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hikari-kaitou · 3 years ago

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Capcom’s Official AA Fanclub Surveys - Main Series Edition

Naturally, Capcom’s official AA fanclub site didn't only post surveys about the DGS characters; they published far more of them about the main series characters. It makes sense, as they started the trend before the DGS series had even been conceived.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom’s official AA fansite every few months where they’d write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like… 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn’t help because the content was password locked and you can’t get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them. Unfortunately, I was doing these translations very casually and only intended to share them with two of my close friends at the time when I did them, so some of them are just summaries rather than proper translations, and I tended to only focus on characters that we personally were interested in or scenarios that we thought were funny or interesting. That means there are parts missing, and because I didn't expect the original text to be wiped off the site I didn't save it so I could go back and fill in the blanks. Sorry about that...

Cut for length!

"Spring is on its way and each of the AA cast members spent their day off in different ways. Who's way of spending their day off sounds the most pleasant?"

Phoenix- he finished unpacking his moving boxes and sorting his seasonal clothing. While he was packing away his ugly pink sweater and such, he happened across the complete works of Shakespeare at the bottom of one of the boxes, got completely absorbed in reading, and ended up abandoning his unpacking.

Mia- She went shopping at a department store for a new summer suit. On her way, she coincidentally ran into Maya, who was on her way to the agency to hang out, but then at some point Maya vanished. Mia tried calling her cell phone but she didn't answer. "Don't tell me she's lost at her age," Mia thought, and began to search for her. She found Maya transfixed by a rooftop Steel Samurai show. It seems that she was both exasperated and relieved.

Maya- she tagged along on Mia's shopping trip, but the second she spied a poster for a rooftop Steel Samurai show, she made a beeline for the roof. She got into a cheering battle with a mean-looking elementary school boy and really enjoyed the show. When the show was over, she reunited with an exasperated looking Mia. She gleefully led Mia to a burger restaurant so they could eat some burgers together.

Edgeworth- he treated himself to a drive along the coast in his red sports car... Well, that was the plan, but then he was pushed by his mentor Von Karma into being the driver for his shopping trip. As a reward for his service, he received a brand new Von Karma style, stylish and flashy summer suit.

Then there's Larry, who dragged Phoenix to a café to hit on its hot owner, and the judge who bought a wig.

"Apollo, Fulbright, Edgeworth, Klavier and Kristoph made visits to a nursery school near the courthouse. Which of them did the most pleasant activity with the children?"

Apollo acted out the story of the “Crying Red Ogre” for the children. Phoenix played the part of the blue ogre, and Apollo was the red ogre, and Apollo’s wailing moved the children to tears too. In a panic over all the crying, they got Trucy to cheer them up with a magic trick in which she made Apollo disappear.

Fulbright: He came dressed in a blinding white costume to teach the children about justice and put on a play. The children gave him thunderous applause... But when Jinxie, who had been forced to play the part of the heroine, saw Fulbright, she thought he was the ghost of an army general, got scared, and slapped a charm on his face.

Edgeworth and Gumshoe: He and Gumshoe were going to reenact the story of Kintarou (an old Japanese fairytale). Franziska handed Edgeworth the Kintarou costume she’d designed (If you've seen Ghibli's Spirited Away, recall what Bou, the giant baby, wears. That's what we're talking about here). Edgeworth fearfully asked “You... expect me to wear this...?” Gumshoe, who had painted his whole body black to play the role of a bear, told him “Of course, sir! It doesn’t fit me!” and shoved Edgeworth out on stage in it. Edgeworth quickly began to reconsider Gumshoe’s salary for next month.

Klavier and Kristoph: Kristoph started giving a boring lecture on the importance of law, and the kids were getting antsy. Seeing this, Klavier came over with his guitar to liven things up, performing a rock style arrangement of the “The Bear Went Over The Mountain". But then he threw in the unnecessary comment of “If any of you scratch the frets of my guitar, I’ll be suing for damage of property, ok?” And they both ended up getting kicked out.

"This survey is about who knows how to enjoy a sunny day at Gourd Lake the best"

Simon: To give Taka some exercise, Blackquill took him and Fulbright (who was on guard duty) out for some falconry. Things were going well until Taka heard something about this mysterious creature “Gourdy,” freaked out, flew into the little shop selling Gourdy merchandise and started making a huge mess. Blackquill and Fulbright gathered Taka up in a panic and hightailed it out of there as fast as they could.

Edgeworth had seen Phoenix home and on his way back passed by Gourd Lake. Just as he was starting to get bad flashbacks... he happened to hear Larry in the middle of a flirting attempt and got dragged in. The woman he was trying to put the moves on was a foreigner, and she and Edgeworth started chatting in her native language. Larry couldn’t understand and was annoyed that Edgeworth was apparently moving in on his target, so he sulked and blew up at Edgeworth.

Athena tried to play matchmaker for Apollo and Juniper, so she told them to meet her in the forest near Gourd Lake so that they would run into each other there and hopefully hit it off. Juniper got there first, expecting to find Athena, but when Apollo showed up, she panicked and hid behind a tree. While she was trying to gather her nerve to go talk to him, he wandered off and she lost sight of him.

Phoenix was at the park and he got caught by Larry who was doing his part time job of selling Samurai Dogs. Larry saw a pretty lady that he wanted to flirt with so he asked Phoenix to mind the shop while he was gone. Business was slow, so he called in all the WAA members to put their full range of skills to use. They seem to have managed to sell them all!

Gumshoe took Missile for a walk in the park. They stopped for a rest and Gumshoe fell asleep, so Missile slipped out of his collar and ran over to where the Samurai Dogs were being sold. He ate them all without Phoenix noticing. Phoenix handed things back over to Larry when he got back and Larry got in huge trouble for losing so much product.

"This survey is talking about how the cast spent their Valentines Day"

Trucy gave Polly chocolate for himself and some for Klavier and asked Apollo to give it to him for her. Klavier wasn’t in court when Apollo went to look for him, though, so he and Phoenix went to the prosecutors’ office together with their chocolate. On their way, though, Apollo found himself getting a lot of strange looks from Themis Legal Academy students.

Ema gave some chocolates to Phoenix to give to Edgeworth because she suddenly got called to a crime scene. Phoenix headed over to the prosecutors’ office but Edgeworth was in court and wasn’t there, so Phoenix waited out in front of the prosecutors’ office with this flashy, girly looking bag of chocolates. Edgeworth’s trial ended up going a long time and Phoenix got a lot of stares as he waited.

Edgeworth was hit by a pollen-filled spring breeze on his way back to the office and suddenly his eyes got all red and itchy and he was left sneezing and sniffling. Phoenix came to talk to him and got quite a surprise when he saw the state Edgeworth’s face was in. The chocolates Ema gave him were in the shape of the Steel Samurai and they made Edgeworth so pleased that it seemed to ease his suffering a little.

Flower Viewing:

Phoenix and Apollo go to the park early to hold flower viewing spots for the WAA members. They see some people from around town that they know who ask them to hold their spots while they go and grab this or that. Phoenix and Apollo do their best to hold those people’s spots and in the process lose their own. They end up begging Edgeworth to let them share his and Klavier’s spot.

White Day:

Because of his painful memories about Valentine’s Day from elementary school, he doesn’t like Valentine’s Day or White Day that much. As a return gift to his beloved daughter, he gave her painstakingly handmade magic panty shaped chocolates. Apparently he forced the ones that didn’t turn out on Edgeworth...

Klavier was holding a ladies only concert, which he invited Trucy to. Phoenix was worried about letting Trucy be out at night by herself, so he sent Apollo along in disguise (as a woman!!). But Klavier saw through Apollo’s disguise easily and to Apollo’s horror, called him up on stage.

Autumn/Moon Viewing:

Phoenix, Edgeworth and Larry went to collect chestnuts together. Larry was too focused on looking for chestnuts and not watching where he was going and fell down the mountain slope. Phoenix had tried to catch Larry but he ended up falling too and spraining his ankle slightly. Edgeworth had to carry Phoenix on his back down the mountain.

Apollo went moon viewing with the rest of the WAA. It turned out into kind of an office party and Apollo had drink after drink while assuring everyone that “I’m fine!” but ended up getting pretty hammered. He proceeded to pass out and Phoenix took care of him.

Obon Festival:

Klavier performed a bonfire festival dance version of the Guitar’s Serenade at the summer festival and Apollo provided the taiko drum backup. He filled the gaps in the taiko drumming with his chords of steel, and it was a very energetic bonfire dance.

Edgeworth noticed the festival going on on his way home from work and decided to have a look. He saw Phoenix selling Samurai Dogs and desperately wanted one, but couldn’t bear the thought of Phoenix finding out that he was a Steel Samurai fan. He hemmed and hawed in front of the festival stall, trying to decide whether to buy one, but they sold out before he could make up his mind.

Phoenix went to the festival with Maya. Larry, who was working the Samurai Dog stand, called them over and forced them to watch the stand while he made a booty call. Phoenix and Maya’s manzai comedy duo style vocal advertising was so successful that they quickly sold out.

Christmas:

Phoenix, Trucy, Athena, Apollo and Pearl all spent the night at the office after their party wrapped up. Phoenix put presents next to the kids' pillows during the night.

Edgeworth grumbled about having to play Santa but dressed up anyway and snuck in at night to bring the younger ones at Phoenix's office some presents. He accidentally ends up sneaking into Phoenix’s room instead.

Apollo wanted to be a good big brother to Trucy and Pearl, so he snuck into their rooms to leave gifts but tripped over something, let out a Chords of Steel volume shout as he fell and ruined the surprise/

Klavier, as a favor to Trucy, snuck in dressed as a Visual Kei style Santa, but he announced his arrival with a rock arrangement of Santa Claus is Coming to Town and got caught and kicked out.

Blackquill had to make a jailbreak in order to play Santa, was chased down and Phoenix woke to find the police surrounding his office.

DGS Edition

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bistevethor · 3 years ago

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Steve Rogers Fanfiction Recommendations

Happy birthday, Steve!

I know that there are some (a lot?) of steve fans who sometimes struggle to find fics focused on him, so I am here now putting a list of Steve fics. I was going to fics that I haven't seen recommended a lot and most of the ones on this post have less than 200 kudos only, but I end up putting everything (it's probably easier to put my bookmarks as public but well...). It's a massive list (over 100 fics?), so it's will be separated into several posts/reblogs.

Not all of them are from Steve's POV or even have him as the main 'main' character, but rest assured he played an important role and is featured heavily. Lots of these are friendship-focused but I categorized them. The shippy ones are mostly samsteve, thundershield, and some rare pairings because I don't venture to other ships a lot and when I did it's to the rare ones instead lol. Hopefully, any of you can find some gems from this list and these are as enjoyable or as good as I remembered. I'll continue to update it, hopefully, every time I find new ones.

Fics are under read more.

General

The Rocket's Red Glare

Steve was born on the Fourth of July (no joke), so a party is in order! Unfortunately, PTSD decides to rear its ugly head. Fortunately, Steve's got an entire team at his back to help him through it. And screaming goats.

an entry in the scrapbook of absurdity

In which Steve turns into a baby and bites people.

Baby Steve Adventures

Captain America gets hit by a spell during a battle. The rest of the Avengers look after him.

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't)

"Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

In Search of (Bucky, Family, Home)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

A week following the events of CATWS, Steve recruits Natasha and Sam to help find Bucky.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to recap again? You were shot three times, beaten near to death by an enhanced super soldier with a metal arm and then almost drowned. Yeah, your ass is going to need a few more days of healing time.”

The Truth When Captains Meet

Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.

Irish Coffee

Pairings: Jessica Jones & Steve Rogers

Jessica runs into an incognito Cap at a cafe. They form an unlikely friendship of sorts.

The Lifetimes of Steve Rogers (Series)

What happens when Steve Rogers steps onto the quantum platform to return the Stones? Where does he go? What challenges does he find? Who does he meet? How many lifetimes can one man have?

Fifty-Two Pickup

Less than a week after the fall of the Triskelion, Steve Rogers is released from the hospital. Although his physical wounds are almost fully healed, other injuries need a bit more time, and some help from friends.

little kids get big so fast

Steve ends up having to take care of the deaged Defenders.

Grampa Steve's Bedtime Stories

If Mommy was away for work, then Morgan’s Grampa Steve came over to stay with her. He’d tuck her in, let her give Mommy a kiss on video chat, then hand her the picture of Daddy for his kiss. Once Daddy’s picture was back on the bookshelf, Grampa Steve would turn off the bedside lamp so that Miss Friday could cover the ceiling with stars, and ask Morgan what story she wanted to hear.

“Captain Steve, Grampa! Tell me Captain Steve!”

Grampa Steve sometimes read to her from books and other times watched a movie with her, but her favorite by far was when he told her Captain Steve’s Adventures Through the Multiverse.

On Camping Trips

Sam is more Hermione than Natasha is, and Steve doesn't want to be Harry.

Powerful

Steve loses the advantages of the super-soldier serum. This is not a tragedy.

His Dream

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As if on cue, Steve cut him off with a loud sneeze.

"Yeah. Like that." Sam nodded. "And please sneeze into your elbow next time, dude. You could've just started an epidemic."

"Sorry. Allergies." Steve excused, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know it's allergies?" Sam asked, and Steve sighed, putting the ingredients together and solving the mystery of what the gas had actually done.

The answer wasn't ideal. "It feels like the seasonal allergies I had before. Before the serum- and I haven't had them since the serum."

Realization clicked in Sam's head.

"The gas de-serumed you."

Steve swallowed and nodded reluctantly.

OR: Steve gets temporarily de-serumed, with his height and stature staying the same but his immune system being as bad as it was before, and has to stay in the hospital to prevent a severe allergic reaction or illness. Sam stays with him the whole time, making sure he's not alone.

A Strange Encounter

Things have gone awry and Strange is injured. With no other options, he's called for assistance from Captain America and his team.

even if we're apart, i'll always be with you

Steve finds a dirty toy bear at an abandoned gas station, on the way back from a school trip. He brings him home.

As Long as You’re Not Tired Yet of Talking

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

When Steve Rogers tells her, “Don’t be a stranger,” as they’re all going their own ways after New York, it makes her want to laugh.

Draw/Breath

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Natasha like knowing what makes people tick. She likes knowing things, about her teammates and her coworkers and herself. Oddly enough, sometimes other people like knowing her too.

AKA: Natasha wants to know why Steve isn’t drawing anymore, and takes the long way round to get her answer. Because why not.

With Magic We Do Fly

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

In Civil War we see Wanda fling Steve into the air with her magic. They must have practiced that, right?

Que Wanda throwing Steve against a wall. Many times.

Just Like We Practiced

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

Steve had said, in the movie when he asked Wanda to lift him into the building, "Just like we practiced." But just how did they come up with the idea of her lifting people with her powers, and putting them up somewhere like an escalator? Perhaps it was because Wanda accidentally sent a certain tall, blond Avenger face-first into the floor once and he decided he would help her learn to utilize this as a confidence building exercise. Natasha keeps an eye, Thor and Sam help build the training grounds, and Wanda has found her new home. Takes place between AGE OF ULTRON and CIVIL WAR.

Black and White but Red and Blue

They're watching black and white film reels, but Steve sees them in colour.

"My shield may be black and white but it was red and blue. Just like the blue sky under which red blood was spilled. Like Bucky's blue eyes and Peggy's red lips..."

The Road Warriors

Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff

It wasn't pretty, but somehow the four of them managed to make it through two years on the run.

We'll Fix It

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Steve has a hard time after his battle with The Winter Soldier and isn't sure what to do with himself. After not seeing him for a week, Natasha finally shows up to his apartment unannounced to figure out how they can get back to work. There is some crying involved.

From Here On Out

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

The Accords, the search for Bucky, the fight at the airport ... In a world where nothing will ever be the same, sometimes the road to rebuilding trust and friendship is a little rockier than it should be.

AKA, the story of Steve & Natasha and how they got to where they are.

Set post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War.

I have this breath and I hold it tight

Parings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vision

Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”

Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.

to you.

Pairings: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark

It's Wanda's birthday today. She's not sure how to feel.

New Love

Pairings: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Steve Rogers

Near the end of World War II, Diana Prince finds herself attempting to reconnect to her long-gone, beloved Steve Trevor. However, she comes across Steve Rogers instead.

Sharing Life (And Canned Green Beans)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

It’s Thanksgiving, and Steve is hiding in the second living room on the 8th floor of the penthouse apartments with a can of green beans.

I'm Fine

Steve slowly began to realize that the problem with being a national icon, a hero, and a role model, is that somehow, he became more than human. He become a symbol, not a person. So when he becomes increasingly unhappy, deeply depressed, and utterly adrift in a world where he doesn't belong, the loneliness and isolation are unbearable. How could anyone believe that an iconic hero like himself was really just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn, dying inside because everything he'd gained still wasn't enough to replace everything he'd lost? How could he possibly bring himself to bleed on the ones he loves? So he tells himself the same lie over and over, hoping one day, he'll believe it.

dogpile

"My dog ate my mission report" An injured Steve remembers something he has to do. Unabashed Steve and dogs fluff. "Didn't peg you for a pet guy." "Allergies."

Alone In This World (Together)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”

“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”

“Once night falls.”

Do we have any idea where she is?”

“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”

it gets the worst at night

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Here's how it goes: Natasha sometimes shares a bed with Steve. It's not what it sounds like.

(In which there are Colombian drug lords, awkward boners, cuddly super-soldiers and the Avengers are all giant dorks.)

Shelter

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Sam and Steve, right after the fall of SHIELD.

Princely Bickering

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Jane Foster, Steve Rogers & Thor

Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’ ‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve. Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. Life on the run isn't easy, especially not after an injury. Fortunately Steve still has a few allies left.

And The Seconds Tick Down

AU of Civil War. How the world ended in twenty steps when Steve died.

"Grant" and "Francis" Go Shopping

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve and Clint both have holiday shopping to do for their family of choice, so they make a day trip to an outlet mall, have a few heart to hearts, use some coupons, buy a bunch of presents, and eventually get through their shopping lists.

A Tune Without Words

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As he and Sam prepare to begin searching for Bucky, Steve gets various offers of help—some more unexpected than others.

Purpose

Tony Stark wins the fight in Siberia completely by accident.

Steve Rogers does not resist his arrest as he is taken to the Raft.

Sam Wilson, T'Challa, and Pepper Potts pick up the pieces.

Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.

Three Awakenings

The first three times that Steve Rogers woke up during his first twenty-four hours in the twenty-first century.

Making Your Own Future

Characters: Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Steve Trevor Five times -- plus one -- that Diana Prince and Steve Rogers encountered one another.

Better Living Through Pizza

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve takes some time off from soldiering and Avengering to get his head on straight, and Clint is assigned to keep an eye on him, because apparently SHIELD believes in the blind leading the blind. Steve really needs a hobby, since modern television shows baffle him, but Clint keeps bringing him DVDs and pizza.

Five Times Clint Barton Spoke with Steve Rogers about Growing Old and the One Time He Didn't.

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

When Steve Rogers reappeared from the past as an old man, there was a lot of catching up to do. Clint Barton made sure nobody got left behind.

Hammer's Totally Heavy-Handed and Incompetent Revenge

"So, at the end of IM2, Justin Hammer swears revenge on Pepper. He waits until Tony and Rhodey are halfway across the world to launch his attack.

Unfortunately for him, thanks to SHIELD, Iron Man and War Machine aren't the only superheroes in Pepper's rolladex. Steve thinks Pepper's just swell and doesn't take too kindly to somebody trying to hurt her."

Cue badass!Steve and competent!Pepper

Fan Mail

Steve starts getting his fan mail and receives an invitation to the prom. Written for a prompt at the Avengers kink meme. It was a great prompt, and so much fun to write and get feedback for!

Prom. Steve 'Grandpa Iceberg' Rogers at a 21st-century high school prom. "This isn't happening. This whole conversation is just an elaborate practical joke. Bruce really just has orders for widgets or something."

Bruce waved the printouts at him. "Fraid not. I don't really do practical jokes. Messing with other people's moods just seems. I don't know. Karmically unwise."

Mascot

Steve runs. People see Steve run. Steve gets adopted by the neighbourhood he runs through every week day morning. He finds this confusing. Tony finds it amusing.

Locks Not Replaced

Tony angsts back at Avengers' HQ, Ross is a bully and Steve makes sure he doesn't get away with it. In other words, there is much regret, a bit on the philosophy of locks, adventure and far too many Robin Hood metaphors.

woof

For a prompt on the avengers kinkmeme: "...something different happens when Steve gets Dr Erskine's serum plus the Vita ray treatment... Steve does get taller and stronger, but when the first full moon hits, he turns into a big friendly looking dog. Yes, he's a weredog, not a werewolf."

