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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago

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The Cold Offends Me

PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION

A/N: Until like three days ago I had no plans to ever write for Oberyn Martell. But we all know what happens to plans whether you make them or not so here we are. (also, at least 45% of the blame for this is on @something-tofightfor who relentlessly bombarded me with Oberyn gifs one night until I had no choice but to start daydreaming.) Anyway! This will not be a chapter series that follows a plot as much as it will be a collection of related one-shots. I have two more that are brewing on the back burner, but for the most part, this “series” is entirely open to requests and prompts, so if there is anything you’d like to see from this pairing, please feel free to visit my inbox!

Warning: sex, mention of non-consensual sex, language. THIS IS A SMUT if you are a youngin’ please click away.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Though you work in one of the nicer brothels in King’s Landing- it could be worse!- your life is not at all what you would have chosen for yourself. What happens when a request for warmth turns into an offer for much more?

Seven fucking hells.

From your place amongst the pillows, you watched the taught, sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders move as he leaned over to set his goblet down. A slight sheen of sweat clung to his body, the light from at least a dozen candles making him look even more like a statue carved from bronze or gold than a man made of blood and bone than he already did, and you couldn’t help the satisfied smile that crept over your lips knowing you had been the one to slick his skin that way. Glancing down at your chest though you saw that he had done the same to you, your soft flesh damp and shimmering in the flickering light. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a laugh from slipping out. It has been a while since the last time anyone’s…

The sound of the silver cup making contact with the wooden table beside the bed cut your thoughts short as he turned back towards you. You had just enough time to see the darkness in his eyes ignite before his hands were clutching the sides of your face, fingers pushing through your hair as he pulled you into a kiss. He didn’t hold back a throaty sigh as he let you sample the sweet wine still coating his tongue. That’s not all that I taste. You grinned around the thought, a wave of warmth rolling through your belly as he flicked his tongue inside your mouth as though reminding you how that same motion felt when he had done it earlier, between your legs. A small moan made it passed your lips and beyond his as he dropped his lower half down over your hips.

Gods, why can’t they all be like this?

You had slept with highborn men before, but once they shed their fancy robes and embroidered silks they looked and felt the same as the common swine you regularly serviced, the only real difference being the smell. And not always. Some things even rosewater couldn’t help. This one though, he smelled of spice and citrus and something else you couldn’t quite place. Something enticing. Everything about him was enticing.

It almost felt wrong, wanting him to touch you, to use up his body and yours until there was nothing left of either of you. In all the years you’d lived and worked there you couldn’t recall ever feeling anything but forced, false enthusiasm, your cheeks aching from all the strung up smiles. You couldn’t recall a single encounter in which you had chosen to stay mentally present for the duration. Yet since the Red Viper had arrived in King’s Landing a few days prior, you had made it your goal to commit every second spent with him coiled around you to memory, even if it meant sharing him with others. Words flew more swiftly than sparrows in the city, so you had already heard that the Prince and his entourage would be staying for roughly a month, a few weeks on either side of that rat Joffery’s wedding. You knew that if he continued to frequent the establishment as he had been, you’d have plenty of chances to work on that commitment.

But if you were being honest with yourself, which you rarely were since lying made things more bearable in your line of work, you knew that it could never be enough. He’d fucked you three times already that night, and each time had been different, the man never repeating the same touch, changing his speed and pressure, using his teeth and tongue in bold ways that made you feel as though he was experimenting, using your body as a medium for his art. While you were more than willing to be both muse and material for him, you were less willing to think about what would happen when he left the wretched city. For as much opulence as there seemed to be an abundance of, King’s Landing, seven hells, all of Westeros didn’t have a single artisan who could compare to Oberyn Martell in this and likely many other regards.

If he was going to be the first and only man who made you feel alive, like your desires mattered, like your body was in fact your own, then you wanted to make the most of it. Taking the waistband of his trousers in your hands, the material bunched tightly, you pulled him even closer, simultaneously grinding your hips up, fitting them against his like precisely placed pieces of a puzzle.

“You don’t need to be shy with me,” he had told you and the others that he and Ellaria had chosen on their first visit. “We are all here for the same thing. So if you want something,” he had his right arm wrapped around the slender torso of his paramour, palming one of her supple breasts as he spoke. She nuzzled into his side but kept her eyes on you, watching as he reached to take you by the chin with his left hand, pulling you close enough to kiss but stopping with barely enough space between his lips and yours for air to pass between you. You gasped, chest heaving as he smiled salaciously down at you. “Take it.”

That’s what you were doing now, taking what you wanted.

He finally broke the kiss, but only to nudge your jaw with his nose, one hand moving your hair out of his way so that he could continue teasing you with the things his tongue could do. You slid your palms over his back, fingers finding the raised ridge of a long since healed scar midway down the right side of his spine. He had a few of them, but they were all old and faded, hard to find with your eyes, easy to feel as you touched him though. A jagged line like a bolt of lightning topped his right shoulder, a stippled round patch marked the outside of his left thigh, and there was a pair of red dots near his left wrist that looked like it had been left behind by a snakebite. All proof of how vividly he lived his life, unafraid of pain or danger, accepting and seeking out every challenge he could find, never compromising until he had squeezed every ounce of juice from each experience he had.

You would let him squeeze you down to the pulp, gladly giving yourself to someone who actually appreciated the act. Someone who seemed to savor you and not just where inside your body you’d allow him. For Oberyn, there were no limits on your body.

“Had I known there were precious treasures like you hidden up here in the North,” he purred into the crook of your neck as one hand followed its own agenda, roaming your rib cage, the other still stroking softly through your hair. “I would have made the trip much sooner, if only just to have you once.” Fuck. You didn’t doubt him, and that made it even more agonizing to hear. “You are not at all like any Northerner I’ve known.”

You bit your bottom lip and let out a small breathy laugh. “True Northerners would be offended to hear you say that, you know. To them, we’re all Southerners.”

Oberyn blew a puff of air through his lips. “And the cold offends me. I do not care if I offend the lords of ice and snow.” His attention was drawn to the circles he was tracing over your sternum with one bejeweled finger. “They are all so stiff. So frigid.” He flattened his palm over the area he’d just been focused on, deep brown eyes lifting to seek out yours. “Not like you.”

“I am a whore, my prince,” you reminded him of your place playfully, combing your fingers through the crown of silvery strands that struck through the dark locks near his hairline. “I am paid to be warm.”

“Is that so?” That menacing glint was back in his grin and you understood why he was associated with the viper, the predator striking with lightning speed and deadly venom just as he was now. One hand traveled down your body to tease the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you gasped involuntarily at the contact. “Then why are you so warm when I have not yet handed over a single gold coin?” He dragged his fingers down between your legs. His eyes narrowed, lips dropping open as he slipped one digit into you, seemingly enjoying the breathless sounds you made.

Gods, he’s going to kill me.

He didn’t wait for your answer, perhaps knowing already that you didn’t have one. Instead he touched his forehead to yours, his hair damp against your scalp. “Stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t an order or a demand, simply a confident request, one he had surely never been denied. “Keep me warm.” Adding a second finger, he swirled them in a slow circle and watched you writhe under his touch. “I miss the heat of the sun in Dorne.” Curling his pointer and middle fingers slowly, he went on. “I miss the beauty of the water gardens at Sunspear. But you,” he pulled his fingers from your body then, your hips lurching up to follow his hand. “You have the sun in you.”

You felt completely helpless as you let out a whine at the sight of him licking clean the fingers he’d just had inside of you, the flutter of his eyelashes as he tasted you the only indication that he was even remotely close to cracking the same way that you were. “The sun?” You hummed as his touch returned, his other hand skimming across your skin. I hardly see the sun unless it’s through a shuttered window. “If you feel the sun when you’re with me my Prince, I can assure you it’s your doing.”

You knew it was the truth and he didn’t argue with you.

“Whatever the reason,” he assured you, “l have not been so warm since arriving in this pit of a city, and tonight I don’t want to be cold. Stay with me.”

Your heart slammed inside your chest as he made the request again, your throat tightening with how badly you wanted to say yes. Swallowing, you took a breath and steeled yourself to try to steer him away from the idea. A whole night of this… of him it’s too much. It will be too hard to... Shaking your head, you wet your lips and stretched them into a smile. “I’m sure you’re already sorely missed by someone else, my Prince. Someone who could keep you just as warm I’m sure.”

You hadn’t been with Ellaria in any meaningful sense of the word- yes, you both had been present on their first day in King’s Landing, but she was preoccupied with some of the other girls while you and one of the young men spent time with Oberyn. But you didn’t need to have been with the woman to know what she was capable of, her ravenous appetite flashing in her eyes with the same intensity that you’d seen in the Prince’s. I’m sure she is-

“We are not each other’s property, Ellaria and I.” He crushed your thoughts, touch roaming your torso, grasping at your flesh to punctuate his words with physical meaning. “We don’t put limitations on what we allow ourselves to do when it comes to pleasure.” You fought to suppress a whimper as you felt his tongue and then his teeth nip at the juncture of your throat and shoulder. All of a sudden you felt him flip you around so your back was to him, his deft hands finding your waist and spinning you with ease. “We deny each other nothing when it comes to our desires.” Sliding both hands up to your chest, he gave a deliberate squeeze and rolled his hips into yours from behind you, pulling you backwards to eliminate any empty space that remained. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“Yes,” the word came out in a breathy sigh, and you weren’t sure if you were answering him or reacting to the way that he was making you feel.

“No.” He said it firmly but his tone had a hint of excitement. “No, I don’t think that you do.” He let one hand travel down your body to the apex of your thighs, his rings cool against your stomach, the smooth links of the chains and pendants he wore pressing into your back as you gasped. “But I’m going to make you understand.”

— — — —

Some time later, after you’d acquiesced to his plea to join him through the entire night, the two of you lay draped over one another, spent but still soaking up as much contact as you could. He hadn’t taken his hands off of you for longer than it took to pour from the decanter of wine or reach for the washcloth in the basin next to the bed. He’d hardly taken his eyes off of you either, scanning every last bit of you. You were surprised when he started talking, asking you personal questions that had nothing to do with your body or his or what he wanted to do with and to and for you.

“Where are you from then, if not the North?” His eyebrows came together in genuine curiosity as he asked the question. He didn’t look away from your collarbone as he waited for your response, watching his own thumb run along the ridge of it as though he were trying to memorize the place where it dipped into your throat.

You hummed, unable to remember the last time you actually enjoyed being with one of your clients. But he’s not at all like them. No man you ever had the misfortune of having to fuck had ever asked you what your name was or where you were from or what you wanted from them. They were soldiers and sailors, gutter rats who knew you were one of them without having to ask. “I’m from right here,” you responded, combing your fingers through his hair before catching his earlobe and tugging to urge his mouth down to yours.

He kissed you- gods, he kissed you like he intended to take you apart all over again using only his tongue- then pulled back and let his exploratory touch begin charting the valley of your chest. “Right here?” He asked, and you closed your eyes as you felt his warm breath hitting the skin he’d just been tracing. “King’s Landing, you mean?”

Warmth pierced your abdomen as he dropped his lips to your body and you sucked in a breath. “Yes,” you answered, sounding every bit as desperate and dizzy as he was making you feel. You clenched a fistful of his hair, and the small rumble of a groan vibrated against your ribs before he dragged his lips towards one breast without lifting them away, licking at the goosebumps he was raising along his path. But that’s not really what I meant. “King’s Landing, yes, but-”

He picked his head up then, resting his chin in the center of your chest, his meticulously groomed beard softer than you thought it would be as it brushed your flesh. “But?” He dropped his lips teasingly to your body, eyes still on you as he dared you to continue your sentence.

He did ask. Since it was the first time anyone had, you figured you owed him a complete answer. “But I meant here,” you let your eyes roll around the room, at the windows draped in colorful fabrics, the tables laden with wine and exotic fruits, the walls, made to look like the building was a palace instead of the prison it had become. “Here, this brothel.”

You tried to slip your other hand into his hair to join the first as you let your gaze fall back to him, but he caught your wrist and stopped you, reaching up to circle his long fingers around your other wrist as well. “What?” He moved back up the bed then to settle beside you, still holding your wrists.

The sweep and press of his thumb over your pulse made you suck in a breath, and as you looked over at him, you saw a look of confusion and concern in his eyes. This isn’t what you pay for, Oberyn. Why are you doing this? You shook your head and tried for one of your practiced smiles. “This is my home. It’s where I…grew up. I was born here. My mother was a…”

“A whore?” He supplied the word but didn’t fill it with the disdain and judgement that most did when they spat your title at you as a reminder of your place in the world. You knew that he didn’t put such meaning into words like whore or bastard. One was a profession, the other a term for a child born of passion, and in his eyes, in the eyes of the Dornish people, those things were not filth to be hidden or ashamed of. With the surname Waters, you fell into both categories. He let go of your far wrist, letting that hand drop to your bare stomach, but his thumb continued to run up and down over the veins of the one he still held.

You nodded. “Yes. As soon as I was old enough, I worked in the kitchens, scrubbing dishes, cleaning bedding.” You watched his chest rise and fall as you spoke but felt his sharp eyes on your face. “When my mother became too… old to do her job, it became my responsibility to earn our keep. Now that it's just me I…” You shrugged. He asked, you reminded yourself again. “Well, I have no other… no skills or-”

“You didn’t choose this?” He lifted the hand he had on your stomach to push a piece of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing the outer helix and drifting down to the tender skin just beneath it. “You… wouldn’t choose this?”

Despite the honesty in his question, the tingling sensation that his touch sent through your bones and the way he was looking at you, you had to laugh. “No,” you shook your head. “Some girls,” gesturing with one hand you twirled it and arched an eyebrow, “some boys? Some of them choose this. But I… was born into it.”

You didn’t know what you expected to see on his face when you looked back up at him, but it certainly hadn’t been anger. Oh, I shouldn’t have- “That is unacceptable.” What? Before you could ask him to elaborate or try to de-escalate the conversation, turn it back towards pleasure like you’d been taught to, he had your face between his hands, your eyes locked with his. “Pleasure should not come at the cost of anyone’s freedom. You shouldn’t have to-” His nostrils flared slightly then and he took a breath through his nose, eyes falling closed briefly before opening again. “Come back to Dorne with Ellaria and I. Let me take you from here.”

The thought of it was too good to entertain, too tempting to take seriously, and it made it too hard to breathe. You were property of Lord Petyr Baelish, it wasn’t that simple. Blinking away the shock of his request, you again tried to lighten things with a smile. “So I can be your pet down in Sunspear?”

“No.” He leaned in and kissed you then, his top lip curling against yours before you felt his grip move to the back of your head and the side of your neck. “I would never put you in a cage like a pet,” he murmured into your mouth. “You are a wild thing. And if you came back with me,” he rubbed the tip of his nose along yours. “You could run as wild as you wanted. Completely untethered.”

“No one is completely free in Westeros.” You couldn’t help the slight sadness from entering your tone as you told him the truth about your home.

“They are in Dorne,” he promised.

“And if I came to Dorne,” you mused, playing with the still open drawstring of his trousers, “would I be confined to the water gardens? What would you require of me?”

“Nothing.” He answered with a shake of his head. “Wild spirits cannot be tamed. When they are, they turn sad, resentful. They grow bitter. They die.” Staring into your eyes, you felt the earnest truth in his words. “I would only hope that with your freedom you would choose to return to me.”

If there was a free soul in existence who wouldn’t return to him, they were out of their minds.

“I would return to you as often as you’d have me.” Your breathless response came quicker than you would have liked, but what he was offering you was so tempting even your cautious attempts at reigning in your enthusiasm weren’t enough and you cursed yourself for it. “But what about…” you let out a breath and waved a hand around the room. “What about Lord Baelish? What about-“

“I told you already,” he brought a finger up and laid it on top of your still swollen, wine stained lips. “I take what I want. And what I want is to see you as free as you were meant to be.” He leaned in to press his lips to yours, his finger still stuck between. “So you leave that to me, Wild one. Now,” he brought his hand down to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the bend in his arm. “Show me how you stay warm up here in the North.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do!

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws @valkblue @alraedesigns @beefcakebarnes

#oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #pedrostories #oberyn martell fanfic #pedro pascal characters #the viper & the wild thing #TV&TWT #the cold offends me #oberyn martell #game of thrones #got fanfic #got fanfiction #the red viper #smut #its a smut #how could i not kick it off with a smut for the prince of passion?

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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ATEEZ as things and feelings

@haechanhues don’t mind me just doing it again cause i liked it uwu maybe i should just change to doing headcanons LMAOOOO

as i wrote this, i realised the members of ateez have really cultivated a specific image for themselves (eg. hongjoong as a fashionista, hwa as the mom, yunho has a big bear etc) and so i really hope that these are at least some part of their real identities and it’s not just kq forcing it down their throats ;(

HONGJOONG - BOUTIQUES AND EXPENSIVE CAFES

there’s just something very sophisticated about joong, though he’s absolutely refined and clean-cut (despite that whole jack sparrow get up in their rhythm ta stage)

because he loves fashion and dressing himself up, he can’t tolerate how much you don’t care about the clothes you’re wearing! he knows EXACTLY what would make you look even better and what would totally boost your confidence and so he wouldn’t hesitate to drag you out to a boutique, whether it’s for thrifting or it’s one of those expensive ones like Dior

he’ll spoil you because he can, and because he wants to

he also has a knack for pretty settings, so that expensive cafe down the street that sells mediocre coffee but with a STUNNING exterior? he’ll bring you there just so you can be his photographer and he can be yours

you know when the coffee sucks but he still manages to contain his facial expressions and not hurl? yeah that’s joong being classy

the sophistication needed in everything simple and possibly disastrous

“i know the coffee sucks but look at our instagram now”

SEONGHWA - ROAD TRIPS AND HOME COOKED FOOD

honestly are you an atiny if you don’t agree with this

it’s been about a year since i started stanning ateez and my first impression of hwa is that he’s actually very timid and shy and awkward when it comes to firsts

on stage is a completely different story

so i’d assume he’s probably the same in private, ie he’s aggressive and dedicated when it comes to things he loves to do, but probably a little more timid and worrisome when it comes to people/things he’s not familiar with, but that doesn’t stop him from trying out new things and setting off on an adventure!

you’d be the one to surprise him with an impromptu trip, thinking that he’d be happy to escape but no he worries about clothes, packing, the weather, the itinerary-

it takes you a good amount of energy and convincing to tell him to calm down and that you’ve got every thing down, so he can just busk in the joy of being with you in a completely foreign land

he would also be the kind to try grocery shopping overseas then figure out how to make do with the ingredients

he’s home even when you’re not back in your house

“i made chicken soup with a mix of... whatever that was because the lady said it’s a local delight and that it should go well with chicken-”

YUNHO - OVERSIZED PULLOVERS AND CUDDLES

PLEASE this is self-explanatory no??????????????

a big, giant, fluffy, adorable bear!

it’s literal - as big as his clothes are on you, he acts like them as well - making sure you’re comfortable and warm and you have your own space

i feel like yunho would be the kind that shows care and concern and sometimes he doesn’t really know when to stop, and so he figures out your boundaries just so that you would be comfortable around him

whenever you’re sad or depressed or you just had a shit day, he’ll always be there for you to hug or even vent your anger

sometimes you’d get frustrated with him because he’s too nice at work too and get trampled over and then all your feelings build up and there you have it, he’ll cradle you like a baby and tell you not to waste your feelings on things that don’t really matter

he’ll tell you he’s okay, as long as you’re okay

“please don’t cry, it’ll bloat your face tomorrow morning :(”

YEOSANG - PLAYING AROUND WITH TECH STUFF AND VIDEO GAMES

he’s not the most talkative person, no, but that’s exactly what draws people. he’s always listening, always watching, but never really saying anything, and lucky for you, he says everything when he’s engaged in something he likes

he’s known for his stellar concentration, so it’s no surprise when he’s able to figure out that new tech thing he got and figure it out within the first 10 minutes, thereafter, you take the chance to get him to talk about anything and everything you want him to

he takes awhile to warm up to people, sometimes very mechanical like the things he likes to play with, but when he does, his care is silent

he buys the Bluetooth keyboard you need cause your laptop keyboard is wonky

he buys the cute marvel themed mouse pad cause your current one is peeling

then when you got him that xbox, his competitiveness hopped out like doomsday and he’d trash you on a good day with a lack thereof of mercy when it comes to verbally trashing you

but on some shitty days when he can read your tiredness and frustration, he lets you win

“give me that mouse pad, it’s almost as messed up as you.”

SAN - ABANDONED PLACES AND LIGHTHOUSES

scary on first sight/impression, yet nothing but a place full of memories that was once full of life - that’s san for you

i think he’s very intimidating on stage, which is exactly how many abandoned places are marketed on the media - haunted, ghosts, murderers, weird plants and insects etc, but what about the history of those places before they went to shit?

there’s so much more to it than what you see

adventure, wander and thrill-seeking overwhelms you when he’s around. there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

lighthouses - where you find your way, and that you’ll never get lost

people tend to lose sight of what they love and want in life and san would probably be able to inspire you to get back on track, by the sheer force of his own passion and vision for himself

“run with me and we’ll see the light together!”

MINGI - MISMATCHED OUTINGS AND PLAYFUL TACKLING

ok when i say mismatched outings i mean it in the way that he’d dress up and ask you to dress up BUT you’d find yourself at a cheaper/more coffee-shop like eatery instead of a restaurant

he has fun admiring how pretty you are on the way there, but when he pulls you up to a coffee shop you’re like what? then why did i dress up so nicely for?

mingi knows that you depend on your appearance alot for confidence, so he really wants to see that pride when you’re out with him

lazy pajamas and messy hair are reserved for sleepovers and for days when you don’t really feel like doing much - and of course he’ll be there to comfort you when you need it

i think he’ll find absolute joy in pulling you close and wrapping his longass coat around you on the colder autumn/winter days, and then he’ll ruffle through your hair and you cant run because of his coat and arm wrapped around you

will definitely get judged by passerbys

but like the mismatched outfits x location, he really doesn’t care. it’s the company he cares about. it’s the condition of his company he cares about. it’s the food he cares about. not the reputation, not the pure material of someone’s clothes

“i know i told you to dress pretty but must you outdo me all the time” /insert pouty face/

WOOYOUNG - EXPERIMENTAL COOKING AND PRANK CALLING

omg the noise pollution

‘let’s call yeosang’

‘what for?’

‘just ‘cause’

and you’ll do it on your phone because wooyoung knows yeosang won’t pick it up if it’s from his phone, and so when he does pick up and he hears you say ‘hello’ with the most amount of guilt in your voice, he tells wooyoung to fuck off and hangs up

seonghwa would be your next victim but hwa would stay on the line just so he wouldn’t have to worry about coming back to a burnt down kitchen - not because he thinks wooyoung can’t cook, but because wooyoung gets absolutely distracted with you around and would want to impress you with his culinary skills, which more often than not, backfires

pranks aside, all wooyoung wants to do is to make you laugh or smile and make the time spent with him the most fun and worthwhile

even if it meant getting into trouble with his members, he decides it’s worth the risk if it means he gets to see you happy and full from eating the food he prepares

like his experimental dishes, every joke and bs pun he says is new and never fails to amuse you - even if you don’t actually laugh

you see a new side to him with every passing day and he can be sensitive if he wants to, or completely clown himself if he wanted to as well

“don’t complain about the food! i bothered to cook for you and you complain about it?!”

JONGHO - APPLE PICKING AND PLAYFUL ARM WRESTLING

the one time you let him snap your apple into half cause your teeth hurt and now he snaps all your apples in half and it’s becoming more of a joke over anything else

finally decided to go to an apple orchard for the lols and amuse the people there with his apple breaking skills

you’re extra amused everytime he manages to do it (because how?????) and he adores seeing that on you - you’re honestly not easy to entertain so he’s a simp for when he’s the reason why you are

it came to a point where you got curious how strong he was because he hasn’t revealed one bit of skin ever since you’ve met him

it started out as you actually challenging him, but when you lost with two hands against his one hand, he started teaching you techniques on how to win instead

of course, he’s never let you beat him because he knows it’ll hurt your pride if he does

very, very quiet and subtle care - makes apple juice from the leftover apples he has at home and brings it to school for you

sometimes asks wooyoung to make dried apple chips for you but tells you he bought it cause he doesn’t want you to know he troubled someone

“are the apple chips too sweet? i can buy you another brand”

#kpop #ateez #ateez headcanons #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #atz #seonghwa #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa headcanons #seonghwa scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong headcanons #hongjoong scenarios #san imagines #choi san #san #san headcanons #kpop headcanons #san scenarios

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goldencorecrunches · 4 years ago

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Hello ur wangningxian fic had me fucking SCREAMING hello hello I was trying to practice driving but I was too busy YELLING anyways amazing job I'm so fucking hyped for pt 5!!!!

