watched on, like an Aquilan emperor of old at a gladiator game, Ratbeard yelled, swarmed by Gortez’ ‘children’.

“You bleedin’ coward! Gonna stay up on your throne?!” His gruff voice echoed, as well as a grunt of pain as he took another shot from the small crossbow carrying monkeys.

“The mechanisms-” Bonnie Anne started.

“-Like the troggie temple.” Alexander nodded, then cloaked himself in shadows, directing Sarah to the back left mechanism, Ratbeard to the one right of the door, and Bonnie Anne to the one in their starting corner, as he cloaked himself to sneak around the tall pedestal, to take the farthest carved totem.

Bonnie Anne backed up from the fray, taking a potshot at one of the small spearmen before using the butt of her Scaramanga to jolt the mechanism, making it spin and clunk.

Sarah Steele raced under the cover of her shadows, hugging the wall, and when she reached the mechanism she sheathed her swords for a moment, turning her back and pushing with her shoulder until she too heard a satisfying clunk.

Alexander took longer getting to his place, constantly turning to look at the others, to ensure their safety. However, he too got to his mechanism, and he kicked it viciously, only to turn around at yet another cry of pain from Ratbeard.

Ratbeard pushed through the small crowd of Monquistans, kicking and cursing them and slashing with his large sword, pulling no punches for the annoying buggers. His rough slash sent his own mechanism clunking into place, but as he turned to fight again, the gang of monkeys began to overwhelm him.

Alexander gestured Ratbeard towards him, frantically preparing a small healing spell, from his privateer-made amulet, stolen from the Maria Celestia, a ghost infested ship, months ago.

The mechanisms finally clicked and aligned, all of them revealing carved statues carrying reflective plates. The reflection sent beams of harsh sunlight towards Gortez, burning him with the intensity, causing him to finally move with the pain of it all.

Gortez himself jumped from his mighty throne, down to fight alongside his children. His large one-handed battleaxe sliced deadly arcs through the air, with all the grace of a prima ballerina. He was still trained from childhood to become a conqueror and murderer, and will never forget those lessons, paid in blood thousandfold. His massive, muscled body rippled with his rage as he pounded his chest, directing his rage towards those closest to him, the now gathered Sarah Steele and Bonnie Anne standing strong next to each other.

“I trained my warriors to set villages on fire, but the Bishops won’t let them throw bananas because it is unseemly!” Gortez roared, living to his reputation of a warrior poet once again.

As Gortez made yet another journey where the path would only be eased with the viscera of his enemies, Alexander tried to get within range of Ratbeard, to heal him. But he was far too late, and Ratbeard passed out at his feet, unconscious from multiple wounds, which turned the remaining children of Gortez’ anger to Alexander.

With a helpless shrug, Alexander hopped over a majority of the Monquistans, to their impotent rage. As he neared Gortez and his remaining crew members, he watched the gorilla fight back, and was astounded.

Gortez was a large man, but moved easily, slamming the flat side of his axe into Bonnie Anne’s chest, pushing her back, before turning to Sarah Steele, and slashing at her until she fell down, unconscious.</p>

<p>With a growl, Bonnie Anne shot Gortez point blank, the sparks of her musket blinding him, allowing Alexander to sneak behind him. As Gortez turned towards the new sound he swung, hitting Alexander and causing many of his golden buttons to go flying to the stone floor as the axe cleaved from side to side. In return, Alexander stabbed him in the belly, flipping off of the mountain of a man before stabbing him with both blades yet again, blood flying and painting his pink coat red as he raked downwards, fur and skin flying until he hit the floor again, and kicked off of the gorilla, leaving his monkey children to tend to him now that the battle was decidedly won.

Bonnie Anne supported Ratbeard on her shoulder, and Alexander helped Sarah Steele, with her much more lithe and lighter body. A musketeer used to carrying a mini cannon is much better suited to carrying Ratbeard, rather than Alexander’s much more acrobatic trained muscles.

Gortez stood near the entrance, woozy and leaning against it. “Do not take my children- just me. You only wish to bring me to justice, right?”

Alexander nodded, still scowling.

One of the feather adorned Monquistans approached him, his crossbow unstrung and on his back now.

“Let me join your crew, captain. I will prove helpful, and my loyalty is undying.”

“Let’s not hope so, we do have a witchdoctor in our numbers.” Bonnie Anne’s snout wrinkled with the thought of an undead monkey, and the smell accompanying that.

“You’re on the crew.” Alexander said curtly, Sarah Steele coming to, and slowly standing on her own at his side. “But, little man, if you ever betray my crew, I will make this jungle seem like a haven of mercy.”

The crazed Monquistan nodded, eyes reverent, still glazed with something, either a true malady of the mind, or a hallucinogenic substance, like Alexander privately hypothesized, to Bonnie Anne's never ending amusement.

“Welcome to the crew of the Darling Captain Alexander Dove, Monquistan.” Bonnie Anne said, smiling now. “You’re in for a wild ride.”

#Pirate101 #Pitty101 #P101 #my ocs #Writing #Darling Alexander Dove #Bonnie Anne Pirate101 #Fan Flanders Pirate101 #Sarah Steele Pirate101 #ratbeard pirate101 #Lucky Jack Russel Pirate101 #Gortez Pirate101 #my oc #oc #Subodai Pirate101

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tightropenuzlocke · 4 years ago

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Chapter Seven: This Is My Palace

They headed northwest up Route 6 the next day instead of continuing down Route 5, which meant Serena had lost not one, but two consecutive arguments—a miracle in and of itself. So instead of heading directly to Yantreizh or Relifac-le-Haut, they were detouring to Palais Chaydeuvre.