Mission: Baby

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

The Asset finds himself in charge of the care of a small baby, but somehow he knows—he has to protect the baby from all harm, whatever the cost.

14 Tracks

Pairings: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team 14 tracks from Steve's iPod and how they got on there.

Life Will Rattle Your Bones

Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers

Captain America and the Howling Commandos find Schmidt sooner than they thought... wait, what do you mean this is a *different* Schmidt?

In war-torn Germany, the paths of Steve Rogers and Erik Lehnsherr cross, part, and cross again.

come build me up

Pairings: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“Do you ever feel like -- like you joined up because you wanted to do good. You wanted to do the right thing but somewhere along the way, you just lost the whole fucking plot.”

“All of the time.”

Or: the one where Captain America and Agent 13 give long distance friendship a whirl.

Down in the Worn Out Place Again

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

“You don't look a day over 85, Captain,” Wanda says.

Natasha smiles, just barely, and nudges Steve with her elbow. “She makes jokes now.”

(Post AoU, stories about friendship.)

Satellites

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Nick Fury Pairings: Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

In the immediate aftermath of SHIELD's collapse and Steve's plunge into the Potomac, Natasha considers her place in the world. Also the fact that Steve is depressing.

Timeless Classics

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team Five An undetermined number of times (six, apparently) Steve unexpectedly got the reference (sort of), and one time everyone discovered something new together.

you just wait and see

Pairings: Rocket Raccoon & Steve Rogers

“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”

The Small Hours

Pairings: Steve Rogers & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

"I'm not getting him back, am I." The words were flatly delivered – not a question so much as fatigued resignation. "We will do everything we can to help him," T'Challa quietly replied, but he wouldn't lie, not about this. Not to a fellow warrior he respected on and off the field of battle. "The possibility does exist, however, that the triggers are permanent."

The Man We All Remember From the Newsreels

Still getting used to the twenty-first century, Steve comforts himself with memories of long-gone friends. But Howard Stark, the man Steve remembers, is nothing like the man he sees in the newsreels.

we're all choir boys at best

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

You are totally getting laid tonight. "Please stop talking." You hijacked my brain first, this is totally not my fault.

Epistaxis

Steve doesn't worry the first time he gets a bloody nose that won't quit. But when it happens a second, third, fourth... He, and his teammates, start to get concerned.

You Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades

His body isn’t his own, he knows that, knew before the procedure that everything would change. That was the easiest thing to wrap his head around, actually, the physical changes. He’s used to his body betraying him, so this is just another thing to learn his way around. But the colors of everything, even the sliver of blue sky he could see, craning his head at the tiny window, look different.

Looking For Answers (From The Great Beyond)

After the Battle of New York is over, and Loki and the tesseract are returned to Asgard, Steve takes a road trip across the country, and tries to figure out what he wants to do next.

Mourning the Future

Steve's ties to the past and the future are pretty tenuous, and the serum ensures he lives in an eternal present state of ever-youthful vigour. When an old war buddy gets handed his last marching orders, Steve has to wonder if everyone will eventually leave.

Riviera Life

Sam and Steve have been traversing Europe looking for Bucky. Not everyone is convinced it isn’t an open invitation road trip.

Voluntary Bros.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

"Dude, you could be twins, they tested you before they defrosted you to see if you were a clone or something, or if he was a clone," Clint said.

"I want to talk to him, I think. I mean, a girl threw her latte at me last week for not calling her back and this dude felt me up at an art gallery yesterday," Steve said.

Two Brooklynites and One Big Apple

Pairings: Miles Morales & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

“You did good out there today,” Captain America said, brushing a layer of detritus from his unfathomably broad shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

“Not if I see you first,” replied Miles, fingergunning with one hand as he sent a web rope fwipping off into the distance with the other, catapulting himself away at tremendous speed.

... in which two superheroes battle with bad guys, embark on community art lessons, and a friendship forms along the way.

Battle Fatigue

Steve thought he was doing okay. Things weren't going great, but they were fine, manageable even, and then suddenly they weren't.

We Become New Yorkers (or: Five Times Steve Rogers Looked For Home, and One Time Home Found Him)

New York is a million cities at the same time. This is how Steve found his.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

In which Steve and Peter learn that the best way to get through a bad situation is together. And to avoid collapsing buildings. And that concussions are terrible, terrible things.

Leviticus 25

"You want to save Bucky Barnes? You are going to have to put your own house in order first because he is going to need a rock to cling to. You are not ready to be that rock for him. You owe it to him -- and more importantly, you owe it to yourself -- to figure things out, figure out how you can be happy in this time and place, whether or not Barnes is with you."

Strike

Sometimes the road to recovery involves bowling. Conveniently, so does the one to the Grand Canyon.

Conversation in Wakanda

“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”

“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”

He sounds and looks utterly delighted.

Contact Light

Everyone thought computers would be the thing that really blew Steve's mind about the 21st century. They were wrong. When he finds out that he missed the moon landing, it's the start of an ongoing obsession with space that maybe involves Neil deGrasse Tyson, Twitter, and Star Trek marathons.

Twenty-Two

“This is Lucky,” Clint said when a dog got between him and Natasha. Lucky’s vest was bright, like desert mornings and night explosions.

“Does he help?” Natasha asked.

Clint pressed his hands flat on the counter behind him. “He saved my life.”

Natasha looked at Steve, her expression fierce. Steve resisted the urge to yank down his sleeves. Instead, he dug his nails into the puckered skin on his forearms.

AKA An AU in which Steve is a veteran just trying to survive (or not).

Gray

Peter doesn't expect Steve to show up at his house one night when he gets home from school. He also doesn't expect to have a long conversation with him, and choose to be on his side instead.

We're Happy, Free, Confused, and Lonely at the Same Time.

"Tony isn't sure, but he *thinks* Steve Rogers is going to try and argue with him about not being a kid, while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and plaid pyjama pants watching a Disney movie. Tony really hopes that is the case. The Captain America voice looses all affect when wrapped up in that blanket and Tony can't wait to inform him as such." - The one where Tony realises that Captain America and Steve Rogers are not the same person, and Steve is so much younger then he thought.

This Isn't A Love Song, This Isn't A Fable

Steve's not OK with people's perception of Captain America, no matter what he says or how much he pretends otherwise. It's like no one in this time period realizes that there's more to him than a spangly outfit. And yes, he's including the Avengers in that. ... or, the one where everything's all right, until it's not.

it's safe here in our new world

Post TWS. In which Natasha and Steve go shopping, have Thursday night movie nights, and learn that Natasha loves to platonically kiss Steve. Which is good, because Steve loves being platonically kissed by Natasha.

Shadowboxing

Pairings: Matt Murdock & Steve Rogers

It doesn’t matter how many times you fall – what matters most is how many times you get back up. Steve Rogers knew this lesson far too well and it was one Matt Murdock had endured all his life. With both men at their lowest, could a chance friendship bring each of them to their feet again?

Everybody Eats When They Come to My House

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Sam says, gesturing with Steve with his spatula.

i fear for the calendar; its days are numbered

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Before she goes off the grid, Natasha gives Steve her phone number. He’s honored that he’s the only one to be trusted with it, but quickly learns that she spends most of her free time texting him Dad jokes.

Status Quo Ante

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

A tale in which Sam suspects he should be used to this by now, for values of 'this' that involve certain folks he hangs out with and situations he finds himself in, Team Cap becomes Team Ex-Cap becomes TBD, and nobody but Clint really wants to know what happened to Scott Lang's GI Joes. (Sam Wilson from the final scene to the mid-credits scene.)

The Glass Parade

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

Steve thinks that he’s seen Natasha be at least three different people in the short time he’s known her, and he isn’t sure which one is real.

In which the most confusing part of the future is how much Steve has in common with Natasha, and the fact that she seems dead-set on being his friend.

Still Life

Steve Rogers and a very modern form of art therapy. (The one where Steve draws himself out of despair and into some notoriety when his cartoons hit the internet, but he's still not allowed to look at Tumblr without an okay from Pepper.)

Selective Service

The serum's given Steve a lot, but it hasn't taken anything away from him. Not even the things he never wanted in the first place.

I'm a Hustler, Baby

Steve Rogers has a talent for pool--and for making others believe he's terrible at it.

The Healing Properties of Felt-Tip Pens

Rapid healing has worked wonders on Steve Rogers' body, but occasionally it really screws with his head. In the aftermath of torture, Bruce Banner helps Steve to reconcile mind and body.

If I Die Before I Wake

It's his job, as their leader, to endure the sadistic focus of their captor, and that is the one thought that carries Steve through.

Even Gods Do

Captain America doesn't have a good relationship with sleep anymore. Also, he's not a toy.

Under My Skin

Written for a prompt on avengerkink: I want to see something where, for whatever reason, Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing allows for more torture without death. “He's lucky – to have the serum, to have you all.” Tony wasn't sure about that first part. When one faced death and destruction every day on the job, there were many advantages to having a healing factor...and a great many disadvantages as well.

A Glossary of the 21st Century

Pairings: pre-Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Steve's sick of not understanding what's going on, and the team are not all that helpful, so he starts keeping an illustrated notebook for further research. With the help of wiki, google and Logan he starts to settle in and find his place in the twenty-first century.

Blanket Gift Policy

“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted. Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil.

“Sorry.” Tony covered his eyes with one hand.

“I’m getting a migraine.”

“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”

“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”

Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”

One Tin Soldier

Written for a prompt at avengerkink: Because really, under any other circumstances, why would they follow him when he's some guy who's younger than the rest of them (time as a Capsicle aside), who goes around wearing that spangly outfit, who's not even used to the modern world? Why Steve Rogers, rather than a Norse god or the CEO of Stark Industries or anyone else?

“Love is for children,” she'd said, but respect knew no such bounds. The five times the Avengers accepted Steve as their leader, and the one time they followed without question.

and if there's life we'll see it

Steve is instantly taken with this idea of having the picture of the person calling you flash on your screen when they ring your cell.

Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask (Before Assisting Others)

Steve keeps going, because they need him. Being Captain America - having the serum - is a responsibility and a privilege he takes seriously, and he won't waste it by sitting around resting in the middle of a crisis. But then the work is over, and the original victims of the crisis aren't the only ones needing looking after.

Way of the Eagle

Clint introduces Steve to kung-fu movies. Things escalate quickly.

Walking Wounded

In the aftermath of the battle against the Chitauri, Steve's doing just fine. Until he's not. Fortunately, Thor is a perfect mother-hen, Tony makes decent back-up, JARVIS is a genius, and Soap Operas are life-changing. (Or, Post-Shawarma Feels.)

#steve rogers #fic rec #pro steve rogers #i guess i'll tag the ships #samsteve #thundershield

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dessarious · 4 years ago

Text

How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt1

So when I was writing the last chapter of How to Not Get a Date it went full blown angst. Since that wasn’t what I wanted for that story and rewrote the chapter that I posted but the other idea decided to blow up into yet another story so here we go again.

AO3 Next

“I don’t suppose I could convince you not to steal that?” Catwoman spun around to find a girl in what looked like a dark red armored suit with black spots. In the Louvre at two in the morning. What the hell?

“And just what are you supposed to be?” The girl just gave her a sardonic smile and Catwoman couldn’t help but notice how tired she looked.

“I’m Ladybug. Hero of Paris.” The sarcastic tone was unexpected and it took her a minute to actually process the words.

“Since when does Paris have Heroes?”

“Since some megalomaniac found a Miraculous and decided to use it for his own selfish desires. If not for the fact that he targets people with strong negative emotions I wouldn’t care what you do. But since the last time the curator of this exhibit was Akumatized it was a three day battle, I would really like to avoid it if I can.” She just continued to frown at the girl. That couldn’t be real.

“Did Harley and Ivy put you up to this?” That just got her confused frown mirrored back at her. She was either a really good actress or she wasn’t lying.

“Look, this exhibit is moving to London in under two weeks. Could you please just wait until it leaves Paris to take whatever it is you’re after?” This was so strange. She claimed to be a hero but didn’t seem to care that Catwoman was stealing, just that it would become her problem. Even most of the bats frowned upon that sort of thing.

“So you’re just going to let me walk out of here like nothing happened?” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, refusing to make eye contact.

“The police have made it clear that it is not my job to apprehend criminals.” There was a lot of anger under those words. Catwoman walked up to the girl and gently lifted her head so she could study her. Seriously, what was it with black hair and blue eyes? Between the bats and Superman she was starting to wonder if it wasn’t a coincidence.

“When was the last time you slept?” She watched Ladybug’s eyes unfocus as she searched for the answer. “How about the last time you ate?” That produced a flinch.

“I can take care of myself.” Well that wasn’t a good reaction. The girl reminded her a bit of Tim and Jason. The sleep deprivation was all the baby CEO but the amorality screamed mister gun nut.

“I’m sure you can. I’ll tell you what; I’ll do what you want but in return you’ll come with me to meet a couple of my friends and let us feed you.” She hesitated but Catwoman didn’t see any worry in her expression. She wasn’t scared of being alone with criminals so it was likely pride holding her back. “I want to talk to you more about the situation here. It’s odd that I haven’t heard about it.”

“No it’s not. The Miraculous magic is very good at containing itself. Very few people outside of Paris have any idea what is going on.” That tone was odd. There was a trace of bitterness but it was mostly resigned.

“How old are you?” The way she held herself said she was experienced in what she did, but everything else screamed that she was still just a kid.

“Old enough to do what must be done.” Yep, she was dealing with a baby.

------------------------------------------------------

“Will you quit worrying? I’m sure everything’s just fine.” Ivy just shot Harley an annoyed glance. She loved the woman to death but she really needed to take things a bit more seriously sometimes.

“She’s two hours late Harls, that’s a time frame for worry. Not to mention I’ve felt off ever since we got here. There’s something wrong with this city and I don’t like it.” She was constantly on edge and her skin felt like it was trying to crawl off her body. Ivy wanted nothing more than for Selina to get back so they could leave. Sightseeing be damned.

“As always your instincts are dead on.” She let out a relieved breath and turned to yell at Selina for trying to give her a heart attack but couldn’t manage to speak once she saw the person with her. Or rather once she felt the power coming off of them. She pulled Harley behind her and prepared for the worst. Selina was just looking at her like she was insane but the girl was studying her.

“Seriously, you’re scared of a kid?” Harley’s words made her really look at the person and that just made her more worried. Given what she felt this girl was capable of destroying the world without even trying.

“How can you not feel that? The energy radiating from her should be enough that even you should feel it.” Harley and Selina both just looked confused but the girl looked surprised.

“You can actually feel it?” Ivy just nodded. “I’ve never met anyone who could sense the Miraculous before. Whatever you sense though, I assure you I don’t mean any harm. There’s only one person I actually want to maim and I have a feeling when the time comes I won’t even be able to do that.” Well that was… odd. Even Harley was eyeing the girl like she had a screw loose.

“This is Ladybug. She’s a hero here in Paris.” Well that at least explained why she was late. “She’s asked me to hold off on my transaction until it leaves Paris.”

“And you agreed? She’s just going to go to the cops and make things more difficult for you later.” Harley’s words caused anger and hurt to flash across her expression before she controlled it.

“I said I wouldn’t. They wouldn’t take me seriously if I did anyway.” Now she saw why Selina brought her back with her. The girl looked like a stray cat. The stiff way she held herself was exactly like a cat who’d learned that people can’t be trusted, but she refused to run or show fear either. Then Ivy noticed the girls hair and eyes and almost groaned out loud. Selina had been spending so much time with her boyfriend that she was picking up his adoption preferences.

“I wanted to talk with her more about what’s going on here in Paris. We should order food since I have a feeling it’s going to be a long discussion.” Ivy saw the girl's cheeks turn pink and took the time to really look at her. She was the kind of thin that came from not eating rather than just being fit. Her mask hid any bags that might be under her eyes, but even standing still her body was swaying a little. The girl looked like she was about to pass out.

“Of course. Here, have a seat.” Ivy made chairs out of plants for everyone and the girl's face went completely blank before she turned to Selina.

“Is that normal for her?” Harley just started giggling but Selina gave Ladybug a sympathetic smile.

“Yes, Ivy has the power to control plants.” Ladybug let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank Kwami. I don’t think I’m up for another Akuma today.” Ivy shared a confused look with Harley. What the hell was an Akuma?

“You’re fighting people that control plants?” The girl blinked at her in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned.

“No, it’s complicated. I haven’t had to explain this to someone in a long time so I might not make much sense.” She sat while Harley went to order food. Ivy sat across from her and noticed how she melted into the seat. She obviously wasn’t used to being comfortable. When Harley came back in the room they were about to start asking questions when a little black cat shaped creature appeared. It was emitting just as much power as the girl.

“I don’t suppose any of you are willing to spring for camembert?” Harley gave out a squeak of surprise but Catwoman just looked stunned.

“Plagg! Are you out of your mind? Not to mention how rude it is.” Ladybug couldn’t seem to decide whether to be annoyed or embarrassed.

“Given that this one steals for a living I doubt they stand on good manners. Besides, you don’t know if you don’t ask.” The cheeky tone caused an eye twitch in the girl.

“What exactly is that?” Selina hadn’t stopped staring at the creature.

“I’m Plagg, Kwami of Destruction. I power the Black Cat Miraculous.” The girl actually threw her hands up in frustration.

“Tikki’s going to kill us both. Of all the people you could have decided to come out for why would you choose criminals?” Poor kid sounded close to tears and the creature flew up under her chin and started purring. Selina was grinning like a mad woman. Ivy had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.

“Everything will be fine Bug, you’ll see. I’m the Kwami of bad luck and I can feel yours shifting.”

“I thought you said you were the Kwami of Destruction?” Selina sounded far too amused. Ivy shook her head at the woman. She still didn’t understand how no one else could feel the danger here.

“I’m both, just as Tikki is the Kwami of Creation and Good Luck, which is the Miraculous that gives Ladybug her powers.” The Kwami suddenly flew right up to Ivy to study her. “You’re an interesting being. Your abilities are inherently creation but you use them to destroy as well. She could be a good influence for you Bug.” Ladybug let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’m not using your powers to smite the people you think have wronged me Plagg. And I would really like to stop having this argument.”

“You act like it’s an opinion rather than a fact. Even Tikki agrees with me there.” The Kwami sounded indignant and more than a little angry. The energy around it was getting steadily stronger. They really needed to divert it’s attention.

“What were you saying about camembert?” The Kwami perked up immediately but Ladybug cringed.

“Kwami need food to recharge and while just about anything will do in a pinch they each have favorites. Plagg’s favorite is extremely smelly and extremely pricy cheese. Which I haven’t been able to provide for awhile now.” Plagg’s expression dropped at her tone.

“Oh kit, it’s not your fault.” The creature flew back to her and began purring again. Ladybug wouldn’t look anyone in the eye but Ivy could feel the guilt and worry coming from her. Whatever was going on this kid needed a break.

“I just need to go change. Then I can run to the store while we wait for the rest of the food.” Plagg looked ecstatic at Selina’s announcement. Ladybug looked mostly worried but there was a bit of relief under that.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was expensive. I feel bad enough, don’t let them guilt you into buying something that isn’t really necessary.” Selina scoffed.

“I know exactly how temperamental some creatures are about food and given Ivy’s reaction I’d like to stay on their good side for the moment. Besides, the money isn’t an issue.” She was walking out of the room before the girl could respond. Instead she frowned at Plagg who was still looking after Selina.

“I thought we agreed no more surprises.”

“Tikki and Wayzz agreed, I didn’t. Besides, an opportunity is presenting itself that we don’t want to miss.” Ivy shared a confused look with Harley, who just shrugged at her. Ladybug seemed just as clueless about what they meant. That couldn’t be a good thing.

AO3 Next

#Gotham Sirens #MLB DC Crossover #marinette dupain cheng #Selina Kyle #Harley Quinn #Poision Ivy #mom squad

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oven-thermometer · 3 years ago

Text

Darksiders Week: Day VI

Day 6: For the Balance �� Would you bask in Fluff or tremble in Angst? Or maybe you would like to bring balance and combine both into Hurt/Comfort? Choose from one of these three common tropes this day!

I chose both technically! Today's fanfic is about comforting the horsemen after some angst :)

It's been a rough week for me so this is also self indulgence. Also I apologize for missing yesterday, I was not feeling my best 🌼

Giving the Horsemen Scradabacks

For those of you who don't know what a scradaback is, it's basically taking your fingertips/nails and lightly raking it across your skin. Like you're lightly tickling someone. It's really relaxing and it's usually done on someone back.