YOU’RE SO NICE HELP I KEEP STARING AT THIS MESSAGE ME HEART MELTIN HERE YOU GO HON -- (Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV)

They don't return to the table. It had been a stupid idea anyway, Wen Ning thinks; too serious, too tribunal. Wei Ying doesn't like to talk about it, like he doesn't like to talk about anything that's really fucked him up, but he knows family dinners for him growing up weren't the most comfortable affairs. Instead he and Lan Zhan budge over on the couch, though there's already enough room (there's always enough room, if it's for Wei Ying), and Wei Ying, tripping on his tiptoes the way he does when he's nervous, perches on the L-shaped edge of the cushion. The reflective vest Lan Zhan has bullied him into wearing whenever he goes out night-running dangles off one shoulder, coquetry in neon orange.

He is too far away.

Wen Ning extends a leg and prods at Wei Ying with his toes, making Wei Ying yelp, ticklish, and for a moment nearly smile, until Wei Ying gives in to what he clearly wants and scoots up against Wen Ning's side, the third overlapping piece in their tableau. A very wiggly tableau it will be, indeed, now that Wei Ying has joined it. They would not have it any other way. "So you guys kiss now," Wei Ying says, into the hole in the leggings over Wen Ning's thigh. Wen Ning keeps thinking he should fix that, and then forgetting. "How long has that been going on?"

"Just tonight," Wen Ning says, making his tongue go slowly. Behind him Lan Zhan makes a small noise, negative; one of his hands withdraws from Wen Ning's waist and reaches for his phone. They wait while he types, Wen Ning looking at the contrast between Wei Ying's cheek and his own black spandex, Wei Ying staring into the crack where the cushions meet the back of the couch. He seems like he's worn himself out; he curls around Wen Ning's leg like it's a stuffed toy.

It is times like this that Wen Ning is reminded of how much slighter Wei Ying is, than either himself or Lan Zhan. He imagines lifting his leg and carrying Wei Ying up atop it, like a fragile sparrow, hollow-boned, fluffed up against the cold. "Almost nine days," the lady in Lan Zhan's phone says. "When Wen Ning brought you back from the library. Kissed him then. Did not plan it. But." His fingers have stilled; Lan Zhan types with one whole hand, cradling the phone in his other, instead of with his two thumbs like everyone else. It's hopelessly endearing: our little old-fashioned man, Wei Ying calls him, and then tugs at his hair or tweaks his ear. "But you liked it? Mm. Can't blame you for that." Wen Ning can feel the flex of Wei Ying's jaw as he mumbles. A small hum like the vibration of a string starts at the top of Wen Ning's scalp and travels down through his body. The nausea has not left him, or the guilt, but Wen Ning plunges his hands into that hum and lets it fill all his corners. Now that they are speaking, it is better; though they've barely begun. The waiting was the hardest part. It's never as bad as you think it will be, he tells himself. He bites his tongue to get moisture back into his mouth. "We did- we did-, we haven't done anything between then," he says. Lan Zhan's arms tighten around him. Wen Ning leans back against him gratefully. "Um. When we went to that weird cafe with Lan Zhan's brother? That was what we were talking about." Behind him he feels Lan Zhan nod. "I wondered," Wei Ying says. He curls tighter, the movement like a brace before a leap. "Were you going to tell me?" Oh: Wen Ning's lungs have been stolen away. One of Lan Zhan's hands leaves him again, this time to reach out and press down on the top of Wei Ying's head. It's a bad angle; he has to strain, and even so he mostly gets the end of his ponytail. Wei Ying hides his face in the crook of Wen Ning's knee. Wen Ning has to blink rapidly and swallow, twice when the first time isn't enough. He's not sure what he means to say; what comes out is clumsier and more honest than he wants. "I didn't want you to feel left out. I'm sorry." Against his neck, Lan Zhan grunts agreement. He's petting the rough-chopped ends of Wei Ying's hair, the ends sticking up between his knuckles and then smoothing flat again. "Just," Wei Ying says. It's difficult to hear him, pressed as far as he is into Wen Ning's leg, but Wen Ning doesn't imagine he or Lan Zhan are right now giving him anything but their complete intent focus. "You have to tell me if you don't want me around any more, okay? That's rule, ah, rule eighty-nine of being my friend." He laughs, his shoulders twitching. Wen Ning needs to hug him so badly it's rooted his ass to the tasteful cream-colored microfiber. "Okay," he says, chokes on it. "Yeah. D-deal. Definitely want you here though. Right Lan Zhan?" "Mn," Lan Zhan rumbles emphatically. Wei Ying droops. He goes from light upon Wen Ning's knee to hundredweight, sinking like a stone in water. Somehow, Wen Ning manages to curl his leg and reach his arms and get Wei Ying bundled up against them both, his hair splaying out over Wen Ning's throat and his sharp wrists tucked up against Lan Zhan's sternum. He's still laughing, a little, and Wen Ning listens carefully in case the tears he can hear behind them start to spill over. "'S funny," he's saying. Wen Ning slings an arm over his him and wraps even closer. "I thought, hah, I thought out of all of us it would be me who would fuck up and accidentally kiss someone, but wow, Lan Zhan! Who knew you had it in you!" His body can't seem to decide whether it wants to tremble or to sag. It tries to do both, with different parts. Wen Ning looks up from under his eyelashes to see how Lan Zhan reacts to Wei Ying's implication that he'd kiss him, and sees Lan Zhan staring solemnly back at him, the same emotion reflected. He frowns and reaches to set Lan Zhan's hand on Wei Ying's hip where his has been. Lan Zhan resists him. "Like, you guys are my best friends, you know? My best friends, and I've told you this but I mean it, and if you two want to go off and kiss I'm really really happy to let you do that I don't want to get in the way and make you not want to be around me any more because I'm--" Lan Zhan is trying to communicate something to Wen Ning with a frustrated glare and the minute tilt of his chin. Wen Ning has an inkling what it is, and staunchly ignores him, because despite the warm-butter feeling spreading over him Lan Zhan is wrong. "--and I was like, to myself, what if it doesn't break everything? But obviously that's absurd, I always break everything, and--" "Wei Ying," Wen Ning says, in desperation, as Lan Zhan gives up all pretence of fighting fair and begins attempting to shove Wei Ying completely into Wen Ning's lap. He knows Wen Ning won't try to pull away when Wei Ying needs to be held, the bastard. "If you, when you, you, you, you-- kiss Lan Zhan! Please! He wants you to!" It is an uncomfortable position to be frozen in, for the beats that follow. Wei Ying's elbow is digging into the soft part under Wen Ning's ribs, and Lan Zhan's ankle is somehow twisted underneath them all. There's a heavy thud from the apartment above; as the three of them clutch at each other and stare, barely breathing, they hear harried footsteps and the muffled tones of a child being scolded. "Ooh, someone's in trouble," Wei Ying says. And then: "Wait, no. I meant. What?" Lan Zhan is glowering in abject betrayal at the wall over Wen Ning's right shoulder. His ears are slowly turning pink. "Hhhn," Wei Ying says, like a untied rubber balloon, and then-- frantically, scrambling over their tangled legs-- It is not that Wen Ning isn't jealous of what they have, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. It is rather, to be witness to so wonderful a thing feels like a privilege. When Lan Zhan's hands come up to frame Wei Ying's face, when Wei Ying's lips part, it is more than beautiful; it is necessary. Wen Ning can feel himself grinning, wide and goofy, even as he loses feeling in his calves. It's just-- it's been such a long time, and he's-- he's happy for them. He's so happy. He's...crying? "Oh," Wei Ying says, "Oh, oh, oh," and twists in a violent motion, and Wen Ning is, for the third time in his most immediate history, completely blindsided by the knowledge of a mouth over his own. I haven't brushed my teeth, he thinks, which is a nonsense thing to think, because he did brush his teeth this morning, of course, and he hasn't even started getting ready for bed yet, and also, he had Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth not even an hour ago, and he had Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth and now he has Wei Ying's-- He becomes dimly aware that Lan Zhan is stroking his arm, where it's curved to trap Wei Ying flush against his chest. Wen Ning makes the executive decision to panic about this later. There are too many things happening right now to keep track of freaking out. For example: the discovery that brushing the tips of his fingers over the soft skin behind Wei Ying's ear makes him gasp and shudder all over. "Lan Zhan," Wen Ning says, amazed. It's too momentous a thing to keep to himself. "Look." He does it again, and they both watch Wei Ying's eyelids flutter. It feels like there's a volcano under his skin. "M-maybe we should stop and talk ab, about this like adults," he says. It comes out breathless. He does not want to stop and talk about this like adults. "Nonononononono," Wei Ying says, hands shooting out to fasten on their shoulders. "We did talking, now is kissing, can we do more of the kissing? I like kissing. I like kissing you. Both. Both of you." His face screws up. "You might have a point. I think I might pass out? But in a good way?" Lan Zhan looks deeply alarmed. He and Wen Ning maneuver Wei Ying so he has his head between his knees, their hands meeting over the bony seam of his spine. Lan Zhan squeezes Wen Ning's fingers. The volcano turns into a horde of extremely peppy wind-up toys. Or maybe this is what butterflies feel like? "Running," Lan Zhan says, gathering the strands of Wei Ying's hair back from his face. It takes Wen Ning a moment to understand; in his defense, he's fairly certain his brain has been forcibly disconnected. "Right, um, electrolytes. And sugar." He peels himself away (Wei Ying makes a pathetic noise, which twinges at Wen Ning's heart, but he's in good hands) and nearly faceplants on the edge of the rug as pins and needles shoot up his legs. Because Lan Zhan is a good and righteous man, he has the kind of orange juice that's full-sugar, and without bits. Wen Ning pours them all glasses just to be on the safe side, and also takes the opportunity to stick his head in the freezer and think thoughts that are not about confirming his love for his two closest friends via double fellatio. When he returns Wei Ying is sitting upright, Lan Zhan's arm around him. He refuses to drink until Wen Ning is cuddled up with them. See, Wen Ning's therapist says, as he tucks himself against the long line of Lan Zhan's body, Lan Zhan's eyebrows knitted as he rewinds the movie back to the beginning of the scene the left off on. Wei Ying slaps indiscriminately across the limbs within reach when Lan Zhan reaches the right spot; he makes the whole couch rock, and Wen Ning thinks he might burst, from loving them. Not as bad as you thought, at all. So much better.

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #wangningxian #wen ning #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fics #YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WE GOT THERE FOLX #fic: thinking skirt au

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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years ago

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Chapter 38

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“So...where exactly are you heading now, Talltail?” Jake asked hesitantly.

Talltail stalked through the undergrowth, ears perked, tasting the air for ShadowClan as he went. He didn’t want to go after them, but if his hunch was right, they might be his best clue for finding what he was looking for.

“I’m sure this can’t be a coincidence,” he said. “Sparrow has always been untrustworthy, even his own family rarely knows where he is! I think he’s betrayed them to those ShadowClan cats. I just don’t know why.”

“Maybe they forced him?” Jake suggested.

“Or maybe Sparrow is just a fox-hearted bastard like I always knew he was. He doesn’t really care about any cat but himself. Whatever ShadowClan is doing out here, Sparrow will be there too. I can feel it.”

“Aaand your plan is…?”

“Not attacking a whole ShadowClan patrol if that’s what you're worried about. I want nothing to do with that bunch. If I can catch Sparrow alone for a moment, I may be able to get around personally confronting them.”

He thought then of the conversation between Stonetooth and Raggedpelt he’d eavesdropped on when he’d passed through their territory. They were looking for wandering apprentices...Could something be happening behind their backs as well? For all his hate of ShadowClan, even Cedarstar wasn’t known to mess with outsiders against clan law so blatantly. But those younger cats had a strange vendetta.

“Lool, we'll find your dog, and I'll keep a lookout. I just want to find where they’re all sneaking around, and then I’ll decide what to do,” Talltail said. “It’s possible these cats are acting on their own. I wouldn’t put it past Darkpaw’s friends to be tormenting random rogues just for fun.”

“Talltail,” Jake padded around ahead and stood in his way. “That still isn’t a plan. I feel like you're just throwing yourself blindly into one thing at a time and not thinking through what will actually happen. I know from experience that’s usually not a great strategy.”

“I know what I’m doing, Jake.” Talltail growled.

“Are you going to kill that Sparrow cat?” Jake’s voice was accusing but there was concern in his eyes.

For several heartbeats, they glared at each other in silence.

“I don’t know Jake. What did you think I was going to do?” Talltail’s voice quivered a bit. It almost surprised himself to say it out loud. But hadn’t the thought always been there somewhere, ever since he left? It angered him realizing he felt ashamed saying it. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to go into the details of this while Jake was still here.

“You don’t even fully understand what's happening!” Jake argued. “Whatever all this is, it’s got to be more complicated than one evil cat running around and doing bad stuff just for fun! You can’t really just mean to kill someone?”

“You don’t know how bad cats can be, Jake. Maybe I'm not as good as you thought I was, but I still have to do this.”

“You can’t think this is right,” Jake’s voice was pleading. “You’re just going to kill someone you barely know, and ignore everything around it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think is right!” Talltail snapped and Jake winced slightly at the sudden sharpness of his voice. “This is what must be done. Sparrow deserves to pay, I won’t just let him walk away freely. This is the reason I came out here, it’s the only action I can take. I can’t fix the rest of the world, but I can do this, and I will.”

Jake didn’t break his glare. “Is this part of the warrior's code?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not a warrior anymore, I was never worthy of being one to begin with. So if I dishonor the code for this, it hardly matters. I’ve already dishonored my clan, at least I can make the world better off with one less rotten cat in it.”

“Who are you doing this for then?” Jake refused to move out of his way. “Your father again?” Talltail stared at him but Jake just continued. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything because I know a lot of this is over my head, but I do know what I see in you! And all I know is every time you look upset and I try to get you to tell me why, eventually it’s that cat you start talking about. First you're miserable and then you get mad and start looking for an excuse to do anything else so you don’t have to talk about it anymore. Why are you doing all this for a cat who made you so miserable?”

Talltail gritted his teeth. “I’ve told you, it’s not about me!”

“But it’s your life, your decision, who else is it supposed to be about!? I can’t help but wonder if this thing you’re trying to do is actually going to make you feel better at all. I don’t want to see you get yourself hurt or do something you’ll regret. Do you really think this is going to fix anything that’s wrong?”

“It has to.” Talltail’s voice was hoarse. “There’s nothing else left that can. This mission is all I have left, that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was. I’m not actually admirable, or heroic, I’m not even a warrior anymore. You don’t have a reason to keep standing by me.”

“I know I don’t understand a lot of things, but I know that’s not true.” Jake’s hostility melted away, replaced by sadness and worry. “I never liked you just because I thought you were some mythical warrior. I liked you because when I was alone and lost, I met a strange cat in the woods who did his best to help me. You helped even though it could have gotten you in trouble, just because I needed it. I met a gentle cat who didn’t want to hurt anyone unless he had no other choice. And I liked you because you listened to me when I talked and thought I wasn’t just a trouble-making flea-brain. I’ve felt more confident in myself when I traveled with you then I ever have! That’s why I stayed by you. And that’s how I feel, so you can’t tell me I’m wrong about it!”

Talltail felt the furious voice at the back of his head rearing up. He didn’t know why he was getting so angry hearing Jake say that. He wanted to scream No! No! You have got it all wrong, I didn’t even think that hard about helping you, it doesn’t say anything about me. How can you not get it!? How can you not see the truth about me!?

“You need to go home,” was the only response he eventually managed to choke out. Talltail didn’t want someone to try to make him feel better, and he didn’t have the energy to argue why Jake should see things the way he did. “You know where the scent trail you need to follow is, just head back through the trees. But this isn’t your journey anymore. It’s mine, and you can’t go with me.”

“What?”

“Go home, Jake. Go find Dusty. That’s more important.”

Jake looked utterly crestfallen. “Don’t make me choose that.”

“I’m not asking you to choose, I’m making the decision for you.” With that, Talltail wheeled and began to sprint.

It was an unfair and abrupt way to leave, but Jake would never be able to catch up. Talltail’s mind was muddled with frustration. He couldn’t be around this questioning. It was wrong of him to let Jake stay so long. It was wrong to let himself get so comfortable. It had only made things harder.

Finally, he skidded to a stop. Talltail was standing alone panting in the quiet woods, glancing behind him, and already feeling guilty. He was supposed to help Jake home, but instead he’d gotten overwhelmed and left him alone. Just another cowardly act on the pile. His heart ached horribly in a way he hadn’t expected. He didn’t want to leave Jake behind like that, especially after they had gotten so close. Of course Jake wasn’t going to react well to all this, that’s why they were supposed to separate at the park. But instead all he’d done was get closer, and it wasn’t fair. Not because Jake didn’t deserve it; if Talltail wasn’t the way he was, he might want to be with Jake forever. But sooner or later, Jake would see what he was really like. Was it better to just pull the thorn out quickly and stay away?

But...surely Jake deserved more than that? A proper apology at least, not him just turning tail and running like a mouse. But how was he supposed to see his friend home now after snapping at him and fleeing like that?

Talltail wasn’t even sure where he was. He knew he was skimming clan territory now, though he wasn’t sure exactly where. ShadowClan scent crisscrossed through the bushes, fresh. His fur began to prickle as mixed among them he couldn’t help noticing another cat scent, distinctly not ShadowClan.

He didn’t have long to think about his next course of action before a faint yowl in the far distance made him freeze. He listened with his ears pricked, wondering if he’d imagined it. An angry snarl echoing through the otherwise silent trees confirmed it was very real. Talltail looked behind him half expecting to hear angry ShadowClan warriors preparing to leap on him, but the sounds weren’t that close. His heart dropped instantly. Had Jake tried to follow him? There was no time to think it through, he just turned and ran faster than he ever had, paws carried by a sharp and awful surge of fear that shot through him and made his heart feel like it was going to claw out of his chest.

When Talltail saw the shape of a cat in a break of the undergrowth, he barely stopped himself, almost tripping over his own gangly legs. Then he felt his breath catch in his throat.

The small dark cat had been watching something intently through the bushes, crouched and nearly hidden from view, but when Talltail stopped, they whipped around to stare at him with two different colored eyes widened with surprise. It took a heartbeat for Talltail to even fully comprehend who was standing in front of him.

It couldn’t be as easy as just stumbling into him, after all his fruitless searching, right? It took only one heartbeat more for a burst of rage to rise up his belly. Sparrow, for his obvious confusion, immediately sensed the sharp hostility radiating off of Talltail like heat from a fire.

But the angry yowl he’d heard earlier passed the bushes ripped his focus away for just a moment. He knew Jake’s voice. That moment was all it took for Sparrow to flee faster than a startled bird. Talltail stared after him, frozen for only a heartbeat. But he couldn't give chase.

He burst into a clearing to see a whole patrol of cats, and an unfortunately familiar dark brown cat with a crook in his tail glaring down at Jake, who was picking himself up with a fresh red line over his eye.

“I don’t have time for you!” Jake snarled. Talltail couldn’t believe his boldness.

“Make time,” Darkpaw hissed. “I told every rogue and kittypet to stay out of these woods!”

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t know or care what you’re talking about. I’m busy!”

Darkpaw went to advance on him again, and Talltail threw himself forward, shoved past another startled apprentice, knocking them to the ground and smacked into Darkpaw, sending the obnoxious brute sprawling nose first into the grass. Jake leaped out of the way and Talltail stood in front of him arching his back at the patrol. Surprisingly, most of the patrol were clearly young. He recognized a new warrior, Clawface, Ashheart’s brother Frogtail, and three apprentices, some of which were too new for him to recognize.

“What sort of patrol are you supposed to be?” Talltail spat, as Darkpaw stumbled back into his rank, only regaining his boldness when he realized Talltail had come alone.

“None of your business, rabbit-chaser,” Darkpaw hissed.

Jake shouldered past Talltail to stand beside him. “We don’t care about you, so leave us alone!”

“You runts aren’t even supposed to be here, are you?” Talltail challenged. “What reason could you possibly have for being so far out? You don’t have any claim on this place, go back to your territory.”

The group advanced closer to them and Talltail had to step back. Apprentices or no, many of them were plenty experienced enough to be dangerous.

Darkpaw spit in his direction. “You’re not really in any position to tell us to do anything. I’ve just been looking around for potential connections. Seeing how useful rogues can be. The town wasn’t as promising as I’d hoped but it was worth a shot,” he shrugged.

Talltail glared at him. “Does your leader know you’re breaking clan law like that?”

Darkpaw rolled his eyes. “All the clans break the law. Yours did too. There’s nothing actually holding any of them to keeping it, other than their word, which no cat has any trouble breaking. We have no choice but to do the same if we don’t want to be overtaken, and everyone will come to realize that in time. The other clans just make us worse, waiting pressed up against our borders to take advantage of us. The strongest warriors have to be wise enough to strike first, by whatever means necessary.”

“Warriors, huh?” Talltail scoffed. He shifted his gaze to Clawface, “and what sort of warrior takes orders from an apprentice?”

Clawface didn’t react. “I listen to sense. Wherever it happens to come from doesn’t bother me.”

Talltail darted his gaze around looking for some way to stall until he could think of a way out. But there was no obvious distraction presented to them like there was in the alley.

A cold cruel glimmer flashed in Darkpaw’s eyes. “You know, sometimes I think age does a cat no good. They overthink. They cling to old useless ways, and hesitate in doing what obviously needs to be done. We, however, have no issues about it.”

Talltail was aware of Jake beside him, bristling but his fear scent was obvious under his aggressive demeanor. He didn’t have any ideas either.

“There’s probably a reason a cat your age doesn't have his warrior name yet. You think this will bring you closer to it?” Talltail shot back.

Darkpaw bared his teeth in a grin “Oh I’ll have it very soon, don’t worry. But it makes no difference to you anyway. We’re done talking now, you're boring me and I don’t need you to go tattling to anyone.”

Talltail glanced at Jake. They had to try to run, they couldn't fight this many cats, and Jake was already bleeding and trying to hide a limp. They could kill him, how am I supposed to protect him?

Clawface lunged and Talltail swatted at him. The scarred warrior ducked his blow but Jake hit him across the muzzle with surprising strength and Clawface winced back.

“You’ll pay for that one kittypet,” he snarled.

There was a growl from behind them, and another large apprentice began to advance. They were being surrounded.

Talltail had just begun to really panic when Jake perked up and turned away from Clawface, looking somewhere off into the trees.

“Are you ignoring m-- what in StarClan is that?” Clawface’s eyes widened as he followed Jake’s gaze.

Talltail caught a stench he never thought he’d be so happy to smell. Heavy, thundering footsteps turned the ShadowClan cat's attention off them. There was a rapidly approaching wild rustling through the woods, the cracking of sticks and undergrowth being trampled, and then, an enormous grizzled furry shape came barrelling out of the bushes, bearing down on the startled patrol with yellowed sharp teeth flashing in the sunlight.

“By the stars, fall back! Retreat!” Darkpaw screeched, bowling over another apprentice as he scrambled to get away.

There was a cacophony of yowls and squeals as the massive dog ran straight at the cats with little heed for anything in his way. He stomped on several of them, massive teeth and tongue lolling in his mouth as he snapped the air over Clawface’s ear. No cat would be foolish enough to think their claws could pierce thick fur like that. The ShadowClan cats were gone in a moment, howling into the trees, leaving their former prisoners to their presumed slobbery fate.

“Dusty!” Jake leapt at his friend and headbutted his leg. Dusty simply wagged his tail and stared after the running cats. He looked as though he would have chased them if he wasn’t busy now drooling on Jake’s head.