Xoana was practically vibrating, ready to shake apart at the seams. She hadn’t expected it, not after so long. Maybe it was everything else going on as well. It took all her strength to hold it in and chat normally to Aisling, Tierney, and Tracie.

The Pokemon were scattered high and low all around them, searching for something Félicité could use as a wand. By this time, all but Justine seemed to be taking her rejections with alacrity. After all, much depended on the soundness of her weapon, and the selection criteria were impossible to communicate to those outside her line.

Serena stared off at the scenery, pretending to watch her pokemon. Yet she didn’t even notice when Justine at last pried a branch from the bushes that gave Félicité pause. She twirled experimentally and sighted down its length. Justine stared back hopefully through the fork at the end, tail twitching with nerves. At length, Félicité sighed and stowed the branch in the thick fur by her hip. Even this somewhat half-hearted acceptance elicited a whine and wagging tail from Justine, but as before, her enthusiasm with a huff and the cold shoulder as Félicité stalked back to Serena’s side.

“Hey, she’s got a proper wand now!” Xoana prompted. “I can’t wait for her to use it in a real battle.”

“We’ll see how it performs,” Serena muttered, just as skeptical as her Braxien. Her quiet surliness was expected, but for once Xoana felt no obligation to do anything about it. Although, she did wonder if all of this had eroded Serena’s determination to apologize.

Then the Allée-Paradis opened up before them—every tree, hedge, and topiary perfectly shaped and manicured—every flagstone in its proper place. And beyond on either side, tall undulating fields of wheat just beginning to golden. Better than every photograph and painting because it was alive and breathing and she was part of it.

Xoana skipped ahead with a squeal and spun around under the branches. When it all finally stopped spinning, she found Aisling smiling broadly at her.

Heat flushed her face but it wasn’t all embarrassment this time. In fact, that was rather a small quotient. She skipped back to Aisling’s side and hooked their arms together so that they might process down the royal causeway like proper noble ladies.

Aisling looked down in surprise and then her smile split her face. She puffed up—not unlike her Fletchling brother—chest out and shoulders back. She placed her hand over one of Xoana’s and her smile turned more intimate, less like a billboard for the whole world to see. Xoana felt her eyelashes flutter.

And that was too much—too close to so many fantasies she’d had before. She slid her hand out from under Aisling’s and found something to mitigate it. She grabbed Serena’s passing arm and pulled her in too.

...

Maybe she’d had it right back at the lab—the way they both settled as soon as their arms linked. Or maybe Xoana was just trying to force Aisling and Serena to get along. She had to admit they were being pretty churlish, even if she’d never back down.

But then again, Serena had given in awfully quick last night. Tough to blame her. Aisling had almost found herself begging right alongside Xoana, except that she couldn’t give Serena the satisfaction—not yet anyway.

Aisling gestured grandly with her spare hand before putting it in her pocket. “Shall we?”

They started moving again and fell in step with each other. It was a beautiful day and things could be worse.

Xoana gasped when the perfectly cubic trees fell away and the palace itself stretched before them. Aisling smiled fondly for a moment only to notice her expression mirrored on Serena’s face. Hm, that was—she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Wait, what’s that?”

Their heads snapped forward to look. There was an enormous furry mound where the main gate should have been.

They stopped in front of it and stared upward. A peaceful snoring filled the silence.

“What is a Snorlax doing here?” Serena asked. “Do you think it’s guarding the entrance?”

“It’s supposed to be open,” said Xoana, sinking.

“Bree, could you ask this mon what’s up?”

She nodded and went up to him. “Snorlax! Excuse me, Snorlax!” Bree called, vigorously shaking a paw twice the size of her head.

No reaction.

Tessa was next to try and climbed up on its stomach. When that didn’t work, Sprout started to tug on a leg with his vines. Some of the other pokemon started prodding and calling to it, all to no avail. Íde opened her mouth to torch one of its feet, forcing Aisling to reprimand again.

But after another ten minutes went by without success, Aisling began to think her Charmander had been right. Tessa had fallen asleep on the Snorlax’s stomach and Félicité looked ready to burst a vein trying to force psychic energy out of her new wand.

Aisling stepped back a bit to evaluate their predicament. There was no way around it. The Snorlax was completely blocking the ornate, gilded gates and the adjacent wall ran the circumference of the palace and gardens. It was past opening according to the website, but the only soul around was the slumbering beast that blocked their path.

Xoana drooped.

“Alright, I’m going up,” Aisling declared.

“Wait, what—?” Tierney began, but by then Aisling was already clambering up the Snorlax’s side, pulling herself up by its fur.

The pokemon’s head rested against the gate, squishing its already squat neck into nonexistence. It snored, mouth open and drool dribbling out. It lacked front teeth to make room for the long tongue poking just past its lips, but it did have jutting canines as big as Aisling’s thumbs. Its breath smelled somewhat comfortingly of fermented plants, but only fools thought herbivores would pass up meat if given half a chance, or that only carnivores were dangerous.

Aisling stood slowly and carefully on its chest, taking half a step back from her first idea. It was then she saw two men and an impeccably groomed Furfrou running up to the gate from the other side.

“Are you a trainer?” the older of the two called, huffing from the exertion.

“Yeah!”

“Thank the gods!” He stooped to catch his breath.

“Could you help us dislodge this fellow?” The younger man asked for him. “He’s always trying to get in at night and we can’t get the gate open with him sleeping against it.”