Warnings: mention of grief, fluff, there's not much this is pretty vanilla.

For two long months you hadn't seen any sign of the horsemen. They had left on an important mission to Heaven and not a word of their current state had reached you. Death hadn't sent Dust ahead to send word - not even Vulgrim had popped in by the nearest Serpent Hole as he was paid to do.

Not that you were overly concerned, they could handle themselves. Right? Yeah, they'd be fine. Or at least those were the words that kept circling in your head. You were probably, definitely, overthinking, but right now it didn't matter. What matters now is the fact that your horseman was out there somewhere - and that somewhere was not your home. It was their safe place and it felt empty without them.

Sighing, you ran your hand over your arms. It was getting to be a bit chilly, so you got up from you place on the couch to close the open windows. Drawing the curtains back you noticed the sun start to dip beneath the horizon. The orange light illuminated small speckles of dust as they floated across the room. Smiling at the sight, you locked the window's latch and kept the curtains open - enjoying the small bit of light while it was still there.

As you sat back down on the chair you looked over to the papers spread out on the plush material. It was a pathetic attempt at working. You weren't going to get anything done, not in this state. Gathering the papers you set them down on your coffee table in a neat pile. You had gone into an organizing frenzy these past few weeks - it was what you did when you were stressed. It made you feel in control to have some sort of grip over your environment. It relaxed your nerves, in other words.

The doorbell caught your attention. The soft ringing bringing you to your feet as you curiously made your way towards your front door. The sight caused by peering through the peep-hole made you gasp - you quickly undid all of the locks and swung the door open. Trapping your beloved Nephilim in a tight embrace before they could utter a word, you buried your face in the crook of their neck.

They chuckled softly, running a tired hand over your back as they rested it on your shoulder. You drew away from them to look into their eyes, instantly decided it was time to let them clean up and get some much needed rest.

You had instructed your partner to first go take a shower, as soon as you came to from your relieved haze you smelt the thick layer of blood and grime coating their being. Their hair was tangled, skin was sweaty and their armor was all kinds of dirty. You loved them, but you loved it when they were clean more.

You smiled to yourself as you sprinkled some cheese onto the meal, listening as the shower ran in the other room. The scent of citrusy shampoos and dried flowers from your soaps spilled into the rest of the house. Various pieces of armor littered the floor, forming a clear trail towards the bathroom.

They stepped out of the bathroom, giving a weak smile your way. The smell of refreshing cleanliness rolled of them in waves, making them want to sleep even more. But, you knew better than to let them sleep on an empty stomach. If you did there would be a rampage in the morning, one that your poor kitchen wouldn't survive.

You turned around from the oven where you were standing to face them. Their tired eyes held dark rings underneath them, the weight of the past months dragging their shoulders towards the floor. Looking to the them with an affectionate smile you guided them towards the kitchen table, instructing them to sit down. While you both waited for the food to cook you had small conversations about this and that. Small talk filling the time gap. You never asked about their missions unless they started talking about it first - you didn't want to bring up memories they weren't ready for yet. So you talked about other things; what you had been doing, your work, when rent was due, your friends and theirs. Your mind felt at ease once again.

Once the food was done, you set their plate full of food down in front of them. They wanted to seem restrained but the moment you sat down with your food and started eating their control broke. They ate like a starving creature kept in a cage for months - Nephilim didn't necessarily need to eat, at least that's what you understood, but yours did. They found solice in food, all of the unique tastes seeming so new to them. You smiled to yourself once again, happy to bring them joy after such a long journey.

After dinner your horseman basically dived into bed next to you - you had been sitting up reading until they shuffled in and landed face first into the sheets. You gave a small chuckle, "Rough day at work, huh?"

They looked up at you from their position and rolled their eyes, "You have no idea."

You hummed, closing your book and placing it down on the end table. Looking back to them, an idea sparked in your head.

You shimmied your way close to them, slowly settling your hands on their back, making them exhale. They didn't question you, they didn't have the energy. You moved your hands flat against their back, first rubbing the tension from their exhausted muscles. They gave a hum of approval, meaning you could continue. You lifted the loose shirt from them so that only ther back was exposed. You ran your fingertips along their skin slowly, raking your nails against the skin ever so gently. Goosebumps exploded underneath your touch, more small hums of contentment followed.

Fury

She slowly relaxed into the bed, not wanting you to stop in the least. She would occasionally shift her back to get you to move your hands in a certain direction when she wanted more attention to a certain part of her back.

Strife

As Strife is extremely ticklish, his skin was a lot more responsive. More small hums and squirming from you going too close to his ribs as well. He never moved intentionally, content with the way you were doing your work.

Death

Death was apprehensive, making the least noise as you ran your fingers along his skin. He wasn't ticklish or sensitive at all, barely any goosebumps erupting after the first time. He did appreciate it though, thanking you once you finished before dozing off next to you.

War

Trying to get through the rather large expanse of this man's back with just your fingers was quite a feat. Although, like Strife, he was more vocal. He wasn't more sensitive, due to years of battle hardened skin, but he simply has less control over his voice. Lifting your hands from him, he looked up towards you, and thanked you.

#darksiders #darksiders strife #darksiders war #darksiders death #darksiders fury #darksiders fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #Scradabacks are the superior form of affection #Highly recommended #darksiders week #DarksidersWeek2021 #SoundCloud

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raffinit · 4 years ago

Note

Sylvaina concept: Jaina flaunting her magical prowess (in battle, in court, in defense of her kingdom/wife, dealer’s choice here) and Sylvanas being awestruck/overwhelmed by it

this got way out of hand but i have ZERO regrets

can Jaina actually do what she does?? who knows??? i say she can because this is an au where jaina can do whatever she likes

------

She understood, even in some peripheral way, the power the Lord Admiral wielded.

Not merely for the titles Proudmoore held, but Sylvanas could remember hearing tell of the last living heir of Kul Tiras even in the early days of Jaina's time in Dalaran.

Long before she had ever crossed paths with Jaina Proudmoore as Banshee Queen — as Warchief —she'd known of Jaina's reputation.

Powerful. Wilful. As impressive as she was terrifying.

Age and experience had done precious little to temper the burning flame of righteousness and ambition in Jaina. She'd simply learned how to channel it.

The thought seemed to unsettle the Alliance more than her vibrant temper.

The last thing Sylvanas would think to call Proudmoore was ‘unassuming’. No one could look at Jaina and forget the hidden wealth of power she wielded. Perhaps it was easier for humans, who lacked dearly in the way they perceived the world, but they as elves were both blessed and cursed with the ability to be keenly attuned to the otherworldly pull of the arcane.

It certainly explained some part of Tyrande and Vereesa's fascination with Jaina.

She had seen Jaina on the battlefield countless times. Knew the arcane signature unique to only her wife when the earth came to life with the scent of scorched ozone and sea breeze.

Whether they had been on opposite ends of the chessboard or pressed back-to-back against a swarm of enemies, it was undeniable — the way Jaina rocked the earth they stood on. The powers of a banshee were certainly vast and terrifying, but Jaina held the forces of nature in the palm of her hand with the strength to either cradle a fragile life or crush it entirely.

It fascinated Sylvanas to observe Jaina. No doubt, the fascination was reciprocated; for such an avid mind, there was no pretending that the functions of an Undead creature as powerful and unpredictable as a banshee didn't drive Jaina to the point of madness for her need to understand everything.

That was one other thing. Jaina had the curiosity to kill a cat ten times over. It was almost child-like; the way her head would tilt this way and that, her bright eyes wide and intent on whatever it was that drew her attention. She watched, then understood, then applied.

Sylvanas remembered the day Jaina joined her and the Dark Rangers for a bout around the training yard. Remembered the keen, almost feline way Jaina’s eyes trailed after them around the yard. Remembered the way those bright blue eyes glittered with curiosity when she allowed some of her own prowess to come to light.

“Your powers,” Jaina said that night, as they were bedding down. “That thing that you do — when you siphon life force. What do you do, exactly?”

Sylvanas eyed her for a moment, then shrugged. “Kill them, obviously.”

“Well — yes, but do you take their soul? Their essence?”

“I drain them of everything. The very breath in their lungs. The light in their eyes.”

“It fuels you?”

“In some way. Though like living creatures, I do need to watch what I ‘eat’.”

“How so?”

Sylvanas shrugged again. “It feeds my body, but what I feed it can be more of a detriment than a benefit. Beings touched by arcane are ideal. Corrupted ones…” She tilted her head vaguely.

Jaina hummed thoughtfully. “It’s not something all Undead can do, is it? It’s something only banshees can control.”

“Others have variants of it. Necromancers. Priests. They all channel a bastardisation of fel magic in some way. Though none are as…” She waved a hand. “Dramatic, I suppose.”

Jaina’s mouth curved with amusement, but there was certainly something darker in her eyes that prickled at the base of Sylvanas’ spine.

“Surely you mages have something of the sort in your arsenal of magic.”

“Perhaps,” Jaina replied, far too flippant as she turned over onto her side. “Goodnight.”

Sylvanas knew the calculating little gleam in those eyes. There were no further questions in the days after, but she began to notice the slightest change in Jaina’s scent. Soft at first; faint. Something earthy and bittersweet like the scent of wood rot blooming from beneath the mulch of a damp forest floor.

It wasn’t an unpleasant scent, but it was no less unsettling.

The last thing she expected Jaina to smell like was an Undead.

It was there a moment, then gone the next. At times, she caught Jaina’s eye and saw something almost knowing and coy there. Tempted as she was to press; to pry about such secrecy, being knee-deep in a war against the Old Gods left precious little time for idle conversation.

They were in the heart of the battlefield when it came to light again. Back-to-back, as they often found themselves in recent times, facing off waves of corruption that came in all shapes and sizes.

The Light gave them a wide enough berth to manoeuvre, but the swarms seemed endless. Sylvanas’ power stores drained and restored in turns with such speed it made her almost dizzy with it. It was insidious; she was taking in too much fel, too much Twilight.

She gathered the darkness around her and Wailed once more — pulling in the gathering crowd of corrupted soldiers around them and draining all she could.

Then she staggered, Deathwhisper gripped tight in hand as she bent to a knee.

Jaina’s hand settled on her shoulder, fingers sliding between the straps of her pauldron. “Sylvanas.”

She batted the hand away and rose to her feet with some effort. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” Jaina snapped. “You take any more of them inside you and the Old Gods will stick in that thick skull of yours.”

“Did you have a better idea?” she shot back.

Jaina’s hand shot out and fisted tightly to the front of her breastplate. Her eyes widened as she was yanked forward in a rush and a pair of lips crushed against hers.

It felt, rather frighteningly, as if Jaina was draining the very life force from her.

She knew the sensation as well as she knew her own skin; knew this brimming power of death magic. There was no one else who could wield it as she could, and yet —

And yet.

She wrenched herself away, claws sinking deep into the meat of Jaina’s arms —

Then gasped.

Black and purple veins crawled across Jaina’s skin and up into her face. It ate away into the vibrant blue of her eyes until they glittered like an obsidian sky. Her alabaster hair came apart from its thick braid, unfurling around Jaina’s head like a living creature.

Then she grinned.

Her voice carried the same eerie echo of a banshee.

“Together,” she said, and Sylvanas’ ears flicked at the reverberating trill of it. “One last Wail.”

Sylvanas licked her lips and tasted sea breeze. It was a blank of memory after that — she couldn’t remember much outside of taking Jaina’s back once more. Of opening her mouth and Wailing. Of hearing the resonating echo of it in Jaina’s voice; amplified and augmented. Of watching their enemies crumple into a pile at their feet, left as nothing more than smouldering husks.

When it died away, Sylvanas found herself swaying in place. Jaina leaning at her back.

It had been a lifetime since she felt the exhaustion of war.

Jaina’s hand clasped sluggishly to her neck, cold and clammy. She could barely comprehend the mumbled, slurring command. “Catch me.”

Sylvanas turned in time for Jaina to collapse into her arms, bloodless and trembling. The blackness had faded away, the obsidian sky had given way to blue once more. She gathered the mage close and told herself that the tremble in her voice and arms were nothing more than exhaustion.

Quietly, and with no small amount of awe, she said, “That was...incredible. I’ve never felt —”

“So powerful?” Jaina finished, smiling wanly. “Neither have I.”

“What did you do?” Sylvanas demanded, sweeping Jaina into a bridal carry and marching back through the ranks. They were out in the open still; even with a pile of bodies at their feet. They were sitting ducks. “You look close to death.”

Jaina gave her a wry smile. “Magic trick. I learned how to do what you do.”

Sylvanas stared at her. “I thought fel magic was forbidden to you.”

“Not fel magic,” Jaina replied. “Death magic. Necromantic power.” Her head lolled as they moved, resting wearily against Sylvanas’ chest. “I might vomit on you. Fair warning.”

“Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Curiosity kills, if you didn’t realise.”

Jaina huffed and found enough strength to lift her head and glare at Sylvanas. “When you’re married to a martyr with a penchant for running headfirst into battle, the end tends to justify the means.”

The absurdity of it made Sylvanas bark out a laugh. “You expect me to believe that you did this for me?”

“Yes,” Jaina said simply. “You’re my wife. For better or worse. Now please hurry up and get me to a bucket because I really do need to vomit.”

“Remarkable,” Sylvanas murmured, shaking her head, despite the smile that was slowly beginning to spread across her face. “Ridiculous. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Aw. I’d kiss you again but I don’t want to risk throwing up in your mouth.”

“Kisses can come later. For now, let’s just make sure you haven’t permanently damaged yourself.”

#anon #ask #anonymous #sylvaina #fic drabble #this is more than 1k words tho so is it REALLY a drabble?? who knows #idk if jaina can do this but in my head she can #what is happening exactly?#beats me #who are they fighting exactly??#YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE #Anonymous

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Text

Querida

Oh, fucking hell. This fic has eaten my life for the past 2 (?) days.

Tovar and William arrive at the Great Wall and things change irrevocably.

Warnings: first time, shameless smut, indulgent smut, no actual plot.

Word count: 4,000

When the outsiders were dragged in, they looked more animal than human, long hair and thick, knotted beards, covered in thick, dirty armour and furs. You struggled to make out their features from across the huge hall.

If this was what existed beyond the protective barrier of the wall, well, you weren’t missing anything.

The only other Westerner you’d seen was William Ballard, the former mercenary who’d been held here since he tried to steal black powder over twenty years ago. You were only a small girl then, but over the years he’d taught you English, gained your slightly dubious trust.

You saw him eyeing the two strangers - one fair haired, tall, one darker, stockier, and wondered if he’d try and make friends.

Ballard was polite to you, even kind sometimes, but you never suspected that he’d stopped trying to escape. He always looked furtive, always seemed to have an agenda crawling under his skin, barely concealed.

The strangers were led off to the barracks. You could smell them from here, and, disgusted, you dipped your head back to your bowl of hot, fragrant stew, pairing it with soft, spiced bread.

You hadn’t missed the way the captured soldiers had eyed the food and suspected they were hungry. Maybe even starving. According to reports from the scouts, there was precious little in the way of vegetation of sustenance in this part of China, so they’d have been hard pressed to stay well fed.

******

As you trained with the fellow members of your patrol unit, all the gossip centred around the two strangers, and how yīngjùn - handsome - they were after cleaning up in the barracks. You bent to your task and tried to ignore the idle chatter. Sometimes you indulged, but ever since your mother had been savaged by a Tao Tei that breached the wall, costing her her arm, you’d forgone any sort of idleness or pleasure, focusing on being strong, preparing to fight the monsters, and helping to work on strategy against them.

At dinner, you joined everyone in the great hall, and after gathering your food and sitting, you found yourself opposite the two Europeans. You stared for a moment, reconciling them with the two hairy, unwashed oafs you’d seen only yesterday.

“Evening to you,” the fair-haired one said in a lilting accent. He elbowed the darker one. “Tovar.”

Tovar looked up from his food. “Buena noches.” He’d shaved all his beard save a moustache and some scruff around his jaw. The removal of the scraggly beard showed off the shape of his face, drew attention to his big, soulful brown eyes.

“That’s “good evening” in Spanish,” the fair-haired one added, amused. “I’m William.” He seemed to have a sunny disposition, his jaw also freshly shaved, hair tied back as he ate amiably. In contrast, Tovar ate in silence and you noticed a wicked-looking scar arching over his left eye. He glanced around as he chewed, as if worrying someone might remove his food at any moment.

You introduced yourself. “Thank you both for helping. Yesterday, against the Tao Tei.”

Tovar grunted in response. William smiled lopsidedly, his manner affable and relaxed. “You’re welcome.”

******

After that, you didn’t see much of the Westerners. Every day it seemed the weaponsmiths came up with new methods to keep the vicious Tao Tei at bay, and you immersed yourself in learning, as usual, between visits to your mother in the secluded gardens within the widest part of The Wall. She was in good spirits for once, letting you help her eat, laughing at your descriptions of the stinky Europeans.

When you left her, you stopped by the armoury to change your daggers. The ones you’d been using for a few days would be sharpened by the boys drafted there. No one could afford a blunt weapon when every moment the Tao Tei seemed to be evolving; everyone needed to be as sharp as their blades.

Yours were useful in targeting the eyes, you’d trained hard and your aim was often true.

You stopped dead at the sight of Tovar in the armoury, hefting an axe as if testing the weight. You must have made some sound, because he turned, brown gaze raking over you suspiciously. He did everything suspiciously, it seemed.

“Where’s William?” you asked, to cover the fact that you’d started to admire his broad form in the leather armour.

Tovar scoffed. “You like him, do you?”

You shrugged. “Everyone likes him. He’s friendly.”

Turning the huge axe in his hands, Tovar scowled. “And handsome, I guess you’re going to say next.”

You weighed your words carefully.

Yes, William was easy on the eye, and several of your fellow soldiers had said so. You suspected even Commander Lin Mae had a crush, though she held her cards close to her chest like any good military-bred woman. But your dreams had been filled with soulful brown eyes and what the touch of scarred hands might feel like. How it would sound to have Spanish murmured in your ear in the darkness.

“He is pleasant to look at,” you said at length.

Tovar looked away, muttering something, and for a second before he’d turned, you thought you saw a flicker of sadness pass over his stocky features, but the light in the armoury wasn’t good enough to tell.

You left him to his grumpiness.

****

You woke with a start at the sound of the horn blasting - an attack was on its way.

Dressing deftly with practiced speed, you hurried up to the wall to see several lines of soldiers already in place. Other women and men from your unit joined you in full armour. A few feet away, William and Tovar were also fully armoured up, grim expressions on their faces. Unlike you, they’d only faced Tao Tei once before in their lives, and although they’d proved themselves formidable, it only took one mistake, one slip in a pool of blood, one misjudged dagger throw, and a warrior could be cut down in an instant.

The crane unit deployed as the creatures climbed over each other, jaws snapping, eyes blinking red and gold in the half-light of early morning, the lit torches only adding to the atmosphere of the scene unfolding.

As usual, Ballard hid behind a pillar, only half his face visible.

Then two creatures breached the top of the gargantuan wall, and all hell broke loose.

You swung your swords as best as you could, holding the line with your unit, the armour of the soldiers atop the wall a cacophony of colour and reflecting light as the fighting raged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tovar and William battling the second, hulking Tao Tei, jaws stringy with saliva, reptilian eyes wild, claws scrabbling. Tovar caught it in the belly with an axe as William scored an arrow in its left eye, and the scaly beast crashed to the floor in a pool of blood, twitching.

You turned back to your own fray as lightning crackled, luminescent and fierce. Thunder followed, the sound splitting the pitch black blanket of the sky. The remaining Tao Tei on the wall tossed its head in fury, its jaws snapping and catching the soldier in front of you by the spear, hurling them over your head, knocking out William, whose bow went hurtling away across the stones.

Frozen in fear, you stood rooted to the spot as the Tao Tei opened its jaws, and you stared into the yawning darkness of its mouth, towards certain death.

The scream of an axe flying through the air broke the spell and just in time, you ducked as the spinning blade sliced through the jaw of the hulking green beast, throwing it off its stride. Undeterred, it reached out a huge claw, dripping with the thick blood of your comrades, and swiped-

The air was knocked out of you, and your back hit stone, cushioned by your thick armoured doublet.

Tovar stared down at you, breathing hard. “Eager for death, querida?”