“I take back every bad thing I ever said about that dog,” Talltail laughed nervously. Adrenaline was still coursing through him. That was way closer than the alley cats. Dusty turned to him and Talltail tried not to flinch away from his greeting sniff and the feel of spit dripping onto his shoulder. The mouse-brained dog hadn’t even needed to hurt the renegade ShadowClan cats. Talltail felt a bit of pride that he had nothing to fear from what he knew all too well appeared to be a horribly fearsome beast.

“You’re brilliant, Dusty, I knew your nose hadn’t gone that bad,” Jake purred louder than a rumbling monster. “I can’t believe you followed me all the way here, you big fluff-brain. Cris has got to be so worried about you!”

Something caught Talltail’s attention then. Dusty was panting harder than normal, as if the dash into the clearing had taken everything out of him. The old dog's deep brown gaze looked faraway as he licked his lips and sank to the ground. The way he panted and tensed, Talltail could tell something was wrong. He may not know a lot about dogs, but he recognized an animal trying to hide pain when he saw it. There was a peculiar scent on Dusty, one he’d smelled on him before, though it had been faint. But it was a familiar scent, one that made him nervous. A sick scent.

“Jake,” Talltail said “I think something’s wrong with him.”

Jake stopped and looked closer at Dusty who was half way between sitting and laying down, but looking like he didn’t want to do either. “What?” Jake mewed. “What’s wrong? Is it the sickness? It’s not bad again is it?”

Dusty hesitantly whined.

“What sickness?” Talltail asked.

“The...The one I mentioned he had before. Cris took him to the vet and he came back smelling strange, like you did when you went, and his fur was shaved off on his belly. I think there was something inside him that was hurting him but...I thought it was gone.”

Talltail walked closer to the dog, who didn’t acknowledge him much, he was staring blankly ahead, breathing hard. He must hurt badly, Talltail thought, sympathetically. He sniffed at the dog's belly. It was hard to see anything through the fur. He was no medicine cat either, certainly not a dog medicine cat. What did abnormal look like?

“I...Haven’t been paying close attention,” Jake sounded guilty. “Why? Is that bad?”

Talltail thought of Hen then, and realized what felt familiar. The scent, the sluggishness and pain in his step. Dusty has been really tired lately, Jake had told him.

“He shouldn’t have come after us,” Talltail said. “You need to get him home.”

Jake looked distressed “I-I will. Come on Dusty, I know you’re tired but I know the way back. It shouldn’t take long if we go straight there.”

Dusty seemed to know what Jake wanted, and pushed himself to his paws to lumber painfully after, his head low and tail dragging. It really must have been hard to run like he did, Talltail thought. But he knew Jake was in danger. Talltail felt terrible ever doubting the dog. Who was he thinking dogs couldn’t love packmates as much as any cat? Even if he didn’t talk.

“I’m so sorry, Dusty.” Jake mewled, his voice shook and the sound of it made Talltail’s heart ache. “I left without saying anything and worried you, you shouldn’t have had to come after me.”

Talltail watched them go for a moment, and found himself following slowly. He felt like he had stones filling his stomach up with the guilt that weighed him down. It’s not Jake’s fault he’s out here. He only left because I needed him to. They’d both be home where the twoleg could help.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to where the patrol had disappeared. To where Sparrow had disappeared. Talltail had suddenly come so close to his target, he almost couldn’t process it.

But he had to follow Jake, no matter how close Sparrow was. He had to see them home. If anyone tried to follow them again, Dusty could only bluff a hostile patrol once.

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#FRU38 #chapter 38

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

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Obligatory NY Special Reaction Post

Hi guys. Guess how I spent my morning. ^.^ That’s right. I watched the New York special in French and English. People seem to like reaction posts (?), so I decided to do one. ^.^

Overall, it was very cute. I liked it a lot. I actually liked the US heroes a lot too. I’m totally shipping Sparrow/Jess and Uncanny Valley/Aeon now. They’re adorable. ^.^ I don’t know if I’ll put the time into reading the comics, though. I’m not a big superhero comics fan (like, at all), so I don’t know if I’d like the comics.

Anyway. Now, on to the live reaction. ^.^

Mademoiselle Bustier says that her baby will be arriving soon, but she doesn’t look like she can be past her first trimester. I wonder if we’ll ever get to see the baby or her actually looking pregnant. I wonder whom she’s dating.

Are we going to talk about how Nathalie is bedridden? No? Okay. ;-;

The little arm wiggle Plagg does as he tries to convince Adrien to chillax and enjoy the trip to New York is the most precious thing. XD I also love how he’s such a bad influence on Adrien. Someone had to be.

Poor Luka. He’s so good. He can plainly see that nothing is going to come of his feelings for Marinette, but he’s still such a good friend to her. Kudos to him. I’ve had people act like my friend before because they were interested in me romantically, and then when I just wanted to be friends, they dropped me, so I can really appreciate Luka just actually being Marinette’s friend for real.

I am really surprised. Why doesn’t Chloé want to go to New York? I’m sure she’s been before what with her mother working in fashion, but why wouldn’t she want to go with the class? Is she just too cool to be seen having fun?

I love Marinette. Sitting next to her “husband--boyfriend!--FRIEND!”

Part of me is sad about the way they’ve characterized Alya. :/ I don’t like her pushing Marinette and teasing her about being romantic with Adrien when Marinette is trying to move on and just be Adrien’s friend. I can see why Alya wants Marinette and Adrien to end up together, and I can see why she wants Marinette to be honest about how she actually feels about Adrien because Marinette is definitely in denial, but I think Marinette has the right idea about just trying to be Adrien’s friend. I think that’s the best road, to just be friends and let something romantic happen on its own if it’s going to happen. Like I said above, I’ve had people befriend me only because they were interested in me romantically, and I can imagine Adrien feeling hurt if he thought Marinette was only being nice to him because she had a crush on him. It’s not a nice feeling when you find out someone only tried to get close to you because they wanted something from you. Adrien has enough of that with his fanbase. So, I think Marinette has the right idea to focus on being his friend. I don’t like that Alya is ignoring what Marinette is saying and trying to push her. I get that she does it because she wants Marinette to be happy and hates to see her friend floundering, but I think it’s a poor characterization choice on the part of the creators. It doesn’t make Alya feel like a good friend, and that makes me sad. I love Alya and feel like she has a lot of potential, but the creators don’t always let her live up to it.

But I love Nino and Alya’s idea for “Operation New York”. XD I love that Nino adores Adrien and wants to help him come out of his shell. ^w^

Okay. Uncanny Valley is a really cute, clever name. Google it. The “uncanny valley” is actually a concept that as robots become more humanlike, they become more appealing and we have more of an emotional reaction to them...up to the point where they become too humanlike and it freaks us out. The drop-off point where it’s suddenly unsettling is the “uncanny valley”.

I love how psyched Alya is about all the superheroes. She’s so cute to watch nerd-out.

I also love the kind of “found family” of two superhero lesbians and the daughters they’ve adopted/built. It was a small part of the movie, but it was really precious.

I’m not sure what Adrien is looking at as Nino directs his attention out the window. XD As Alya points unsubtly at Marinette. I think Adrien still misses the point.

Also, “Les petits croissants sont en bus.” Thank you, Sparrow. I think that’s one of my favourite lines in the movie. XD

Also, Marinette having trouble with automatic doors and Adrien’s impressive side lunge to catch her. Beautiful.

I love Jess being resentful of having to keep an eye on “the French tourists and their socks”. And Aeon vowing to protect them...AND their socks. The socks make me really happy. XD

Awww. I’m so happy that Sabrina gets a love interest!!! She deserves good things. I feel sorry for her most of the time.

I love Nino’s face as he watches Adrien and Marinette trying to give each other the whole hot dog. He’s like, “Seriously, Mec? It’s a good thing I’m here to help you.” And then he’s so happy when his “chick�� finally learns to fly. XD

I actually like this version of the slow dance song. The original is a little too cliché and cheesy, but I like this version. I also like that it’s Adrien who asked Marinette to dance.

Nino and Alya are adorable. As are Ivan and Mylène. I adore how he lifts her up off the ground to dance with her. Also, Juleka and Rose. My girls! They’re so cute!

I love how into the whole “get Marinette and Adrien together” scheme Jess gets. ...Because it’s more entertaining than watching socks. XD

Do you guys look at license plates? I do. I’m wondering how Gabriel is in a Tsurugi vehicle in New York. :/ Do the Tsurugis have a business empire in a lot of different countries? When Adrien met Kagami, it seemed like that was the first time they had ever come in contact with one another. It wasn’t like, “Oh, yeah. Our families are old friends. I’ve heard of your existence but never met you in person before”. It seemed like the first time they had become cognizant of the other’s existence period in Riposte. How is Gabriel getting the Tsurugis to let him borrow a car in New York? It sounded like Gabriel wasn’t going to New York openly because he said something about hiding his absence from Adrien...but he told Madame Tsurugi he was going to New York and asked to borrow a car? What?

I feel really bad for Chat Noir getting chewed out by Ladybug like that. ;-; Like, we know how bad he felt about coming, but he doesn’t get a chance to explain himself because they’re caught up in the battle. And you can tell how much he’s impacted by her reaction. He’s really thrown off his game, really shaken by her anger and the loss of her trust. Poor baby.

And him saying goodbye to Plagg and giving up his Miraculous was just heartbreaking.

I love how easily Jess is convinced to do things by Aeon. It’s so cute. It’s like one minute she’s like, “We can’t do this!” and Aeon is like, “Yes we can.” and then Jess is like, “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s do this thing.” They’re adorable to watch.

I don’t really like Jess’s costume as Eagle, though. It’s kind of...really stereotypical. :/

I also don’t like how Gabriel is turning into such a cliché cartoon villain. Like “All the Miraculouses will be mine!” What? Um...because you want to get your wife back...right? Not because you’ve become drunk on power and just want more power, right? Like, it feels like he’s completely lost sight of his goal. I prefer my bad guys complex and redeemable. I like to be able to understand why they’re doing what they’re doing. Gabriel has seemed like he’s really lost himself lately, though.

I really liked that Adrien’s classmates made a banner for him so that he’d feel loved and missed at the end. I love it when they do sweet things like that for him because he really needs it.

(In case you were wondering, I didn’t notice any big differences between the French version and the English version. That made me really happy. There were a couple slight differences in the nuances of some word choices, but it was very much a slight thing that didn’t change the meaning of the lines in an appreciable way. Pretty much throughout the whole thing the dialogue was word-for-word translated from French to English. Most of the lines were exactly the same, so I feel really good about that.)

All together, I really liked this. It was sweet and fun. There were a lot of good moments. I was skeptical about it at first, but it turned out to be a really good story, and the creative team did a great job with the pacing and character development. Well done, team!

#Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug New York Special #Miraculous World New York Les Héros Unis #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Césaire #Nathalie Sancoeur #Gabriel Agreste #Live Reaction #Uncanny Valley #Sparrow #Plagg

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nightingaletrash · 4 years ago

Note

You already know. Hero, Brother, and Doggo for the HOBW asks

Thank you!!!!! I had to put a lot of this under a cut because I may have rambled at length about someone in particular... hehe

Lorna prefers a mix of Strength and Skill - she spent years of her life training with Walter, and so swords and pistols are the weapons she’s the most comfortable with. Will is still kinda new to her, and it takes her a while to really become comfortable with it. It’s sort of an emergency skill that she uses if a battle is getting a bit too overwhelming. She comes to use Force Push over any other spell for that exact reason, which she was delighted to learn was her mother’s favourite spell too.

Logan and Lorna were super close growing up despite the eight year age gap. Wherever Logan went, Lorna wasn’t usually far behind, and he was always willing to indulge his little sister when she wanted to play with him. If she had a bad dream or something spooked her, he was the first port of call and he always did his best to be there for her.

Things changed when Sparrow passed away and Logan became King, because he was so busy running Albion, and Lorna found herself having to rely on other people over her big brother. He did try to make time for his sister, but it was hard, bless him. The work-life balance didn’t come to him as easily as it did Sparrow, and he didn’t always have the energy to keep up with his sister.

When he planned to go to Aurora, Lorna was furious and spent her time either trying to convince him to stay or just giving him the cold shoulder. So to try and make it up to her, and to give her a companion she could always count on being there without fail, Logan started making some inquiries into getting her a puppy so that she might feel less lonely.

When he returned there was a very stark shift in their relationship. While he tried to keep up appearances and tried to be the same big brother he’d always been, he just couldn’t. He needed to protect his siblings no matter what, and so he eventually began to hold them at arm’s length, kept them safely cloistered in the castle and worked tirelessly to try and prepare Albion for the Crawler. For a long time, Lorna made excuses for him and his behaviour. Walter told her just enough about what he knew to have happened - that he’d lost every soldier who had accompanied him - and that he was responding to that trauma, so she tried not to take things too personally. But the first time he lost his temper with her marked their relationship and she realised that maybe he’d changed forever.

She genuinely believed she could talk to him though, on the day of the protest. She thought she could get through to him and see that what he was doing was wrong. It was a huge shock when she realised that she didn’t know him anymore, and she knew she had to do something about it. She couldn’t ignore what he’d become anymore.

And then she goes to Aurora, fights through the Darkness, nearly loses herself and Walter to it, only to survive and learn that Logan had gone through the same thing, except he’d emerged from the experience alone. He’d lost everyone. And she realises then why he’d changed, because she feels changed herself. The question she still has is why he’d made the choices he had, and why he’d done such awful things to their own people. And she decides she’s doing to get that answer, one way or another.

Ultimately she did spare Logan. In part because of his own experience as king and with the Darkness - he’s fought and survived it, they’re going to need him - but because he’s her brother. She had always known there was a real possibility that she might have to order his execution, she even spent a long time trying not to think of him as her brother so that she’d be able to do just that, but in the end she can’t do it. And she knows it’s wrong. Because no matter how justified his execution his might be, it just sets her to walk the same path as him. If she executes him, she could one day justify the executions of civilians just as he had.

So she spares him, adds him to her war council, and appoints him as an Advisor because she needs his insight and experience. It’s a few months before they’re able to move beyond professionalism, but as they finally begin to open up about the things in their heads and the things they’ve been through, they begin to mend their bridges and the wounds begin to heal. After Walter’s death, Logan is appointed to the position of Royal Advisor, and they work together to try and restore Albion as their mother would have wished to see it.

As mentioned above, Lorna’s dog was a gift from Logan before he departed for Aurora. He’d reached out to several breeders in Albion - he looked for border collies specifically because he believed they’d have the energy to keep up with Lorna - and found one in Brightwall who had a new litter of puppies that were looking for homes once they were old enough.

He was able to procure Lorna the pick of the litter, and when the pups were ready to leave their mother, he took her to Brightwall under the pretense of having a surprise for her. She was still sulking about him going away and thought that he was just making a trip to the Academy so she could pick out some books or something, so you can imagine the sheer delight when she was introduced to the litter and told that she could pick whichever puppy she liked.

She named her puppy Lexel after a character in a book she’d been reading, and they became the very best of friends. Jasper did try to have a ‘no dogs on furniture’ rule, but found himself swiftly overruled because of course he was, and Lorna brought Lexel with her everywhere. She learned to train him herself using some books from the library and with a bit of help from Walter, and she was able to teach him to search for buried things like her mother’s dog. Combat training came along a little later, which Walter insisted on as a precaution.

All in all, Lexel is a very good boy.

#annoyed-galaxy #fable 3 #hobw #lorna #logan #king logan #lexel the dog

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ssadumba55 · 5 years ago

Text

Savvy? (Jack Sparrow X Fem! Reader)

Request: Where they are on land and the reader gets drunk with the crew and some others. She starts to dance around her sing, catching the eyes of some mean Jack didn't care too much for. Especially since they were looking at /his/ girl (they aren't together yet). Jack takes the reader to the ship, the reader using Jack to walk more than their own legs. The reader rambles on and on about stories at sea with her "favorite" pirate, Jack Sparrow. She goes quiet after a very action of packed story and quietly goes "If inky we had done is as something more than a Captain and his crew member.." She goes to bed and in the morning, Jack completely avoids her. She starts to freak until she loses it and goes to the captains quarters, ready to demand why in the bloody hell hes acting like she has the plauge. She stops when she sees the biggest smile on his face. He tells her what happened in some teasing riddle type of way and then kisses the reader sweetly

A/N: This was a long request submitted to me in my messages. I hope this everything you wanted, I really tried to keep it as close to your prompt as possible while also adding a bit of my own flare. Enjoy!

Jack Sparrow’s crew always looked forward to docking at Tortuga. It was really the only chance they got to just hang loose and not have to worry about Jack breathing down their neck for not keeping his ship in tip top shape.

Jack wandered amongst his crew, mingling with the drunken men and enjoying the Tortuga stop as much as his men.

You had taken the docking as a chance to get yourself drunk as well. You weren’t normally one for a lot of alcohol but since everyone else was letting loose tonight, you figured there was no harm in also doing the same. It had taken you a lot of work to get onto Jack Sparrow’s ship in the first place and even double that to stay there, because of the silly superstition about having a woman on board a ship.

You stood amongst your fellow crew mates, hiccuping and laughing at some stupid joke someone had said. Somewhere down the line someone began singing and slowly the whole crew picked up the jovial tone. You grabbed your closest crew mate by the arm and began to dance. The rest of the crew joined in, excitedly dancing around as well. You were so drunk and focused on not tripping over your own feet that you didn’t notice your partner’s hands creeping to places they weren’t supposed to be. Luckily, someone else was paying attention.

“Alright, men. I think it’s time I take (Y/n) back up to the Pearl, savvy?” Jack stepped in between you and the person you’d been dancing with. You made to protest but Jack didn’t wait for an answer, he steadied your stumbling form and began to walk slowly, using himself as a human crutch,

“You know I really love the Pearl?” You hiccuped as the two of you walked. Jack grinned, watching you stumble slightly beside him.

“You do, eh?” He asked and you nodded, leaning into him.

“I have so many adventures on that ship… Remember the time we end up getting lost on that wild goose chase for…. I don’t remember what it was for.” You slurred slightly. You tripped on a board slightly sticking up in the dock and Jack caught you.

“It was for some kind of treasure or other, love.” He patiently helped you steady yourself again and continued on the way. Was he this bad when he was drunk? He wasn’t exactly sober but he also wasn’t tripping all over the place. Then again, you were a lightweight.

By the time the two of you reached the Pearl and began making your way onto the ship, you were recounting what you told him was your favourite memory of being on the ship with Jack. The time it was raided by a band of other pirates.

“And you swooped in out of bloody nowhere, Jack. That’s why you’re my favourite, you’re always there when I need you.” You let Jack lead you down to where you slept, he helped you get into your hammock. You finished the story and sat in silence for a moment.

Jack figured you’d fallen asleep, he stood heading for the steps to make his way to his own cabin.

“If only we’d done it as more than a captain and his crew member.” You said into the dark. Jack freezes, listening as you roll over and let out a contented sigh. Once he was sure you were sleeping, he made his way up the steps to the upper deck, partly wishing he could unhear what he’d heard.

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, but the gentle rocking of the ship told you that Jack had already set sail and left the dock at Tortuga. You stood and shakily made your way up the steps, onto the upper deck. Gibbs was stood at the steering wheel, which was unusual. Normally Jack preferred to steer his precious ship himself. You approached Gibbs, curious as to where Jack was.

“Where’s Jack?” You asked, rubbing your head as you approached.

“Wasn’t feeling to well. He’s in his cabin.” He told you. You frowned, that was unheard of. Jack had been shitfaced drunk and still decided to steer his ship before. It wasn’t smart and you’d prefer it if he would rest, but that’s just the way Jack was. You shrugged the weird feeling off and decided to continue your duties, with any luck, your captain would show himself sometime during the day. No sense in worrying, Gibbs wasn’t worried, why should you be?

Throughout the day, Jack did make several appearances but he avoided you every time. At first you thought maybe it was because he had something contagious. But if he had something contagious, why would he even leave his cabin at all? Why not just stay to himself?

You racked your brain for anything you could’ve done to upset him but you kept coming up blank. Maybe you’d said something last night while you were drunk? You had no memories of the night prior but you do remember you spent it getting drunk with the crew. The thoughts of everything you could’ve done while you were intoxicated to make your captain upset ran through your brain.

Eventually, you couldn’t handle it. You had to know. Jack had never gone this long without talking to you before and you really wanted to fix whatever it is you had done wrong so that things could go back to the way they were before. You stormed over to his cabin, eyes from the rest of the crew on you. You pounded on the door but when there was no response, you slammed open the doors yourself. Stepping in, Jack stood looking down at a map of the ocean you were currently sailing. His back was turned to you.

“Are you going to explain why you’ve been avoiding me all day, Captain.” You spat, shaking slightly. You weren’t exactly angry, mostly just hurt and confused. Jack mumbled something. You took a few steps closer.

“Say that again, I didn’t catch it.” You stated. Jack lifted his head from the map.

“I said the bond between a captain and his crew is a special one, isn’t it?” He turned, smirk plastered to his lips. You faltered, not understanding what that was supposed to mean at all. He crossed the distance between the two of you in two strides.

“Or maybe not the whole crew.” He mused, hands coming out to grip your wrists and pulling you to him. He captured your lips with his own and it clicked in in your brain. You pulled your wrists out of his grip, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss.

“Savvy?” He asked as he pulled away a few moments later. You laughed, slightly breathless.

“Savvy.”

#Jack Sparrow #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x reader #pirates of the caribbean #potc imagine #PotC

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chrysalispen · 4 years ago

Text

xxv. the summer in their veins

second verse same as the first, i’ll reblog when this is up on AO3!

chapter below the cut as always <3

EDIT: chapter is now up on AO3 HERE

=======

The vague sense of disquiet and its physical effect -- levin and static sending fiery prickles along her arms -- did not fade. It persisted as she splashed into the waters and across the bank, as she approached the gate, as it swung shut at her back, and did not fade even when Keveh’to joined her on a silent and hurried return to the cabin. Her heart pounded and her throat felt tight with an anxiety which had neither a name nor a focus.

This forest has eyes.

“Right,” Keveh’to said without preamble as the front door shut behind them, “now would you like to tell me what in hells that was all about? You said you met her at the ruins?”

“Yes.”

“And you just gave half Ewain’s supply to her without a word to him?” He shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder at you, Aurelia. I really do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that for someone who often seems so worldly, you are remarkably quick to take the people here at their word. She was hiding something, and not doing that great a job of it.”

Aurelia threw up her hands. “She’s naught but a child, and we have more than enough of the things I gave to her to spare. That disaster last summer didn’t just hurt Gridania.”

“Did she get a look at -- you know.”

“No, my third eye was covered. You might at least trust in my discretion.”

Keveh’to exhaled. She unslung her packs and draped them over the hooks by the door.

“Now,” she said, “you can tell me what’s got you so excited it couldn’t wait until the other two got back-- what are they doing down the Millers’, anyroad?”

“I’m getting to it, trust me. I’ll make some tea while you wash your face- are you quite certain you’re all right? You don’t need the Hearer or Trevantioux to take a look at it?”

“Hells forbid,” the Garlean snorted. “Trevantioux would have me drink some awful concoction for his own amusement. No, it’ll be fine; scalp cuts nearly always look worse than they are in truth. It stopped bleeding a while ago.”

“Well, I’d wash it anyway.”

“I’m well ahead of you.” It wouldn’t do to have the other two men alarmed and asking inconvenient questions. Aurelia made her way to the small standing washbasin near the bath partition. The hempen covering was probably ruined. Maybe, she thought. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to wash bloodstains out of clothing; perhaps she would try one of Ewain’s smelly lye soaps and see if that didn’t take some of the stains out.

She filed it away for later consideration. Washing her laundry could wait until after she found out what had her companion so excited.

By the time she had cleaned her face and returned to the sitting area the tea was ready. Keveh’to handed her one of the earthenware mugs, filled near to the brim with chamomile. “We’ve not much time to talk,” he said. “They’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

She sat. “Go on. I’m listening.”

At length, he said, “You know Whiterock, right? That little spot where the children play?”

“The one in that birch copse near the walls? Of course.” Aurelia smiled into her tea. “Little Bran Miller was in a fine spate of ill temper when his mother told him he had to help me with gathering her moko grass; he told me in no uncertain terms he’d much rather be playing with his brothers. Their games get quite intense, so I’m told.”