“Sure. My friends and I can take care of it.”

Aisling squatted back down, grabbed the Snorlax by his chubby cheeks and shook.

“MY QUEEN!” her friends chorused in horror, but the Snorlax didn’t wake. Worth it.

Aisling delivered her verdict: “I think we’re just gonna have to attack it.”

“Seems rude to start a battle when he’s sleeping,” said Emer, though she didn’t sound firmly against it.

Aisling’s Croagunk croaked.

“You know Wake-Up Slap?” Said Bree. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Maeve trilled, throat sack bulging, and crossed her arms.

Bree scoffed. “I wouldn’t let that happen. Come on, I’ll go up with you.”

Aisling offered her hand and Maeve hopped from foot to foot for a moment before taking it, careful not to touch Aisling with her red finger. Aisling had forgotten that hazard. She should really be reading the pokedex entries more thoroughly.

Once the Quilladin and Croagunk were aboard, Aisling slid back off. Sprout grabbed Tessa with his vines and pulled her clear. Everyone was ready. Maeve looked around at their expectant faces and wrung her hands.

“Wake-Up Slap!” Aisling commanded.

Maeve squeezed her eyes shut and struck the Snorlax across the face. The slap resounded around the courtyard, bouncing off the palace walls and back.

Nothing… not even snoring. Then a rumbling began. Bree swept Maeve up over her head and scurried down as the rumble turned to roaring and the Snorlax scrabbled clumsily to his feet.

A combined cry rang out as the pokemon rushed him in a show of force and unity. Emer blasted him in the face with Water Gun and was rewarded for her smart strategy by being punted all the way to the bushes. Xoana cried out for her, but Aisling was confident the little Marill would bounce back, which she did a few moments later.

The Snorlax took a swipe at them all but Sprout and Bree grabbed his arm with their vines, halting him for a moment before he yanked and both were airborne. Bree used the momentum to swing around and kick him in the side while Sprout reeled in to attach himself firmly, taking advantage of the confusion to drain the Snorlax with Absorb.

Tierney’s Hawlucha came to the rescue at her call, plucking Sprout from the Snorlax’s arm before he could do it himself and thus clearing Spark for and electric attack. Félicité followed up with an Ember. The tip of her wand ignited as it was supposed to, but the fire started creeping down towards her hand and she was forced to stop.

The Snorlax swung but Laoch used Counter which made him stagger and Valériane followed with a Karate Chop to his shoulder.

“Ember, Íde!”

The Charmander released a blast that looked closer to Flamethrower.

“Gust, Finley!”

The Combee zipped behind Íde and stoked her teammate’s attack into a wall of fire that all had to shy away from. The Snorlax threw up an arm to shield his face and backed away. Maeve and Froabble kicked him in the side to steer him further and he broke into a run, shaking the ground as he retreated.

“Ha! Nice work all!” said Aisling.

She offered high-fives to her fellow trainers and Bree copied by offering the same to her teammates. Íde tapped her paw a bit grudgingly, but Maeve was enthusiastic. All seemed at least somewhat satisfied besides Félicité, who rubbed at her charred wand, and Justine, who drooped in embarrassment at having provided the faulty weapon.

“Thank you all, truly!” The older man declared, helping the younger to open the gate. “We usually have a pokeflute to deal with those brutes, but, ah…” He trailed off, brow furrowing, and the younger man stepped in.

“It’s currently on loan to Fort-de-Vanitas for an exhibition.”

“Right, yes! But let us move on to introductions. I am Baron Agreste, Caretaker of Palais Chaydeuvre, and this is my eldest son, Gabriel.” Baron made sense. They were both expensively dressed now that Aisling took a moment to notice them.

Xoana looked about ready to bow so Aisling stepped forward and offered her hand, giving each man a hearty shake. If they didn’t like it, they didn’t show it and greeted the rest the same.

“We really must repay you for the trouble. Would you all care for a tour?”

Xoana stifled a squeal.

“That’s awfully kind of you. We’d love one.”

It turned out Palais Chaydeuvre was a combination of traditional museum and historical site with some rooms featuring exhibitions of various kinds while others were preserved and restored to represent what the Palace was like when it was still the royal residence. It had the typical museum staff, but Baron Agreste and his family also lived there. Apparently they had been in charge of the palace’s upkeep since it was built, and this had somehow not changed when it was seized by the government of the people. His ancestors may have sided with the revolutionaries. That part was unclear.

Xoana was delighted the entire time and the baron was pleased to have someone so enthusiastic. His son disappeared, no doubt to do whatever the baron was meant to be doing while he escorted them around instead. The Furfrou was unbelievably bored and more than once tried to slip away only to be called back before she could get very far.

Serena said little, but she knew Xoana’s tastes well. More than once she pointed out something that had Xoana skipping over to look.

Tracie stopped in front of a painting and tilted her head. “What’s this?”

“That is thought to be the earliest depiction of mega evolution. For the longest time, no one knew what is was.” Aisling stopped to give it a closer look. A small human figure stood in the foreground holding something bright and shining aloft while behind them reared what might have been a huge and monstrous Gyarados with greatly exaggerated fins and red and black mixed in with the usual blue. “It was in one of the rarely used bedrooms and no one paid it any mind. But after mega evolution was discovered, a guest identified it and we had someone come in to evaluate it. Since moving it to public display, scientists and art historians the world over have come to see it.”

Age and abstraction made the confusion understandable, but it was still evocative somehow. That would be her one day—fist raised to the sky in exhilaration and defiance as unquenchable power flowed through her and an entire stadium roared her name.