Embarrassed both because you were caught like a deer in headlights, and because you’d reacted instantly to the feel of his hard body pressed intimately to yours, you shoved him off. “I can look after myself.”

Tovar lay on the stone for a second, staring at you, and then shook his head, standing. “Obviously.”

You struggled to get your head back in the game after that, but managed to use your throwing knives to cut out the sight in one of the Tao Tei’s unblinking eyes, internally sighing in relief that you weren’t rendered totally useless in combat.

****

It took a long time to cut up and drag away the two dead Tao Tei. Sometimes, they were tossed over the wall, but this time, Strategist Wang had deemed that too big a risk before the bricks broken today were repaired.

You headed to the courtyard garden to lick your wounds - mainly your pride, thankfully - and stopped short, seeing Tovar sitting on the edge of the fountain, washing his face.

He looked up at your approach and then looked away, a scowl crossing his darkly handsome face. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him smile.

You sat a polite distance away, decided that washing might feel good, and scooped up water.

As you looked into the reflective surface, your face as well as Tovar’s looked back at you. His hair curled damply, the scar across his eye pale in the morning light, his mouth set into a grim line.

“What I said earlier,” you began.

Tovar looked away. Forget it, si?”

You couldn’t forget the look on his face. The one that said he’d handled a lot of rejection and now expected it, handled it with standoffishness and grumpiness. He stood up, his shoulders set, and turned away.

“William is pleasant to look at,” you ground out, “but I prefer looking at you.”

Tovar stood stock still, so you knew he’d heard you.

“Do not make fun, querida,” he said, very softly, but his words carried to you in that husky voice.

“I’m not.”

He turned back to face you very slowly, his face set in a serious expression, and then a slow smile slid over his face, lighting it up, and for a moment he was so handsome, he stole your breath.

****

From then on, whenever you saw each other, you and Tovar would sneak little glances. Sometimes if you sat together at the long dinner tables, his thigh would touch yours, and your heart would thunder in your chest.

For his part, Tovar seemed much happier to be within the confines of the Great Wall, joining in the combat drills and showing some of the patrol units his axe throws.

Life continued, without any attacks from the Tao Tei, for some time. Spring started to bloom all around, and the three large cherry blossom trees in the garden courtyard sprouted perfect, pale pink flowers.

The morning after they bloomed, you found one waiting for you, tucked into the door handle of your small quarters. And another, the day after that, until the blooms dropped to the ground and were swept away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him at dinner.

“De nada,” he smiled, looking at you with those dark eyes, and you wondered what he wanted. What his endgame was. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you melted inside, and each little touch stoked the flames, until you’d reached fever pitch.

You finished your food, went to stand, and he touched your arm. “Meet with me, si? In the courtyard. When the moon is high.”

You nodded shakily, your heart somersaulting, ready for your little routine of smiles and heated glances to move to the next level.

******

The full moon hung waxy and heavy in the sky, surrounded by pinprick stars, when you entered the courtyard on stealthy feet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you made out Tovar’s silhouette under the cherry blossom trees, now entirely green and leafy.

He tipped his chin in silent greeting as you crossed to him, standing awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do, how to act.

Fantasizing about him covering you in the night, his deep voice murmuring to you in Spanish, was very different to being only inches away, breathing in the scent of his rosemary soap and just a hint of the lemon oil he cleaned his armour with.

“Querida,” he whispered. “You want this, no?”

The edge of trepidation in his tone made your decision for you, and you closed the distance. Tovar cupped your face in his gentle, scarred hands, and dipped his head to kiss you. You met his lips eagerly, if a little clumsily, and drunk in his little groan as your tongues danced. He tasted of spice and tea, addictive, and you slid a hand up his neck into the silky mass of his dark hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

Tovar was not the first man you’d kissed, but the incendiary feelings this kiss incited in you made the others pale into insignificance.

He slid his arms around you and pulled you close, aligning your body with his, and you thrilled to the feel of the evidence of his desire hot and heavy against your belly.

You sucked in a breath when Tovar broke the kiss, his dark gaze searching yours. “You truly do not fear me, little one?”

“I never have. Should I?”

“Never, mi corazón,” he whispered. “I should fear you. What you could do to my…. Old, scarred heart.” He tipped your chin up with a gentle hand. “Do not give me hope where there is none, si?”

“But there is.” Sweet man, you thought, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come…. Back to my quarters?”

He nodded silently, and you felt something drop in your stomach, as if things were about to change irrevocably.

You led him by the hand up the steps to the main gatehouse, and through the silent corridors to your quarters. The sound of the key in lock seemed loud, but then Tovar shut the door behind you, and he dominated the space in his black tunic, leathers and breeches.

Unsaid words littered the space between your bodies, the only light a faint glow from the wall sconce above your tiny desk.

Anticipation pooled in your belly, warring with nerves. “I.. I’ve never done this before-” Twenty-four summers old you might be, but when you lived in a cold, stone fortress, with the constant threat of a Tao Tei attack and cared for your mother, there wasn’t much time for romance.

“We will start slow, then.” Tovar closed the gap between you and again cupped your face in his hands, kissing you again, seducing you by tiny increments. You felt your body begin to relax as the kiss turned leisurely, and your hands slid up the wall of his chest, his heart beating a ragged tattoo under your palm.

His armoured leather spread warm and soft under your hands, but you wanted more. His breathing hitched when you started to unlace the tunic fastenings, but he slid his hands down to your hips, letting you have your way.

Outside, an owl hooted in the distance. Your own heart thundered in your ears, desire making your blood feel syrupy, as you pushed the leather off his shoulders, only the worn, soft fabric of his black shirt underneath. You met Tovar’s gaze and found something dark and hot and yours in his tea-dark eyes, and it made you greedy, so you gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Tovar helped you, lifting his arms and bending, and you’d seen what his arms and hands could do with an axe, so his gentleness both humbled and aroused you.

The shirt fell to the floor on his armour, and oh God, he was big and broad and muscled. Fascinated, you spread your hands over his chest, your skin pale compared to his golden tan, mapping the myriad scars over his chest. A wicked one ran from one nipple down to the side of his hip, the end white with age, and, overcome with how painful it must have been, you bent and pressed your lips to it.

He was silent, breathing ragged, as you did the same for all the scars you could see, tracing them with first your fingers and then your lips, learning the feel and taste and smell of him as his heart thundered, hands clenched on your hips.

A sound that might have been pleasure or pain escaped his lips, and you looked up, meeting his gaze, seeing fire there. “Enough,” he bit off, and he lifted you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as if you were the most precious of jewels, and in the next breath he covered you, and your arms wound around him.

You spread your palms over his back greedily, drinking him in by touch, and he lowered his mouth to yours, starting the whole process anew. Kissing you until that fluttering starting in your belly again, until you were arching your hips to get closer to him, to feel more of the hard, hot length of him against you.

Curious, and eager, you snuck a hand between your bodies to cup him through his breeches, and a muttered slew of Spanish passed his lips as he bucked into your palm, then grabbed your wrist.

“Next time, perhaps. It has been too long for me, comprende?”

He guided your hands upwards, set them on the pillows above your head. “I want to focus on you.”

And wow, that made want and need clutch at you, deep inside.

Tovar undressed you slowly, and you watched his scarred hands work in the low light from the flickering sconce flame, peeling back each layer of your robes. “Hermosa,” he whispered reverently, and then, as if remembering you didn’t speak Spanish, he added, the butterfly wings of his breath warm against your skin, “Beautiful.”

His words warmed you inside out, and then he touched his mouth to your skin and all thoughts left your head.

Aside from a handful of nervous fumbles in the armoury, right now was the closest to sex you'd ever been. As Tovar drank you in, his tongue learning the flavour of your nipples, you broke the invisible hold he'd put on your wrists and touched him, raking your fingers through his hair and smoothing your palms over the golden skin of his broad back.

He mumbled what you guessed was praise in Spanish as he licked and kissed endlessly. You felt him hard and unyielding against your thigh, but he seemed uncaring of his own needs, existing, for now, purely for your pleasure.Time ceased to exist and your world narrowed to each lick of his warm tongue, each stroke of his big, scarred hands, over your skin.

“What did I do to deserve such beauty?” he mused, moving down to feather kisses on your stomach.

“You… bathed,” you muttered, completely at ease with him, and he coughed out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life under water, querida, if this is my reward.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then he spread your legs and put his mouth on you, and nothing else mattered, save the curl of his tongue where you were damp and ready, the glide of his lips on your inner thighs, then the tickle of his facial scruff across your clit, the press of his fingers inside you. You clenched your muscles around his digits and felt him sigh against you, pleasure and anticipation wrapped up inside that single breath, and you arched into his face, chasing the sweet release that every flick of his tongue promised.

Your thighs trembled as Tovar gentled the pace, then sped up again, keeping you on the edge of your climax. This was nothing like what you’d experienced at your own hand, you were bent to his will, control out of your hands-

He licked a long strip over your with the flat of his tongue and you came with a keening cry, turning your face into the pillow to keep from making a sound. The walls might be stone here, but it was better not to take chances.

Tovar propped himself up on his elbows, and the pleased look on his face made your stomach flutter anew.

“Now, I think you are ready, hermosa.”

He disrobed quickly, and you watched every inch of tanned skin revealed in the half-light from the wall sconce. The sliver of moonlight through your window kissed the curve of his shoulder, the scar across his eye, and you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

You sighed with pleasure as he moved atop you again, gloriously naked, and his skin was smooth and hot, and instinctually, you shifted and wrapped your legs around his hips. Tovar growled into the curve of your neck and positioned himself, and your inner muscles clenched greedily in breathless anticipation of this, the first time having a man inside you.

“I will be gentle,” he promised, and you nodded, mumbling his name, not sure what you wanted, but just knowing you needed-

The hot press of him inside you kindled another fire deep in your belly. The head of him brushed the sensitive bead at your apex and you arched desperately -

The pain sliced through you, and Tovar dropped his forehead to yours, going totally still inside you. You felt him trembling slightly, braced on his forearms, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s..” A tear rolled down your cheek and he went to pull away. The fact this big, world-weary, grumpy, strong mercenary would stop, without a word from you, made your heart turn over, and you banded your arms around him.

The pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and you experimentally clenched your inner muscles around him. Tovar bit off a string of curses in Spanish, shifting slightly, and the movement sent little licks of pleasure ricocheting inside you.

“Good?” he whispered against your lips.

“Good,” you agreed, breathing him in, tasting yourself on his mouth when he brushed a kiss over your lips, the breath shuddering out of him.

He moved slowly, seducing you again with his gentleness, capturing your little gasps of sensation with his mouth, until there was more pleasure than pain, and you needed to feel all of him. Testing, you lifted your hips, dragging him deeper, and he made that addictive growl again, his hips moving faster. You clenched your hands on his big shoulders, digging your heels into his thighs, urging him on.

“Carajo,” he cursed, his hips stuttering, and he thrust out and back in again, touching a spot inside you that crashed waves of pleasure through you, and you keened his name, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Tovar went still, eyes closing for a second, then pulled out, taking himself in hand and finishing across your stomach, his breath coming raggedly, before he collapsed beside you on the narrow bunk.

After a moment he turned on to his side and stroked damp strands of hair back from your face. “Querida.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Darling.”

He dropped a kiss on your lips and then moved off the bunk, finding your bucket of water, refreshed each day, and soaking a cloth, wringing it out before gently cleaning off your stomach, then standing awkwardly, his gaze searching yours in the low light, questioning.

Your heartbeat settled. Tomorrow you would have to wake up with the sun, and train again, and fight for your life. Tomorrow you would have to decide what you wanted to do with this new thread between you and Tovar, the emotions that lightened your heart and swam in your head. But for now, it was night, and you wanted to push the Tao Tei and the fighting away, to not think about whether Tovar would one day want to leave the safety of the Wall.

So you crooked your finger and lifted up the blanket. “Stay.”

Relief crossed his dark, handsome features, and he did as you bid, gathering you close. You snuggled your cheek into his warm, scarred, solid chest, burrowed into his warmth, and, forgetting about everything except the sound of his heart beating, you dropped into sleep.

Thankyou so much to @restingnurseface for the company, read-throughs and encouagement.

Tagging people who might like this @bunnyart-blog @spacegayofficial @tiffdawg and my regular “whole shebang” taglist: @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @just-the-hiddles @littlemissthistle @palaiasaurus64 @adorkabeezle @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions please ask to be added or released!

#pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #the great wall fic #pedro pascal fic #shameless smut #pedro pascal x reader #pwp

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babedur · 4 years ago

Text

The Ebon Hawk looked like a pigeon squatting among eagles as they set it down in the Royal Hanger Bay of Iziz, but fortunately the man who came to greet them looked about as worn as they did.

“Jedi,” Captain Bostuco said. “It’s good to see you again.” His eyes flicked over her bandages, the way she leaned on Bao-Dur- and him on her- to get down the ramp. “You mentioned over the comms that you were in need of assistance. Medical is standing by.”

“Thanks,” Tiniat said, aware that she should probably be saying more. “It’s… thanks.” Nothing else came.

They were whisked away by medics who were tired, overworked, but practiced and calm. Iziz’s brief war had given their veteran doctors a refresher in front-line trauma care and their fledgeling students a crash course. Poison gas, laser burns, these were things they’d already seen in the weeks prior, even if this time they’d happened on another planet. Tiniat was content to close her eyes and answer simple questions about where it hurt. The deeper consequences of the last few days would wait patiently.

The only sticking point came when the medics tried to give them private rooms- a luxury, nowadays, since many of the Onderon military’s wounded were only just beginning to walk or wheel their way out of recovery. But Tiniat… would not be separated from her crew. Not yet. And given how Atton suddenly materialized at her side and how Brianna had sunken into an opening stance, they would not be parted from her, either. A shared ward it was.

Tiniat slept.

She woke, drank some water, relieved herself, slept.

Woke. Mical informed her that a message had come from Telos, Admiral Onasi reminding her of her promise, but Mical had told him that it could wait. He seemed pleased with himself, maybe a little smug. It was a charming look on him. Or maybe it was good to see him look anything other than tired and a little hunted, how he often looked when she woke. She needed to catch up with him, with several others of her crew, since the last few days happened so fast that they hadn’t had any time.

But she slept.

She had a… some kind of nightmare. A spreading emptiness, taking everything, all life, her feelings draining out of her. She woke to Atton shaking her shoulder, and he talked to her about repairs to the ship, absently straightening her pillow and fixing her blankets until Tiniat simply reached over and took his hand, because she didn’t know what they were but surely they were something where he could wake her from a nightmare and she could hold his hand while he talked her ear off to drown out the fear that was circling her brain like a fog. And eventually, she slept.

She woke. She ate. The medics informed her that she could shower, so she did so, and the hot water felt like it brought her back to life. Or, at the very least, back from a very cold place.

There was a list of things she needed to do. Speak with every member of her crew and figure out what the hell had happened- highest on that list were Bao-Dur and Mandalore. She needed to figure out what their position was with Iziz, since they’d been mooching off their hospitality for a few days, though saving the life of the queen a week prior probably covered that. She needed to actually see to the ship, she needed to sort out what her crew wanted to do next, she needed to deliver the navicomputer to Admiral Onasi.

But first, she needed to get dressed.

Luckily, Mira was on the ball. Or, at least, outside the shower stall, with a pile of Tiniat’s clothes. “We’ve been taking turns,” she said, bluntly. “Whatever happened on Malachor- it was… bad. Mical and Visas had it the worst, aside from you, but even they were up a few days ago.”

Tiniat frowned. “How long have we been on Onderon?”

“About a week. Eight days, actually. You didn’t know?” Mira sounded like she was pushing down a bit of alarm at that. Tiniat didn’t blame her. She was pushing down some alarm, herself.

“No, it felt like…” It felt like she’d been drifting in and out of sleep, sure, but not for that long. An entire week. “It didn’t feel like that long. Where is everyone?”

Mira was definitely happy to steer the conversation back to the practical. Tiniat took her clothes and stepped back into the shower stall to change while Mira updated her. “Around, mostly. Mandalore went back to Dxun after two days, said he’d be in touch. HK’s been snooping around the palace. Atton hates it, but I think the droid’s just bored. T3’s working on the ship.

“Mical’s been making himself either useful or a nuisance, depending on which medic you ask- he’s barely let any of the rest of them come near you since he got back on his feet. Keeps meditating over you. Not going to lie, it’s kind of creeping me out, and I know that his healing trances actually do stuff.

“Handmaiden- or, Brianna, I guess- has been doing her Handmaiden thing, training with the military. She made the mistake of practicing with her saber a few days ago, so now everyone’s wondering exactly how many Jedi are with us. I’m happy to let them just think it’s you, Mickey, Brianna, and Visas, honestly.”

“I’m fine with that, too,” Tiniat said. “I wonder how long it’s going to take for G0-T0 to take his bounty off… wait, didn’t he… die?”

“Oh, yeah, HK got him. He’s very proud of that. Told all of us how he’d removed that blight from existence, and how it only coincidentally saved our meatbag lives, it was all just because G0-T0 insulted his pride as an assassination droid, you know. The works.”

Tiniat snorted. “Sounds about right. Bao-Dur?”

“Worked on the ship for a day or two, then went down into the city. He’s been doing some fancy stuff with shields to keep the beasts from the wilds from getting into what little farmland Iziz has. He looks like crap, honestly, but you know him. He prefers to be busy.”

Tiniat could only imagine. “Visas?”

“Honestly, she’s doing pretty good, compared to most of us. Meditating a lot, talking to us- I think she’s trying to sort out what’s going to happen next. I mean, it’s gotta be pretty hard on her, getting out from Nihilus’s thumb only for most of us to… do whatever we do next, I guess.”

Tiniat finished lacing up her boot and stood, looking over Mira. “And how’ve you been?”

Mira shrugged. “I’ve been fine.”

Tiniat raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been up for all of thirty minutes, after spending a week staring dead-eyed at the ceiling, and you want me to dump my woes on you?”

“When you put it that way, it makes me sound kind of messed up,” Tiniat observed. “We all went through hell, Mira, I don’t expect you to be okay and I don’t expect to be able to fix it, but please don’t pretend that you’re fine when you’re not.”

Mira’s glare held for a few moments longer before she sighed. “It’s… a lot, you know. I’m figuring it out. I thought Hanharr was dead, it turns out Kreia… brought him back to life, or something? That’s something you can do with the Force?”

Tiniat made a ‘sort-of’ gesture. “Not exactly. But it’s something that has to be done while someone’s still clinging to life, and Kreia is definitely dead now, so…”

Kreia is definitely dead. She’d held her while she died. Heard her last words. Felt her leave this world.

“Woah, hey now.” Mira steered her into a plastic chair. “See, this is why I wanted to keep it to myself.”

“Just got dizzy,” Tiniat murmured. “It’s- It’s not something that can be done again. And Malachor is well and truly dust now, so it’s not like someone can go after his body. He’s gone.”

“I know that,” Mira said impatiently. “And now he might be able to finally get some peace, and stop inflicting his suffering on every human who crosses his path. But…“

“But he was important to you,” Tiniat said. “In a fucked up way. He’s still a part of your life that’s gone now.”

“It’s a good thing,” Mira said. “Well. It’ll be a good thing.”

Tiniat wished she could be so confident. Kreia was gone. But she just nodded.

“I noticed,” Mira said, “That you didn’t ask about Atton.”

“I figured he could tell me himself,” Tiniat said dryly, and gestured at the refresher door. It opened. Across the hall, Atton jumped.

“Hey! You’re up,” he said. Mira snorted.

“I’m up,” Tiniat replied, standing, and looked him over- much like he was looking her over. He looked tired. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two, which was usual with him, but something in the way he stood….

“The doctor sent me,” Atton said, dutiful errand boy that he pretended to be, not at all like he heard she was awake and came running as fast as he could. “I think she said something along the lines of ‘take it easy,’ but you’re going to ignore all that anyway, so I won’t waste my breath. Also, the Queen wanted you to know that the Hawk is being repaired, we’re free to stay as long as we like since we’re her personal heroes, thanks again for saving her life, the usual.”

“She spoke to you?”

Atton rolled his eyes. “Oh, no, not me. She spoke to a messenger, who spoke to another messenger, who spoke to me. From the sound of things, Iziz is still pretty rough. Not everyone loyal to Vaklu backed down once he was executed, and there’s still all the beasts in the streets- a battle over Telos didn’t exactly help all of them get moving out of here.”

“Ugh,” Mira said. “And the streets were already messy enough before the civil war. I’m glad we’re sticking to the palace.”