“Aye, well, ‘tis just as well the lad wasn’t there to see what the rest of them did today. There was a corse half-buried under deadfall -- an Ixal scout, by all appearances. Blood and rot everywhere. One of the other children all but tripped over it.”

She inhaled sharply.

“Yes, I think it was good Bran didn’t see that. Did one of the village watch get careless?”

“They didn’t know it was there. He had been dead long enough for the forest to start getting at him.” Keveh’to set his mug on the low-slung table between them, then strode towards the door to rummage for something inside the pockets of his gambeson. “But something’s off about the entire thing- here, let me show you.”

As he frowned and muttered and searched his belongings Aurelia let her mind wander for a few moments. She was tired and sore and only half-registering his words, and her thoughts still lay with the young Miqo’te girl somewhere in the forest by herself. Hearing that a body had been found nearby did little to ease her worries; the disaster had left people bereft and desperate, and it was known that there were bandits in the wood.

I hope Vahne made it back all right to wherever it is she lives. I’d not forgive myself if-

“Ah,” the Miqo’te said triumphantly, tugging a hemp-wrapped bundle loose from the pile of armor. “Here we are. We collected this from the site where the boy found the body.”

She set aside her tea cup and stood, then made her way to the door as he removed the hastily wrapped item, then winced at the sight. It was an arrow of somewhat simplistic make, the iron head and ash shaft stained a coppery brown. Old blood.

“Ewain will not take well to finding something like this under his roof.”

“What the old man doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Keveh’to’s eyes gleamed almost amber. “Look at it. Can you tell me what doesn’t match here? You can touch it, it’s long dry by now.”

“I’m not certain what good my opinion will do. I’m hardly an inspector.”

“Well, what of it? You’re used to looking at these sorts of things when you’re trying to figure out why someone’s injured, aren’t you?”

Aurelia squinted at him, then held her hand out to take the implement from him. Gingerly she lifted the arrow by the shaft and examined it with a critical eye. At first glance nothing looked strange; the head was solid, albeit caked in dried blood, and the shaft and its fletching pristine. Were it not for the stains, she mused, one would have thought it to be--

Her lips pursed.

“One would expect to see the target’s blood in the fletching had it struck its mark, or some other sign of use had it not. This arrow isn’t a crossbow bolt, mind, but still. It looks…”

“Go on,” Keveh’to encouraged when she trailed off mid sentence, though by his tone it was clear he already had an answer in mind. Aurelia tilted the arrow over and over in her fingers, the knitted furrow in her brow deepening by the second.

“...This rather looks as though it is not what killed your dead man.”

He looked pleased. “Aye. ‘Twould seem we agree.”

Aurelia studied him in turn, her gaze appraising.

“You do realize,” she said, “that this would be considered official evidence? You shouldn’t even have this on your person, much less show it to me; last I checked, I’m supposed to be serving out a prison sentence.”

“That lot out there doesn’t give a damn because they think one dead Ixal only benefits them. You may be a prisoner,” Keveh’to replied, “but you’re the closest thing I have to a partner at the minute - and frankly I’m bored out of my bloody mind on wall duty. This gives us both something to do-”

“Implying I’ve not been run ragged on Ewain’s morning rounds.”

“Hang the rounds. Let Trevantioux do them.” Aurelia made a face. Ewain’s assistant had proven to somehow be even more insular than the old man, and the Elezen had made little secret of his distaste for Gridania’s choice of assignment in sending Willowsbend a foreign adventurer as a conjurer novitiate. “I’ll make up some reason for you to come along with me.”

“He’ll complain that I’m shirking my duties, no doubt.”

“He can complain all he likes and so can the Hearer. This is important.”

“Well, put that away before the two of them get back.” She handed him the arrow. “You said Whiterock, right?”

“Aye. It’s not far from the wall. Nearest the Quarrymill road.”

Aurelia nodded thoughtfully. “Meet me there at midday.”

~*~

The next morning was sweltering -- hot and humid and still. Other than the reedy noises of tree frogs and the odd bird call, little seemed to stir with the sunrise, and Aurelia was only an hour into the morning rounds before she’d sweat through her smallclothes and into her robes.

A glance at the sour-faced Trevantioux showed that the Elezen man fared little better in the oppressive heat, though he was stoic as ever where it came to any indication of his feelings - at least in her presence. Many of the Elezen who dwelt in the Shroud seemed little inclined to bear the presence of outsiders in the first place, but he seemed to harbor a particular rancor.

Any hopes Aurelia might have harbored that Ewain’s assistant might warm to her had been quickly laid to rest. The wedding originally set for the close of the winter months had been delayed until the summer, and rather than train her on his own and allow Trevantioux the freedom to court his bride and tend to his own affairs, the Hearer had insisted that his assistant stick to his usual routine - and, adding insult to injury by all appearances, he was compelled to allow Aurelia to attend him and observe him on his morning rounds.

Internally she ground her teeth every time the man spoke to her - at least most of old Ewain’s saltiness seemed to owe to age and weariness - and reminded herself that this was an internship, one that was not like to last indefinitely, and that once Trevantioux and his betrothed were wed he would be reassigned by the guild.

It was small enough recompense, all things considered.

Her final stop this morning before joining Keveh’to was the Millers’ cottage: one of the few places in town where Aurelia nearly always enjoyed some degree of respite from the veteran conjurer’s constant criticism. Trevantioux didn’t particularly get along with its sunny-natured and wry-tongued mistress, and was all too glad to leave Aurelia to tend to her while he saw to other house calls.

Aurelia for her part found instant appeal in Frieda’s quick wit and irreverent humor, and the sparrow-framed Midlander weaver had - despite her initial wariness of the outsider - likewise warmed to Ewain’s novice quickly. In the ensuing months she had gone from polite civility to voicing her frequent appreciation for E-Sumi-Yan’s wisdom. Frieda liked Ewain well enough for all that she found Trevantioux incurably stuffy, but she seemed well pleased the guild in Gridania had finally seen fit to send a woman to Willowsbend.

“Goodness, Aurelia, do you fare well?” she asked the novice conjurer now, frowning. “You look about to melt into a puddle right before my bed.”

Breaking from her brief reverie as she removed the herbs from her satchel and dabbed the sweat from her brow with the corner of one hem, Aurelia offered the older woman a rueful smile. “I might well be, at that. One could break a sweat simply stepping outdoors today.”

“Summer’s come upon us fast this year.” She shifted somewhat awkwardly in the bedclothes. “If you let me get up I can fetch you some water from the kitchen. Rauffe’s still working on the well, but I’ll not see a guest in my home go without-”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Aurelia denied, the stern note of her response brooking no argument. “Never you mind a bit of sweat; I’ve a waterskin and plenty of shards to refill it. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh really now, Aurelia-”

“No.”

Frieda let out a thwarted groan. “I can’t simply be ordered to lie abed for the next two moons! There’s so much work to be done-”

“Well, you most certainly can, when needs must,” Aurelia replied briskly. “There’s hardly any need for all this fuss and bother, surely? It’s only until the baby arrives. Once you’ve recovered from the birth you can go traipsing about the forest all day if you like.”

A gusty and exasperated sigh tossed a puff of sweaty red curls from the Hyur’s brow. “I shall have you know I’ve done this plenty of times before,” Frieda complained. “And I’m perfectly healthy-”

“Healthy enough to complain, most certainly.”

“You know full well what I mean, Mistress Laskaris. I don’t see why I should have to be confined to bed for so long over some puffy ankles.”

“I told you already. ‘Tis naught but a precaution given your history-”

“A ridiculous precaution.”

“You're free to think whatever you like,” Aurelia countered, with the somewhat exaggerated patience L'haiya had so often used when talking to her childhood self in a fit of stubbornness, “but you are not just my friend. You are also my patient and as I have the care of you and yours, I bear responsibility for your well-being. As such, I would see you remain healthy and deliver a living child.”

“Aye, I know. But still-”

“I’m aware there’s plenty of work to be done. I’ve seen enough of your routine to know. But you’re hardly alone. Bran knows how to collect and dry the grasses for the spindle, you’ve two other sons of a goodly age to be helping about the house, and there’s Rauffe besides-”

“Rauffe? Rauffe won’t even mend his own smallclothes, never mind help with the spinning,” Frieda snorted. “If he gets a rip he’s like to just cut a hole in the arse end of his breeches and let in a stiff breeze - or out, depending on how much cabbage he had the night previous.”

Despite herself Aurelia let out an extremely unladylike cackle.

Frieda offered a triumphant grin and relaxed at last, lacing her callused fingers over the curve of her swelling belly. “And what of Conjurer Trevantioux? I thought he was to be checking on me this morning, but I mark he’s dumped you on my doorstep again. It’s getting to be something of a habit, that.”

“He is as anxious to be shut of me as I am of him.” Aurelia reached for her waterskin. “Here’s hoping the bride's father doesn’t take ill again and delay their wedding a third time.”

“Is old Darien really doing all that poorly, I wonder,” Frieda mused aloud, “or is Noline just stalling?”

“I hardly know her well enough to have an opinion. But both Trevantioux and Ewain have been frequent guests at her home since my own arrival and the old man’s little other reason to visit as often as he does, so I can only guess is that there’s some truth in it.”

“Well, I had to ask. She’s his only child, after all,” Frieda continued. Aurelia shrugged as she uncorked the skin. She wasn’t really one to spread idle village chatter, feeling it somewhat beneath her and out of the scope of her duties besides. “Between you and me I suspect he’s having rather a difficult time letting go.”

“Mm.” She raised the waterskin to her lips for a draught.

“And what of you and that handsome Sergeant Epocan?”

Taken by surprise at the probing question, Aurelia sputtered mid-sip, coughing. By some miracle water didn’t go everywhere, though it was a near thing. “What- Heaven forbid! The Sergeant and I aren’t like that at all!”

“That’s not the word ‘round town.” The Midlander woman’s smile was quite shrewd. “They say you’re on a first name basis with him. Keeper folk don’t let just anyone talk to them in such a familiar way, you know.”

Aurelia uttered a short, sharp laugh and set the skin aside, then tipped the rest of the ground medicinal blend from her mortar into the small glass bottle on the bed’s side table.

“You really ought to tell the old women in the marketplace to mind their own business and stop asking such personal questions,” she said in a voice far more dismissive than she felt as she reached for a stopper. “I don’t suppose that’s asking for very much, is it?”

“Oh, sod those old crones! I’m asking for my own self, love."

"So the impertinence is your own? My, that certainly makes a difference, I suppose."

"Imper- well, it’s not as though I’ve aught else to do these days other than laze abed and keep my hands busy with stitching."

"Excuses."

"Aye, some fancy pants big-city chirurgeon gave me mad orders to rest and won’t let me break them. Mayhap you’re passing familiar with her.”

Aurelia rolled her eyes, smiling all the while. “Right, I see how it is. Blame the outsider for your gossipmongering.”

“Only until I’m able to be up and about again,” Frieda retorted with a tart smile, one that lingered before fading somewhat. “...But what is he to you then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m… not really at liberty to discuss that.” Her face felt warm from more than just the day’s heat. “I’m sorry. If I could tell you I would.”

“Oh, very well.”

If only you could know the truth. “One of these days, perhaps.”

“No, no. Keep your secrets, if it please you, Miss Conjurer. By all means.” Frieda’s bright hazel eyes danced with mischief and amusement in equal measure. “But you know I’ll pry them out of you yet. Best be on your guard.”

~*~

Aurelia had taken the opportunity to bathe and find a change of clothing, thinking it would give Keveh’to ample time to finish his own obligations for the morning. He wasn’t at their meeting spot when she arrived, however. The clearing and the outcropping of bared stone was deserted, a barest breeze shifting listlessly through heat-curled leaves; even the birds seemed to have decided the day was too hot for their calls.

A first glance showed nothing that seemed to be particularly out of the ordinary; there were no indications that anyone else had returned to the scene since the body was discovered, although she would have been very much surprised had that been the case.

She lingered at the base of the rocks and examined the favored playground of the village children. The white outcroppings were partially covered in moss and lichen, but the rock was sturdy granite and she could see where the children had carved themselves footholds into the rocks for climbing. Signs of recent scuff marks from their shoes could be seen in the moss and dirt scrapes, and piles of leaves had been hastily raked together to act as a soft landing should one of them fall.

A place like this would have appealed greatly to her younger self- to say naught of her best friend. Aurelia’s slight smile turned faintly rueful. It would have been far safer than climbing the low-hanging zelkova trees that were native to Gyr Abania, certainly. (Although, she thought with an internal snicker, L’haiya would still have scolded her for getting dirt in her pinafore and leaves in her hair. She was not near fool enough to think that would have changed.)

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted what looked like an old basket someone had fashioned into a crude child-sized helm, lying a fulm or two away - something one of the children had dropped during their last game, no doubt. Slowly she picked it up, turning it this way and that-

“Aurelia!”

The call startled her, even though the voice was one she knew.

The basket fell from her hands to the ground as Keveh’to, trotting towards her, blinked in a sort of mild surprise. “Can’t believe I finally took you unawares,” he began, then frowned, “Is aught amiss? Did you find something?”

“Just one of their toys, I think.” She picked up the basket by its well-patched handle and passed it to him. “Lying in that pile over there. The children might want it back.”

“I’ll return it once we’re done having a look about. Follow me - and watch your step.” Keveh’to pointed to a depression not far from the base of the rocks, one she hadn’t noticed until then. “That’s where we found him.”

“Any sign the body was moved?”

“None, but it was very late in the day before I had the chance to properly look. There’s always a chance, I suppose.”

Something about his tone stopped her in her tracks. “You didn’t tell the Wood Wailers you were bringing me out here.”

“Of course I bloody didn’t,” Keveh’to scoffed. “They’d have never allowed it - and nor would the Twin Adder have done if I’d told them. But this lot won’t do anything no matter how suspicious it all is, and I know you’re as bored out of your mind as I am, else you’d never have agreed to come with me.”

“Mind you, I’m not saying I disapprove, but you are wagering what little trust the locals have in you to investigate a matter you were told to leave to the Wailers. ‘Tis rather risky, you must admit.” Aurelia quirked a brow at him. “And with the likes of me, no less.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He paused to thread the basket into his belt.” You’ve all the demeanor of a harpy when it takes you and you’re stubborn as a goobbue, but as a partner? You’re not half bad, Garlean.”

Recalling her earlier conversation with Frieda, she could only laugh.

“At any rate,” she said, “let’s get this done before we’re missed.”

They left the rocks behind and ventured a few fulms beyond, into the tree line, before the Miqo’te came to an abrupt stop. His tail thumped a slow rhythm against her calf as his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“This is the place." He paused. "I think."

"You think?"

“The way they acted I doubt Aubaints or Daye looked further afield than this for that arrow. They found it so quickly, but there was little enough time to look over the scene before night fell. If there’s others out here, I’m sure we’ll- here now, what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That bit of soil over there. Something’s kicked up the leaves.” He pointed, and Aurelia followed the line of sight. The mark in the forest soil was half-covered by remnants of fallen detritus from the overhanging trees, but it was visible enough to have caught a hunter’s keen eye. “Wonder if maybe that’s where he found it?”

“This far away from the body? I doubt it, but let’s have a look.”

Aurelia approached and knelt to examine the area, her knee sinking into moist soil and old leaves. Light from the sun only faintly dappled the forest floor even in the early hours of the afternoon- this far into the Shroud, most of the wood was shielded by the upper canopy- and she had to adjust her position so that she did not cast so much of a shadow she could not examine what little evidence might still remained. It was passing odd she hadn’t found the shape of an arrowhead by now; the indentation in the soil was quite a bit less shallow than she had-

Her index fingertip struck something rounded and smooth.

“Found something,” she called.

Carefully she slid her finger deeper into the soil, curled it around the object until she could get purchase, and drew it out of the shallow hole in the ground until it rolled into her dirt-caked palm, the sheen of it winking in the dim sunlight. It was a small, slender piece of steel- one that her companion thought looked somewhat familiar, but it was strangely cylindrical and marked with soot on its flattened base.

“There’s your arrow, Sergeant,” she said.

Keveh’to frowned. How odd, he thought. It almost looked like the sort of thing he’d seen the Maelstrom’s volunteer privateers use in their flintlocks, but-

“Twelve, that can’t possibly be a musket ball, could it?”

“So you have seen a gun before.”

“Once or twice fighting the Empire. Some of the folk in the Foreign Levy were pirates sailing with letters of marque from the thalassocracy and a few of them kept sidearms.” He scratched at an idly flickering ear. “What I don't understand is the why of it. There’s no need for such weapons around here - might be one could use them for hunting, but if you ask me it’s not near as practical for that purpose as a good bow and arrow. I know I wouldn’t bother with it unless I were desperate. And I’ve never seen musket balls that looked like that.”

“Well, for one thing, this isn’t a musket ball.” She rolled it to and fro between her fingers. “It’s not even Eorzean.”

“But it couldn’t have come from anything else, surely?”

“Eorzean firearms discharge using aetheric means of combustion. The weapon that fired this used black powder. Look, you can see the scorch marks.” Aurelia poked the side of the casing. Steel glimmered dully beneath the patina of dirt that covered it. “This came from a gunblade.”

“...Imperial arms in this part of the Twelveswood? But we're malms from the nearest castrum. Are you absolutely certain?"

She gave him a very tired glance over one shoulder.

“You asked me for my opinion as a chirurgeon earlier and I’m giving it now. I daresay I’ve dug out enough musket balls and gunblade bullets in operating theatres to know the difference.” Keveh’to blinked at her, clearly taken aback. With a soft grunt she clambered to her feet, dropping the spent casing in his hand before he could protest and dusting dirt from the backs of her legs.

“Here, hold this. I’m going to look about for something.”

“What are-”

“There won’t have been just the one-- no. There, look.” It was difficult to see but there was a small ring of discoloration in the bark of a nearby elm sapling, one that became more visible as Aurelia drew closer. She scraped her finger against the border of bark and bared trunk where a round had impacted and embedded itself. “Another one. Whoever it was, they fired at their target multiple times.”

He stared down at the dirt-caked metal in his hand, brow deeply furrowed.

“...So as it stands we have a dead birdman with a bloody great hole in his chest, an arrow that was supposed to have been what killed him except there’s blood on it and naught in the fletching-”

“And at least two shots from a weapon that shouldn’t be here. And no other arrows save the one the lieutenant told you he found.” She shook her head. “I wish I’d have got a look at the body before the Wailers disposed of it. That would have been very telling.”

“Is that your professional opinion, then? So what’s the arrow doing here?”

“Either it was meant to be found, or the arrow is a red herring and has naught to do with anything at all, or we’ve a witness lurking about the woods.”

“I think we had better take this back to the Wailers immediately.”

“Agreed,” she said. “They will wish to impose a curfew until the matter is laid to rest.”

Keveh’to opened a small pouch on his belt and dropped the casing inside. “They won’t take that notion kindly coming from us. But if the killer is willing to risk discovery so close to the village, they’ll likely not trifle to harm its people.”

Aurelia’s lips had tightened into a flat, grim line.

“Also,” she said, “it would not be taken amiss to check with the night watch and ask if they heard any strange noises. Gunblades are not quiet things. It’s quite likely someone heard something. If we can figure out when-”

“Sergeant Epocan! Miss Aurelia!”

“Sergeant Epocan!”

A boy and a girl - both bedraggled and half-soaked - came crashing through the brush with all the grace of a bull griffin, Aurelia thought with an internal grimace. She recognized their faces on sight, as she did most folk these days. One was Cecilie Aubaints, the Wood Wailer lieutenant’s daughter. The other was Bran Miller’s older brother Hugh.

“Sergeant Epocan,” Cecilie shouted, “there’s a Keeper girl outside the village-”

“Silence, you silly girl,” barked a familiar voice, “lest the entire forest know your business!”

The pair blinked at the children, then at the sight of a very exasperated Elezen man bringing up the rear in his conjurer’s whites. Trevantioux Roulemet was a Wildwood man of six and thirty summers and had been Ewain’s assistant for the past five of them. Despite his relative youth he bore a perpetually sullen countenance, and what Aurelia’s father would have called ‘a certain inflexibility of thought’ where it came to any sort of change to his personal routine.

No doubt he was displeased that he had been pulled away from said routine to fetch Aurelia from wherever it was she had gone, and her assumption was confirmed when he drew close enough for her to see the storm in his grey eyes.

“The Hearer found my note, I see,” she said blandly. “How does Noline fare?”

“Well enough, for all I’ve been dragged away from my visit to deal with this foolishness. What are you doing out here? The Wailers said this place was strictly off limits even for us.”

“Never mind all that,” Hugh said a trifle impatiently. “There’s a girl who came looking for you while me and Bran and Cecilie were playing in the creek, and-”

“Hugh,” Cecilie hissed, and the boy flushed.

“Well, they were going to find out eventually!”

“All right, all right,” Aurelia said, “let’s not all get ruffled feathers over it. Where is she, Hugh? Is she at the Hearer’s house?”

“No, Miss Aurelia. I told Keeper Ewain she could go to my house with Bran and stay with Mama while we looked for you. She said she’d only talk to you and no one else, and Mama knows how to handle crying girls better than anyone I know.”

Crying. Anxiety lanced through her chest like a gut punch. She didn’t know Vahne well enough to say for sure, but she knew enough of Keepers from talking to Keveh’to to know if the self-assured young huntress had been rattled enough to cry in front of strangers, then something very grave must have happened to cause it.

“I’m going back,” she said. “Hugh, you come with me and the Sergeant. Trevantioux, take Cecilie home. We’ll go to the Millers’ first and meet you back at the cottage.”

“We were swimming,” Cecilie protested, but faltered under the older Elezen’s withering glare.

“In the creek,” he said acidly, “where you knew you weren’t supposed to be by yourselves?”

“We were just-”

“Come now, along with you. You can make your excuses to your father.”

She watched Trevantioux march the protesting girl back towards the village, looking rather like a disgruntled hound shepherding a wet kitten. Under different circumstances the thought might have amused her, but she knew she must have looked as worried as she felt when she caught Keveh’to’s quizzical expression.

“I thought you just met that girl yesterday.” “So I did.”

“What do you think brought her here?”

“No idea,” she said. “Hopefully something minor.”

#reborn by fire #chapter 25 #aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light

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collapsingintojupiter · 4 years ago

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My Destiny OCs

You asked, @a-rebellious-waffle, and you shall receive.

First up, Jupiter-9 (and Sinope)

Jupiter-9 is, as the name suggests, an Exo. They’re a Dawnblade Warlock, and known well around the system for the chaos they bring with them wherever they go. The Vanguard has long since given up trying to get them to help with Guardian business, partially because they forget half of what they’re told to do anyways, and partially because even when they do remember they pretty much never listen. They’re known around the Tower as a wild card, and you never know where they might start causing trouble next.

Because Jupiter-9 was one of the first Exos created, a rare volunteer for the process, they tend struggle a lot with remembering things - even things as simple as the name of their own Ghost, or their best friend Kessa. They have to be reminded of things often, as memory loss sometimes strikes them even in the middle of completing simple tasks.

Sinope is Jupiter’s Ghost. He’s cynical, sarcastic, and tired, having been Jupiter’s only sense of common sense since they became an Exo and left a lot of their human pieces behind. He’s constantly helping them keep track of things, and remember things, and is usually the one to get them back up to speed when they suddenly forget what they’re doing. He’d never say it but...he loves them (and the feeling is definitely mutual).

As for what Jupiter-9 is currently doing, they’ve become something of an expert in Hive. More specifically, in blowing Hive (and all their little rituals) up. Their love of explosives and puzzles and the curious nature of the Darkness has led them into the darkest catacombs of both the Moon and Mars, and Traveler knows how they keep making it out of that shit alive. Jupiter sure doesn’t.

This is them in the Tower with Banshee and Sinope, looking over a new rocket launcher. (Credit for the art goes to @/xxmiuki666xx; they’re an amazing artist and lovely human being. Would definitely recommend them if ya ever looking for high-quality commissions)

Second is Rex (and Erya)

Rex lives with his boyfriend Pegasus-4 (@cookieundertherock’s character; we designed the two bois together) and his pitbull Dandelion in the Last City. He’s a Hunter - a Gunslinger- and human (Pegasus is an Exo; a Sentinel Titan). He and his boyfriend work for Shaxx a lot of the time, helping out with the Crucible and training new kinderguardians and such. Rex also likes going to Io, both to relax and to help Asher with whatever investigative studies he’s conducting at the moment. He finds the challenge there to be “too much fun,” as Asher puts it.