Some of that same ambition must have tugged on Serena too, because was leaning over Aisling’s shoulder now and seemed not to notice.

“Ya’ see that, Comtesse?” Serena stiffened at how close Aisling’s voice was to her ear. “Coming here was in line with our program. We had a good battle to strengthen our teams and now we’re doing extra research on mega evolution.”

Serena retreated and crossed her arms but gave a huff that made Xoana smile.

...

Xoana didn’t want to leave the luxurious halls but it would have been a shame to come all this way and not see the famously beautiful palace gardens and grand sculpture work. And truth be told they were all growing tired of staring at things on walls and in glass cabinets and getting drowsy from the palace’s stuffy air.

The baron had left them before lunch, so they were free to wander as they pleased after. It was comfortably warm out and the light breeze smelled incredible. The lilacs must have been in bloom. Xoana sighed as they wandered across the bridge and stopped to look at the bronze Gyarados fountain in the middle of the lake.

Aisling offered her arm and Xoana nearly followed the urge to take it before the baron came running up. Aisling stretched expansively. Maybe she hadn’t meant to offer it?

It was difficult to understand much before he caught his breath, but Xoana soon puzzled out that he was pleading for their help finding his “lost” Furfrou. That seemed rather unlikely, but the poor old man appeared genuinely distressed and she agreed to look.

Justine had the best nose and seemed eager to be of use after the faulty wand business earlier, so they followed her lead around the gardens. Tierney got sidetracked capturing a lily Flabébé, but caught up with them before the scent trail lead them into the grand hedge maze.

“I think we should fan out, yeah?” said Tierney.

And so they did, though a bit reluctantly.

It took Xoana a little while to realize that it was Aisling twittering and not some bird. It was hard to whistle back through her smile, but she tried her best. Tierney was next to catch on, responding with a pretty good imitation of Valériane’s hoarse croaks after each of Xoana’s calls. Then Tracie followed, cooing like a Pidove. Finally Xoana heard Serena’s patented sigh from the hedge beside her followed by her best attempt at a Swanna’s trumpet.

Aisling cracked up and the rest of them folded like a house of cards. Even Serena chuckled quietly on the far side of the hedge.

It was then Xoana saw the Furfrou standing in the t-intersection in front of her, once flawless la reine trim covered in dirt and tangled with twigs and leaves. Xoana stopped and the Furfrou looked at her, eyes wide. She gave one swift tug but her long ear was snagged in the hedge. The Furfrou then held perfectly still.

“Found her!” Xoana yelled to the others. There were whoops and the patter of footsteps as they all attempted to converge. “Let me help you get out of—”

The Furfrou yanked herself free and bolted.

“Oh no, I scared her!”

“Nah,” said Froabble, already hopping after her.

“Then why did she run?” Xoana called after her pokemon.

Justine wriggled under the hedge separating them and took off running while Serena and her other pokemon’s footfalls doubled back.

“Wait!” Xoana called, joining the pursuit, the Furfrou kept running and they kept after her.

They all met Tierney and Laoch down a corner, but the Furfrou dove down another path between them. Next Tracie and Spark had her cut off, but the section was wide and the Furfrou rushed her. Tracie dove to the right, but the Furfrou zigzagged at the last moment and jumped clean over Spark to get away.

Tierney pulled Tracie up and they were right back in it. The Furfrou tried to make a turn but Aisling and Bree were there so she skidded with a startled yelp and hurdled down the straightaway, narrowly outpacing Bree’s vine lasso. Serena and Félicité almost had her, but she escaped once again, this time towards the outer part of the maze.

“Dammit!”

“Comtesse stay on her!” Xoana yelled. The pause gave the Furfrou a lead, but Serena and her three canines took off after her. Serena was by far the best runner in any case and Xoana was confident she would catch up. The rest of the pokemon had converged. “Valériane get us an aerial view!”

“Finley you too!” Aisling called.

“Okay, we have to get her into the Chandelure quadrant,” Xoana told them. “It has the most dead ends and only five exits. My Queen, you skirt around the Delphox quadrant and try and flank her. Vicomtesse, same with the Pyroar quadrant. Baronne, take the middle path and I’ll take the hedgerow.”

They all split off again and Aisling offered her a little salute that did something to Moana’s chest as she rounded the corner. Moments later they were all out of sight. Xoana whistled and they all sounded off with their fake bird calls.

Their quarry was wily. She knew this maze like the top of her paw. But they had numbers and a strategy now. The Furfrou tried to hide in the Delphox quadrant but Aisling and Serena flushed her out. Next she took the diagonal to the Pyroar quadrant but Tierney and Tracie drove her away.

“Valériane says she’s headed towards the fountain,” Froabble informed her.

They were close and they booked it. Xoana could see the Furfrou coming but she wasn’t going to make it in time. She, Tessa and Sprout weren’t fast enough.

“Go Froabble! You can do it!”

The Froakie pulled ahead of her, a bright blue blur against the dull path.

“Water Pulse the fountain!”

He dove in and the water lit like a beacon. Xoana felt something warm and tingling and almost electric—something powerful—flow out of her and the water surged upward and spread. The Furfrou’s eyes widened in terror and her mouth gaped at the wall of water mounting above her. She turned sharply, spraying gravel, and fled into the Chandelure quadrant.

“YES!” Xoana cried with a jump as the water crashed back down. “She’s in!”

Froabble hopped back out of the fountain as a Frogadier and they high-fived as she ran past back into the maze. From their calls, everyone else had made it to one of the other entrances and it was time to close in.