Tiniat opened her mouth to remind Mira that she hadn’t been able to practice the beast trick on an actual creature yet and this would be excellent experience. Mira’s glare pushed the words back down her throat. Another time.

“Is there anything to eat in this place?” Tiniat asked, instead.

#my fic #snippet #tiniat soleria #kotor 2 #kotor #kotor fic

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willadisastercry · 4 years ago

Text

Space godzilla meets Keith and Pidge bonding moment

tw: depiction of paralyzation of the body and of throat/mouth

Of the list of terrifyingly dangerous alien monsters they’d come across, this one is near the top. After crash landing on an unfamiliar planet, the pair find themselves getting well acquainted with the local wildlife on their unexpected sojourn. They also get better acquainted with each other as they struggle against this beast and with the injuries from the battle that just keep getting more terrifying.

(((Keith and Pidge sharing emotional intimacy while one of them is hurt or both are is an ELITE trope and you cannot tell me otherwise)))

“GAH!”

“Are you sure you don’t need assistance?! I can probably get a hold of it’s tale with my bayard...”

“I’m good, just... this thing is relentless. It doesn’t have a single weakness except I don’t think it can hear well, that’s the only reason it hasn’t tried to eat you again.”

“Good to know? But let me help, Keith, you’re hurt too.”

“I’m still standing, am I not?”

“Your back is like shredded bud, it’s called adrenaline, ever heard of it?”

He opened his mouth as if to respond but didn’t get the chance to before he was launching himself over the swooping arc of the stinging tale that threatened to take his legs out from under him. His body stretched as he jumped and contracted almost as quickly to send himself tumbling forward, a stiff gasp escaping his lips when the stingers already at home in his back shifted and reduced him to a crouch while he rode the waves of agony that followed.

“That’s it...”

Pidge activated her bayard and sent it forward just as the tale of the oversized killer iguana was going back for seconds while Keith was still down, its struggle only aided the momentum of the grappling hook as it wrapped around the deadly appendage.

That bit was pretty seamless. What wasn’t seamless was when the creature started fighting her hold, a counter measure she hadn’t really planned for and wasn’t at all equipped to combat given she was very much reduced to sitting on her butt.

“Uh, Keith?” Pidge asked in a shriller voice than she intended as she dug one heel into the rocky soil beneath her.

“I know you’re like not doing great at the moment, but right about now would be a good time to, I don’t know, do the thing... that you do, ya know?”

The creature reared around as best it could with its tale entrapped and began yanking. Digging both heels into the ground was now all Pidge could do to keep from going flying. She couldn’t even hold back her screech when her torn muscles and slashed tendons protested that, the gash in her thigh squishing and swelling with another spurt of blood, whatever clotting that had been achieved entirely lost.

She almost cried out with relief she when heard Keith grunting and saw as he pulled himself up to his feet despite the burning twinge across the entire expanse of his back as well as his arms and shoulders, because Pidge was right, he did need to do the thing he does and end this.

“That’s a start, now I’m pretty sure what happens next is it gets more mad and seeing as i’m attached to my bayard still—“

But he didn’t need her to explain her predicament, he saw the danger immediately and lunged at the beast while it was still focused on attempting to wriggle free.

He knew aiming at its exposed underbelly was useless, the skin was too tough, but he also knew he couldn’t get close enough to go for a limb without risking getting sliced to ribbons by its claws. They had both found that one out the hard way.

So, with the beast temporarily distracted by Pidge he resolved to make a break for the underbelly anyway, the thing was huge but it’s limbs were short and set so far apart that if he could just slide under it and—

The next few moments happened in a blur. He did the thing without so much as a second thought, like he quite literally acted in whatever fashion his brain first thought of, too sluggish and dazed to afford waiting for something other than his instincts to come through.

The creature let out a horrible screech and bucked against Pidge’s grasp on its tale, she let out a strangled yelp as she was pulled forward and off the ground for a moment before landing back down hard. She heard Keith gagging as bright yellow acid oozed nearly onto his face from where his sword had pierced the only place he could think would be soft enough to bypass, clutching his nose at the acrid sizzling as it spluttered onto the dirt next to him.

“Pidge! On three retract your bayard, okay? One, two—“

“What? No, I can’t. It’ll—“

“Three!”

Keith picked his feet up as he hung on the sword stuck in what he assumed was the creatures gullet. It came away with even more acid blood as he dropped to his knees and tried to get out from under the stream, the top of his forearms being spared only by his armor as it disintegrated in a sickening hiss before his eyes. He managed to be vaguely concerned about wether it would stop at his armor before all of his worry went to avoiding being crushed to death as the beast took off.

Keith opened his eyes only when the thumping of the creatures claws began to notably shrink in the distance. He was curled up protectively on his side and too exhausted to move just yet.

“Huh, if only we had listened to Pidge earlier...” she mused teasingly as she pulled herself into a more comfortable sitting position.

“Shut up, are you alright? How’s the leg?”

“The leg is relatively the same, slightly more numb, started bleeding again, but still attached so that’s all that matters.”

She glanced back at the concerningly large puddle she’d left behind and the newly forming one underneath her. The blood loss wasn’t yet dangerous but she knew that could change rapidly if they didn’t get to Green soon. And for that she would need a functional Keith because she was fairly certain she couldn’t walk.

“Don’t think you can just deflect onto me, how’s your back you idiot?”

He thought deeply for a second, forcing himself to push past the impending haze as the steady stream of adrenaline coursing through his body began to taper off.

“Feels weird... the tingling and burning is starting to travel. Probably safe to say that the stingers have some sort of poison or irritant I guess... and it’s—oh my god it’s blood is—wait, crap!”

He wasn’t really mindful that he was rambling but grateful that it reminded him of the acid eating away at his armor and scrambled to detach what was left of it, scrubbing away what had just started making its way through his undersuit.

“It’s blood is WHAT?! Did it get on you?!”

“Yeah. Well no, I’m good,” he sighed and rolled around to sit up as painlessly as he could manage to.

“It ate my armor and I think my the hair on my forearm is gone, but my skin is in tact, well most of it. Sit tight though, I’m coming over there.”

“Kay, not going anywhere...”

Keith made his way slowly. His legs were leaden with excertion and whatever lovely substances the overgrown demon lizard stung and scratched him with seemed to only make it worse.

“Well you look awful.”

“Thanks, you too,” he said as he sat down heavily, his muscles screaming at the effort walking even a couple feet took and his head swimming for a moment.

“Rude, but turn around and let me see,” Pidge’s order was final but Keith’s body was slow, not really listening to what he wanted that well.

“Keith, I will slap you, stop trying to be a tough guy.”

He only managed to swivel sideways and lean the rest of the way to expose enough of his battered back to quell her chastisements.

“Hmm, the space-godzilla got you good,” she muttered as she pulled him closer to examine the bleeding gashes from the creatue’s claws and swollen welts from the barbs of its hellish tail.

Various bits of their armor had been knocked off by its claws and tail during the attack. For Keith, his chest plate had cracked after several blows and fallen off, which is why he was so bad off now.

There were three slashes starting from his left shoulder blade that made their way down to the middle of his back, all wide and jagged with blood leaking steadily from them, the skin around the wounds just as irritated as the welts from the stingers that trailed along in several lines up and down his back.

The skin around the gash on Pidge’s thigh fared the same though her symptoms had progressed more, the majority of her thigh swollen and blotchy with a tingling sensation that spread from her toes to her hips.

“Some of the stinger things are still lodged in your back... I think I should pull them out so ya know, no more of the toxin is released, that good with you?”

“Yeah whatever, just be qui—Oooh, okay—OH, ouch!”

Keith’s entire body tensed as she yanked the remaining stingers out, summoning another surge of blood from his scratch wounds.

“All done, sorry! I didn’t realize they were serated.”

“S’ okay,” he breathed through gritted teeth as blood began to trickle from the welts Pidge had just de-stingered.

“We’ve gotta get to our lions and contact the rest of the team before we start feeling the full affects of the toxin, do you think you can walk if I help you?” Keith asked as he was getting to his knees.

“My leg is pretty much entirely numb... I don’t know if it’s from the damage of the wound itself or what was coating the claw, but I can try.”

Keith got his feet under him and reached down to hook his arms under her armpits.

“Ready?”

Pidge nodded and he lifted her to her feet. She fought to stifle her groan when the skin around the wound was pulled and then tried to put her weight on it but it immediately buckled.

“Shit, okay. We can work something else out.”

“Sorry, I can probably hobble...”

“No hobbling when I have a spot just for you on my one remaining shoulder.”

“Huh? Wait, no!”

Pidge protested but Keith had no energy for it as he hoisted her up and over his good shoulder, her own mind not as hazy as his apparently because he now had a sense of humor. Keith never made jokes, but now he couldn’t stop. And it was freaking weird.

“Ugh, put me down!”

“Nope, sorry. Friendly reminder for passengers: please keep all hands and feet within the—“

“Oh my god, you’re delirious.”

“...maybe slightly, but you’re bleeding out so checkmate.”

Pidge wanted to slap him because that’s not how chess works, but grumbled instead and went to nudge him in the stomach with her knee but the movement jostled her thigh causing her keen at the way it burned, the torn everything that lay beneath pulling visciously.

She felt Keith’s hesitant hand hover over the back of her injured thigh before making his mind up and pressing it down against his stomach. She wailed because she couldn’t help it but was somehow able to rationalize his decision and be thankful.

Pressure, that was smart of him. Even in a state of literal delirium he had the presence of mind to do that because he was right, she was bleeding out. It hadn’t severed an artery but it likely nicked one with the way it had gushed initially.

“Th-thanks, hurts like a bitch, but thanks.”

“Anything for you, Pidge.”

She could almost laugh at how soft Keith was being, how open and lighthearted he was. The posion was admittedly closer to his heart and his brain which was probably why Pidge was more coherent though partially paralyzed.

Both injuries weren’t any better or worse than the other though. Pidge was very much in danger of losing too much blood and Keith was very much in danger of succumbing to adverse affects of the posion.

But she could hardly feel Green which meant they had a way to go still, it was less than ideal but of all people that would be able to get them there under such unfortunate circumstances, she was glad it was Keith with her. He was just as impossibly stubborn as she was and Pidge had no doubt that he’d do whatever he could to make it there in time.

“You know where you’re going right?”

“Yeah,” he huffed, already winded “crashed on the other side of this ridge... ha, course it’s up a hill, of course...”

“Stop as much as you need to if you need a break—“

“Nah, if I stop I don’t know if I’ll be able to start again.”

Pidge worried at her bottom lip, the skin already raw.

“Just let me know how you’re doing every now and then... since you’re so dead set on being my personal transport.”

He grunted at that and Pidge accepted it was as much of an answer as she was going to get. He walked for a while, the bounce of his gait and unrelenting pressure on her leg sufficiently shorting her dulled nerves for their tolerance for pain.

She could still feel the wound and how mangled the inside workings of her leg were, not even the numbing of the poison could take it away, but the tingling had traveled to her hip now and slowly made its way up her side. The feeling of Keith’s hand on the back of her thigh diminishing by the minute.

Pidge could only imagine how Keith was fairing with the numbness of the poison, she wondered if he could even feel her weight on his shoulder with how many pricks he’d received from the monster.

“Almost halfway up... this goddamned hill... can-can you feel Green yet?”

“Yeah, stronger than before at least. We’re getting closer. How do you feel?”

“Feel fine... i’m good,” he answered quickly, but his words were sloshing together somewhat, his pronunciation becoming lazier.

“Well, I can’t feel anything on my right side anymore except for my arm, so that’s lovely.”

“Hm, yeah... my back’s numb... scratches don’t hurt much anymore.”

“That’s probably for the best right now.”

“Yeah...”

The next few minutes passed slowly. Keith’s breathing getting heavier with the continued effort but no matter how much Pidge urged him he refused to even slow down for a minute let alone stop altogether to catch his breath.

So freaking stubborn, but she couldn’t blame him. She was the same way.

As they made their journey she found it more and more difficult to tear her mind away from worrying about the poison, what it could do to their bodies, if it was even curable. It could be lethal to humans and their efforts could very well be for nothing and they’d have no idea.

“Hey... you okay?” Keith asked, his voice gentle.

“Huh?”

“You’re breathing funny... wait, are you—don’t cry... we’re-we’re going to be fine, Pidge. Stop thinking about it...”

“I’m just scared,” her voice was meek, her chest shuddering as more tears slid silently down her face.

“I know... me too... but we’ll be okay... won’t let anything happen to you...”

“Okay...” she breathed shakily, her mind still working over her worries but also over the fact that she was so emotional, paranoid even, finally resolving it was probably another side affect of the poison.

She hoped that Keith didn’t get anxious like her, he’d gotten a stronger dose of the toxin and so she feared what paranoia would look like on him since he was already pretty delirious.

“Hey, Keith?”

He hummed, talking wasted too much energy and he didn’t much left to waste.

“I can feel Green a lot now, can almost hear what she’s trying to say. She’s stronger than when we left her, scared for me I think.”

“S’good... s’really good.”

They were nearing the top of the hill. Pidge could feel the elevation changing as the steep incline lessened and Keith straightened up with her, his breathing leveling and the muscles under her relaxing slightly, no longer straining to balance her while leaned forward.

“See her... see Green,” he spat with some effort. Words came a lot harder now, his mouth as dry as if it was full of cotton.

“She’s really worried... I can feel how scared she is...”

“Tell her... s’okay...”

“I will—hey slow down, we’re here, don’t waste more energy.”

“Can’ sl-slow...” he slurred like his tongue had stopped working. The dryness in his mouth extended down his throat and when he inhaled too sharply trying to articulate himself and choked, ragged coughs shaking his tiring frame.

“Oh, okay, don’t talk then. Just keep walking, you can rest soon.”

He only grunted this time, his breaths becoming as strained as they were when they were coming up the hill. He surged forward dazedly, his vision blurring slightly but he ignored it. They were so close, just a couple more yards and they’d be safe. Just a little further and—

“-eith, Keith! Do you hear that? Godzilla’s back and he brought friends!”

Keith hadn’t realized he’d zoned out in his intense concentration to get to Green before he succumbed to the numbness that seemed to cover every square inch of his body, weighing on his chest like a heavy cloud.

He heard it now though, the rumble of taloned appendages and the whipping of barbed tails.

Shit.

“How far are we from Green? Because our buddy from before and his friends are about a mile out, but they seem to be moving a tad faster than we are...?”

He didn’t answer, his legs moving faster than he knew he could manage with how nonexistent they felt, carrying them forward with reckless abandon as black dots danced across the quickly shrinking space between him and Green’s open jaws.

He couldn’t feel his feet hitting the ground, he didn’t even know he was running, he just felt the burn in his chest and the twinge on the skin of his back as he moved.

Pidge was saying something but he couldn’t hear her, he couldn’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the splitting ringing in his ears and pulse of his own heart as it pounded in his chest.

The alien beasts descended on them quickly, he was later told, and Pidge screamed her throat raw the entire time urging him to get them inside Green before they became dinner.

He wasn’t sure when he’d made it over the threshold of the lion or when he’d dropped to his knees to let Pidge down softly before falling forward in a heap.

“Damnit Keith, Green go! C’mon girl, I can’t fly-I can’t even move and Keith needs help...”

Once the pain in her leg died down from him abruptly releasing the pressure that was keeping the wound stabilized, she turned to her struggling friend, pushing away the fear that spiked as her own numbness encroached further.

He’d collapsed onto his front bonelessly and was wheezing like he’d just run a marathon with a punctured lung. It didn’t sound good and he didn’t look much better. The wounds on his back were angry, the skin puffy with hives and bleeding still.

If she didn’t know better she’d have thought he was having an allergic reaction and going into anaphylactic shock, but her wound looked the same.

“Keith?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look like he’d heard her.

Pidge grunted in frustration when she couldn’t get her legs to bring her much closer to him, relying on her arms to physically move them as she awkwardly scooted.

She vaguely wondered how long it would be until she couldn’t sit up on her own as she lowered herself down to eye level and moved the damp locks that had fallen in front of his face away so she could see his eyes. They were bloodshot and unfocused as they darted about rapidly, his pupils blown entirely.

“I need you to breathe steadier for me okay? We’re in Green and we’re on our way back to the castle... you just need to hold on a little longer...”

Keith could see Pidge’s mouth moving and her hand on his head, but her words were lost on him and so was her touch. It felt like she was shouting across a void, like he was underwater and everything was garbled. He didn’t know why he couldn’t hear her, why he couldn’t feel anything.

He just knew he couldn’t breathe and that his head was going to explode.

“Catch your breath and calm down, we’re gonna be okay...”

Taking in air was a chore, like he was trying to fill up a balloon that had already popped. He couldn’t really feel his body beneath him as he struggled, he thought he could feel his throat closing though with how tight it grew.

“We’re gonna be fine... just keep breathing, Keith... even if it hurts... we’ll be okay...”

Pidge was saying these things mostly for herself now, Keith hadn’t answered her once since they’d made it to Green and she couldn’t even be sure he was conscious now. The numbness had spread to her middle, the muscles in her back and hips failing, reducing her to laying on her back.

For a while it had felt like it had stopped there until she tried to check on Keith and found her neck was immobile now too.

“No, no, no—fuck!”

That was when she’d started crying again. She was paralyzed. Her muscles were entirely lax, completely unresponsive to anything she tried to tell them to do. But her ears were unaffected. She would be able to hear when Keith stopped breathing next to her.

The poison had likely attacked his pulmonary system with the proximity of the wounds to his lungs, the claws maybe even knicked one. For Pidge it attacked her nervous system from the extensive damage to about a dozen crucial nerves in her leg.

She tried to curse pitifully again but the muscles in her face were tingling, managing nothing more than a nose wrinkle before she lost all control. The tears fell freely now. All she hoped for was a crackle over the coms from her friends when they got close enough to the castle to receive one.

Keith continued to wheeze, soon falling into an almost dream state as he struggled against the increasing paralysis in his mouth and throat, the decreased oxygen to his brain likely playing a hand in it.

He saw his home in the dessert except his father was there. He saw flashes of red and orange like fire and sand. They swirled around him threateningly, like they were taunting them. His father looked like he was saying something to him, but the sand whirred deafeningly.

“What?!” he thought he heard himself calling out through the wall of flames that seperated them. The blaze was tantalizingly close and gaining ground each second.

“Dad, what are you saying?”

The fire raged stronger now, the heat and lack of oxygen in the air around them as the flames licked it up bringing his father to his knees.

“No, no—Dad!”

Keith started toward the flames that were now receding, drawing toward his father who was still trying to tell him something.

But it was too late.

The flames circled him, closing in and swallowing him up.

Keith felt like he was the one burning as he saw his father taken away from him once more before darkness enveloped him.

“Dad...” he whispered in defeat.

The static that sounded from the coms device brought another surge of tears down Pidge’s face once Keith had stopped calling out and finally relaxed, his breaths choppy and sporadic but less erratic.

He was calling for his father, it was the first intelligent word she’d gathered from him once he’d started up. He sounded like he was crying too.

“-dge...-th...in...-idge-Keith...come in...guys? Please report.”

It was Shiro. He sounded scared.

“Pidge? Keith? Please tell us you’re okay...”

Hunk. Gosh, hearing him so worried hurt.

“Green has the other lions flipping their shit,”Lance remarked, trying to infuse some levity into his voice.

“Red is like actually wailing—wait, Coran sees you guys on the radar...”

She wanted to sob so badly, but her body refused. They were so close to being safe, to not feeling so wrong. She wanted to tell Keith it was going to be okay, that his father was gone but that he would be proud of him. That it’d be okay because he had his friends. And that she needed a hug as soon as he could breathe and as soon as she could stand.

But she just let her eyes flutter closed while Green landed them with a shudder that she didn’t feel. Everyone was on them in a second, worried voices pulling her from the darkness as equally worried faces hovered over her, poking at her leg.

“Pidge?! Pidge can you hear me?” Shiro was waving his hand in front of her but her face was entirely numb, her eyelids heavy and uncooperative but still functioning for now.

“That’s a lot of blood and—oh my god is that bone, aw god...” Hunk deadpanned before excusing himself to go hurl.

“What the heck? Her eyes are open and responsive but she’s not talking,” Lance noted as his mind worked over the strange scene.

Keith was still out of it, mumbling incoherently and breathing hoarsely. Coran was examining his back and figuring out a way to transport him without angering the wounds.

“I think I have an idea of what happened...” he offered once he’d inspected the swollen dots from the barbs and relayed his hypothesis to the rest of the team.