Rex is a tiny little bastard, small enough to ride on Peg’s shoulder, as he commonly does (especially around other Guardians for the Drama(TM). Though Rex is tiny, he’s an absolutely feral little shit that will do what he wants and get what he wants, whenever he wants it. He’ll fight anybody and everybody, and he’s a very good fighter - small and extremely agile, and very hard to hit (or even find, if he doesn’t want to be found).

Erya is, if anything, Rex’s polar opposite. She doesn’t take his shit (or anybody’s), and has no trouble calling him out when she sees it to be necessary. She’s outspoken, sarcastic, and intelligent. She’s also pretty much the only thing Rex actually listens to, aside from his boyfriend when he’s serious enough.

Here’s Rex with his doggo (art is mine).

Third, I have Quill (and Eriden)

Quill is probably my quirkiest OC, who looks like a Warlock and acts like a hunter (wears a cape like one too). They’re small, though not as small as Rex, with a look that’s somewhere between Awoken and Human (what they actually are, they won’t say). He’s a demiboy, and uses he/they pronouns.

Quill is quiet, aloof, and determined. They don’t talk much, and let Eriden do a lot of the talking for them - they figure she’s better at it, anyways. He has a collection of Old World and Golden age artifacts and technology that he watches over, locked in a secret hideout in the EDZ where he also lives. They’re a good friend to Devrim, and the sniper often helps them find new artifacts and such on their trips into the Old Town and beyond. If you know the right buildings to search, and the right knock...well, you just might find them.

Eriden is Quill’s Ghost. She’s friendly, outgoing, bold, and a huge history nerd just like her Guardian. She’s fascinated by every single piece of their Collection, and loves to study the artifacts with Quill or go searching with him for more. There’s nothing she loves more than uncovering and understanding the past, and she believes it can help the Guardians find a better future as well.

This is them, riding a sparrow with their friend Nebula-2 - he’s the one in the back. (Art is by @/nagunkgunk, another amazing artist on here)

The last two OCs are a matched set, my boys Imp-32 and Flynn. (And their Ghosts, Fireling and Star)

Imp-32 is an Exo; a Nightstalker Hunter that both looks and acts like a broken machine. Flynn, on the other hand, is a Titan, an Awoken Sunbreaker with a friendly and open demeanor. They’re inseparable.

They met through tragedy, after their fireteams were killed in a disaster and an ambush. Though many consider their relationship to be strange, the two are extremely loyal to each other and consider the other to be their greatest ally. They’re learning to move on from their trauma together; Flynn watches out for Imp and protects him, and Imp is always around to offer a listening ear to Flynn whenever he needs it (or follow him into battle, as the case may be).

Imp is small, even for a Hunter (I...I bet you can’t see the theme here...). He’s agender, but uses he/him pronouns. His metal skin is chipped and cracked, and faded with a lot of action over time (his right hand is also missing, replaced by a modified blade that Flynn built). He refuses to repaint it; he looks something like a demon according to some, but he doesn’t care. His name is quite fitting. Ever since he lost his fireteam, Imp has also refused to take off the armor he wore then, and it’s become quite tattered and worn - a symbol of his devotion to them even after death. He’s very distant, and almost never speaks except to Flynn. When he does speak, his voice sounds broken and cracked; pained. He’s also quite anxious/paranoid, and easily startled or scared by loud noises, which is part of why Flynn is so protective of him.

Flynn is the polar opposite of Imp; he’s enormous with a powerful build, and considered to be quite handsome with his starry freckles and silver hair. His armor is well-built and beautiful, from the result of both his and Imp’s artistic natures left on its surface (and plenty of time spent taking care of it on the side). Flynn himself is friendly and charming, with a kind smile and easy-going nature. He makes friends easily, and everybody who meets him likes him - oftentimes even the Guardians that don’t like Titans, or civilians that don’t like Guardians. Empathetic and generous, he never turns away the opportunity to help someone else if he can (and yes, Imp helps too). He’s also a lot more intelligent than he seems; a wise and cautious strategist good advisor to those who ask.

Here are their armor and face references (both are by me).

I hope that’s enough for you lmao

#I didn't include Sailor because they're literally a shameless self-insert #but yeah #these are my babes #jupiter's ocs #jupiter speaks #my ocs #long post

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trying-write-fanfics · 5 years ago

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OverhaulXReader part 40

Sorry this took so so long!! It’s finally up, thank you for all the kind words!!

Overhaul wasn’t much of a cook or knew his darling's favorite pallet. She’s always been cooking when he’d seen her eat, and all the times they went out his memory was blurred. But nonetheless he was prepping the roof top garden for his angel. He was like a bird preparing a nest. It was on top of a normal office building so she wouldn’t even know what’s going to hit her. He had to make sure all the flowers were pointing the right way, and the crew didn’t mind as long as he didn’t ruin them.

The couple had come so far. She’d always been there when Pops took him in, ready to face challenges alongside him. She’d sacrifice so much to be by his side, but now for her it’ll all be worth it. The ring was still in his pocket. He took a deep breath and called the car to pick him up and then Y/n.

Overhaul felt like an idiot though. He didn’t know what he was going to say and thought maybe to leave it up to the moment. She was going to say, he can’t imagine a world where she tells him no.

Y/n came to the car looking gorgeous as ever. No matter what style she wore, or how she did her hair, she was always perfect, just like the day he saw her singing in a choir. In the car she told him about her day at work and how she saw a celebrity come in and eat at the wicked sparrow.

“You’re taking me to an office building? What do they have a good cafeteria? Is this the early bird special?” She asked when they arrived.

“Old man joke or bird joke?” He asked her.

“Both, you’re my grumpy old man bird.” She told him.

“I thought I was a pirate.”

“You’re my love.” She told him.

This had to be easy, but why does it feel so hard? He took her inside the building and they went into the elevator.

“A gold elevator, this building is just bragging at this point.” Y/n said.

“Y/n, for awhile now, I’ve been in a dark place. With pops and work, but you’ve always been there…” he started.

“Well of course, you know there is not one else I’d want to be with.” She reached for his gloved hand.

His instinct was to pull away, but he fought through it to hold her hand back.

“I know you don’t think you’re good at being romantic or you don’t know if you understand how relationships work, but from being with you, Overhaul, you doing a good job.” She moved her hand holding his arm. “Though we’ve both been through things no one should ever go through, we’ve really stuck together, even when we were oceans apart.”

She was up staging him! What was she going to do to get down on one knee and propose herself like on a leap year day? He wouldn’t get upstaged! She’s always been the go-getter in the relationship, but he’s gonna let the story show that they were mutual and that he also chose her. She may praise him openly to friends, and be the one to reach out and hold his hand in public like someone always deep in love, but he could make a grand gesture too that everyone would remember! They made it to the garden.

“Oh wow!” She said in amazement with her eyes lighting up when she saw the rooftop garden.

It was a winning setting for his fairytale proposal.

“I figured I could take you somewhere special.” He told her. “I have something to show you.”

She smiled as he led her through the greenery in the moonlight.

“No ones here, you really planned something didn’t you.”

Was she expecting it? Throw her off the trail, perish the thought, he wants water works from her.

“Yes, to show you this charcuterie plate.” He showed her a plate of meats and cheese. She was still smiling, and he knew that wasn’t what she was expecting, but he wanted his speech with the water works and the hands over the mouth whispering the word yes. “You’re a talented chef, I figured I’d test you in your own field and ask if I had fine taste.”

“Oh I don’t know if I’m ready for a charcuterie plate.” She tried joking. “I also didn’t know you made cheese.”

“I’ll admit, these are store bought.”

It was enough to make her laugh. Y/n had always been the funny one to the public eye, but at least he could make her laugh .

“You’re getting awful passionate tonight? Special occasion? Are you planning on running off and asking me to join you?” She asked, taking a cracker and cheese.

She was too good.

“Oh my dear, every occasion with you is special.” He tried covering his tracks just to tease her further.

“Meats, cheese, wheat crackers, only if we had some-”

“Chocolate strawberries?” he asked, taking out another plate.

He held the green leaves and put the tip to her lips. She smiled and bit down on the fruit. Chrono gave him the tip that chocolate covered strawberries were the “sexiest food”. Rappa had the most wrong answer saying it was a rotisserie chicken because they dance while being cooked. Mimic tried to one up Chrono with a chocolate fountain, but Nemeto said if they were in a garden setting, pollen and leaves would get in there and ruin the chocolate. The relationships with his men had been strained over the last couple months, but they were still loyal to him and even wanted to help him. Overhaul didn’t really want to open up about his relationship, even though Chrono had already known much of it, he didn’t really have Pops around to ask how to propose.The conversation did help massage the sore patch because Overhaul showed his vulnerable side, and that he was still keeping it with him.

Overhaul did have a plan. He was going to propose at the end of the date, after she would be sure that this was just one special date with a lot of effort to make up for all the work he’s been doing and then bam, a ring.She’d be shocked after doubting it, and then accept. Though he wasn’t a man of many games, he enjoyed the game of teasing they had going on. After he would propose, she would go back to his place to spend the night and gush she couldn’t believe it’s happening. Overhaul was going to give her the wedding she deserved.

Overhaul led his date to the ledge so they could look at the night sky together. He knew he was far from a perfect man, infected even, but he would use his dieses to accomplish his dreams of eradicating every infection. Having Y/n coming across the world to go back to his side, going through the hell she went to, and even the name change made him feel unstoppable, if she was loyal to him then his dreams would always have support whether she fully understood him or not.

“I thought you would have more questions for me.” He told her.

“I already know you’re a little weird no matter how you slice it up.” She told him. “Keep it that way.”

“You’re the one who plays it dangerously close with public intoxication.”

“Dangerous! Mr yakuza man! And how long ago was that! I was just celebrating!” She protested.

“Remember when you didn’t want to confess to me?” He asked her. “You were worried I was too busy?”

“I was worried it would ruin our relationship.” She told him. “But I guess I had nothing to fear after all, you’re still here.”

Their eyes locked. Maybe he had to drop his end of the date plan, because now it seems too perfect to ignore the moment. Not only did he plan to stay by her, but he wanted her to know it was officially his plan. His hand reached into his pocket.

“Y/n, I’ve been-“

A scream paused his words but then the whole building shook, meeting some impact. Y/n held onto Overhaul as he grabbed the ledge. He looked over to find pro hero ant Lady had been thrown into the building. His stomach tightened as he found the Gillian fighting the hero was also a giant monster.

“What was that!” Y/n yelled.

“Two giants decided to fight.” He said.

Once Mt Lady stood, here horns were visible. She yelled some fighting words over to the villain and the couple covered their ears. Overhaul knew he had to take Y/n out of where they were because they were in danger. Mt lady moved and the building collided with a force of power causing it to shake again.

“Oh god!” She yelled as she clutched his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ she continued as she realized that she was touching him while he was breaking out in hives.

“We’re leaving.” He told her.

Going down the stairs of this building didn’t seem safe since the structure of the building had been hit twice breaking its structure. There had to be broken glass everywhere, and who knew the building would be hit again. The building next door hadn't been hit yet.

“Just trust me.” He told her.

He used his quirk to connect the two buildings making a bridge. He tried giving the bridge rails to prevent Y/n from falling if another collision was made.

“You go first and I’ll be right behind you, okay?” Be tried explaining to her calmly.

“Okay…” she wasn’t confident but she did everything he said.

Right behind her, he was trying to guide her to safety. However the girl’s stepped stopped as she was distracted at a telephone pole falling on a car.

“So we get to the other roof, but theoretically what’s next?” Her voice shook.

“We’ll figure it out. Don’t look at that.”

They made it to the other roof. Overhaul had to use his quirk on the door because it was locked. The goal was to make their way down and get the hell out of there. He was practically dragging Y/n down those stairs, he figured if she tripped she would fall into him and stop the fall which is why he took the lead. Moments like these he was able to overcome his weakness because he had to for his goals. The building shifted as the lights flickered. They heard more glass break on the other side of the building. Y/n froze again, she held onto the rail of the stairs unable to move.

“I can’t do it.” She whispered quietly. “I can’t move.”

Heroes, pathetic. They were the worst when it came to the infected. Villians at least knew they weren’t helping society and didn’t pretend to be a gift. Heros on the other hand were worse. They saw themselves high and mighty claiming they used their power for good, but it’s all a show. They didn’t care when Y/n and him got kidnapped all the way back then, and they didn’t care now the trauma they were causing her now. The pain they caused her for being failures at their titles. They didn’t save her, she was always at the mercy of her attackers. Course the sight of MT lady didn’t bring her joy that a hero was stopping a villain, it brought her terror of the upcoming destruction. Overhaul yanked both her wrists forward causing her to fall off the stair. He caught her over his shoulder.

“Hey! Just leave me! I’ll slow you down like this!” She begged knowing she was pushing his limits.

“You’re not going to get crushed by a building.” He told her.

They made it down to ground level. Overhaul looked back and forth trying to come up where to go next. They watched people and cars going in every direction. They couldn’t come up with where the villain or the hero was at.

“This way.” He grabbed her wrist again.

Overhaul didn’t blame Y/n for being scared. Her quirk always made her seem inferior to the other kids growing up because her infection pretended to be nothing more. It was a dormant quirk that could only be found out through a terrible injury. Her quirk didn’t match to super strength, fire, or flying. She was just someone who was meant to be cut up. Years of pretending to be quirkless, more people must have looked down on her, she was someone to pity, because if she admitted her quirk she would have to reveal she was traumatized early on. People attacked her and thought they were lucky with someone who couldn’t fight back as hard. Heros pitied her as villians preyed on her. Her existence made her backed into a corner in fear because she would never be someone taken seriously. She was the best chef, quirkless too, but someone could just come along with a quirk that’s called best taste and ruin her hard work. Nothing that she did would guarantee her success, or safety because someone with a quirk could ruin everything for her.

Overhaul’s eyes found a blocked off subway that no one was going into. It wouldn’t be safe, but they would be away from the fighting and reduce their chances of being trampled. He picked Y/n up and hauled her over the yellow tape. They continued down the stairs catching their breaths.

“Wait…let me catch my breath.” Y/n said.

He watched her sit on the step and hold her chest as she was just to catch up with herself. He wanted a world where her talent was better than any quirk she could come in contact with. A world where she didn’t have to run from heroes or villains. A world where she was safe. He wouldn’t be able to erase quirks completely, but he could give the villains claws to stop the heros from being such glory seekers.

“I’m sorry tonight was ruined.” He told her.

“It’s not your fault. You put so much effort into it.” She said. “It sucks this happened.”

He felt the little box in his pocket, but looking at Y/n now wasn’t the time. She was out of breath and traumatized from racing down a shaking skyscraper. More than anything she looked like she was ready to faint. Proposing now would be putting a bandaid on a gaping wound. She ended up sitting on the step putting her face in her hands.

“I thought we were dead back there…” she whispered.

He was limited in their options on where to go. They could go on the construction tracks and look for another stop to go to which is a high risk situation, or go back out where MT Lady is fumbling the town. He would hunt heros and kill them, but kill one ten more to take their place because they’re just so inspired by a dead person.

Kai reaches out to comfort her, but had to stop himself. He was thinking about killing MT Lady, so his quirk could have activated. He took a deep breath, and then placed his hand in her hair. Y/n looked up at him and he realized how her horrors never harden her. She was shaking, eyes puffy. Her terrors never made her stronger, she was a survivor though every time she walked out her apartment door going to work. These heros thrive on chaos and traumatize their civilians. Maybe he didn’t deserve her yet until his dream was complete. People always let marriage be the stage to settle down, so he’ll settle down the world a bit so he can propose.

They waited for the loud rumbling footsteps to settle, it felt like an entirety, but they didn’t keep track of the time. Y/n just sat on the step, holding Kai’s leg, as he stood and listened. Today he’d play it safe doe Y/n, risking an early escape may only hurt her mental state more or even harm her physically. There are some terrible storms in life that all a person can do is sit through until it passes. Once it was over they climbed out of the subway and found a lot of police cars and ambulances. The damage had already been done to so many. They were lucky, every worker was too distracted to notice them, even the news people, they had enough witnesses. The duo managed to catch a subway to Y/n’s apartment.

“Too bad we couldn’t call a driver, I bet that was the worst part of your night.” Y/n said burying the events as deep as she could behind her brain.

It was funny, she still was thinking of his comfort, even though she couldn’t move a short time ago due to fear. She was still worried for him. It wasn’t the worst part of his night, it was how the whole thing was ruined, the planning, the advice he got from Rappa, how he knows he has to hold back his feelings for now because his Y/n deserves a safe world.

“It’s up there.” He told her.

“At least you were there to carry me. For a shady guy, you have some white knight vibes. Is Chrono your stallion?” She tried joking.

“You don’t have to do that...you can cry.” He told her.

Y/n’s face did lose it’s cherry funny girl composure as she covered her face to cry. Kai reached out and held her in his chest. He loathed touching her like this, but it was what he had to do. His hands to her were either for pleasure and comfort. It reminded him of all the pain she had endured and pretended it wasn’t that bad. He was no model for expressing emotions, but he wanted her to express her real emotions. Pretending it was all okay was the tactic her parents passed down to her and now she wasn’t okay, far from it. A ring wasn’t going to solve her problems, but maybe his hand could, without a quirk.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed. “I know you hate this

“It’s what I have to do.” She told her awkwardly patting her back.

“Rubbing your hand in a circle is normally more comforting.” She tried joking looking up at him, smiling even though tears were streaming.

“I’m not the best at this stuff.” He told her.

“That’s not true at all!” She perked up. “You’ve always been there for me.” She told him.

Though she was sweeping it under the rug once more, he took comfort in knowing she wasn’t too proud or scared to show her true emotions, even the ugly ones.

“Are you staying the night tonight?” She asked him almost in her building.

He felt the ring in his pocket. He wouldn’t chance it

“I can’t tonight.” He told her. “I have an early morning.”

“You can’t do an alarm mister never sleeps anyway?”

It’s nice to be wanted.

“I love you my angel.” He pecked her cheek.

#overhaul #overhaulxreader #chisaki kai #chisaki kaixreader #xreader #bnha #bnha fanfiction

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notalwaysthevillian · 5 years ago

Text

What the Heart Wants

Happy birthday, @fanartfunart! I did my best at historical fantasy. I hope you like it!

(Also, this may or may not become another AU. It all depends on how much time I have on my hands.)

Warnings: None?

Pairings: LAMP

Word Count: ~2k

Patton

Virgil stormed into the throne room, holding a scroll in his hand. King Thomas waved his servants off, not noticing when one of them stayed behind.

“A contest?” The paper nearly tore as Virgil’s grip tightened. “You think a contest is going to help Patton find someone good enough for him?”

“It’s out of my control.” The king’s voice was steady. “Queen Azure has made it quite clear that she wants to merge our two kingdoms. She cannot do anything if Patton is already married before he is coronated.”

Virgil bit his tongue, taking a deep breath. “In that case, I suppose it is the best way. You are allowing him to choose his fate, even if he has to choose early. But how will he know whose intentions are true? Patton could choose someone who is deceitful.”

“There is nothing stopping you from entering.”

The knowing tone in Thomas’s voice had Virgil turning a deep red. “I have no idea what you -”

“V.” The interruption was gentle. Virgil slowly closed his mouth, allowing the king to speak. “I’ve known you since you were up to my knee. I have seen the way you look at him. You worry, I know. You think you are not good enough. But know this - I think you are more than good enough.”

Virgil’s next words were scarcely louder than a whisper. “What if he chooses someone else?”

“Patton will choose who he feels is best.” Thomas stepped closer, putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “If he feels that is you, I will be thrilled. If not, then I know you will still protect him until your dying breath.”

Virgil gave a sharp nod, blinking quickly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“V.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

With a wave of his hand, Thomas excused Virgil. He waited until the footsteps had faded before he spoke. “Roman.”

The servant froze on his tiptoes.

Thomas turned, laughing at the sight. “Please, come here.”

Wringing his hands, Roman stepped forward until he stood before the king. He kept his head down. Thomas was a good king, but Roman knew he had disobeyed.

“Hey,” Thomas gently reached out, tilting Roman’s head up. “You are allowed to look at me.”

“Your Majesty -”

“Please, call me Thomas.”

“King Thomas...I did not mean to be disrespectful. I merely wished to know what the contest was for.” As Roman spoke, he tried to look down again.

Thomas gently pushed his chin back up. “Roman, everyone has a natural curiosity. It is quite alright that you stayed.”

Roman nodded slowly, terrified of saying something wrong.

“What interests you about the contest?”

His cheeks warmed. “I have special interest in the prince.”

“And what about my son interests you?”

There was no malice in Thomas’s voice. When Roman forced himself to meet the King’s eyes, he saw nothing but kindness reflecting back. “The prince...he treats us like people. As do you, but he treats me as though I were a childhood friend. His kindness knows no bounds, much like his perchance for sweets.”

Thomas laughed. “Yes, he does enjoy the desserts.”

“He cares so much about everyone...I worry that someday he will meet someone who is the opposite.” Tears blurred Roman’s vision. He wiped them away, his voice trembling. “Such a kind heart can cause death.”

Calloused thumbs brushed Roman’s tears from his face. “Just as I told Sir Virgil, I will tell you. Nothing is stopping you from entering the contest.”

“Sir Virgil is much closer to the prince. He will win.”

King Thomas smiled. “Perhaps he is, but you do have a fortnight to prepare. You never know what will happen until you try.”

Determination entered Roman’s gaze. He stood tall, puffing out his chest.

“I will do my best to win your son’s hand.” He started to walk away before he stopped and turned back. “Apologies, King Thomas. Do I have permission to go?”

“Permission granted.”

As soon as Roman was gone, King Thomas headed out of the throne room. He retired to his personal library, opting to take some of his free time to read.

Or he would have, if the court mage had not entered in a hurry.

“King Thomas, my apologies, but I must -”

“Is this about the contest?”

Logan blinked. “How did you -”

“You are not the first to ask me about it, though I do expect that you are the last.” Closing his book, he turned to the mage, giving his full attention. “I suspect you also think it is a bad idea.”

“That would not be my phrasing, but yes.” Thomas waited, knowing that Logan was one of the most intelligent people in the kingdom. “Why would you have such a contest? There is no logical reasoning - unless...Queen Azure. Her attempts to merge our kingdoms have grown in frequency. If Patton...this is so he can choose.”

“Exactly.”

Logan’s steely gaze pierced through the king. “Is there a restriction on who may enter this contest?”

Thomas smirked, merely shaking his head.

“Good. Then I shall see you tomorrow.” Logan hesitated for a moment. “Unless you require my assistance in any way, shape, or form?”

“Logan, you’re excused.”

Just before Logan left the room, Patton flew through the door. He tripped, sending himself and Logan crashing to the floor.

With a wave of his arm, Logan stopped their descent and righted the two of them.

Patton flashed him a sunny smile. “Thank you, Lolo!”

Logan’s cheeks grew warm at the nickname. “It was no trouble, Patton.”

Thomas held back his laughter as Patton threw his arms around the mage. Logan looked ready to spontaneously combust.

“If you’ll excuse me…”

Patton let go, turning to Thomas, completely missing Logan’s burning face. The mage disappeared as quickly as he could.

“Father, I love the idea of a contest!” Patton squealed, bouncing on his toes. “Mean old Queen Azure won’t get her hands on our kingdom now.”

“It appears that you figured it out before your suitors.” Thomas said as he got out of his chair.

Confusion filled Patton’s face. “Suitors?”

“I have had three different men talk to me about the contest today.” Thomas slid the book into its place. He turned to find Patton hiding a smile behind his fingers. “It appears that you have quite the choice to make.”

***

The morning of the contest, Thomas made his way to Patton’s chambers. He knocked on the door, hearing loud footsteps before it was pulled open.

“Morning, Father!”

“Good morning, Patton.” Thomas began smoothing out his son’s mussed hair. “How did you sleep?”

“Not too well.” Patton admitted. “Nerves kept me awake.”

“That means you will not make a rash decision.” Reaching out, Thomas pulled Patton into a hug. He kissed the top of Patton’s dark hair. “Go with what your heart says.”