The Furfrou went south first but Tracie and Tierney blocked her in. Aisling and her team had split and blocked all the west outlets, so she ran north only to be confronted by Serena. Her only remaining option was to run back towards Xoana, then turn down one of the dead ends to dodge Froabble’s leap.

Xoana chased her in and dove atop the Furfrou before she decided her plush coat could maybe make it through the hedges after all.

“I got her!”

Her friends cheered and the Furfrou groaned.

“Gods I’m so sorry!” Xoana told her, scrambling off the poor pokemon. “I wasn’t even thinking! We shouldn’t have been chasing you. Did I hurt you at all? I’m so sorry!”

The Furfrou picked herself up and grumbled.

“She’s okay,” said Froabble, hopping to Xoana’s side. “And she’s says we’re forgiven for catching her because that chase was the most fun she’s had in months.”

Xoana doubted him as the Furfrou sat tall and stiff as a guardian statue before her, but then her lips pealed back in a grin and the bedraggled ball and her tail wagged.

Sprout and Tessa finally caught up and the Teddiursa flopped down to catch her breath. They all laughed at that while they waited for the rest to find them.

...

Xoana was a little worried the baron would be angry with how filthy and bedraggled his refined companion had become—and how they’d been chasing her all around the maze like some kind of escaped convict—but he was simply overjoyed to have her back safe and thanked them all profusely for their trouble.

The Furfrou rolled her eyes and Xoana began to suspect firstly, that the baron couldn’t understand her, and secondly, that her sneaking off to be rowdy and get dirty was a somewhat regular occurrence.

“You know it is getting rather late and I feel simply terrible about enlisting you all twice in one day. What do you say to staying here for the night?”

“In the palace?” Xoana asked, certain she had somehow misunderstood.

“We have rooms set up for family visits and special events. There are plenty for each of you to have your own.”

Xoana actually felt faint and she might have wobbled because Aisling put her hand on the small of her back to steady her. Serena stepped up to answer for her.

“That’s so kind of you, Baron. We’d love to.”

“It’s the least I can do. There are fireworks after dinner to celebrate Fin-de-la-Tyrannie.” Xoana had completely forgotten that was today. “You can all watch from one of the private balconies. Once the visitors have gone, we’ll show you to your rooms.”

Xoana barely kept it together long enough for the baron and Furfrou to leave. Then she was bouncing up and down and hugging everyone and telling Froabble he was the best pokemon in the world.

...

The day really couldn’t have gone any better—ill-advised shenanigans included. Even after all the battling and running, Xoana was full to the brim. She was ready to do it all again right now, but part of what made it all so wonderful was that she couldn’t. So she swayed instead, hugging herself as twilight set in.

Aisling stepped out onto the balcony behind her and Xoana didn’t need to turn around to know she was smiling.

“I’m so excited! I haven’t seen many fireworks before.”

“Me neither,” said Aisling, coming to stand next to her by the railing.

“Today was amazing. I’m never going to forget it. We haven’t even seen these fireworks yet, but I know I’ll never forget them either. So thank you for everything you did to help make it so special.”

“It was my pleasure,” Aisling purred in one of her usual self-assured tones. Then she paused, shifted her weight, and leaned both arms on the balcony. When she spoke again, all trace of teasing, confidence, and irony was gone. “Thank you for inviting me along on this whole thing. It’s been a lot of fun.”

Xoana leaned on the balcony too, edged a little closer until they were almost touching.

“I’m glad you came.” Now that was bold and bordered on innuendo. Aisling bumped her shoulder and Xoana looked up at the sky to try and focus on something other than the warmth flaring up her side. “You add a lot to the group, something we were missing. I think we’ve all been having more fun with you. I know I have at least.” She was rambling now, but she didn’t dare stop. “You’re really something else, you know? That’s part of why this day was so incredible, and how I know the rest of it will be.”

Xoana looked down at their hands and saw Aisling’s reaching for hers. Her heart skipped a beat and the moment slowed.

Serena walked onto the balcony behind them. Xoana could pick out those footfalls anywhere. Aisling withdrew her hand and turned to slouch back against the railing.

“The Comtesse graces us with her presence.”

Serena snorted, but with less than her usual derision, and stood by the railing on Aisling’s other side. Despite everything, she’d had fun as well.

Xoana knit her fingers together and stared at them. Had Aisling really been about to make a move on her? Would she have gone through with it if Serena hadn’t shown up? Did Xoana want that?

She was chewing on the inside of her lip and sensation was leaving her fingers.

But how much of that was Aisling and how much was the want that had been aching in her for years? She’d wondered the same about Serena. She still doubted, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

“Ais—” Serena stopped herself, started over. Xoana glanced over, and Serena met her eyes instead of Aisling’s. “My Queen.” She blinked and shifted her focus to Aisling as she grunted to acknowledge she was listening. “I’m sorry for what I said about Dáire.”

Aisling’s face betrayed nothing, but her shoulders hunched and her knuckles strained on the railing.

“I truly didn’t mean to imply it was anything other than a tragic accident. I was shocked and spoke carelessly. I apologize and I will do my best to not be as insensitive in the future.”

Xoana thought she heard Aisling’s teeth grind, but a quiet thanks passed her lips.

They actually did it!

But after that there was stiff silence rather than catharsis. Maybe they weren’t ready yet, but at least they had tried. Xoana caught Serena glancing at her again. Maybe they had tried for her. They had both spent the day trying to make sure she was happy. The least she could do was try the same for them.  She dug around for the joy and energy she’d been overflowing with only a few minutes ago and slid between them, putting her arms around both of their shoulders.