“Oh my god, so she’s like... paralyzed?” Lance questioned in horror.

Hot tears spilled down her face once more at their realization, Hunk appearing next to them and Allura coming into view as well.

“Pidge?” she asked softly, “er, blink twice if you can hear me?”

Blinking was difficult but possible, snapping her eyes back quickly each time just in case.

“Oh, Pidge...” she gushed sadly, taking her face in the palm of her hand.

“That must’ve been hell—I-I’m so sorry,” Hunk choked as he fought back a sob.

“We should’ve gone with you guys, I should’ve gone with you guys...” Lance griped defeatedly.

“No, I never should’ve sent you... it was too dangerous—“

“Er, Shiro? Could I get some assistance with Keith? Holding him like this seems to aggravate his breathing...” Coran interrupted as he sat with Keith against his chest after trying to carry him over his shoulder like he’d done with Pidge.

“Of course.”

“Rest now, Pidge. You’ve done more than enough,” Allura soothed, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

That was all the command she needed as she let the heaviness close her eyes for good. She felt herself become weightless before the tingling subsided into a pleasant nothingness.

The next thing she knew she was tumbling forward into warm arms, a familiar voice sounding not nearly as wrecked as it once had. She blinked back the haze from cryosleep only to realize that she just couldn’t see.

“These might help.”

She blinked with clarity once someone had put her glasses on for her, making her feel less disoriented now that she could actually see.

Keith stared down at her warmly.

“Hey there.”

“UGH!” she grumbled as she scrambled up and threw her arms around him, squeezing like she wanted to shatter his bones.

It wasn’t long before she was fighting the hysteria in her voice.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again! It was horrible! You-you were getting worse and I couldn’t m-move, I th-thought I’d have to hear... hear you...”

“Hey,” he said as softly as he spoke to her on that stupid planet, rubbing her back in an effort to quell the stuttering of her chest.

“I didn’t. We’re okay, just like you said we’d be...”

“O-okay,” she managed through sobs now that she could actually cry.

They stayed like that for a while which was surprising when she thought about it but she didn’t care to consider it in depth, that he was letting her hug him so long, that he was comforting her.

“How long were we out?” she asked after some time. It was probably night judging by the dim lights and lack of swarming that occurred. Keith was stubborn so she could imagine him refusing to let her wake up without greeting her first or some noble shit like that.

“Well I was out for like a day, not much to fix I guess. The slashes weren’t deep, not heavy duty work or anything. The poison paralyzing my throat however... was a slight issue. The pod stopped it before I like stopped breathing or whatever, but Coran said he had a plan for if that happened.”

Keith readjusted so that he held most of her weight more comfortably as she calmed down.

“You on the other hand, were in for three days, almost four.”

Pidge sat back from her home against his chest and underneath his arms to look at him with an amusingly bewildered face, needing to know every detail now temporarily overriding her sadness.

“Three days?! Why?”

“Well you did almost bleed out... and then there were the several muscles sliced clean in half as well as a few snapped tendons from said severed muscles... oh and the full body paralysis from a toxin that had to be flushed out... so yeah, took a hot second. And you’re not allowed to say I scared you because you scared me pretty well too.”

“Oh... sorry for scaring you.”

He pulled her back into his arms and she closed her eyes against the steady rise and fall of his chest, a much welcomed change.

“Your... your dad would be proud of you, ya know?”

She felt Keith stiffen against her for a moment at the mention of her father.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s just—you were calling out for him... and I couldn’t comfort you, tell you that it’d be okay or that... well he’s not here, but we are...”

Pidge took a shaky breath ans Keith tightened his arms around her, his body no longer tense as she struggled to articulate her words through the hitches in her breath.

“It just hurt hearing you call for him like that and not be able to do anything... made me want my dad... I-I miss him too...”

She thought she heard his breathing pick up, felt him moving his hands to his face as he continued to rub her back. She didn’t care, just hugged tighter.

“Thanks... for that,” he said finally.

“Thanks for not dying before you saved us.”

“Ha, checkmate I guess.”

She laughed because that’s just once again not how that works and nestled herself somehow further against the warmth of Keith’s chest because... they were okay.

#keith whump #pidge whump #keith kogane #pidge gunderson #vld #voltron whump #voltron fic #voltron fanfic #whump prompt #whumpy #keith angst #voltron pidge #keith x pidge #vld pidge #voltron keith #pidge angst #voltron angst #poison #emotional whump

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eternalstrigoii · 4 years ago

Text

Bittersweet

“It’s just gonna be a nice little fluff fic,” I say as I start this last night. I am. So sorry.

Platonic!Desert Warrior Dark Fey Reader + Diaval; Maleficent x Diaval; Borra x Desert Warrior Dark Fey Reader

As with all proper bonded pairs, there were times when you were not with Borra.

In the nest, those times used to be spent honing your skills, chasing captive deer through the tall, dry grass along the rocky outcroppings; scaling from the caverns to the plains using nothing but your wits, your talons, and your knees. You sparred with others, you sat with Ini in the rocky outcroppings of the nest outside, watching the cold and violent sea, and, from time to time, you entertained your kinsmen’s children with your strange ability to recall and emulate the sounds of the birds you heard on the moors.

These days, you spent an increasing amount of your free time with Diaval.

It wasn’t that you miraculously spent none of it with your kinsmen – you did, but Ini was always the curious sort, and the moors offered her a great deal of new stimulation, and Shrike had Percival. Udo always had his fledglings, and you loved him for it, but when Borra convened with Maleficent, it was in your best interest – and often also in Diaval’s – for the both of you to find something else to occupy your time.

For the moment, the days of war and battle plans were over.

So you wandered.

Whether he was a bird or a man didn’t matter, Diaval was good company. Sometimes he saved you shiny things that he’d thought you would like, and you did like them. Sometimes you lay together in the sun and you ran your talons through his feathers until he shivered (which was more amusing to watch when he was a man, and your smirk never failed to rile him).

And, sometimes, he took you to the kingdoms.

Perceforest was not a welcoming place. It better resembled a dumping ground when compared to Ulstead; the buildings were weathered and the stone streets uneven. Even its people seemed burdened by invisible forces. For a land that knew communal, council-based living (or some form of it), they still suffered. You didn’t like to go there because you knew if you went frequently enough, you would feel motivated to do something about it, and that would inevitably work its way back to Maleficent, and you would have to hatch some sort of plan.

You quite liked your free time, so you contented yourself with perching high in their trees and drawing shapes in the air until their crops flourished. Despite their farmers’ toil, it brought them some measure of relief, and there was almost always some left over for you and the raven to share.

The open-air markets of Ulstead were also a draw, with their ready-made sweets and shiny baubles, and you had yet to bother with the Midlands.

You stayed with him near Perceforest most often.

The farmer that nearly killed him twenty years ago was dead, and his daughter now owned the land. She was a pretty thing, round-hipped under her shift. Very clean. She kept house almost obsessively, and at first Diaval agreed with the thought that it was to keep nature from entering, but then she did something neither of you planned on.

She left pastries sitting on the window. In plain sight. Of you and anything else that just so happened to be looking.

You looked to your raven companion, who was, at the time, literally a raven.

He awk’d, partly flapping as his best approximation of a shrug. Do what you will, it won’t be my idea to start something.

“They smell good,” you replied. “We can share.”

He fluffed his feathers at you. No, I will not do your dirty work.

You pursed your lips so they quirked at the corner and thought for a moment. You could take one with your vines, or you could respect peace and not touch them at all, or you could find a third option that would please you both without having to cope with either extreme.

You resolved to do the latter, hopping down and quirking your fingers so that her squash vines continued to flourish while you strode up to the window.

You plucked one from the platter and made a mad dash back, going even higher into the branches than you were originally perched. Diaval laughed at you, and you swept your wing so he had to fly or be shoved off the branch by its wind.

Awk! You said something about sharing?

“You did nothing to help.” You took quite the bite only to pause and look down at it strangely. You weren’t sure what you tasted or if you liked it, so you surrendered the other portion to him.

He picked at it, and after several swallows, quirked his head back to you. Awk! Not much of a baker.

“It’s terrible,” you agreed.

Another few mouthfuls. Awk! No sugar?

You ate it, though it wasn’t as pleasant as you thought. Not pleasant like the molasses cake at the palace, or the stall-vendor with fresh raisin buns. You had no use for currency, and Diaval saw no problem with pocketing some for you from time to time.

“It’s just grain,” you said after a moment, nearly in disbelief. “Who eats just grain?”

Awk! Bread. It’s bread. Surely you must have had bread.

“That is not bread. That is…” Small and lumpy and wrong. Not much of a baker at all. “A rock.”

He quirked his head to the other side and made a low chitter of disapproval.

“What in skies do you want me to do about it? You never help.”

You swore before your ancestors if he tried to levy peace against you as an excuse, you’d smack him from the branches. Instead, he hopped onto your leg and scaled your side until he was perched upon your shoulder. And he nuzzled you, the conniving bastard.

“I will not be goaded into acts of kindness,” you hissed.

He chattered at you gently, and you could hear the honey in his tone. Oh, come on. She’s just a girl. No better than Aurora.

You scowled. Severely.

More chattering; if you help her, we can steal sweet buns.

“I should throw you in her window and see how well you manage.”

He gave you the full force of his beady, black little eyes, and you set your teeth and growled at him.

But he was Maleficent’s mate, and the scheming little brat knew you would do nothing of the sort.

“Where in skies does one find sugar?”

Awk! Awk! Don’t act like I’d make you farm it. Come on. We’ve got plenty of work to do.

He took off from the trees, and you did your best to quietly follow. You left the bread for the squirrels, though you figured if she had the guts to leave her concoctions unattended, she knew how palatable they were.

You came back several days after dropping off the sack of sugar with a note in Diaval’s marginally neater hand. From one neighbor to another, may sweetness always be shared.

You thought he was being too obvious. He thought it was a brilliant plan.

There was no bread that time, but something was certainly roasting over fire. You breathed in the smell and your wings nearly sagged against the thick limb of your perch.

“What is it?” Diaval, the man, asked.

You had to think of it. You ran your tongue across your teeth and tried to conjure up the memory of what it might be, though it failed you. “I don’t know. It smells good.”

He fluffed with pride, and pretended to wait patiently beside you.

But it took so long. You swore hours passed, and you began to ache with hunger as though you hadn’t eaten just that morning.

She put something on the ledge before you had to run off – narrowly before you had to run off, and, this time, Diaval had no hesitation about sneaking up to the window and grabbing one of them for each of you.

You waited until you were nearly halfway back to indulge yourselves. You found a nice spot in one of the sunny meadows full of flower sprites, and toasted one another to your success with the still-hot pastries in both your grasp.

You bit into it deeply, and promptly spit it back out.

Diaval actually choked.

“How hard is it to cook sweet bread?!” you yelled so loudly it startled the willow sprites napping in their tree. “Sugar, flour, leavening – sweet cream and berries!” It smelled so good, and you wanted to enjoy it, but it was half-baked at best and the gooey center was clumped with poorly mixed batter. You yelled in frustration, threw it halfway across the field, and promptly flopped backward into the grass.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day?” Diaval offered.

“I don’t know where Rome is,” you lamented. “Structural planning and baking are two entirely separate things.”

He patted the leather strap over your shoulder. “We can go to Ulstead next time?”

You were being stubborn. You didn’t want to go to Ulstead, and you didn’t want Perceforest to be a miserable little town. You looked up at the treetops, and the sky, and the vastness of it all to avoid looking at him, because then you would have to acknowledge what the horrible little bird wanted you to do, and you would rather eat handfuls of grass than be of assistance.

“Rome is a very famous city,” Diaval began, and you reached up to put your hand over his face before he could continue.

Skies. Awful, horrible, persistent little bird.

“Speak a word of this, and you’ll be missing a wing when I return you.”

He smiled at you, the beast, like he took pleasure in your kindness. “Oh no, wouldn’t dream of it. Suren of the Cavernous Dark, helping a human. So soon after peace. What would your husband say?”

“My mate would tell you to shut your horrible little mouth and keep it that way.” You got up slowly, brushing the grass and its creatures out of your hair, and turned abruptly on your heel to go back to the little farm near Perceforest.

“I don’t think he would.” There was a note of laughter in his voice as he got up to follow.

“He would,” you pressed. “Only without so many words.”

Are you a fool? was the introduction you’d settled on. It doesn’t take an army to bake a batch of sweet bread. You planned on the inherent sharpness of your tone to convey your displeasure.

But she was out in the fields when you got there, and you stopped short at the edge of the trees.

She was crying.

You turned around to leave, but Diaval was right behind you. You gave him a wide-eyed, furious look that implied he had better leave your path immediately or else he would never get the opportunity to be his beautiful bird self again, but he looked at you with the same manner of even-natured patience as he gave Maleficent.

You could’ve slapped the plumage right off of him.

You jerked your head quickly back toward the field. No. No! I am not dealing with this! This is the exact opposite of what I stuck around to do!

He sighed and leveled his gaze.

You could’ve beat your wings at him. Pushed him, smacked him, hurried him off. Instead, you flared and you quirked your head with a set jaw.

“Will it batter you so much to be nice?”

“Yes!” you whispered, much too fiercely. “Or did you forget that her father nearly killed you!”

He waited.

The things you enjoyed the most about Diaval’s company were also the things that infuriated you. He was lovely, intelligent, wholly without judgment and often also without reserve. He was a peaceful, good-natured bird, and there was even a part of you that would’ve admitted that you loved him the same as the rest of your kinsmen if he asked you directly.

But he could be a real bastard when he wanted to. Making you do things you didn’t want to. Having the audacity to ask. To propose you extend your kindness to a human. Skies. Disgusting. It spit on your fallen ancestors.

And yet, you turned back to her. Lowered your wings so you could actually see her. See her the way you’d seen Aurora on the battlefield, a child-queen with more heart than strength (though she grew into the latter). She was no more than a sniveling child, hardly much older than the girl you’d grown so fond of.

Beloved by all who meet her, you reminded yourself. Bitterly. Intentionally bitterly.

You waited until you were several paces away from Diaval to breathe out your fury. The warmth of summer left your body and made the lovely little flower grove perk with life anew, and the crying child looked up only to startle in fear.

“Your sweet bread tastes terrible,” you said by way of greeting.

She stared up at you with her mouth open like a fish plucked freshly from the river. You set your teeth to avoid laughing, and then you forced yourself to look away.

“You are very bad at baking, and I would like to understand why. It’s not a difficult task. Anyone can do it with the right resources.”

You heard Diaval sigh, and you beat your wing at him. Shut up. I’m being as nice as I am.

“…no one taught me.” She was crying again, for skies’ sake, and you really, truly, genuinely could’ve wrung Diaval’s neck like you meant to eat him for dinner.

Surely someone can, you meant to say. You meant to say it, but she went on before you could stop her.

“I’m trying. I really am trying. It’s just been so hard. I’m all on my own out here… the whole farm is mine to run and mine alone. And it just keeps growing.” She was…flush with her tears. She dabbed lightly at her wet face. “Now the cow’s calving and my goat’s getting old and I can’t harvest all of this by myself.”

“Have you no family?”

She gestured at the place where she left her terrible sweet bread, a plot of untilled yarrow and blooming sorrel. “I’m on my own.”

“No neighbors?” you offered. “No kin at all?”

“My neighbors don’t count for family.”

How strange humans were. How utterly, pitifully alone. Each and every last one of them made themselves into an island, as though the individual and the collective could not coexist.

“Your cow is calving?” You were more deliberate with your words. “Then they will soon have milk?”

“She already does.” She wiped her face again.

“Then you will also have milk for yourself. One calf won’t drink it all. Add it to your mixture before you bake. And stir it until it’s smooth. Whatever sugar you add that you feel is enough, add twice as much. And berries.”

She looked at you strangely, and you sighed so forcefully it made your wings move.

“I will help you harvest if you make edible sweet bread. Do we have a deal?”

“Why would you help me? You’re moor-folk. You have everything you need.”

You ignored the note of resentment you heard in favor of leveling your gaze upon her as Diaval had you. “Everything but sweet bread, which you will give to me in exchange for my help. That is how a bargain works.”

She was silent for a moment, studying you. You were no pixie-witted fairy godmother, nor was she some helpless child in need of your defense.

But she was alone, and your kind didn’t do that.

So you were pleased when she nodded, if only for the food.

“Then try your hand again. We’ll be evenly matched; everything I do for you is repaid in return.”

She nodded. “But…if I’m not good--?”

“You will improve.” It came out as much of a threat as you meant it.

“He’s gotten very attached to you.”

You nearly startled out of your skin at Maleficent’s voice, though, to your credit, your wings didn’t fold in defense.

“Who? The little bog-thing I shooed off?” Even you had to scrub your leather from time to time, and you put effort into the task. You washed it, dried it, re-sealed it with waxes and mended all the broken spots. “It kept throwing mud at me.”

She raised her chin, and the humanness of her expression gave you pause. You huffed back a lock of your hair from your face and tilted your head oddly.

“Diaval,” she replied. Her voice betrayed nothing.

You stared at her for much too long before you shifted back onto your haunches. “Romantically?” Your feelings on the subject were much too clear in the way you said the word – you were too fond of him to be disgusted, but that wasn’t by much.

She quirked her head at you in return.

“Skies, Maleficent, talk to me. He’s your mate.”

“And Borra is yours.” The cool evenness of her tone was so familiar and yet so frustratingly difficult to constantly have to decipher. “It would be a shame to tell him—”

“To tell him what?” No sooner had you asked than you realized the implication, and you laughed out loud at its mortality. “Do you think he would be jealous?”

She stared at you. You saw the swirl of power in her eyes.

“Are you jealous, Maleficent? You? Protector of the moors, Queen Mother to all kingdoms? Great skies.” You nearly threw your leather down on the riverbank. “Diaval is my friend, and we’ve been bothering a girl on a farm outside Perceforest for sweet bread for several weeks. She’s a terrible baker, and promised to try to do better.”

“You spoke to her?” Something told you she didn’t believe an ounce of what you said.

“I did. She’s the daughter of the human farmer who nearly killed your mate when he was just a bird. The man’s dead now. She’s by herself. No kinsmen to help her.” You left out the part where you were, though you imagined she’d be able to connect the mutually beneficial dots. “I’ll take you out there, if you like. You can endure her cooking with me.” And then, without thinking, you added, “And then you can tell me why the kingdom of Perceforest is in such disrepair.”

“It’s had more corrupt leaders than it’s had good ones.” She hid nothing from you in that respect, at least. “We’re working on resolving that.”

“We as in you and your daughter, or we as in you?”

You knew how easy it would’ve been for her to throw you headfirst into the river, and yet you still talked to her like your equal.

“You’re not one of them. You know that, don’t you? You can ask for help. We’re your people, Maleficent, your family whether or not we’re blood to you.” You picked up your leather and your leather-cloth and settled back on the shore. “Conall didn’t pluck you from the sea because of your great power, he did it because you’re you. Your place with us isn’t a matter of evening out a bargain or repaying a debt. You were one of us whether or not you fought at our side.”

There was a crease forming in your side that you’d have to reinforce before it split. You’d almost forgotten what you were getting at, only to have your head snap back up so you could reply with much too much vehemence, “And ravens mate in pairs. You’re the one he wants. That won’t change because he steals sweets with me.”

She was silent for so long that you’d almost thought she left without acknowledging you. But she hadn’t, and so you sat up without thinking to pluck the bird skull at her forehead and pull her leather wrappings off.

She let you.

“I never tell Borra that I love him as a reminder. I wish I didn’t have to say the same for you.” You closed her hands around the wrapping and brushed back a lock of her hair.

Whether or not she believed you, you thought she might’ve understood. Even when she took wing much too quietly, some part of you knew that she would eventually. She had just been on her own for far too long.

You grew nothing for the girl, but harvested much.

She spent most of her time helping you. She spent most of her time toiling still; you only came on occasion, and you had enough of a physical advantage over her to accomplish much in significantly shorter a time.

The next sweet breads she made for you were not terrible. They were not very good, but they were edible. You left half a plate for Diaval and pretended to be upset when he bounced along on raven-toes with a whole one in his mouth, just taunting you with it.

You did not help her clear the field after the second set. They were not very good, and you left the one you hadn’t finished. The squash you harvested you took with you, and it was roasted with herbs over your bonfire that night.

That was the first night Maleficent joined you.

She said nothing of your encounter at the riverbank, nor did you. She wore her hair down and Diaval the man was at her side, where he belonged.

You kept your smile to yourself for their sake.