“You always tell me that!”

“Because it is the truth.” Thomas let go, stepping back toward the door. He could hear the servants coming down the hall to prepare Patton for the day. “A heart like yours will never steer you wrong.”

Thomas was whisked away, leaving Patton to his servants.

Patton never particularly liked when the servants helped him get ready. They were all a bit too rough. His skin bruised easily, something they never seemed to notice.

Once he was in his royal attire, which made him itch, he was taken out to the courtyard. Thomas sat in their shaded box, the seat to his right empty. Patton took his place, before looking out to the subject that had gathered.

“How many?” He whispered.

“Twelve.” The king whispered back, before he stood to give the instructions. “Thank you all for gathering here today. As you know, Prince Patton is to be coronated just after his eighteenth birthday. Today, he is to choose who he shall wed. Twelve of you have taken it upon yourselves to sign up for this contest. All we ask is that you show us something that explains who you are as a person. Patton will have some time to deliberate, but he shall choose before the sun sets tonight.”

Thomas sat down, waving to the Captain of the Guard.

“Toby Merlot.”

The boy did some acrobatics, gathering plenty of attention from Patton. When he stuck his landing, the prince rose to his feet, clapping.

As the rest of the men performed, Patton did the same each time. Some of the men grew frustrated, unsure of who the prince was going to choose.

“Sir Virgil Kensington.”

“Vee!” Patton squealed excitedly. He shrieked with joy as Virgil rode out on a horse.

Virgil expertly steered the horse around, maneuvering through the small obstacle course the guards had set up. Once he’d cleared the highest jump, he dismounted and handed the horse off. He bowed to the prince, giving him a wink when he straightened up.

As Virgil headed off, the Captain returned to his list. “Master Logan Blackburn.”

“Lolo!”

The mage flushed at the nickname. He moved to the middle of the circle, breathing deeply to center himself.

With a wave of his hand, the lights dimmed. Logan concentrating, turning the lights into a wondrous display. His finale was a dragon that moved toward the royals, fizzling into thin air just before it reached them.

Patton grinned, letting out a loud cheer for his longtime friend and tutor.

“The final suitor - Roman Sparrow.”

“Ro?” Patton whispered, a smile appearing as he saw the servant head to the center. When he noticed how shaky Roman was, Patton called out, “You can do it!”

The prince’s words caused a surge of confidence in the young servant. Roman took in a deep breath before he began to sing.

The words carried the story of a young girl. A girl locked in a tower because she was not beautiful. A girl who broke free and saved herself, falling for a princess who loved her equally in return.

As the final note rang out, Patton was surprised to feel tears on his cheeks. He leapt to his feet, clapping as hard as he could.

Thomas rose to his feet and the noise quieted. “Patton will now deliberate -”

“No.”

“No?” Thomas asked, turning to his son. “What do you mean?”

“You told me to follow my heart.” Patton said. “My heart has already chosen.”

Thomas gave his son a smile. “By all means, who has won your heart?”

“Sir Virgil.” Patton said. Cheers erupted from the crowd, but he held up a hand. “Master Logan. And Roman.”

Whispers began to spread through the crowd.

“What does this mean?”

“Can he do that?”

Thomas put a hand on Patton’s shoulder, turning to the crowd once more. “My son has chosen! Virgil, Logan, Roman. If you will join us in the throne room.”

The three men glanced at each other before nodding, allowing the Captain to lead them away.

“Thank you all for joining us.” Thomas said as Patton hurried after the men. He started to make his way to the castle. “I will see you all at the Grand Feast!”

By the time Thomas entered the throne room, the four men were all talking at once. When they noticed his presence, they silenced immediately.

Sir Virgil stepped forward. At Thomas’s nod, he spoke. “You wanted Patton to choose who was best for him.”

“And he made that decision. Each of you came to me with concerns. Each of you cares deeply for my son.” Thomas smiled at the group. “Patton has always had a big heart. I believe it is big enough for three.”

Patton looked at the three of them. “I know it is early to say this, but I love you. All of you.”

There was a split second of silence before Virgil darted into Patton’s arms. Roman followed suit, sighing as Logan wrapped his arms around all of them.

Thomas watched the scene, knowing that his son had made the perfect choice.

#romantic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #wthw au

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artemismoon12writes · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Ryan and the Raven

Daltonfic 2020 Big Bang Week 1, Day 1: Windsor House “That damn freshman is keeping a crow in his room!” Luke shouts, jabbing towards the door Ryan has just left. “And I don’t know if he even feeds it, because all that is left of my tarantula is one leg, and a lot of feathers! If he isn’t punished-”

Prefect Ryan Cobb walks down the halls of Windsor House, intent on doing one last surprise dorm inspection before heading back out to the gardens. Roman and Alexander take the longest time to inspect, their dorm is a spreadsheet meant for sleeping, plastered with barely understandable Ponzi schematics- but if it’s not cocaine, Ryan cannot do much.

His priorities are more than inspections today. A group of butterflies were making their home in the flowerbeds. His hopeful successor to the prefecthood of the house alerted him to it. One more floor, pick and choose, then wildlife.

Stopping, Ryan thinks he overheard an argument coming from one of the freshman rooms. Black bat stickers, sparkly letters, and a Transformers stick decorate the space surrounding the number. A cracked door betrays the muffled noise of the two roommates’ disagreement.

With disappointment, Ryan realizes that it is his most difficult room pairing. Houston has already burnt through two roommates already. If they aren’t getting along, he needs to try and find a new person who can put up with their new occultist.

Stepping towards the door, Ryan listens in.

“You can’t keep a raven in here!” It sounds like Hendricks, he thought to himself.

“She’s my familiar!”

“Seriously Dwight, there’s weird and then there is dangerous. She needs to be outside!”

“I’m handling it, I just need to-”

“At least let Ryan tell you what to feed her.”

Well, if called upon he has to see what is happening now.

Knocking, Ryan called out, “Room inspection!”

He hears Dwight yelping. Todd saying something in hushed tones. A squawk? The window is slamming. Movement. A lot of movement. His wildlife senses are tingling.

Ryan opens the door, looking at the freshman. Todd looks as bored as ever. He’s on his bed with a book, shooting annoyed glances at his roommate. Dwight, contrastly, is just as steadfast in consistency as he looks as disastrous as always. The claw marks on his hands though, those are new.

“Last surprise inspection of the day, lucky you.” Ryan said with a smile, coming further into the room. He paused, “Dwight, the salt lines? Really? Housekeeping has enough to deal with.”

Dwight starts on a spiel about their necessity. Ryan has heard it three times now. Instead, he turns to Todd, “are you okay with them?”

“When he keeps them to his side.” He says plainly. “Maybe housekeeping should just skip our room? We can keep our own sides clean.”

“This doesn’t look clean.” Ryan says concerned, the randomly coloured stains on Dwight’s side not immediately recognizable.

“We’ll get it cleaned up.” Dwight assures him.

Ryan gives him a look, circling the room. “I know I confiscated some of this stuff last week.”

“Does that stop him?” Todd asks.

Point.

Ryan sees he’s going to have to compromise here. “Is there anything you’d like to declare at least? What was that noise I heard before I came in? Todd, is he smoking again? Wes told me about the incident behind the garden shed.”

“If he needs to be concussed again, just let Charlie know. He stole Wes’ baseball bat after that.”

“Might be because it was the garden shed.” Dwight says sheepishly. “He didn’t like the smell.”

Todd’s side is cleaner, but not spotless. There are some items of altered uniform in the closet, but as long as he doesn’t see them wearing them it is okay. He wants to ask what that squawk was, but if they’re hiding an animal in here, it should be large enough to see. A bird? Out the window? Hopefully it would fly away. He does not trust Houston’s ability to care for an animal, but he can deal with that when he’s certain what it is.

“The posters can’t be pinned to the wall. Sticky tack or nothing.” Ryan points out, the map on Todd’s side and the sci fi posters on Dwight’s side both being held up with staples.

“Can we get some from the secretary’s supply? I don’t want to order any.” Todd complains, like his desk isn’t already overflowing with raided folders, paperclips, and fine line markers from the Underclass Newspaper Room.

“Order it.” Ryan says, hiding a smile at Todd’s annoyance. “And if you do have anything I can’t find, throw it out. Or come to me. You know I’m here to help.”

“Yes Ryan.” The freshmen chorus.

Unable to figure out what is happening, Ryan leaves. He will figure out what those two are hiding, though he wishes Todd would just tell him outright. The fact they seem to be getting along only hinders attempting to reign in Houston’s more outrageous behaviour. Not that he can say too much being Windsor’s Prefect, but unless the kid mellows it will be hard for Windsor to continue to stay under the administration’s radar- especially with Alfalfa Brightman’s kids destroying the water fountain with dish soap. The sparrow’s drinking water was ruined.

Luke Baldwin, one of his more sedate sophomores skids around the corner. Angry, his face is almost red with how furious he is.

“That freshman and his pet crow killed Yorvik!” Luke shouts without preamble.

“What?”

“That damn freshman is keeping a crow in his room!” Luke shouts, jabbing towards the door Ryan has just left. “And I don’t know if he even feeds it, because all that is left of my tarantula is one leg, and a lot of feathers! If he isn’t punished-”

“Baldwin, calm down.” Ryan puts his hands up. “I was just in there, there was no bird. And you know I would know.”

Luke isn’t deterred. “I know it was his! Who else would be crazy enough-?”

“Hey! Ix-nay on the azy-cray.” Joshua pokes his head out of his own room. “Kid’s got OCD.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re taking that psychology class.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t know how words work.” Joshua counters.

“He’s going to get more than just that if something isn’t done about-”

“Luke. Enough.” Ryan said. “I’ll talk to him later, but as I said. I just did a room check. There was no bird. I believe you, but I can’t just punish someone without a little more proof.”

He continues down the hall towards the stairs into the main common room. Some of the Juniors are playing Rock Band against the seniors. Right now, Sullivan is the only sophomore so Ryan decides it is okay to leave unattended. Luke follows, still rambling about how the freshmen can’t get away with illegal animals in the dorm.

Ryan sighs. “I can’t bring Yorvik back. You know I feel badly. He was a good spider. But if you want, I can talk to my arachnid guy, maybe we can try fostering in a safer tank? It’s not Yorvik, but there are a lot of spiders who would benefit from a territory of their own.”

Luke didn’t like that idea; but considers the suggestion of perhaps upgrading to a scorpion, which can defend itself much more easily against predators within the dorms.

Perturbed, he wonders how there could be a whole crow (though Ryan does not think Luke could properly identity a corvid without a lineup) loose in Windsor without him knowing about it. There is always a lot going on in Windsor, but animals were supposed to be his thing. He would have to be on the lookout for a black bird on campus. While birds can eat a variety of things, an entire tarantula might make it sick. Great. Now he has a poor corvid to worry about, on top of the warbler the Stuarts were keeping in a tiny cage as a mascot instead of allowing to fly in an enclosure the school could clearly afford for their own caged songbirds.

“Incoming!”

Ryan ducks on instinct from previous incidents. A mop flies over his head, clattering to the ground beside him. He turns to see the Seniors sheepishly trying to hide the bucket. It seems someone spilled a bottle of cola, and bleach was the solution they devised to clean it. Maybe if the common room was smaller he would have noticed this side of the room.

“Keep that away from Van Kamp, he’ll trip.” Ryan says to his fellow seniors, who give him enough platitudes to let him continue unworried out the double doors of Windsor House.

The sun is warm, grass as green as it will be before the winter frost settles across campus. Only a few more days until the cold snap. He’d wanted to get the ducks an indoor shelter earlier, but so far only Mr. Tamerlane is listening to his advice. Ryan keeps warning his boarders to leave the duck alone, but this is a reason they don’t officially have a house pet like Hanover’s ridiculous pony.

Walden, one of the freshmen, wants to bring his dog Cookie to school. The dog is supposedly a therapy dog, but from what Ryan sees of Walden’s understanding of therapy dogs it may just have the right sheet of paper. That kid seems to have more money than sense, and cannot even tell Ryan that his dog is anything beyond ‘white’. With enough training, maybe Ryan could change that status, and educate the owner on behalf of the dog.

Jogging across the campus to the gardens, Ryan sees the greenhouses and some of his Windsors there amongst the gardening club. A row of cracked pots and half-eaten greens are strewn on the ground in front of them. Large bags of supplies are also half full, spilling into the decorative beds and Mr. Tamerlane’s immaculate lawn work.

“Hey, prefect!” The club calls over. Charlie, one of his more reformed Windsors, is among them.

“What’s up guys?” Ryan asks, diverting his jog to see the butterflies.

“Amos says you’re good with animals.” The Day student in charge of the club says, pointing as the mess. “What kind of rat did this?”

“I keep telling you, it’s a Windsor prank. It doesn’t even look like much is missing.” A Stuart sneers, a foul look on his face.

“It is field mice, I’m telling you.” Charlie looks close to snapping. Thankfully the group of Seniors who have beaten his delinquency out of him, also stressed the importance of saving your cursing for emphasis alone. “It wasn’t Windsor.”

Ryan shrugs. “I haven’t heard of anything about messing with Gardening Club. Most Windsors don’t find it would give enough of a reaction.”

“So what did it?”

“He’s biased.”

“You wanted a prefect’s opinion.”

Ryan ignores the chattering, kneeling in the grass in front of the ruined supplies. Small holes, certainly rodent sized. Pellet dung mixed in with the bag of grass seed, but oily residue around the holes? Signs in the potted plants of the teeth marks were inconclusive, but he did already know what caused this.

“They’re common brown rats. It’s not a huge problem, but it’s not a prank.” Ryan says, brushing his knees off.

“How do you know that?” The Stuart challenges.

“Simple.” Says the prefect, “Mr. Tamerlane already told me about the infestation he’s fighting off. Haven’t you guys noticed the humane traps around campus?”

The silver boxes scattering the campus are meant to be inconspicuous on purpose. Ryan paid extra for the grounds to have the best versions so he could release them back into the fields where they belonged.

“Were you going to tell us?” The head of the Gardening Club exclaims.

“It’s being handled.”

“So what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Ryan considers it. “If you really want to keep pests away, you can invest in a garden snake. Something large enough to be a good rat catcher, but small enough it shouldn’t cause issues if you do something stupid to provoke it to bite you.”

“Justin mentioned something about that.” Charlie says, cutting off other arguments. “His gardens back home have loads of natural pest control.”

“The warmth of the greenhouses should also allow a year round solution.” Ryan said. “I know a guy who runs a rescue, he has a pair of them he’d love to rehome.”

“And you still say this wasn’t a Windsor prank?” The Gardening Club head asks, suspicious of Ryan’s immediate solution.

“Ask the groundskeeper, or the office admin. She took the order for the traps around campus.” Ryan raises his shoulders, his good nature taking over. They would believe him or not. It did not entirely matter as long as they did not try to kill the rats with poison that may hurt the other local animals on campus.

It does not take long for the club to believe him. A phone number is given and snakes promptly rehomed. Ryan walks away in a good mood. Truth be told, the snakes please him more than the clearing of Windsor’s reputation; but a double win is a good bonus.

Finally he reaches the rose garden. Ryan breathes in the sweet smell of the flowers. Around him the swarm is feasting on nectar, and he is careful not to startle them from their important task. They ravage the carefully manicured briars, returning some of the ridiculous ornamental roses into a more natural state. Ryan thinks the twinkling light of the white, yellow, and oranges on their wings is far more beautiful than the flowers could ever be.

His camera does not do them justice, flitting from flower to flower as he follows with soft steps. He has been to sanctuaries before, but never with this much privacy to observe them. Thankfully, most students do not frequent the rose gardens. Dobry’s rose garden is more of the clandestine spot for lovers; Ryan has found he is far more likely to find his Windsors in the library, the gym locker rooms, or one notable incident behind a curtain outside the entrance hall with David Sullivan and a Dobry girl who should not have been there. It is not of his concern though, he’s got his private time alone with the cloud of glittering wings.

Ryan stops. A black feather is resting on the ground in front of him. Could it be?

Around the corner of the briars he spots her. A juvenile raven, a monarch held between her beak in twitching death throes. Her movements are lazy. Her feathers do not shine, they barely reflect the light at all. The dying butterfly she is trying to eat looks more alive than she is.

Ryan’s heart drops. He cannot rush forward. He will not disturb her. She is in pain. Is this what his freshman was trying to hide?

There are no marks, just an air of sadness around her. She cannot swallow her prize. The butterfly falls to the ground. He’d run and offer her any food he can, his mental stores of knowledge on birds are gone. He cannot think.

The raven gives a sad quork at her lost food, flapping her wings weakly.

“Did someone hurt you?” Ryan approaches, hands up and thinking of what he’d heard last time at the vet for poor Markie when the Brightman twins tried to feed him potato chips. Birds will eat too many things near human dwellings that are not good for them. He had to believe the freshman duo would not intentionally copy such Windsor insanity.

Her inky black eyes met his. She flew off, stumbling in the air. Ryan looks to where she is going, but she ducks behind a building not to be followed.

Its’ looking down near the dead butterfly that Ryan sees it. Exposed piping with dark peck marks in it. The shiny copper paint gives way to a chalky white. He informs Mr. Tamerlane, but it is too late for that raven he will learn later. Ryan’s walk back to Windsor is sombre.

Another win, another loss. He tucks the black feather into his pocket. Back in Windsor he has to negotiate with the sophomores to stop trying to cook anything larger than a sandwich. Worrying about them stops him from worrying about the animals. It mostly works.

#daltonficbigbang2020 #daltonfic #oneshot #pg #gen #brotp #windsor #Ryan Cobb #Dwight Houston #Todd Hendricks #Ethan Brightman #Evan Brightman #Luke Baldwin #Joshua Tipton #Charlie Amos #artemiswrites

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s-j-ace · 5 years ago

Text

New Plan!

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 9,119

Summary:

Kokichi Ouma, leader of the mysterious group of thieves that go only by DICE, is going through the motions of orchestrating their biggest heist ever when an unexpected bump in the road changes everything. That bump in the road is a detective and his name is Shuichi Saihara.

Essentially the events of That’s the Thing About Airplanes from Kokichi’s POV

Read on AO3

Kokichi Ouma was ready to be bored out of his mind for the next eight hours as he boarded the flight behind his motley crew. He was trying to keep himself busy by being generally exasperated with them. They were supposed to be posing as different family units or strangers that didn’t know one another, but King was supposed to be Rook’s uncle and they were touching each other’s butts while handing the lady their boarding passes. Bishop and Hearts were practically leaning on each other like they were tired or whatever, but they were supposed to be total strangers. Maybe they could be rewritten as half siblings or a whirlwind romance or something? Ugh whatever.

Kokichi would normally kick their asses about this, but he’d already anticipated their horrid 2 AM acting skills. The lady taking boarding passes was a plant. Jack had wriggled herself in as a flight attendant three days ago. She was currently taking boarding passes because of an understaffing issue. An issue that may or may not have been of natural causes...

Anyway, she’d get on the flight and smuggle the tea on board. The heist plan didn’t really involve the plane at all, so this was kind of unnecessary, but god would he want that half-way to Paris hot tea party. Besides, he wasn’t really one to leave much to chance when it came to scheming. Although that characteristic was more out of habit than any sort of innate perfectionistic tendencies. He was a king of thinking on the fly, but nowadays he rarely ran amok in that court because he just so happened to also be just as much of a genius at premeditated mischief.

It was a good thing Jack had volunteered herself for the plant job. He’d call her the most competent of DICE at 2 AM if she hadn’t drawn a dick on his boarding pass while checking it.

“Wow, it’s almost like you’ve actually seen one, you virgin loser.” He had told her as he tucked the pass into his hoodie pocket.

She smiled at him like he had complimented her handwriting or something inane like that. “Thanks! I’ve been working on my portraits. My boss is a real inspiration in my art you know…”

“I’d love to meet him someday,” Kokichi replied congenially, “He sounds handsome and brilliant and like he should always be listened to.”

She gave a thoughtful humm, “Actually he’s kind of a prick.” She blew a raspberry at him.

He frowned. “Well that’s rude,” he commented with an offended tone, “And out of character.” He shifted to an angrier persona. "Do you want to ruin everything?" Maybe it wasn’t entirely persona, he was a little tired too after all.

“Relax boss,” Jack said, looking at the screen in front of her with all the boarding information, “It says here you’re the last passenger.”

To be honest Kokichi’s concern-o-meter for this heist was in the negatives. He was pretty much bored by how well thought out this plan was, but he felt like he had to make a point and he was rarely ever honest besides.

Kokichi huffed moodily. “Yeah sure, but what if that detective from the smithsonian, like, stole the security camera footage from this airport or something totally plausible like that.”

He was kind of planning this conversation out a couple steps ahead. He did that sometimes, when he was bored. She’d refute him by calling the detective a goody-two-shoes or something and he’d say something about caution and she’d dismiss him and then something would pop up later where he could say ‘I told you so’ and re-establish his authority. The same happened when Ace wanted to prove how buff he was by lifting the mammoth bones from the Smithsonian. They'd had to stash it insecurely and the police got to it before they could come back for it later. That was a big ‘I told you so’ moment and as a result no one questioned him on his plans for the Louvre this time around.

Weirdly enough, his conversation forecast did not come to pass this time around.

Jack frowned, looking at the screen. “Hey, what was that guy’s name again? The guy from the Smithsonian.”

Kokichi frowned. “What, the mammoth?”

“No, like, the detective.”

Kokichi squinted at her. He was an evil mastermind, he could recall the exact angle of every laser scanner in the Louvre, of course he could remember the name of some guy. Shuichi Saihara. The novice detective whose dumb friend had tripped that allarm the night of the Smithsonian heist. They’d only had three minutes to get out with the picture frames and hide the mammoth because of him. The detective had showed up at a couple heists and had gotten in the paper, but honestly the mammoth thing was a bit of a fluke. They really hadn’t had a lot of time to stash it. Overall not a big deal.

Which was why it was weird that happy-go-lucky Jack of all people was bringing him up.

“What about him?”

“He’s, like, on the flight I think.”

She showed him the screen and sure enough, Shuichi Saihara was sitting in economy class by the emergency exits. Well, it didn’t really say that on the screen, but given his seat number Kokichi could triangulate it from the diagram of the plane he had memorized. Not that he had really needed to that, but… wait… what if he did need to...

A light bulb went on in Kokichi’s head. In cartoons lightbulbs were just a little blink that meant a switch had flipped for a single eureka moment, but for Kokichi it was more like the real life current of electricity as all of the steps of a brand new heist plan tripped over each other to course through his mind. He forgot to be bored for a second as his brain was lit up with a new scheme and all the possible scenarios that could accompany it.

He had been missing this.

Something... unexpected.

Something... exciting.

Something... unnecessarily convoluted!

Jack took one look at his carefully not grinning face and groaned with exasperation. “Awww boss you ain’t changing the plan again are ya? You already wrote us like a 100 page novel about the first one…”

“Eh, fuck that plan.” Kokichi said doing some mental calculations, “Get me ten parachutes and see if Clubs has extra sleeping drugs I want you to put them in the passengers’ drinks. The strong stuff. Direct Queen towards the rooftop diagrams I shoved in his carry on. Tell me when it gets to be around 1:34 AM Paris time.”

She looked at him with annoyance at the sudden deluge of tasks. “Oh yeah, sure thing. And what are you going to do?”

He gave her his biggest, bestest, shit-eating-est grin. “Be myself, of course.”

Then he turned and boarded the plane, imagining and relishing in the weirded out look she was definitely giving him.

When he got to the entryway of the plane from the boarding hallway, he came upon Rook gossiping with one of the flight attendants. Kokichi heard something about a wedding and a honeymoon before Rook spotted him and excused themselves to find their seat.

“Good evening, sir.” The flight attendant said, still clearly coming off of the social high of talking about his personal happiness. Kokichi decided to slam him down from it, hard.

“It will now that I’m finally on the same damn plane as my husband.” He gave his best impression of a disgruntled everyman, which meant it was a great impression because his best was always great.

“R-right.” Ah yes, the security of making someone else feel socially awkward. Kokichi would make a great playground bully, that’s for sure. At least he was self aware. And putting his talents to good use! Bullying pseudo-law-enforcement was 100% valid according to all levels of morality.