“Fireworks with friends is the best! Thank you both for today.” She gave their shoulders a squeeze and they smiled.

Then the first firework went up, making any further conversation impossible. Tierney and Tracie came running out to join them and they all watched together.

Xoana cheered and applauded and hopped up and down, pulling everyone into the excitement with her. She let the bright colors fill her vision and the sound fill her chest with its booming.

It really was beautiful, even if it was over a bit too soon.

#nuzlocke #storylocke #pokemon xy #wlw #Tightrope #chapter

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catsafarithewriter · 6 years ago

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“Is now a bad time to tell you that I’ve summoned a demon in the kitchen again or should I wait until after you’re done talking on the phone?”

A/N: I’ve actually received this prompt twice, but I have two different ideas for this, so ya’ll gonna get two variations. This one should be fairly self explanatory, even if it is an AU.

“No, no, no, the contract clearly states that your insurance covers damage by demons, fae, and people under possession.” Haru leant over her laptop, resisting the urge to pace as she scrolled through the minuscule small print set before her. Her leg bounced impatiently. “No, nowhere does it say that the individual being possessed must be one of the contract owners. Yes, I’m looking at paragraph f, clause 2, and it does not specify any limitation on the identity of the possessed individual...”

There was a tap at the doorway, and Haru glanced up to see her housemate and fellow witch lingering at the lounge doorway. “What?” Haru mouthed.

“Is now a bad time to tell you that I’ve summoned a demon in the kitchen again,” Hiromi whispered, “or should I wait until after you’re done talking on the phone?”

Haru stared. She missed whatever the insurance man was saying. “Hold, please,” she chimed and hung up. “What?” she demanded.

Hiromi didn’t look as nervous as the last time there’d been a demon incident, just sheepish which was... reassurance of a kind. “Demon,” she said. “In the kitchen.”

Haru was already rising to her feet and making a beeline for the offending room. “Tell me you weren’t messing around with summoning circles again.”

“It’s not ‘messing around,’” Hiromi protested, following after her. “It’s experimentation. We’re out of teabags, and I just thought that if I updated the traditional summoning circle, I could save myself the hassle of going to the shops. My circle technique is flawless, but instead of tea, I summoned...”

Haru came to a halt in the kitchen.

“You summoned a cat.”

“He does have tea with him though,” Hiromi offered weakly.

The figure standing atop their kitchen table was about a foot in height and mostly resembled a ginger feline wearing a morning suit. He was, indeed, holding a cup of tea in one gloved hand, albeit about the size of a thimble’s worth.

“Where am I?” he asked. His voice calm and proper, the kind of accent that Haru would usually find in one of Hiromi’s British period dramas. He looked down to the salt circle and markings around him and then back to the two witches. “What am I doing here?”

Haru groaned and rounded on the cupboards. “Hiromi, help me exorcise him.”

“I’ve already got the book.”

“Exorci... Wait, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Haru collapsed down onto the kitchen stool, a pouch of herbs and beans in hand. “Look, just sit back and let us banish you back to whatever realm of hell you’ve originated from and then I can go back to butting heads with another kind of demon.”

“I am not a demon.”

“Sure you’re not. And Hiromi here didn’t accidentally summon you out of her own laziness.”

“Hey,” Hiromi protested. “I resent that.”

“It literally would have been quicker at this point to buy teabags from the corner store.”

Hiromi grumbled but took the seat opposite Haru.

The demon began to look uneasy, glancing between the two witches. “I’m not a demon,” he repeated. “I’m a Creation.” He flinched as Hiromi slammed the book onto the table and started rifling through its aged pages. He began speaking quicker. “I was in my Bureau making tea when you brought me here, so your summoning spell must have made a mistake somewhere-”

“Sure, sure. Hiromi, you got the spell yet?”

“Give me a moment...”

“I’m telling you, I am not a demon.”

Haru glanced down to the creature. “Okay. If you’re not, then just step out of the salt circle.” She smirked at his bemusement and looked away. “I thought not. Hiromi, it’s in chapter 5.”

“I know, I know...”

Something tapped her arm. She absent-mindedly brushed it away and felt a tiny hand on her skin. She dragged her gaze down and met the poised expression of the demon. “You did say-”

Haru jolted back, a yelp in her throat and her chair slipping and she clattered back in a tangle of limbs and chair legs. Her head hit the tiled floor with a resounding smack and she saw stars for an instant. Then the world swam back into place and she was still on the floor, staring up at the table and the horrified face of the not-demon.

“Miss Witch, I am so sorry-”

Whatever had to say was brought to an abrupt halt as he was punted off the table.

Haru yelped again. “Hiromi! It’s fine - he didn’t-” She groaned and collapsed back down, her head still spinning. “Ugh,” she finished with and closed her eyes.

“Haru? Are you okay?”

Haru winched an eye open and squinted at her friend. “I think I hit my head pretty badly on the floor,” she grunted. “Where...? Where did you get the lacrosse stick from?”

“It was the first thing I could grab from the closet.” She had the stick raised warily in the last seen direction the not-demon had been thrown into. “Are you sure he didn’t do anything?”

“You’ve known me for how long and you're still surprised by my clumsiness?” Haru croaked. “You have not been paying attention. And I’m sure. Hiromi, I don’t think he’s a demon.”

“As I kept trying to tell you.”

Haru rolled her head back and watched the creature rise to his feet and dust down his suit. “I am a Creation,” he said. “A figurine created with all the heart of their artisan who thus gained a soul.”