“Try these.”

You gave a well-warranted pause. It looked like the girl – whose name you pretended not to remember, but secretly knew – had grown bold about how elaborate she could be. The bitterness of the last batch was still fresh in your mind, and you looked at her skeptically.

“Oh!” she huffed and felt around in her apron until she had their recipe in hand. “I got it from the baker. I told him that I was trying to refine my skills,” an understatement if you ever heard one, “and he offered me this. It’s very simple, and I think you’ll like it. It’s not a bread, it’s a cake. It takes much less time.”

“You didn’t forget about it?” you clarified.

Her cheeks reddened. “No, not this time. I sat there and did my mending while I waited.”

You took one of the small cakes from her plate and looked it over for scorch marks. The bottom was brown and firm, a little flaky, and the rest was a nice, spongy lump. You took a bite in front of her, and, for once, weren’t immediately repelled.

“It’s good,” you admitted.

“It’s good?” she repeated, much happier about it than she should’ve been.

You nodded. So, you could leave her be after harvest or pawn her off on the other moor-folk. You weren’t the only one in pursuit of a coveted sweet, and you imagined, lonely as she was, she’d enjoy the company of their many over just you.

“Oh, I’m glad! I’ll have to keep one and let him know how it turned out. Tell me if there’s anything special you want, will you?”

Molasses cake, you thought with renewed enthusiasm. But you shook your head fondly and watched her rush the plate back to the windowsill as though Diaval’s approval was as necessary as yours.

He wasn’t as rare of a help as you’d thought he’d be. So, perhaps, he deserved equal share.

The calf bleated, shoving his head into your hands.

“I know.” You rubbed the velveteen fur along the back of his neck. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You’d stolen the girl’s leather-brush to help the little creature itch the velvet fuzz from his horn nubs. Like any child, he was consumed with the thing that bothered him, and you took a surprising amount of pleasure in knowing how to help.

Surprising, considering you’d been dancing around the raw place in your heart that still burned like an iron wound. The raw place flared up again when you thought about your people’s own fledglings and the balms and tonics used to soothe their growing horns.

Harvest was coming. Your people had yet to decide whether you should stay in the moors or return to the nest for the winter. A great many of you believed the moors would stay unsullied; that you couldn’t just survive, but thrive if you stayed. The others worried about the change in seasons upon your elders and your fledglings, and called to make the journey before the headwinds changed and the sea became violent.

There were several reasons why you did not choose a side.

They were the same reasons why you refused to enter Ulstead even though Aurora’s young husband sent along casks of spiced cider and mulled wine. They were early, some of the first made, and the boy could’ve talked about the orchards near the sea where they were harvested all night, if you’d listened. You refused to acknowledge them, lest the raw place begin to bleed again.

“Are you alright?”

She stopped with her wash-basket on her hip, and you heaved a sigh that moved your wings. “Can you manage the work by yourself, now?”

There was a part of you, however small, that hoped she’d say no.

Instead, she beamed like Aurora as she rested her basket on the fence and leaned over it like a child. “Actually,” there was an edge of false shyness to her voice that made you bristle, “I won’t be alone for much longer.”

The ancestors enjoyed your torment, then.

“The baker’s name is John. He’s a very good man, and we’ve gotten very close. I told him of how well the farm has done, and he’d like to join me here rather than live in the village. I agreed.”

The calf rubbed his head into your palm, and the raw spot in your heart wept.

“I planned on telling you when the molasses cake was done, but I suppose now is as good of a time as any? You can still come for sweets, but I don’t suppose you’ll need to help me when I have a husband around.”

Diaval was your blessing, then more than ever. He flew down from his perch in the barn – he’d been mousing, the loaf – and plucked a garment from the basket to take to the line. She exclaimed with laughter and ran after him, uttering some gentle variation of silly bird, and you put the leather brush down.

You did not wait for the cakes. And you did not plan on going back.

“I’m not good company today,” you said as soon as the twig-nest rustled against folded wings.

Your warning didn’t faze Borra in the slightest. He joined you in your bed, folding a wing around your middle and using it as an excuse to pull you close. You tucked your chilly feet between his, since you’d already been laying there for a while, and got his face pressed into your hair for your trouble.

“Where do you run off to?” he murmured after a moment, certainly smelling the human in your hair.

“A girl in the valley makes sweets.” You told yourself that you kept your tone even, but you could hear yourself lamenting.

He waited, patiently, for the rest.

“Now she’s getting married.”

She was getting married and Maleficent checked in on her daughter at least a dozen times a day. Why she didn’t just leave to live in the castle, you’d ruefully considered asking. That lonely little thing would forge a life, Diaval would be a grandfather, and you…

You awoke with the dawn every morning and made your way down to the half-naked field of glowing blooms. A cemetery desecrated, countless lives robbed of their honor, innumerable families robbed of their memories generations-deep. Your little bloom finally opened during the summer. It was slow to grow, and very small, and you tended the rock-circle you made around it obsessively. Plucked the stray grass that dared attempt to bloom between them; replaced your shed pinfeathers when the ones sticking up out of the ground started to look weathered. Little Thing should’ve been inside you, growing. Warm and loved in the cradle of your body. Big or small, warrior or pacifist, whatever they would’ve been, you would’ve loved them so fiercely. You ached for them, and you would continue to ache for them even when the ache was, once more, an open wound.

You had done your share of crying. But the time for battle strategy was over, and you had no other outlet for your pain.

He pulled you close until you were so flush you could feel how he moved with every breath. Neither of you spoke for a long time; you trusted that he knew why you phrased it as you did, and he did, and so you lay there and navigated each painful reminder with the same inopportune dodging that you’d given the queen’s iron bombs.

“We can try again,” was how he broke that silence.

Your lips quirked half-heartedly.

When you didn’t respond, he propped himself up on his elbow and guided your chin until you were looking at him. You pressed your lips to his thumb when it brushed over them.

“If you want to.” He searched your face, and you thought it was entirely unfair for him to be so beautiful. You brushed your fingers over your favorite little decorative crack on his nose, breaking the respite of your misery to revere him. “If you’re ready.”

She left you alone for about a week. Then a paper-wrapped parcel appeared at the edge of the moors with your name on it, and it was full of sweet, sticky spiced rolls.

I’m hope I didn’t offend you, the note in her hand replied. I very much liked your company, and Diaval’s. You’re always welcome to come back. Sweetness is meant to be shared, after all.

The moor-folk bothered you for portions, and you ended up stealing three rolls and leaving them the rest. Four, you decided after a moment, before the hoard descended.

One for you, one for him, and one for the people you both loved.

Baker-John of Perceforest brought with him a cart well-stocked. He would not abandon his duties in the village, so he would simply have to go back and forth between the village and the farm. You watched them unpack said cart, your little human carrying big, stone dishes and sacks nearly half as big as she was. Her intended, not much older, brought heavier.

“And who is she?” Maleficent asked of Diaval, who told her all about Baker-John of Perceforest, who was apparently a kind and gentle, patient and loving man who your human was dearly, truly, madly in love with.

“Sarah,” you replied. John and Sarah, Sarah and John. The humans. Didn’t have the same ring to it as Maleficent and Diaval, Diaval and Maleficent or Borra and Suren, Suren and Borra, but it would do.

“They know about you?” Borra asked.

“She does,” Diaval replied.

She’d learned from you, you saw while you studied the little farm from afar. From both of you. Gone was the scarecrow, for the crows ate the pests more than the food; there was a little pile of what could not be used some ways away from everything, left to return to the soil where it could be used in the spring. The leather brush had been nailed to the fence and the calf, still shedding velvet, mooed in pleasure while he worked his head back and forth over it.

You were glad for her. Really, you were.

When she kissed him, it was warm and sweet and bright like the sun – brief, gentle, and almost always followed by delighted laughter. He brought firewood to the barn in droves, and as she gathered another satchel, she paused. Her hair fell in her face and she swept it back only to stop when she saw you. All of you.

You crooked your wing around Borra and canted your head toward Diaval and Maleficent. I’m not offended. You were the one all on your own.

She was not Aurora. She was human – just a plain, ordinary little person living a plain, ordinary little life. But when she smiled at you, at all of you…

Well, you had to stop yourself from smiling in return. Diaval would’ve never let you hear the end of it.

“Easy.” You patted the strong neck of the no-longer-calf that ran to greet you in his spring pasture. The fields were newly tilled, and your little human wore her hair up while she planted on bent knee.

Her eyes lifted, and you weren’t surprised at all by how eagerly she got to her feet. “It’s you!”

“The winter was kind to you.” She looked happy. Better fed.

Her feet sunk into the pliant earth when she ran to you, and you let her throw her arms around you like you were an old friend. Your wings even folded partially around her.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Diaval’s been coming for cakes, but he never tells me if you like them.”

“That’s because he didn’t tell me he was,” you admitted, though you could hardly be upset with him. Awful little creature, positively doting on his mate.

She laughed and hid her smile behind her hand. “Oh no.”

“I’ll deal with him later,” you joked. “That isn’t why I’ve come.”

She straightened, taking your unexpected presence seriously. Smart girl.

“With your permission, I would like to tell the moor-folk of you. They will help you with your fields in exchange for sweets just as readily.”

She glanced at the ground with her false shyness, her bright eyes glinting just like your child-queen’s. “Actually, I’d love the help. You know my husband travels back and forth, and it doesn’t give me the help I’d planned on.”

You nodded, all business. “Then I will. They are troublesome at times, but they understand gentle discouraging.”

“Of course.” She went to one of the buckets beside the well and washed the dirt from her hands. She knew nothing of your time rebuking poachers on the moors, and you didn’t feel the need to offer that information now.

“I feel I will be of little use to you this year. I also have business in Ulstead. The queen’s had twins, and I am to be their godmother.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! Do you know her well, then? Aurora, isn’t it?” She was so pleasant, so calm. You could’ve told her that you’d taken fond to a seven-headed sea dragon and you doubted she would’ve been concerned.

“I do. She loves your village, and she’s doing everything in her power to extend the benefits of annexation across the kingdom.”

“Well, that will be lovely. I’d like to thank her myself when she visits.” She was gentle and kind, your little human, but she also wasn’t entirely foolish. She paused when you offered nothing else, and you let your smile betray you.

“Aurora’s fledglings will not be the only ones soon to discover the moors.”

You’d come all this way to tell someone you barely knew and shouldn’t have trusted, and yet the way she threw her kerchief in the air made you laugh out loud. She ran to you, pulled you close against her, and hugged you like you were kin.

She withdrew with an excited gasp, taking one of your taloned hands. “The man you were with was your husband, then?”

You quirked your head. In so many words. Your people didn’t rely on institution for a crutch the way they did.

“You – you stay right here.”

You laughed at her retreat, quietly for once. You were warm with joy and hadn’t come alone, not that Diaval could be pried away from his daughter or his grandchildren even if you’d asked him to.

Your no-longer-calf butted you in the arm, and you butted him back with your wing. “No.” Let the fledglings play with the farm animals.

Sarah waddled out of the house with a stack of nesting cloth nearly half as big as she was, as though she’d never felt the warmth of your skin and failed to notice that you could forage for your own materials.

“Here, feel free to keep or give away whatever you like.” She gave them all to you, and you had to push them down in order to see over them.

“Why are you giving me a gift?”

“Because you’ve given me one! Well, several, but if it hadn’t been for you,” and how terribly you’d confronted her about her lack of practical skills, “I never would’ve met John. They say true love is what woke Aurora, and you gave true love to me. You and Diaval.” She put her hands on the blanket-stack to help you squish them down. “I hope you both know true love in all its forms – with the people you love, and with the families you make.”

“Thank you,” you said before you could stop yourself. Aurora would get her peace yet. “I will see you again, Sarah of Perceforest.”

“I’d hope so. I wanna meet them. And your husband, when the time’s right.” You pretended not to notice that she pointedly did not glance over your shoulder, and you squished the stack of blankets against your side.

“And I, yours.”

Sarah beamed.

It was not a straightforward thing, happiness. Much the same way that peace was dependent upon the presence of war, you would ache over Little Thing for the remainder of your life – but, even though Borra didn’t say anything out loud, he still gave you a sidelong glance with just a bit too much of a quirk to his lips when you retreated into the woods with that stack of nesting-cloth under your arm.

You took one of the quilts out of the pile and flung it at him. “He goaded me into being nice.”

He caught it, folded it into a more compact form, and carried it under his arm. “As has Maleficent, I see. Aurora didn’t learn it from the air.”

If you liked this and want to see other work, click here.

#Borra x Reader #Maleficent x Diaval #Platonic!Diaval x Reader #Dark Fey #part of the U.W. Universe #post-M:MoE #Suren of the Cavernous Dark #That's Not An Ending And I Know It But Here #Fluff!There Is No Plot Only Zuul

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captainkurosolaire · 4 years ago

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Reverie of Winning

“She has a name, you bastard!”

At no chance would that sufficiently hit Shiro who was calculated always and right now as he began returning to his evil ways, mental tormenting drew satisfaction. All forms had thresholds he felt compelling and screaming other demon’s floating inside him screaming the gap of their power was tremendously in his favor. The indifference's were believed absurdly countless to count. An aetherial icy hand began molding and attempting to seal in his block. More ice surrounded Shiro’s entire frame that often was always around him in a transparent bubble. He had a certain radius that kept him clean and secure from filth and pollution. A protective aura of sorts or defined as his safe-zone. The ice that spawned forth was rapid and not in any sense logically gathered as his corruption defied his normal limits. The Captain predicted a counter only under the many battles they contested his better instincts and judgments kicked in. He followed up in his motion high-kick while allowing them to remain linked to trace behind his spine and unstrap his revolver charged with high dense explosive hollow rounds. Taking a point of aim. Shiro laughed between the true portion of this fight began shaping full-on something associated with likeness of a Voidal presence alarming around the stage of this contest. Horns and demonic runes began burning his flesh and replacing his birthed markings. “Did I hit a nerve?” Before Kuro could hit the trigger Shiro ran his finger into the barrel jamming and stuffing it with a diamond icicle shard perfectly sculpted. Causing a clogged discharge and a catastrophic boom. At the same time releasing Kuro’s leg letting the forced impact entirely boom him ever comically over to the other side of the Ruins from a discharged recoil. He ate it up. Shiro manically became more unstable like a misperformance tune on a violin string. So this is what he sacrificed and sold his every remaining piece of humane for..? Good riddance. This power activated only in unmatched hatred and only festered parasitical growth. Captain’s entire frame clashed into a heap of old rubble as many additional falling slid onto his downed canvas in a burial pile. Shiro began a hymn step in casualty coolness while seeking to lecture and berate his cringe of a foe. “I uncovered recently in my travels all your memories of your loved one have stripped from you too, ironic, opposing my rightful claim in trying to get mine returned. However, I’d ask what you were doing coming here for this Treasured Relic was your intentions really any far from my own? Do you really believe yourself better than me, somehow, at all? That you could forgive yourself for letting that part of you freed. Yes… You threw all the other Stars to fall, those other so-called gems you go on about, everything and cast them aside for her sake, even abandoning the seas pledges in the pursuit of straying to whatever pact once that made you somewhat mildly amusing as a character. Though what makes your bond more important than mine? My sake is just as valued as yours! Losses of glory are always painful no matter so tell me your differences, fiend!” Long absence and pause happened on Captain’s side as he had to work much harder to catch his breathing from a hit like that. Suddenly softer pieces of rubble over-top began rolling down the pile. His hand breaking forth before shoveling himself into the landslide. Scratches, bruises, and blood already began dripping from him in disarray his eyebrow on his skin peeled back. His rigid lungs forced him to cough out the dust and debris.

As he slowly began to reclaim his posture. “Who said anything about mine is more important in comparison? I legitimately and full-hardheartedly messed up. It’s not my first-voyage or time, probably won’t be the last. I’ve been on the verge of being n’ the whole happily ever after sunset many times and I screwed them all up. There’s no blame outside my own. Look at me. I get n’ these types of injuries and situations all the time. This isn’t anything unusual, I’m a handful in every sense, sometimes, there’s more pain in that than the actual intended pleasure. Even to other Voidsents on my crew formerly, or mythical creature’s beyond mind, I can be an exhausting nightmare to even them. Ye think that’s healthy or stable or somehow certified sane? Doesn’t matter even if you’re eternal or everlasting or blessed by some creator that’s bound to taint and soil any waters. She cast me out and extended mercy on me and freed me even as I turned to the epitome of fright, a prediction she foresaw, even when I wanted to fog from reality.”

“T’ sow these rifts like this one I can’t make my departure soured without learning. No one deserves more happiness than what Ayla gave and should have gotten or any of the recognition I lacked in providing… I’ll always have a part of me that love’s her and owe every fortune I obtain here on and out as her claim too. But In order for that to transpire reassuringly all that I formerly had in the light and was known for my fame and all my signs of openly living must forever be the shadows ownership for now. Nightmares were meant to end when eyes are opened! So... WITH THAT BEING SAID. I’ll show you who I’m fighting for in this!” He took on a charge once again reinvigorated even knowing in every sense this was futile, outclassed and outmatched. Last time he came close to defeating Shiro first-time it took him preparing and actually expecting the battle. Using Grade 2 - Wyvern-Obsidian to carve through the Diamond Ice. He didn’t have that courtesy in this encounter. The pirate wasn’t selfishly throwing these in some self-made vault or intending to use any of the trophies acquired in usage. He wanted to secure and put them into a slumber further away from the worst in his sector corner. To let them be with either their people of origins or to reside with researchers in museums or artistic wonders if they didn’t forebode troublesome damnation. Regardless to Shiro’s belief the Captain had no plans or intentions to encounter his bettered-rival here in this map and next adventure and when he did stumble across and saw with his first sight. It broke a cord inside him with a sign of sympathy and regret. Shiro believes there was no such thing as a pirate of compassion. He was wrong alongside with that whole illusion of wishing-well when someone was in a compromised and fallen mood was a ruse. It was understandable coming from the upper echelon in society, people always swindled and played the same card to merely keep a connection or contact with status closely to them. There wasn’t an entire flaw in Shiro’s jaded thoughts though there was more depth he refused. Realms were led by statistics. It’s why categorization and separation hierarchies had to exist. There was realism and there was idealism. Those that weren’t taught the exact same ways as others those so-called privileged weren’t known by the same eld textbooks or hand-me-down spew from fossilized oaks. Those that had nothing but a scrap of their own knowledge and perception crafted their own past droid teachings. Eventually, there was one part of a group line that coherently believed in all formed free. Fears of free often were doubled-sided, naturally, as one part of the definition of free could simply just mean pure anarchy and chaos an excuse for lawlessness. While another believed that any and all forms of corrupt and foul could exist no matter the origins it was all individual influenced and decided. And shouldn’t be determined until active clarity was known but over time this became a worthless fight. It was easier just to knuckle up for these arguments and drive home their value. (Previous) — /References/ — ♫ ‘Black Holes’ — (Next Page)

#I don't care if it takes everything #So be it #Rivalry off the hinge #I'll melt #White Wolf #Black Lion #The Fated #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Shiro Elune #My First Cage #reader discretion advised #creative writing

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peterstanslizzie · 4 years ago

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Reacting To: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Season 2 Episode 3)

Episode Title: The Ballad of Brunchington Beach

Spoiler Warning: Kindly proceed if you’ve already seen the episode or are able to handle spoilers.

1. After the events of last episode, Kipo and her friends desperately need to get to her parents’ old burrow but they don’t know where to start. Dave comes up with an idea to see a mute who goes by the name of Cappuccino who, according to him, knows every secret in the city. She also owns the best brunch place in the city, Brunchington Beach, which I guess it’s supposed to be a parody of Huntington Beach in California?

2. He reveals that the only way to get her to give them any information about the old burrow is if each of them are able to give her their own piece of valuable information. Benson warns the rest that Dave’s plans can get pretty weird; Well, I don’t expect any less lol.

3. As they are making their way up a hill, they overhear somebody calling for Kipo’s name whilst singing and playing a tune on his guitar. They rush over to find out who it is and they see him and three others, dressed in full-on costumes that resemble our main characters. When he addressed the others as “Billions”, I immediately knew that they might be the Newton Wolves from last season?

4. It looks like they’re re-enacting the part from season 1 episode 5, where Kipo and the rest attacked the wolves after they were trying to hunt them down. Kipo hears this and pops up from behind a van to tell them they’re wrong. They then reveal themselves to be otters!? Oh, I thought they were the wolves lol. Anyways, the leader (I presume?) of the group is Puck and he introduces themselves as the TheaOtters.