As he walked down the aisle he noticed the rest of DICE ahead of him chattering like sparrows as they moved to the back of the plane. Originally they had planned to keep a low profile and have a pre-heist tea party before touching down in Paris, but now…

Kokichi spotted him, sure enough right by the emergency exits. He looked dead tired and about to doze off, so Kokichi took a second to make some quick observations he hadn’t gotten the chance to get on the night of the Smithsonian heist. The guy had this very detective-esque trench coat with lots of pockets, which was a shame because it meant that if Kokichi decided to pickpocket him he’d have trouble figuring out where his wallet was. Something that didn’t really fit Kokichi’s imaginings of a stereotypical detective, however was that the guy was around his own age in the mid twenties and didn’t seem like the grizzled gumshoe type at all. In fact he was kind of anti-grizzled. He had a boring pretty boy face like a model or something and instead of the full beard and square jaw Kokichi had half imagined any time the word “detective” came up in his mind’s eye he had eyeliner accentuating the only hair on his face and a very breakable looking face. Ok that was a very play ground bully thing to think. Except young people weren’t really as fun to bully as old people because they actually might be poor or emotionally insecure or something, which always made Kokichi feel a semblance of an emotion akin to guilt. But this guy was flying to Paris in the summer season and had been in America a couple weeks before, so fuck him basically. Didn’t he have a job or something?

Oh shit the guy was looking at him, how long had he been doing that?

Don't panic, analyze then act.

He seemed freaked. Probably because Kokichi had been staring at him for a couple seconds now.

He put on a menacingly friendly grin and slipped into the seat next to the detective. Not the one in front of him, or one of the ones in his completely empty row, or even the aisle seat, literally the one right next to him. He put his elbow on the armrest the detective had so kindly pulled down for him.

The guy still looked super freaked out, so Kokichi tried to shift his grin to the more congenial side of menacing.

“Hey, aren't you Shuichi Saihara?” He asked, extending his hand. He thought about coming up with a pseudonym but was too busy being delighted by the absolute terror on the detective’s face. “I'm your biiiggest fan.”

The guy shook his hand like it was the lever for his very own personal electric chair. Dramatic much?

It seemed to freak him out so Kokichi decided to run with the ‘biggest fan’ thread, chattering on, “I read aaall about that thing with the hairy elephant and the stupid ugly criminal you've been tracking.”

He would keep talking about the ironic impudence of this imaginary criminal but it really seemed like Saihara was having a dissociative episode while he was talking.

He frowned. That was kind of boring. “Hey are you like deaf or something?” That would be kind of extra boring because then Kokichi would be trying to bully a deaf dude and that would be lame. “Hey. Heyyyy. Earth to Shuichi Saihara.” Maybe he could thread some truth in here. “Geez I didn't expect you to be this boring in person…”

That seemed to get him.

Saihara shook his head like he was getting the dust out and stuttered out an "I-I-I'm sorry, what?"

Well maybe he had the soul of an old man, if not the looks of one, Kokichi thought to himself as he blithered on. “Have you been ignoring me? Not a very nice way to treat your biggest fans." He crossed his arms. "I, like, totally hate when heroes don't live up to your expectations."

Guy still looked half asleep… Maybe a change of scenery was in order…

Kokichi noticed the chatty flight attendant from earlier coming down the aisle. It was time to act on his earlier framework...

He said something like “You can make it up to me,” but honestly even he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying anymore. That was the only warning he gave before reaching over the detective to break his chair. If he had stopped to think about it, he might have thought it was awkward, but it wasn’t like he had to care about what this guy thought. He was going to leave him on the plane and probably never see him again.

Kokichi held himself back from giggling when the detective toppled over backwards.

“Oh no!” He feigned surprise, “How could this happen?”

"What happens to be the problem here gentlemen?" The flight attendant asked right on cue.

Saihara was looking pretty dubious but also not that talkative so Kokichi thought about the right words to spin this.

Distract. You’re the threat here, Kokichi.

"What's the problem? You're asking me what the problem is?" He shifted his tone to that of a white soccer mom used to getting what she wants. "The problem, good sir, is that this Rusty bucket of bolts you call an airplane just tried to give my husband a concussion! I could sue for this, you know."

The flight attendant broke easy.

"I'm so, so sorry sir." He quibbled. "Here, we'll make it up to you. It's a long flight and we don't have many guests so I can upgrade you both to first class with no additional charge."

Kokichi gave a rather hearty harrumph. Not bad as far as harrumphs go.

"You better. Or my lawyer will be hearing about this."

Hah. If Kokichi tried to talk to a lawyer he’d probably get arrested. Small claims lawyers were like cops but with even less spine and more capitalistic tendencies in his book.

The flight attendant didn’t seem to care about the rot of society, though, and tarried forth to first class. Saihara hadn’t quite caught on yet, so Kokichi grabbed his arm. For some reason he didn’t expect the detective to be so draggable. Detectives just didn’t seem that way. Like they could be dragged, but Saihara seemed too tired and confused to not be dragged. Thrilling! Boring. Okay okay don’t get ahead of the horses here. Horses? Uh.

First class was more Kokichi’s style. He let Saihara shuffle into the window seat so he’d be able to keep a look out for Jack’s signals in the aisle.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you." The flight attendant said as Kokichi sat down.

Ugh it’s like he actually cared about his job or something. Being in customer service must be insufferable.

Kokichi didn’t actually want to harrass this asshole when there was a perfectly good fake cop right next to him, so he replied with an apologetic smile, “Of course. Ah, I'm so rry for causing so much trouble, it's just the honeymoon you see and everything just has to be perfect, you know?”

"No, it's quite alright, I understand completely." The flight attendant seemed to relax a little, “I went through the same trouble with my husband. Really let me know if I can help you at all.”

Droll. “Thanks sooo much!" he intoned gratefully. He turned to Saihara who still looked like he was in shock. "Wasn't he just the nicest Shuichi?"

Saihara blinked at him. "... If you had enough money to hire a lawyer that could sue an airline so frivolously then you would've already been in first class."

Hey! That sounded like something a detective would say!

"I'm just stingy." Hah. Beat that logic. Nice one Kokichi.

Saihara squinted like he was about to bless Ouma with another brilliant deduction.

"... Did you sit next to me so you could convince that gay flight attendant to put you in first class?"

Wow!!! He was thinking!!! He was totally wrong but at least he was trying.

"I can't believe you figured it out!" Kokichi did his best impression of a widow revealing a dark secret on prime time television. "It's true…Detective Saihara I was lying about being married to you the whole time. I thought you knew..."

"Wha- of course I knew that!" Saihara sputtered.

"Oh! How can you ever forgive me?" The flight attendant was definitely out of range by now so this seemed like a good time for some melodramatic tears. "Waah!"

"H-hey! Stop that." Wow what a bad detective. Is that how you comfort people? Sad.

Kokichi was about to weep even more for the loss of chivalry when the asshole shoved something at him. Was that… a handkerchief? This guy just had a handkerchief? Is that not something that only people in movies do?

Weird.

Kokichi snatched it from him, exclaiming, “"Oh wow! What a gentlemanly thing to do!"

He proceeded to make his most grotesque snot noises imaginable.

“A-are you alright?” The detective stuttered out.

Kokichi pondered a couple iterations of “no, and it’s your fault” before deciding that was boring and saying “Perfectly fine.” He flicked out the handkerchief and held it a bit to make sure Shuichi noticed it was clean before tucking it in his pockets. “Just a liar is all.”

"A-a liar?"

Kokichi frowned at him. "No, where did you hear that?" He made an expression of disgust. “Ick, I hate liars after all.” He put on his manic pixie dream girl sees a light bulb for a first time look. “That's why I'm such a big fan of yours, Shuichi.”

"I-is that so?" Ah, the panic of a person unprepared for social interaction at two am was a sight for sore eyes. “Um.” Or maybe it said nothing of Ouma’s own skill that this guy was an awkward glob. "Y-you seem to know my name, but, uh, what's yours?"

A question! An inquiry! One for which Kokichi had the perfect answer....

"Kaito Momota."

“What.”

Wow! What a flat tone Saihara had! Almost like he didn’t believe him or something absurd like that.

Kokichi waved his hands dismissively. "I know, I know, isn't that the name of your friend who was in the paper? That's why I read it, by the way," he said matter of factly. "Because we have the same name."

Ugh, he was adding too much supporting detail. That’s something bad liars do and he wasn’t a bad liar. He was the best liar. Accept no substitutions. Unless they were really good at lying about being a substitution… then they would probably be the best liar…

Ok whatever ranking of liar he was it was probably good enough to fool-

"... I-is that another lie?"

Ah fuck.

"Neeheehee… ya caught me." Best to bail early on this kind of thing. "If you guess my real name by the end of the flight I'll give you a prize!"

"Like Rumplestiltskin?"

Really? Was his own charade getting that cartoonish already?

“Aww man. You guessed it the first try. That's no fun.” Logically this was boring but he was doing okay as far as airplanes went. "I guess now you'll just have to guess my second, less cool, real name instead."

As great as he was at being evasive in all situations why was the subject not changed by now.

"... Honestly I'd much rather be sleeping through this flight." The detective rubbed his face, and Kokichi noticed the darker shades of his eyelids weren’t all eyeliner. He must have business. Something that was keeping him up at night.

Kokichi determined some short term goals for this conversation. Find out why the detective was going to Paris was primary among them. That information would narrow down his field of options for how to spend the rest of the flight.

Kokichi scoffed. “Why would anyone get on a flight to Paris at 2 AM if they weren't prepared to be up all night?" He shifted back into the fanboy thread, "Oh! Oh! Oh! I bet you've got another case you're hot on the trail of, huh Mr. Detective?”

Saihara seemed to hesitate. “Uh, sort of.”

Kokichi thought he was going to say something more but after a few seconds of silence, it was clear he needed further prompting.

"What kind of answer is that?" His words seemed to surprise the Detective, which was a bit silly considering that they had been having a conversation, where words being exchanged should be the norm. "How can you only sort of be solving a mystery?" Kokichi lied through his teeth. "You know, I just so happen to also be a world class detective."

“Really? Saihara’s skeptical and unassertive response was less of a question in this conversation and more of a way to measure how gullible he was.

"Yes, really!" Kokichi replied, storming ahead, "And as a real life detective I just so happen to know that when you're working a case you work it with 100% of yourself!"

Saihara made this weird, soft sound. It took Kokichi a moment's consideration to realize it was supposed to be a laugh because it sounded not at all like the howling cackles growing up with DICE had familiarized him with.

"I guess you're kind of right about that…” He fidgeted with the edges of his coat. “There's, uh, this case that I've been looking into for a long time now and I guess I have really been putting 100% of myself into it. My friends think I'm going a little crazy…"

Ooh, that was something.

“Your friends? Like that purple haired guy who was in the paper? The one with the dumb name?”

Considering the nitwit Saihara had been romping around the Smithsonian with, the detective must really be off the deep end on this case to be considered looney by his friends.

Kokichi was predicting a silly story that he could use to justify to DICE his choice to sit next to the detective the whole flight beyond satiating this little whim of his for a taste of the unexpected. He imagined them laughing about the detective from the smithsonian who thought the Eiffel tower was a secret spaceship or something as Kokichi explained how he just had to stick around to make fun of him.

Oh shit the detective was saying something.

"-him and one other friend think I'm making this thing about the Louvre up… and maybe I am a little crazy."

… The Louvre, huh?

Kokichi scrutinized the detective. He couldn’t mean… “The Louvre? Like, someone's gonna steal the Mona Lisa?"

"Uh, no." The detective looked away as if mildly embarrassed. "I think, uh, someone's going to take the plumbing from the renovated bathrooms…"

Kokichi’s brain registered two things about Shuichi Saihara at the same time. One: he was a real detective. Not a hopeless buffoon of a gumshoe like the ones you saw in video games about dystopian court systems and gay lawyers. He had made a real life deduction and had done so accurately. He was on a case. The second thing he realised was that Shuichi Saihara was a direct threat to his entire operation.

People usually categorize threats as something to induce fear. Some would describe the fear as “bone chilling.”

When Kokichi registered a threat his toes got cold. Not because he was scared or something dumb like that, but because his blood suddenly had a better place to be.

Kokichi’s brain raced with possibilities, brand new scenarios and personas that he could put on. Like he had been sitting at a boring ass company play only to realize that the curtains were rising to reveal a dramatic opera where he was the star. Ok, Kokichi wasn’t exactly a poet laureate when it came to analogies, but he was excited okay?

Kokichi shuffled the deck of options and picked a card.

"Wow. You must be really smart to have figured that out." Ok, good thought to start with praise. He has a low self esteem. "You know…" Kokichi leaned in. Shuichi leaned away. Good. Make him uncomfortable by getting in his bubble.

Now, just for fun, lie wildly.

"I just so happen to be the leader of a secret organization with about 10,000 members. We rule the world from the shadows. I think we could use a detective like you."

Shuichi obviously didn’t believe him, which was, to his credit, absolutely fair. “That- that has to be a lie. There is no possible way for such an organization to exist.”

Sad detective, falling for the classic hiding in plain sight maneuver. Disguise the truth of DICE in an unbelievable lie and he doesn’t believe any of it.

"And here I was thinking you were particularly clever." And, twist. "Seeing as you've refused to join my organization… it seems I'll have to kill you."

Oh man that really seemed to frazzle the good detective. What, had he never gotten a death threat before? Typical. It would be funny to see his expression if Kokichi were to just stab him right now. Except ew because blood and also ending human life. Yikes. Weird train of thought.

"But I'll let you leave this flight with your life if you can beat me in a game."

That seemed to calm the detective down a bit, like he realized Kokichi was just joking. It’d be funny when Kokichi pulled out the knife later. Ah, ah, ah, no spoilers.

"How about Russian Roulette with a full barrel?"

Shuichi sputtered, "This is a plane, you don't have a gun!"

Kokichi considered the ‘my ruse has been discovered….’ line again before he realized he’d used it like twice now and tossed it aside for: "Oh that's right, left it on my tchotchke shelf, silly me. Well I guess if you just want to beg like a dog and then split your guts open that would be acceptable."

Wow ok a little harsh there. Kokichi’s single brain cell devoted to tact whispered. What? No. No filter. Fuck you brain trying to conform to social conventions, shut the fuck up and stay out of my personality.

"Um, no that would kill me."

"Damn, nothing gets past you… Hmm… Ok, how about…" Kokichi reached into the pocket he usually left his Yu-Gi-Oh deck in. "A shadow game!"

He held up the cards only to realize they were actually just a normal playing deck. Oh yeah, he left his deck at home because he thought Rook might steal his blue eyes while he slept on the plane. Shit. Oh well, playing cards could be fun too.

"It's time to du-du-du-du-du-du-du-duel!"

Shuichi blinked. "A...duel? Shadow Game...?"

"Hmhmhm... Yes, the loser's soul will get sent to the Shadow Realm…" he shuffled them so that Shuichi and him would draw the same cards, "We each pull one card from this deck, and whoever has the largest number wins!"

Shuichi looked rather befuddled but Kokichi kept going full steam ahead.

This wasn’t really a game of chance anyhow. That wasn’t the point. The game had two motives, the first being to gauge Shuichi’s reactions to different scenarios, the second being to build up Kokichi himself as someone intimidating and mysterious. The card game wasn’t extremely telling, but the ensuing bout of rock paper scissors was.

Kokichi was keeping pretty busy predicting what Shuichi was going to pick next in order to make it a tie, but Shuichi didn’t protest at all to the mindless repetitive game it must have been for him. He was either easily impressed by rock paper scissors or just too awkward to tell Kokichi to fuck off.

Apparently the guy sitting in the row in front of them had no qualms about such things. He hit the back of his seat and grumbled “Oh my God shut up already.”

A bunch of weirdly indignant thoughts ran through Kokichi’s head.

Wow! Rude asshole! Mind your own fucking business! Get some damn headphones!

Shuichi looked like being told he was annoyed by a random asshole was his equivalent of seeing a ghost as he muttered out some inane apology.

Not that he cared about how this guy felt, but him suddenly clamming up just wasn’t very fun at all.

Just when he was making headway too…

… Maybe it was time to get rid of the distractions.

"Gosh Shuichi you really were being just too loud. You're like the loudest person I've ever met."

Shuichi looked at him like he was crazy which Kokichi appreciated for a millisecond before raising his voice to say, “Ugh that game was getting boring though, and no one won so it's probably time for something else.” He leaned over the aisle, noticing that Jack was standing in the aisle at the back of the plane chit chatting with Spades as Queen stole pretzel packets from the snack cart.

"Hey,” he called, “When's drink service?"

The three DICE members under his scrutiny froze like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. They were probably gossiping about him again. Great.

Jack got her bearings fairly quickly, pushing the drink cart up the aisle. "Coming right up~" She trilled cheerfully.

As she passed by to start service at the front of the plane, Kokichi noticed a little green vial tucked into Jack’s sleeve. Most likely the sleep drug Kokichi had requested before he got on the plane. Hmm. He wanted to get rid of the distractions, but he wasn’t exactly sure distractions included Shuichi anymore. The flight was still pretty long and Kokichi knew he’d be bored out of his mind forever if he didn’t get through this whole game gambit with the detective.

Another spur of the moment change of plans was in order and it hit Kokichi with yet another wave of excitement.

"Hey, Shuichi!” He exclaimed, “We should have a tea party!"

Shuichi gave him another look. “A tea party? I don't think they ha-”

Kokichi didn’t have the patience not to speedrun Shuichi’s disbelief.

“Well oooobviously you wouldn't know anything about it.” He interrupted. “I'm the leader of a super secret organization after all, so of course I know about the super secret drink menu available on all air planes.

Shuichi frowned. "But they couldn't bring anything to-”

He stopped listening. Something something blah blah blah doubt doubt doubt.

Kokichi shook his head dismissively, getting ready to set up an I told you so moment.

“Just watch.”

When Jack rolled up with the drink cart she made a hand signal that told Kokichi things were going well on DICE’s end of things. "And what would you fine sirs like to drink?" She asked in a register slightly higher than usual. Jack was being smarter than Kokichi about this and had basically contoured all of her distinctive facial traits away, so Kokichi wouldn’t have to worry about Shuichi tracking her down from this interaction.

"A cup of hot green tea."

Pretty much the only reason he was going along with this impulsive plan of his was that the only person who would get any heat for it if things was south was him. He wouldn’t put DICE’s livelihoods in danger for a whim such as this.

"Sure thing!"

Was this even a whim anymore?

"And what about you?"

Of course it was.

"Shuichi here will have the same thing."

If it wasn’t then it would have to be something else.

And if it were something else, then Kokichi wouldn’t know what it was.

He couldn’t afford to be that stupid.

"Of course.” Jack smiled almost a little too fakely. “Anything added in like sugar or cream?"

She was obviously double checking that Kokichi didn’t want this bastard drugged.

"No, we're both taking it plain today."

"Oh, really? Alright then."

She poured the tea.

“"I hear you two are on a honeymoon? That's so lovely. Can I see the rings?”

Kokichi usually appreciated that Jack was quick to catch on to things, but she was bordering on insubordination at this point.

"You know what I hear?” Time to play real housewives of DICE with this gossip again. “That lonely flight attendants should realize they're sad and nosey losers who should keep their noses out of happy people's business."

Aw shit she was going to think he was flustered and covering up something wasn’t she.

"Teehee~ Yes sir! Enjoy the flight." Yeah she totally was on to him

Wait no because to be on to him she would have to be right and she wasn’t so there.

Oh shit wait Shuichi was still here. Looking extremely awkward and unsure if he was also supposed to start bitching at flight attendants like it was common etiquette or something.

"That was all code you know.” He brushed it off. “Super secret organization stuff. You probably wouldn't understand."

"Uh, yeah." He said, "I probably wouldn't."

Wow this guy was funny. Kokichi was moderately glad he wasn’t in a drug induced coma right now. Moderately glad was pretty good for an airplane vis a vis emotional stability.

"Neeheehee…” He let himself laugh a little. “Drink the tea Shuichi, I've got to pull you into a false sense of security before your final trial."

Shuichi frowned. "I feel like by pointing out that you're trying to lull me into a false sense of security you have essentially not done so."

"See, but because you feel that way it means I have succeeded in lulling you."

Shuichi frowned again, but seemed to see no logic in arguing. He decided to take a sip of his tea instead. Kokichi noticed the asshole in the chair in front of him was asleep. So was the guy in the seat across from his, and the woman in front of that guy was dozing too. Everyone else had a drink and would be soon to follow.

Everyone except for…

“So how do you like the tea, Shuichi?” Ouma asked.

Shuichi was drinking that hot leaf juice like a pro who didn’t even feel the burn. He made a contemplative expression.

“It’s pretty good as far as tea goes.” He shrugged. “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

Kokichi felt a little offended on the behalf of DICE’s custom blend as well as all of the classy tea drinkers in the world. He shook his head

"Fff, what are you, a cop or something? Next you’ll be telling me you like donuts more than cupcakes."

Shuichi made a weird face before looking away.

"Holy shit," Kokichi said. This was the perfect time to both change the subject and do a little investigating of his own. " Are you a cop? Like a really funny undercover cop who decided to pretend to be someone with the exact same job?"

"Uh, no, that's not it."

Was it something about the donuts then or- wait no that was stupid it was obviously the cop thing.

Shuichi was looking out the window now. "I, uh, did used to be a force detective."

"Huh," Kokichi remarked, trying to peek around at Shuichi's face, "Were you fired or something? You must've been pretty bad to get fired from some backwater police station."

"No that's not it." He seemed to be leaning into some sort of memory, "I quit actually…"

Ugh, who gave this fucking loser the right to be interesting. It was totally unfair.

Kokichi kept digging, "Man why wouldn't you want to be a cop. Clearly the most respectable public service someone can provide for their country…" but that was totally a lie. Cops suck.

Shuichi frowned. "I, uh, kind of disagree with that." He was pulling at his fingers like he was trying to stretch them like taffy. "I met a lot of people on the force who really did care about making the community better, but I feel like the existence of law enforcement is really a symptom of larger societal problems, and that the structure of power doesn't work to reduce crime or violence but instead works increase it by giving a group of privileged individuals the power to instill generational trauma in communities."

Uh… huh. Kokichi took a moment to process that because he had never thought about “cops = bad” beyond their innate fuddy duddy inclinations to stop him specifically from doing whatever the hell he wanted. What the fuck? Did this guy actually have, like, opinions??? And legitimate reasons for them??? Who gave him the right??? How could Kokichi hear more of them???

Pff wait he was probably some rich kid who took maybe one social justice class in college and became a stooge of the state anyway. Maybe he was, like, a real policeman's embittered assistant or something.

"That's lame." He lied, "cops are the cops, do you want folks to be murdering people left and right all the time??? I bet you've never even met a criminal." Hehe that one was a bit ironic, he'd laugh about it later.

Shuichi furrowed his brow at him, "Well, I have… I was a homicide detective, actually. I've arrested murderers in person many times..."

What???? Is this what talking to all strangers for extended periods of time was like? You found out they actually had lives? And cool careers? That they made their livings in murder?

Nah, Shuichi was probably an exception. You don't meet an anti cop homicide detective everyday after all…

Kokichi decided he was being too endeared so he planned out a new branch of conversation that would hopefully make Shuichi squeamish, or at least unnerved.

He put on his best enthusiasm face. "Tell me about a murder! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Shuichi blinked at him, surprised at his sudden shift in mood. "Uh, alright then…" he said.

Shuichi started to go into detail about a case he had solved his first year on the force. Some guy turned up dead in a public pool and everyone else had basically given up on the case. Shuichi was describing how he figured it out through deductions and use of specific forensic techniques, and to be honest he wasn't exactly a master of suspense. Kokichi was able to deduce the murderer from the details Shuichi chose to include. No, none of that was why he was completely mesmerized with Shuichi while he talked.

Hearing about the things that Shuichi did to get to the evidence in the first place was… impressive???

No that couldn’t be right.