“So,” Haru said, “not a demon.”

“Not a demon.” He tilted his head. “Miss Witch, I do believe you have injured yourself in that nasty fall.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you have suffered a concussion.”

“Nonsense. Could someone with concussion do this?”

He waited a moment. “Do what?”

“Cartwheels. Am I not doing them?”

“Miss Witch, I do believe you need to see a doctor.”

Haru grimaced. “I guess you haven’t heard that joke before. Hiromi, wasn’t that joke funny?”

“Hilarious,” Hiromi deadpanned. “But it’d be a lot funnier if he didn’t have a point. Come on, can you move to the sofa?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

The world was still gently rocking, so Haru didn’t complain too much further as she was helped to the settee, sinking into the comfort of the cushions with a groan. She dropped her head to one side and located the not-demon/Creation leaping up onto the kitchen counter. “What are you doing?”

He looked back. “You did summon me for tea, didn’t you, Miss Witch? It seems the least I can do after scaring you in such a manner.”

“Teabags, technically, and it was Hiromi who did the summoning, and you didn’t scare me, but...” She shook her head, and then immediately regretted it. The world swum some more. “And you can stop calling me ‘Miss Witch’. It’s Haru.”

The Creation nodded. “Very well, Miss Haru.” He flicked the kettle on with a swipe of his cane and glanced back to her. “You may call me Baron.”

#chez-pezeater #replies #cat writes #witch au #the cat returns #tcr ficlet #i just liked the idea of baron accidentally being summoned #it's not quite what i had in mind #but it'll have to do #they still don't have teabags #something which baron is due to realise in just a bit #but not within this ficlet #also they helped someone else with demon possession which i never got to cover here #which is why haru is chasing up the insurance company #the cat queues

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trixcuomo · 5 years ago

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Ally’s Angels fires back!

((It’s Flava Girl Wednesday again!! A rival to the Kaja-Cola Flava Girls? Already?? Wait, which one is the ‘good one’? Which Warcraft girl band is evil? Or, are they both morally grey... Whu-oh!))

Daily Mail Stormwind: Good evening everyone, this is the sister studio to Daily Mail Orgrimmar--or they’re our little sister? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We have breaking news. Long-time favorite energy drink GNOMEADE has released the following statement recently after the blow out between Trixany Cuomo and Phurr of the musical band Ally’s Angels--have you seen it? Here’s a re-cap and what Kaja-Cola rival GNOMEADE had to say in response.

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Daily Mail SW: GNOMEADE’s statement released as an exclusive first to the Daily Mail Stormwind is as follows:

Ally’s Angels stands for unity not only among the super-friends of the Alliance but also harmony and justice for all of Azeroth. Trixany Cuomo had no legal call to throw one of her plate greaves at Phuur--not even during a time of war between the Alliance and the Horde would Miss Cuomo have a right to throw an item at the lead singer of GNOMEADE’s premier girl-band.

Miss Cuomo’s actions were completely uncalled for and GNOMEADE will be seeking legal repercussions against Miss Cuomo, the Kaja-Cola Company, and The Kaja-Cola Flava Girls band, whatever they stand for.

But, then again, that seems to contradict with what lead singer Phuur said immediately after the incident, which wasn’t so nice and tidy. Let’s play that clip:

“I vould NEVER normally talk about someone’s racial leader... But zhis girl is supposed to be at ze peak of her career, and she’s out here throwing metal greaves... Trixany needs to know: I’m not ze fellow Hordie down ze bar at ze Wyvern’s Tail, or in trashy Silvermoon.”

Daily Mail SW: Snap! Goodness--I have friends in Goldshire who would have behaved better than these ladies, even IF someone had made a comment about their racial leader--

Phuur: *sage Draenei voice* Zhat sound clip of my voice was heavily edited. Also, I did not insult Lor’thremar, the current leader of ze Blood Elves. I insulted Kael’thas Sunstrider, who is vastly different.

Daily Mail SW: And she feels such conviction about her position too! Phuur, lead singer of GNOMEADE’s Ally’s Angels, cut me right off. I was just about to introduce you Miss Phuur and let the folks out there know we have the Ally’s Angels ladies themselves here, in studio tonight. I was going to ask if you cared to back up GNOMEADE’s evident sass in response--but you’re well on your way to greatness here with your words. Please, continue. Do you think Trixany really is all that upset about Kael’thas? Still?

Phuur: Vell, I just think ze whole vorld of Azeroth would agree. And Darenor. Kael’thas vas a fiend and a villain. He deserves to be insulted in public. Why she felt so insecure after so many years serving as a Sunfury, being faced with the inanity of her own crimes first-hand--Trixany did live through Voren’thall the Seer surrendering to the Sha’tar, did she not? I vas there in Shattrath ven it happened, no?

Daily Mail SW: Ohh, it gets even more interesting! Were you an Aldor at the time that Trixany was a Scryer?

Phuur: Vat? Are you stirring things up intentionally? No, as I said. She vas vorse zen even a Scryer. She vas a Sunfury soldier misguidedly serving under Kael’thas all those years ago!

Daily Mail SW: I thought that was what you said, but I guess my mind still would not go there? Trixany Cuomo, an evil Sunfury! Get out!

Phuur: Yes, yes!