5. Not only are the otters not getting the story of what actually happened right but they also don’t seem to get the names of our heroes right as well because they mistakenly named Benson as Benjamin. They also reveal to our heroes they’ve been invited to perform at Brunchington Beach. How convenient lol! Kipo wants to tag along with them to the brunch cafe but according to them, Cappuccino’s third rule is “No human allowed by penalty of a most gruesome death”, which Dave purposely left out for obvious reasons.

6. Their performance is about to start in 5 minutes and so, Kipo comes up with a plan to borrow their costumes to keep herself, Wolf and Benson from being exposed to everyone as humans. They reach the brunch spot, in which we see that its patrons are different groups of mutes whom we were introduced to last season and they are stuffing their faces with so much food.

7. Eventually, Cappuccino, whom I don’t even know what kind of animal-mute she’s supposed to be (a prawn?), spots them and confronts Dave for breaking rule no. 1 the last time he was there, which was not paying for the bunch of food he had ate. She then “sentences” him to 10 years of dish duty.

8. Cappuccino turns her attention to the rest and they’re trying hard to convince her and everyone else that they’re just there to perform their one-act show. Ughh and Kipo then asks Cappuccino if she knows about a human burrow that was destroyed 13 years ago, which is basically her parents’ burrow. But because of rule no. 2, they need to tell her any valuable or juicy piece of information first.

9. Meanwhile, Dave finds himself stuck in the kitchen with the one and only Jamack! He’s also trapped in there because he stole their food as well. Jamack tells Dave that he could’ve been thriving by Scarlemagne’s side right now but instead, he chose to save Kipo and the rest. He then finds out from Dave that Kipo’s also here and his reaction is precious; Kipo has definitely struck a chord with him. He then decides to break himself out to help Kipo just because he doesn’t want his sacrifice to go to waste.

10. The performance is about to start but the audience is already booing them. Wow, tough crowd. But wait, what I don’t get is why are the two Fitness Raccoons booing at them when Puck introduced the crowd to the costumed Kipo, Benson and Wolf as humans. Aren’t the raccoons supposed to be on their side? Especially after saving them all from Beak Beak? I wonder if the writers realize this? Or am I missing something?

11. The performance begins and Puck is singing about the Newton Wolves and how they came across the humans, painting the latter (which in this case, it’s Kipo and the others) in a negative light.

12. Back to Dave and Jamack; Jamack asks Dave to sneak into the kitchen next door to grab keys from the chef to set themselves free. After going through some “evolutionary” difficulties, he manages to get them.

13. After the show, everyone including Cappuccino all seem to love it. But as Kipo takes a bow after being complimented, her headpiece falls out and her face gets exposed. Oh no! Their cover is blown. Cappuccino then orders her minions to toss them to Harriet, which looks like some big, scary sea creature of some sort. Luckily for them, Jamack saves them by attacking the minions with his long tongue. And Kipo is so happy to see him.

14. Just as they’re about to make their escape, they notice a group of Scarlemagne’s nobles flying towards them and landing at the brunch place. One of them, Gerard announces that Scarlemagne is looking for Cappuccino because he wants her to be the caterer of his coronation as well as being his permanent one forever. Not only that, everyone else is invited to his coronation next week and they’re all forced to come or else, they would have to face some consequences.

15. However, Cappuccino isn’t willing to work for Scarlemagne because she believes he has no right to control the other mutes and rules their territories, including hers. But of course, the nobles won’t listen to her and they threaten her and her minions. But RIP to that one minion who was eaten by the Mega Flamingo.

16. Whilst everybody else is willing to walk the other way, Kipo doesn’t want to turn her back on Cappuccino and the others despite trying to feed them to Harriet earlier. And so, she and the others go out to confront the nobles. During the battle, Kipo gets grabbed by two of the flamingos but she then manages to transform her legs into jaguar ones and overpower them. It also seems like she’s beginning to lose control of herself.

17. She then leaps onto Gerard’s flamingo and as she is almost about to tear his face off with her claws, Wolf asks her to stop to which she listens. Gerard takes this opportunity to attack her and push her off the flamingo. Luckily, Wolf saves her but they fall into Harriet’s mouth but Kipo is strong enough to get them out. They realize that the more Kipo transforms into a jaguar, the more she loses herself, essentially proving the Chevre sisters’ theory to be true. She definitely need to get to the old burrow asap.

18. After witnessing the entire thing, Puck tells them that he will change their performance and make it so that Kipo and her friends will be portrayed as heroes. He’s even impressed with Jamack fighting skills and wonders if he’s interested in teaching stage combat.

19. As he and Puck are walking off, Kipo wonders if he would like to join them on their journey to which he says absolutely not. For a second there, especially when I saw this part (from the picture above), I thought Dave liked Jamack lol. He heads off but I’m very sure we will see him again soon.

20. Cappuccino (who finally tells us that she’s a shrimp) is willing to tell them where the location of the old burrow is and so, she draws a map and hands it over to Kipo as a thank you gesture. She even offers them a free brunch meal before they go!

21. But it looks like Kipo is starting to lose control of her powers even more because she instantaneously transforms herself into part-jaguar when she’s eating her pasta, despite not having said “herbs in”. Wolf is right; They need to find that anchor NOW.

22. That’s the end of my review of episode 3. Hope you enjoyed reading it. Stay tuned tomorrow for my review of episode 4. Thanks for all your support. Bye!

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princecharmingtobe · 3 years ago

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idk if any of y’all have been keeping up with my D&D game stuff, buuuuut Jack and Rowen finally hooked up!

It was not romantic, and is kind of actually, but we still celebrated cause it’s been almost a year coming at this point lol

So, in this session we went to confront an evil artificer, Professor Wiltmore who had shown an interest in Jack and wanted him to join him at his lab. Jack, also being an artificer, didn’t trust him for a second and with good reason: Dude had been lobotomizing people and turning them into obedient eldritch knights to sell as soldiers to both sides of the war, with the intention of flipping things at the last minute and taking over the country for himself.

Everything went all kinds of wrong. We never came up with a solid plan, just figured we’d get into the lab, play nice for a bit until we could figure out what was going on and how to stop it, and at some point try to kill Wiltmore. However as we were being led in Terra and Rowen noticed they were being followed by an awful lot of guards, which Rowen used sign language to alert Jack to as he is forever oblivious to his surroundings. Believing Wiltmore knew what was up and that we’d lost any element of surprise, as soon as we got to the mysterious locked door Terra dropped a smoke bomb, instructed Roran to beak down the door, and then threw a pipe bomb Jack had helped her make at Wiltmore who was inside.

Wiltmore was VERY upset with Jack for “betraying” him, shouting “I could’ve given you the world!” and then trying to murder him specifically. He also summoned forth a behir which due to some misunderstandings of the battlefield ended up being the main battle. It ate Terra, and killed Roran. Realizing we were going to win though, Wiltmore fled while his beast kept us busy. Jack got the killing blow, blasting the top of the creature off thus allowing Terra to crawl her way out, then when we were out of initiative Jack flew to Roran and cast Revivify.

Things got weird then. We’d been informed that resurrection would work a little differently in this campaign, and we figured it was just a homebrew rule to make it more difficult but the DM told Rowen that as he’d been around a while and seen some resurrections before, this was unusual, so we’re like uh, wat. We found ourselves in the... etheral? astral? some other plane? And we saw Roran, unconscious, being pulled into this creepy black sludge. Jack flew to him in a panic and started desperately trying to scrape the sludge off him. The way the ritual worked is three of us could try to say or do something to try to give him advantage as he rerolled his death saves. Jack, while trying to get the sludge off him, was like “No no no, come on, if you die before seeing your kid your wife is gonna kill me!” Terra tied a rope around him and tried to pull him out of the sludge. And Rowen actually used intimidate to tell him “If you die here I’ll make sure your wife and kid join you!” (oh Rowen...) That one resulted in a nat20 death save. We found ourselves suddenly back in the lab, Roran’s eyes shot open glowing white, and he sat up and punched Rowen clear across the room. They made up later when Rowen assured him he was just saying what he had to.

The party healed up a bit, restored and freed the people they were able to, and looked outside to find that when Wiltmore fled he took with him the power source for the city, which included the power for the force field that separated the outer and inner city, so now there was almost a full on physical class war about to happen. It appeared that the crooked leader of the city had fled with him. The party determined that the heart of the behir we’d slain could be used as a new power source, and after Rowen removed it from the beast Jack was able to install it in the machine and now only did the power come back, but twofold, with the force field now covering the entire city, rather than separating the outer and inner cities.

The party then traveled to the city hall to calm the people, explain the situation, and inform them that new, better leadership was coming. Got a good persuasion and a tentative peace was restored. The party then returned to the Fantasy Holiday Inn, and had some drinks because boy did we need them. Even Jack, who normally doesn’t drink. For some context to what’s coming next: Jack had been in a bad place mentally and emotionally this whole session. He was terrified of Wiltmore, and for good reason. With Wiltmore having escaped he is now terrified of him coming back for revenge, and this time he’ll be the one with the element of surprise on his side. On top of that the battle itself had freaked him out, especially Roran dying and whatever it is we saw when bringing him back. Finally to top it all off, Roran offered Jack some “moon water”, a type of magical alcohol that causes one to briefly relive happy memories. We think the DM thought that sort of thing would cheer people up? But uh, all it really did was remind Jack of everything he’s lost, so he ended up crying at the bar and then going up to his and Rowen’s room early.

After another hour or two Rowen also returned to the room and settled into his dark corner for the night, but before he could enter his trance Jack got up, climbed onto his lap, and kissed him. Fade to black.

To explain: Jack is deathly allergic to emotional vulnerability. After everything that happened that day topped off by the moon water bringing all his loss to the surface, what he really needed was just to be held. But he can’t ask for that or he’ll die or something lol So instead he seeks out what to him is the next best thing that he can reason to not be emotional: Sex. Cause he’s a guy, and guys always want sex without having emotions involved, right?? That’s how he justifies it to himself. And Rowen is, well... the only friend he’s ever really had. Up until now his only close relationships have been parents and vaguely parental figures. So of course he’s the one he seeks out for comfort.

And idk what Rowen thought of the whole thing. He enjoyed it, went along with it, and apparently wants to do it again some time. Though when we went to the next day the DM asked how we were coming down to breakfast, if we were holding hands or anything and we were like “Oh fuck no, we are not acknowledging that anything happened”

#Jack the Artificer

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hpdabbles · 5 years ago

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Found Nest

Tom was cleaning the stairs on the east side wing when the first excited whispers reached his ears. Children were pouring out of their rooms, pressing their faces to the windows, gasping in wonder and making so much noise one would think the queen had arrived. Though he desperately wanted to know what had them so worked up, Tom did not get up from the floor, nor did he raise his gaze from the brush.

There would be no point.

He rarely interacted with the other children, not after the numerous times they witnessed the strangeness around him.

Once upon a time, their distance and sneers hurt him. He tried everything to get the children and caregivers to like or at least tolerate him but no matter how hard he works,Tom always found himself separated.

It’s been like that since he took his first breath, and seven years have passed with no change in sight since. He often dreamed of escaping the cold halls, tiny rooms, and heavy stares but he didn’t know where he would go if he ever attempts to run away.

Wool’s Orphanage was all he’s ever known, having been born from a circus worker mother and an unknown man. According to Mrs. Cole, this was the reason he was so odd. So unwanted. Just another burden on both the state and her.

Tom had learned to ignore what she said and turn his back on the other orphans. There was no point to fight an uphill battle. Instead, Tom kept to his tiny room, did the chores demanded of him, ate, and spent a few hours with the snakes in the garden. Some of the older children mocked him for his lack of friends, asking if he cried himself to sleep after repulsing everyone he came in contact with.

Is little Riddle lonely?

He was not lonely.

For Tom had a secret, he knew he was strange because he could do wondrous things. In the comfort of his room, he made things float. He could get the few animals he came in contact obey him without the need to train them and most of all he could speak to snakes.

He had three friends, though not human and two had moved on for better hunting ground, he was still quite happy to have meet them. Though the spoke with an undertone of hisses, the scale-covered animals were far kinder to he then most people.

He finishes the scrubbing the step before turning to the bucket on his right. Throwing the brush into the murky water Tom grabs the handle with both his hands and forces his numb legs to stand. His arms shake with the effort it takes to move the thing across the hall in the direction of the second stairway.

His knees, which have already suffered hours of being pressed against the edge of the steps for two hours, protested at the idea of the labor but he pushed through the pain. The faster he got it done the faster he could retire to his room.

“Is that a real Chrysler Imperial?!” Billy Stubbs gushes causing Tom’s head snaps to the left where the orphans were lined against a big window. He may not be obsessed with autos like most boys but even he could not help but be awe of one of the most expensive ones out there.

The redhead boy was holding his precious rabbit against his chest, patting the creature’s head as he babbles. “It’s the new model! I saw it in the post, that's a real Chrysler CL Imperial Dual-Windshield Phaeton! They just released it this very year!”

His announcement only sent the other children into a bigger frenzy all wondering why someone with such obvious wealth would be doing here, at the orphanage. Tom desperately wanted to abandon his bucket so he too could gaze upon the newest model but he better than to do so.

He stumbles towards his task hoping the auto will linger long enough for everyone to get bored and he could see a glance of it. Dropping before the first step Tom gets down to work trying to push away the longing as the rest of the children speak to each other with obvious ease a few feet away from him.

It’s around the fifth step that Mrs. Cole calls for him having sent one of the teenagers. The girl in charge of the babes, stomp her way to him sneering with obvious displeasure. “Riddle, Mrs. Cole wants you in the blue room. Now.”

Tom did not know what he had done to cause her such ire but he was quick to do as he is told. Without a word, he rises from his task and goes in the right direction the children making mocking noises behind him.

It seems they finally noticed he was there.

He forced himself not to run, pressing his heels into the ground and forcefully delaying their arrival. It not only makes the teenager angrier but it gives him the added bonus of seeming elegant than the common child found in these halls. Or at least that’s what Lisa used to claim.

When they arrived, Mrs. Cole is not alone as he suspected. A man in an expensive suit is sitting across from her, a smile on his face that has the woman blushing. He’s quite handsome for a man. Dark hair sleeked to the side in the latest fashion, green eyes sparkling and the only imperfection of his skin is the strange lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

He’s face does something odd when it lands on the seven-year-old boy, something that he’s never seen on anyone before.

It brightens up.

“This is Tom Riddle” Mrs. Cole presents waving her hand at him as if though presenting a house to a buyer. “Are you sure, about this Mr. Evans? I know you have the documentation and funds but surely....there are much better boys for adoption available. Tom is of the lesser sort, a bit strange and things happen around him. Terrible things.”

Tom freezes completely, his breath caught in his throat. He’s far used to her speaking as if he is not there, used to the warning she gives the very rare couples who seek a child of their own. Seeing as the adoption process was only legalized in ‘26 there weren’t many who sought this service just yet.

It was too much of a hassle.

Yet here, she implied something Tom Riddle never thought would be applied to him.

Did she just say that this man- this Mr. Evans wanted to adopt him? This obviously very rich man, who must be the owner of the auto outside was here for him?

He says nothing, stopping before the two adults and clasping his hands together less it be all a cruel joke. He can’t help but stare at the male, wondering what on earth is going on.

“Mr. Coles all children are equal,” Mr. Evans says still with a winning smile but his tone and eyes say that he is displeased and Tom thinks he can grow to like a man who can show their displeasure with just the hint of a threat like this. As it were Mrs. Cole turns bright red in either shame or outrage he can’t tell but he enjoys her discomfort all the same. “To answer your question, yes I am sure I wish to adopt Mr. Riddle. That is, if he would like to.”

The last part is directed at him. “I would be honored to have him as part of my family. After all, Lisa Sunshine speaks so highly of him.”

Tom’s eyes widen, having recognized the name he gave to a friend what seemed like a lifetime ago, even as Mrs. Cole jumps in. “Lisa Sunshine? There must have been a mistake, there has never been a person with that name here and certainly not someone who interacted with Riddle.”

“No mistake was committed.” Mr. Evans counters. “There, indeed, is a Lisa. She came across me but a few months ago, and she said Mr. Riddle was one of the kindest young men she’s ever met. She adores the rocks he brought her especially the one he painted her on.”

That does it.

Tom now knows for sure this man is speaking of the garden snake that had moved on for better grounds and he can’t look away from the green eyes that appear to understand.

Since he’s watching, he notices the man points to a small teacup out of the female’s line of sight seconds before it starts to float. It hangs in the air for only a few seconds but it’s enough for Tom to realize he did not do that.

No. It was the action of the visitor.

Mr. Evans is like him.

There is someone like him.

“Mr. Riddle?” Mr. Evans stands offering him a hand “My name is Harry Evans and I heard you are a very special boy. Would you be willing to be part of my special family?”

Tom couldn’t shake the hand fast enough. “I’m Tom Riddle! And I love to!”

Mr. Evans offers him a warm smile, one he would have called fatherly from anyone else, but Tom knows it can’t be since it’s directed at him and that doesn’t happen. Still, it leaves him feeling warm throughout the signing of the paperwork that proclaim him Tom’s father and the packing of his few belongings.

The other children watch with open envy but they can do nothing as he climbs into the auto, wondering if he’s dreaming. Just as the pair are going to leave Tom remembers his other friend, gasping loudly before he can think better of it.

Mr. Evans sadly notices. “Is something the matter Tom?”

The man had asked if it was alright to call him by his first name while the two had been folding his old hand-me-downs clothes. Tom had allowed but not due to trust. He did not want the man to regret his decision and leave him there by displeasing him.

Tom doesn’t think he’ll be able to call him anything other Mr. Evans though.

“My friend.” He whispers heart beating in terror, he doesn’t want to risk this dream come true but if he leaves Mars Moonlight without a fair warning then the other children will kill him. “He’s like Lisa and if Mrs. Cole finds him she’ll- can I please move him? We don’t need to bring him but-”

“Nonsense. We’ll bring Mars with us. Go ahead and get him.” Mr.s Evans says smoothly. Tom jumps out of the auto before he can change he’s mind racing to the yard. He shouts a loud “Thank you Sir!” over his shoulder and winces at his manners.

Mr. Evans comes from money. Polish men have higher standards mannerisms, don’t they? He’ll have to watch himself.

He can feel the eyes of the orphanage on him, tracking him from the front all the way to the back yard. They will now know where he hide most of his secrets, near the back shed but he doesn’t falter in picking up Mars.

The snake lets out a hissed yep “Tom! What are you doing!? I was resting!”

“I’m sorry Mars. I don’t have much time to explain but we are leaving.” Tom huffs placing the snake around his shoulders and running back to the front, nearly tripping twice.

“Running away?” Mars asks getting comfortable sounding more curious than worried. He coils tightly around Tom’s neck. The boy doesn’t mind, he knows the snake will never hurt him.

“No. I-Well I was adopted. By a man.”

They make it back to the auto in record time. The boy wasted no time in climbing right back in panting for air. He hopes he was quick enough. He hopes he didn’t

“Adopted? Wonderful! Finally, a human who knows true value when he sees it.” The snake eyes the human in the driving seat, flickering his tongue at the adult.

“Thank you for your approval Mr. Moonlight” The amuse voice of Mr. Evans makes both the snake and young boy jump. Yes, Tom knew on some level that the older man could speak to his friends too but seeing it was a whole other experience. “You have lovely scales.”

The snake makes a noise that sounds like approval. “I’m not ready for mating but almost ready.”

“Your quite young. Only a few months since hatching yes?” Mr. Evans directs this question to Tom who can’t for the life form words. The pause in conversation last longer then he wants it to.

Mr. Evans doesn’t seem to mind, concentrating on the road. Tom twists around, looking at the orphanage as they drive away, and he feels like he’s flying. His soul is flouting somewhere above in confusion and happiness.

He’s free.

Tom will never have to go back.

He’s free.

He thinks he’s going to cry but he’s not sad. He doesn’t understand why his eyes are watering up.

“Do you like Mars candy bars?” Mr. Evans ask Tom. He reaches down to pick up a bag shaking it. “I bought some and other sweets. If you like. I wanted to celebrate having a son but if you rather not, we can go somewhere. Lisa says you like books, would you like to go to a book store?”

Tom thinks he can grow to love Mr.Evans, he really does.

#hpdabbles #Harry potter #Found Nest #Time travel #Harry raises Tom #Tom is seven and he's despreate for love #So Harry is rich #And he's spent years building his wealth and name #Now he's ready to take Tom in #Orphans #IDk

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