Maybe it was just weird to see a mousey guy like him get as jazzed up as Kokichi about solving murders, and not even in a weird or vaguely creepy way. He just seemed like… Kokichi hadn't thought about it in a long time but when he was a kid he read a shit ton of mystery manga, where the heroes were detectives. He had since then moved on to more sophisticated literature such as airplane diagrams and police radio transcripts, but Shuichi reminded him of those detectives instead of the old fuddy duddies with which he had begun to associate the profession. He was just kind of… cool. Yeah that was the word for it. Cool. Like he was always going to get around to the right answer no matter what. Yeah, he had that abstract "coolness" factor that had drawn Kokichi to protagonists as a kid.

Kokichi wanted to steal it from him. Break his composure, become the center of the stage in this narrative. Yet, at the same time he suddenly dreaded his own inevitable heel turn. This was something rare, he decided, getting to talk one on one with Shuichi like this. It would probably never happen again.

So Kokichi listened. He teased, interjected, and prompted superfluous explanations, but he listened.

And Shuichi talked. He talked about murder most foul, crooked cops, elusive evidence, and the friends he made along the way. Shit straight out of a manga that Kokichi was spending his Saturday morning hyper-fixating on.

The conversation only ended when Shuichi had to get up to use the toilet. A stark reminder that manga wasn’t real and in meatspace human beings had to shit every now and then. Kokichi watched him go and felt a little sad. Like he knew whatever it was worth, the moment had passed. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and now all he had was to dissect it over and over again in his head until it became mangled beyond recognition...

Yeah yeah ok, world's tiniest violin, scattered ashes, ceremonial boat burning, yadda yadda.

Kokichi had a heist to pull off, no time for any of this silly stuff. He dismissed whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest and decided to go with the more practical inspiration that struck him. He took a couple seconds to plan out his grand exit. He decided to leave Shuichi a note and justified to himself that heists had been getting boring lately and as a proper game master he should give Shuichi a hint. Hmm were his initials too much? It might seem like…

Well he didn't really know what it seemed like, which was weird because he was a genius. Was he actually trying to figure out how Shuichi would react to this? He hadn't really thought about what Shuichi's opinion of him had been because he had only started thinking of Shuichi as an actual person halfway through the flight. That was the thing about being in a close knit organization, he always thought about DICE as an extension of himself and everyone else as some sort of nebulous other he had to predict the movements of. Sometimes he forgot that if you spent a lot of time talking to some stranger you find out they have brains and lives and stuff.

Speaking of things that probably have brains and lives and stuff, things seemed to be going good with DICE. Jack had signaled him that she told everyone about the plan when she came by to collect trash.

Of course, he and Shuichi were the only ones she took trash from. Everyone else was fast asleep, all according to plan. Kokichi had written some last minute details on a napkin he had put in the trash bag, so they all knew they were dropping soon.

They were also all probably gossiping about him. He supposed that's what he got for ditching them to sit with a detective dressed in black like a sexy motorcycle. Wow that was terrible where did his brain even get that line and how could he use it to make Shuichi freak out. Probably pretty easily...

Except if everything went according to plan maybe he wouldn't have the chance. Not like this. He imagined himself yelling the comment at Shuichi from the safety of a getaway chopper, like in the movies…

Ok his note was basically done now. Oh hmm. This actually seemed kind of desperate, the note. It kind of screamed "track me down to the end of the world please" like some sort of piss baby cry for help.

Aw shit. He was thinking about what Shuichi thought about him again...

Speak of the devil and he shall appear but Kokichi was already here and hadn't talked about himself in a bit, so Shuichi showed up instead. His hands were wet which meant he washed them and goddammit it was insufferable how tolerable this guy was. Did he have no weaknesses besides being generally awkward and also being someone who used to be a cop? Ugh wait the latter was kind of cool too. Insufferable.

Well you know what they say, if you can't beat em plan to jump off an airplane because you did beat them they just don't know it yet.

Kokichi decided their final trial together deserved some dramatic build up, so he bowed to Shuichi as he got up to let him sit back down.

"Welcome, combatants." He illustriated, "Take your seat and prepare for the final trial."

Shuichi gave him a wary look as he slid back into his seat.

"What is it this time?" he asked.

Kokichi considered pulling out the crying on that one, but got too excited about how Shuichi would react to his pulling out the knife instead. Thusly he reprimanded the detective’s lack of enthusiasm with a single tsk.

“You could stand to be a little more concerned mister detective, it’s your life on the line after all.”

Shuichi gave him a dubious look, like he trusted airport security and general societal norms to keep him from being murdered.

Kokichi wanted to tear down the walls of that trust.

He pulled out the knife.

Shuichi’s reaction was instantaneous. He practically jumped away from Kokichi in his seat. Weirdly enough... that just made Kokichi realize they had been sitting pretty close before...

How did that happen?

Eh no time for that.

“Is that a knife?” Shuichi yelped, “How did you get a knife on the plane?”

It was weird how Shuichi stuttered about everything except things that were actually dangerous. Well maybe Kokichi having a knife wasn’t really dangerous, but Shuichi didn’t know that and here he was saying complete words. Sentences and all. And yet it still had the streak of incredulity running through it that shot through to Kokichi’s head faster than his own signature panta-redbull blend.

“Oh, a villain's got his ways.” He said in a way that he thought was pretty cool and mysterious.

Shuichi still seemed to be panicking a bit and Kokichi was getting a little tired of that so he brushed past it.

“Now this game's pretty easy to understand, but you gotta be skilled,” he explained matter of factly, “I'll go first to show you how it's done.”

When some other kids had showed him this game when he was an even tinier bastard they had started off slow and slowly sped up. But he was still kind of leaning into the shock factor, and going slow was lame. He started stabbing the table through his fingers at a breakneck pace.

“H-hey!” Shuichi exclaimed (oh so now he stutters), “You're gonna hurt yourself doing that!”

“Pff, as if I would.”

The thing about this game is that it required rhythm, and rhythm required predictable repetition, and being predictable was the antithesis to everything that brought him joy in life.

He sped up.

“Here it's really easy.”

He went even faster.

The knife went *thuck thuck thuck* as it massacred the table.

When you did something the same way for a long time it gave you time to think about things. It didn’t really give you anything specific to think about, though, so Kokichi always felt like he was wasting time.

The knife went *thkthkthk* between his fingers.

He wanted to consider next steps. How long he would do this for and what would he do if Shuichi lost the game… Instead he started thinking about when he learned the game. He remembered he had picked it up from some of the older kids at one of the homes. The only other thing he remembered about them was one time they had stood by a rose bush with him, tearing off thorns and pushing them into their fingertips. Kokichi had done it and remembered that it didn’t feel like anything at all.

*Schlick*

Your fingers are full of blood vessels and nerves, but if you push down to the cartilage-

Oh wait.

“Agh!” Shuichi exclaimed from beside him, “You’re bleeding!”

Kokichi was bleeding.

He was looking at his hand. His knife had nicked a millimeter of skin on the inner side of his ring finger, just at the junction between the tip of his finger and the second part of the ligament. It occurred to him that he was in pain.

“Ow,” He said on instinct. Or maybe he thought it in his head. It didn’t matter because he was busy also thinking about how Shuichi had just grabbed his wrist and pulled it over to him.

The detective placed Kokichi’s hand in his lap like a sandwich he was saving for later while he ruffled through his coat pockets. He drew out a bandaid and lifted Kokichi’s hand again. His fingers were longer than Kokichi’s, and they felt sort of cold, like his blood had better places to be than his fingertips. They were very, very gentle as they wrapped a bandage around the bleeding finger. Almost like Shuichi cared or something.

The detective’s greyish green eyes flickered up to him and Kokichi realized Shuichi had really long eyelashes. “You really ought to be more careful.” He said in his soft way.

Kokichi was honestly having more emotions than were necessary about this, so he focused on the annoyance.

Man, good at figuring things out, is interesting, has opinions, and actually cares about other people? Was this guy even a real person??? That seemed like too many character traits. Geez Shuichi, why did mom let you have all of the attractive personality qualities?

Did he say attractive? He meant annoying.

Shuichi squinted at him. His eye lashes weren’t that long, he was wearing eyeliner. Kokichi had already noticed that. He just had to start thinking coherent thoughts again.

“What is it? Are you alright?”

Yeah, for sure.

Shuichi was still holding his hand and Kokichi decided it was time to not be touching another person again, so he quickly whipped it away. He tried to settle into a boastful kind of hands behind the head pose, but worried that the effect was lost by the sudden squirming of emotions in his gut.

"Geez," Kokichi said petulantly, "I can't believe you actually beat me."

He stomped everything down. It was time for action not... not whatever this was.

Shuichi blinked at him in confusion. "Beat you? But I didn't even play…"

"Doesn't matter." Kokichi shifted to a new pose where he leaned his arm on the rest in between them and propped his head up, positioned for his next steps. "The rules were if I cut myself I lose, and I lost."

“...Although, it doesn't matter if you join my organization or not anymore, Shuichi."

Shuichi looked at him in confusion and Kokichi found it kind of frustrating that he didn’t know which aspect of this that Shuichi was contemplating.

“Uh, it doesn’t?”

Very eloquent, Shuichi, that clears things up.

"Nope." Kokichi moved a bit so that both elbows rested on the arm rest and propped his head up closer to Shuichi’s. "Because I've already done something much more important than winning."

As Kokichi leaned in Shuichi leaned back. Shuichi was staring pretty intensely at his eyes which made this the perfect opportunity. Kokichi’s hands went lightly down to Shuichi’s waist, where he put the detective’s seat belt into a dreadknot.

“W-what's that?” The detective stammered, no doubt as alarmed by the proximity as Kokichi had anticipated.

Kokichi hadn’t really anticipated what he would say next though.

He went with, “I've stolen your heart.” He felt a millennia of DICE movie nights spent making fun of romantic comedies crash against his soul and decided to change the genre before he embarrassed himself. “Because I'm a thief you know?”

He was practically breathing in Shuichi’s ear by now, which made this next part a little hard. He unbuckled his seatbelt. Then, in a fluid motion Kokichi’s hands went behind his head as he arched to place them on the aisle armrest. He did a handstand for an instant on the arm rest before landing his feet across the aisle on to some poor bastard’s tray table.

When he came up for air he observed that he had knocked a cup over and that Shuichi had just noticed his own seat belt malfunction. The detective’s look of dawning realization felt like a standing ovation.

"Hmmm, I really should kill you, now that you've seen my face," and maybe he would if DICE were that kind of organization. It was kind of troubling that the police would get sketches, and the gang would probably harrang him about it. But eh, what can you do.

Certainly not murder. You can’t just murder people. That’d be dumb. Boring even.

Kokichi hopped down from the tray table and grabbed his heist bag. It would’ve been bad to forget that, he considered as he pulled out his mask, Louvre cameras are a lot more reliable than a half asleep detective’s recount.

Said detective was certainly fully awake now, looking at Kokichi in an utterly gobsmacked manner. Kokichi felt like he was sinking his teeth into the stem of a rose thrown from the audience.

"... But I think that'd be a waste, don't you?" Maybe the trouble was what he was looking for, after all. He wondered if they would fingerprint the arm rests when the plane touched down. They wouldn’t find any matches in any criminal database, so it didn’t matter much to him. He put on his gloves anyway before tossing Shuichi the note he had written.

No time for second drafts. He thought as he started walking down the aisle.

“Somebody! Stop him!” Shuichi yelled from behind him. It was so manga detective that Kokichi wanted to scream.

The rest of DICE was already getting up with their parachutes on, and a few turned towards Shuichi’s call. Thank goodness they were wearing their masks because he wasn’t sure if Shuichi could still see down the aisle or not. He might’ve seen Jack’s face, but she had been wearing a lot of makeup so it was probably fine.

She certainly didn’t seem concerned. She was checking the knots the only actual flight attendant on the plane was trussed up in.

Ace, always a little over eager, wrenched open the emergency exit as Kokichi was still putting his parachute on. He felt the drastic change of air pressure in those spaces you feel it in your skull and stomach. He hadn’t realized how warm the inside of the plane was until the cold air sucked it out.

He used convenient zippers to close up his hoodie pockets, knife included, and buckled up the rest of the parachute’s straps.

He looked back, just once. Shuichi was peering out at him in the aisle. He looked like his world was ending and Kokichi reveled in the power of that. That he was just that important to this detective.

The curtains are about to drop but there are still people screaming in the balconies.

He smiled.

The encore wasn’t up to him.

“So long, Mr. Detective!" He got to the window. "Better luck next time.”

Kokichi jumped back first out of the plane and the walls and the aisles and the lights of the plane slipped out of view through the emergency exit one by one.

And he fell.

He fell and flipped over to take in the view of Paris below. The city of lights indeed. It was beautiful, he supposed.

He fell, letting himself enjoy the breeze a bit before reaching terminal velocity.

He didn't though.

Enjoy it.

It felt like getting on a fucking awesome roller coaster except it’s also your every day ride to your job at some dead end minimum wage desk.

It was… boring. Routine.

Just victory, just the Louvre, just air.

Even as the other members of DICE whooped and hollered on their descent, Kokichi realized the fun part of the heist was already over. The whole heist was over.

He could predict it all.

He would deploy his parachute, he would float down to the Louvre, and he would orchestrate a perfect heist.

But Kokichi Ouma realized then that he would never stopped falling.

#saiouma #oumasai #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #ouff yall im gay and probably have adhd so that's my excuse for going absolutely feral on this #first time writing ouma so hope yall like it #writing

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imaginepirates · 5 years ago

Text

Dad! Barbossa

For @ma-rys-stuff. Barbossa is your father, and he does everything he can to break the curse. Basically, it's your retelling of what happened.

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

~2500 words

~~~~~~~

The girl didn’t look like a pirate. She had such nice blonde hair, and a stunningly thin figure. You were almost certain that men would trip over themselves just to talk to her. The crimson dress clung to her figure, fanning out at the hips, as was the style. It reminded you of apples and of wine. It pooled around her ankles on the floor, too long for her.

It reminded you of blood.

It was all you could think of. Her blood splattering the floor of some dark cavern, flowing freely from her body until she was spent and dying. All so you could, too.

Existing without the ability to feel was, in truth, pretty awful. You hated not being able to taste food, and you hated worse that when somebody touched you, their touch was like that of a ghost. Any reassuring hand on the shoulder, any kiss to the forehead; it was all lost to you.

It had been one of the best parts of your childhood. Your father had planted kisses on the top of your head every night. He squeezed your hand whenever you looked nervous. He held you by the arms and told you how big you were growing. You missed that sensation.

You missed, too, the more intimate touches in life. You missed kissing the man you loved. You missed his fingers in your hair, and his hands massaging your shoulders. You missed his breath on your neck when he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. You missed him.

You refocused. How could such a stunning girl be the daughter of a pirate? She looked too soft, like she’d never done a day’s work in her life. Who cared for her, her mother, the poor wench her father had left behind?

You didn’t believe in that. In being left behind. Your father, despite his faults, had taken care of you from the time you were a baby. You were part of his crew, and could tie knots before you could walk. He hadn’t known about you to begin with. When he found out, and he realized your mother was dying, he took you under his wing. Now, you were as fearsome as any man. You could wield a sword, climb the rigging, swim, and fire a cannon. That was more than most girls your age could say.

The evening was slowly turning to night, and the first stars were creeping out. You loved looking out at the sky; it distracted you from looking at yourself.

The first time you’d seen your arm turn from flesh to bone, you were terrified. It felt like your skin was crawling with bugs. It was the sensation of your skin crawling off your frame, leaving you with nothing but a skeleton. How different that was, to look down and suddenly be able to see your own ribs. You’d long since gotten used to it, but it wasn’t a pretty sight.

You stepped out from where you were peaking at the girl. Miss Turner, she’d introduced herself. Very convenient for the rest of you.

Miss Turner was to have dinner with your father. He was purely there to intimidate her; there was no reason for you to dine with them. She didn’t deserve it all. Her only crime was being the wrong man’s daughter. She couldn’t help what he’d done. She was probably a perfectly nice girl. It was a shame you’d have to kill her.

You didn’t believe it. Your father would never kill an innocent girl. He had a cold, vile reputation, but that was only to keep power. He wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. In fact, you’d seen him grant mercy on some occasions, though those were few and far between. Still, the girl was around your age. She reminded him of you; she had to.

The night progressed without so much as a shout from inside the cabin. Perhaps he was exercising silent horror.

Finally, you heard something. There was movement, the knocking over of chairs, and your father’s taunting voice. A moment later, the doors were pushed open. The girl stumbled out, staring at your father’s transformation in the moonlight. She was shoved right into your arms. She turned a frightened eye to your face, screeching as you squeezed her and turned her around to face the crew, making her watch them at work.

You held her there just long enough to give her a good look, then pushed her out into the fray. She tripped up, falling into a tarp. Her petite body flew into the air, ridiculously ballooned by the dress. Someone caught her while swinging by.

It was so well done, you wanted to applaud. The crew was getting a real kick out of scaring her. Sure, it was mean, but there was only so much entertainment to be had onboard the Pearl. One could only find so much humor in Pintel and Ragetti.

The girl stumbled to the stairs, attempting to hide under them, only to be screeched at by Jack the monkey. She flew out from under the staircase, right toward Captain Barbossa. Always one for the dramatic flair, he opened a bottle of rum and downed it, letting the alcohol slosh over his ribs.

“You’d best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner. You’re in one.”

Barbossa. The famed pirate captain, who led a successful mutiny and stole the Black Pearl from the command of a certain Jack Sparrow. Your father was dreaded among all men, and his name fell only from the most daring of people’s lips. It was said he could hear you call, a summons. This, of course, was not true, but it was fun to pretend.

Being part of his family had its perks. Your name alone inspired fear into the hearts of men. You weren’t sure you’d done anything to deserve such fame, but your father’s name was enough to put people on their guard. Everyone knew that if they messed with you, they messed with him. It kept you out of trouble. Well, sometimes.

The truth was, he pushed hard for the curse to be cured. He’d spent years collecting every last bit of Aztec gold. That you’d found the Turner child was a miracle. You spent many long years wondering if you’d ever live a life without the curse. It was easy for him to say that he wanted to be free of it, but that wasn’t even half the reason for his efforts.

He did everything for you, his only child. He was dedicated to his cause. You’d only been a baby at the time of the mutiny and the theft of the treasure. You were only learning to walk when they sunk poor Bootstrap Bill. It wasn’t your fault the curse was upon you.

You’d spent a lifetime not knowing what it was to feel. There was a time when Barbossa had owned a ring that allowed him to touch you so you could both feel it. You’d given that ring to someone else, when you got older. It didn’t improve their relationship with your father. Then again, nothing ever would, of that you were sure. Not even you.

Besides being Barbossa’s old captain, Jack Sparrow was the pirate you’d fallen head over heels for. He was as dashing as any prince, and he understood your lifestyle like many others couldn’t. Only a select few people were the children of infamous pirates. You both fit the category.

There was a certain way of life that came with growing up on a ship since the time you were an infant. For so long, you hadn’t known anything else. There was the ship, and there was the sea, and there were dots of land connected by strips of water. Beyond that, you couldn’t imagine landmasses. When you were younger, you’d pour over maps, trying to comprehend the vast amounts of dry earth that made up the world. You couldn’t fathom being in a place where you couldn’t see the ocean. Certainly it wasn’t possible to get out of sight of the sea.

You and Jack had a beautiful understanding of one another in this aspect. Your lives were so similar, though very, very different. You told yourself that he’d just lived more of his. Your lives mirrored one another, displaying what the other person could have been had they made different decisions. Yet, neither of you had made a decision that you regretted.

The waters were changing. There were a few gulls overhead. You could hear their wailing, but could not see them. The water should have been lighter as you neared land, but it became dark as pitch, and the sky above rolled with thunder. It wasn’t a welcoming sight, but you were glad to see it anyway.

This was the end. You’d struggled through so much to get here, and now, you could be free. You could live in some sort of peace, now. The looming rocks couldn’t suck the joy out of your belly. It was equally likely that the ship would crash on the rocks, but you preferred to think of the feeling of warmth.

Warmth. What an underrated feeling. You don’t know the meaning of warmth until it is gone from your life. What little remembrance you had of it, you clung to. It was the sensation of being enveloped, of being safe, and of being loved. It was a deep breath under the sun. It was muted sounds against the faint glow of torchlight, a drink in hand. It was the love you had for your father, and it was the love you had for Jack. Focusing on that memory, you helped unload the ship. You wanted it to be the first thing you felt.

It took too long to get the gold out of the ship. There were other things, too, and you hefted those treasures into the cave alongside their more metallic counterparts. You were growing impatient with the process. You wanted everything to be over, to not worry a moment longer about your life. You had forever, of course, to make things right, but forever is a long time with a little girl whose death would have been a long way off in the first place.

Once the treasure was empty, the crew filed into the cave. It was volcanic. The cavern had long since been carved out by lava that had snaked underneath the island, leaving tunnels as it oozed along in its winding path to nowhere. The entrance was right on the water, nearly hidden from view. But you’d been to the island before. To the very same cave. You’d always know the way.

A mound of treasure stood near a little river of water. Balanced on top was a great gold coffin, filled with gold pieces. It was worth a fortune, if you were willing to be cursed. Miss Turner stood behind it, a knife pressed to her throat. Barbossa was just behind her.

He addressed the crowd with flair, and cheers went up from all sides. You were ecstatic. Not only were you happy to be a real person again, as you’d never been since you were a babe, but you were proud of your father. He’d put in so much work. He deserved this, more than any of you.

Carefully, he took the girl’s hand in his own. You watched intently as he cut a razor-thin line through her palm. Blood dripped out of it, falling through her fingers. She held her injured hand in a tight fist, as if trying to keep any blood from spilling. She acted like it was gold. To everyone else in the room, it was worth so much more.

When the first drop of blood fell into the case, you held your breath. Yet, even as the seconds wore on, nothing happened. There was no sensation of freedom, as you’d thought there would be.

There was no warmth.

What did it mean? She was the one, wasn't she? But you felt unchanged. You were no different than you had once been.

The crowd jeered. They called for all her blood to be spilled, or for Barbossa to shoot someone. People were impatient, and they got louder by the second.

It was overwhelming. No, this can't be right. I would know if the curse were gone. Wouldn't I?

A smoke ring sat heavy in the air, preceded by a gunshot. Pintel looked down at his chest, a frown growing on his face. For a moment, there was only silence.

Your father was sharing some words with Elizabeth, but you couldn't hear them. You were too engrossed in the panic welling up inside your chest.

He hit her, and you flinched. It's not her fault. She was sent tumbling down the mound of gold.

The crew was restless, and a few members had the audacity to challenge your father. You bristled; like they could have done any better! Barbossa had done all he could to cure the curse. He hadn't known how things would end up.

Barbossa looked back over his shoulder, something like fear dancing in his eyes. "The medallion, she's taken it!"

That was all the prompting the crew needed to get moving. You were glad the attention had been taken off your father.

You were swept up with the crowd, headed toward the exit. Before you got there, everyone stopped. There, standing dizzily with a paddle in hand, was Jack Sparrow. Oh dear. He looked good, but a bit out of sorts. Just himself, then.

"Parloo." He held a finger up, trying to remember a word. "Parsnip, parsley, par…"

"Parlay?" You offered. The crowd turned to you, casting a collective scathing eye. Jack, however, only grimaced.

"Parley, that's it! Parlay."

Barbossa appeared, and your stomach dropped. There was enough bad blood between him and Jack for things to go seriously wrong.

"How the blazes did you get off that island?"

"When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land, you forgot one thing, mate. I'm cap'n Jack Sparrow."

"I mistake I shan't be makin' again. Gents, you all remember Cap'n Jack Sparrow. Kill him."

Barbossa doesn't make eye contact with you, and you're about to protest, bit Jack does that little hand gesture that makes everyone stop and listen. "The girl's blood didn't work, did it."

"Hold your fire." You see many faces twist with disappointment. "You know whose blood we need."

"I know whose blood you need."

The sentence gives you hope. You're torn between going to Jack and going to your father. You didn't know who to face first.

As Barbossa turned to leave, you caught his sleeve, letting the crew file past him. "What does this mean for us?" You hissed.

He looked down at you, eyes softening. "It means we keep trying. We've been trying for a long time. We can wait."

"Until we succeed?"

"Have I ever not seen something through?"

You felt weighed down by the events, but Jack's words combined with your father's gave you some hope.

"No."

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #drabble #request #requests #fanfic #hector barbossa #barbossa #writing #writings

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