Daily Mail SW: Man, that blows my mind all over my face. *handsome smile* Not to over-focus on Phuur, ladies. I definitely want to get the other Ally’s Angels a chance to react to this--

Ally’s Angels: *the girls nod and politely reassure the Human man interviewing*

Phuur: And more zen even zat! I saw Trixany back then, vith my own eyes--who could miss her tangerine red hairdo? I saw her valk back, ooover the bridge when Voren’thaal and ze others surrendered to ze Light. She vent right back to Kael’thas.

Daily Mail SW: You must have some memory, Phuur!

Phuur: I do! It sounds crazy, but I do! They put Trixany in jail for it later, and that’s in the record books--but it’s like she came out of the Sunspire Keep last year after her sentence, and she learned absolutely nothing.

Daily Mail SW: Hold on, *taps his Gnomish hearing device* I’ve checked with our producers. This isn’t another rumor, this is true. Trixany Cuomo did, in fact, serve prison time in Silvermoon City after the Burning Crusade in Outland. It was because she started a pro-Kael’thas riot, even after the poor fel-addicted prince died. Apparently, Trixany’s completely reformed now. Or so we think?!

Phuur: Reformed? How? She got violent ven I spoke a truth about Kael’thas. Her fractured vision of the vorld--two vorlds--zat is the fallacy.

Ally’s Angels: Gelica (Human), Phuur (Draenei), Roary (Worgen)

Daily Mail SW: Spoken like a true follower of the Light and of the great Naaru who, as we know, saved our bacon on many occasions. Gelica? Roary? Do you have anything to add to this? It must have been a traumatic experience, seeing your lead singer being attacked in this way. It was at a pretty prominent event as well, right?

Gelica: *confident Human voice* Yes. It was the Gala for the Orphans of Azeroth. I just don’t understand how this Flava Girl band can claim to be cross-faction, or even sing cross-faction songs, when their leader behaves this way. I even heard they were singing something about Malfurion when they were at your sister studio, in Orgrimmar. What right did they have to do that?

Roary: *chipper, yet gravelly Worgen voice* Oh gods, that--Looky hea, yeah? I’m a druid myself. I almost gagged hearin’ that gab. That was ‘orrific. And how is Tyrande supposed to feel? Eh? Because that’s not a kind thing to say about someone’s wife, *she sings it* ‘my Shan’dooo’? That their husband belongs to you--

Gelica: *nods agreement* I am sad for Tyrande but honestly... It kinda is about time someone wrote a love song for Malfurion. *blushes* He’s such a sweetie.

Phuur: You know, everyone secretly loves Malfurion. If anyzing, zat vas our brand, not theirs. Hrmph. Zey vent too far.

Daily Mail SW: It almost sounds like Ally’s Angels is jealous that the Flava Girls grabbed such a hot topic in one of their songs. Did I guess right? It must burn that they made a song about a prominent Alliance leader when the flagship girl-band of GNOMEADE, who is a direct rival to Kaja-Cola, and named for the Alliance itself--Ally’s Angels--failed to hit that benchmark. Care to comment on that?

Roary (Worgen), Phurr (Draenei), Gelica (Human) in their proud Alliance officer armor-slash-costumes

Ally’s Angels: *cross their legs in unison, intelligent silence*

Daily Mail SW: How about it! Did I step right into the middle of what is really a GNOMEADE versus Kaja-Cola war, ladies? Did GNOMEADE tell you to insult Kael’thas at the orphans gala? Saying that Kael’thas used to punt gnomes off the decks of the Mechanar to go flying across Area 52, and at a save-the-orphans event? I guess that is kind of a big tell, right there.

Phuur: *polishes her nails on her blue tabard*

Daily Mail SW: I suppose I should also inform you ladies that I used to be SI: 7 before I took up this gossip rag gig.

Phuur: ...No comment. Vut those do sound like ze kind of conspiracy ideas you’d get by drinking Kaja-Cola.

Gelica: Ha! Good one, Phuur...

Phuur: *smirks* Hey, ven I see it, I see it.

Daily Mail SW: Excellent come back, ladies. Now, not to be outdone by the Orgrimmar studio, would you like to sing a little something to prove your merit? That you are the best Azeroth girl band by far and would never stoop so low as to sabotage the Horde’s Flava Girls?

Phuur: Look at him. He thinks he’s so clever, but I can see he’s put us on the spot. Ladies? Shall we?

Ally’s Angels: *stand and close their eyes reverently, then sing out loud and proud*

We are Alliance (what), We're not gonna give up (what), Allies don't stop (what), Allies slay harder (what) We are Alliance (what), Together we make it (what), Ally's Angels don't stop (what), For the Alliance!

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Daily Mail SW: Sexy and inspirational! Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know who could have said it better. Except for maybe... the Kaja-Cola Flava Girls? They’re bound to prepare a rebuttal to that argument, and I don’t think it’s going to be a fluffy cross-faction song this time. This should be an exciting, entertaining year with GNOMEADE and Kaja-Cola at each other’s throats via their respective girl bands and I, for one, can’t wait for the flavorblasted fallout.

Ally’s Angels: *pump fists, cheer and high-five one another as if after a good battle. An ice cold pitcher of bright blue GNOMEADE with glasses is wheeled out on a silver cart by a trio of Gnomes in corporate blue-and-yellow suits and ties. Phuur hands a glass over to their handsome Human host and toasts her bandmates before they take coordinated, elegant sips*

Daily Mail SW: Yum! Refreshing! Well it ain’t Kaja-Cola but it’s been giving me ideas all evening *he looks over a leggy, winking Phuur*. From everyone here at the Daily Mail Stormwind, *he raises his glass* thank you, and good night!

#kaja-cola #gnomeade #wyrmrest rp #kaja-cola-flava-girls

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