#and thus causing the swing around corners

[driftstep]

my Comet S2 so dummy thicc she turns a corner and her ass swings round so hard she loses traction and spins out

[cerisefait]

Hello my dear!! As i promised here's my request. Can you write a Shanks x reader fic where they have been together for a really long time and beacsue of this Luffy looks at the reader like his mother figure? Like just imagen the Strawhats meet the reader and Luffys first reaction is to shout "Mother!" and the Strawhats are like "Wait.. That your mom???" i could imagine all of the being like really surprised XD and also obviously Shanks is there as well and tgat also cause another set of confusion like?? Shanks a big pirate?? Here?? I can just imagine the chaos and happiness that it would bring to Luffy

The Confession

[1,9k words]

a/n: I'm baack and motivated than ever! so sorry for the long wait @smolracoon25 but I hope I did you justice with this one and I hope all of you readers enjoy it <3 I've put a little spin on the request and wrote an angsty romance with a happy ending x

(warning! description of drowning)

‘Look out!’

The sound of swords clashing filled your ears: Metal on metal clanking in a deathly duel against Red Haired Pirates and the Intruders.

‘I can handle myself Shanks!’ You exclaimed as you made your way to the butt of the deck in an attempt to escape the guy who was chasing you with a sword in his hands.

You were successful for a moment. Taking a quick look at your crewmates, you couldn't help but feel your heart shatter at the scene which unfolded before you. Most of the barrels were scattered on the floor, some of them were on fire: One of your crewmates was trapped in a corner and the others were fighting for their lives.

Your view was suddenly cut off by a larger and thus, threatening frame.

'Don't you dare come closer.’ You stated sternly but the quaver in your voice gave your fear away.

'What are you gonna do about that, princess?’ said the unwelcome pirate, clearly enjoying the display of his actions.

Upon hearing the disgusting cockiness and the nickname that came out of his mouth, you furrowed your eyebrows. 'Don’t you fucking dare! …Stop!’ You yelled, taking small steps backwards.

'You'll make a very pretty hostage, it's been so long since we had a woman on our ship.’

‘I said stop!’

Now, you were on the edge looking for someone to come to your aid. Your eyes wandered around in hopes of finding Shanks but to your misfortune, he was too busy trying to save the trapped crewmate.

For a split second, he looked back at you; the fierce and confident look in his eyes turned into a fearful one.

Knowing what's to come, he knocked the guys he was dealing with within a blink of an eye and rushed towards you but he was far away.

Seeing your gaze fixated somewhere else, the foreigner tried to take advantage of your distraction and took a step closer to you.

And out of instinct, you took a step back.

'NO!..’

Suddenly you were face to face with the sky: falling on your back, feeling the cold breeze on your skin.

As you were falling, you screamed Shanks' name at the top of your lungs with terror. The feeling of panic and adrenaline was coursing through you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you waited for the inevitable.

‘(Y/N)!’ he exclaimed rushing to you, knocking everyone and everything that got in his way.

…that was the last thing you heard before submerging deep into the depths of the ocean.

At first your back came in contact with the water's surface in which you felt a sharp stinging pain that spread all across your body. Feeling that pain, your eyes opened widely.

You tried holding your breath for as long as possible but after a few seconds, you inhaled some water which made you splutter, cough and inhale more.

There was a burning sensation in your chest, making you instinctively panic... Until you surrendered.

When you stopped fighting you felt calm, tranquil even. You knew what it meant: the loss of consciousness was showing its symptoms because of the oxygen deprivation.

In the meantime, Shanks was done with the intruders. The rage he had inside of him was enough to fight all of them. He was swinging his sword in such a delicate way that made his enemies fear and search for a place to hide. Your fall gave your crew a massive anger which they couldn't contain any longer and lashed out on the enemies with more power.

Seeing his mates handle the foreigners, Shanks immediately jumped off of the deck to save you. The water was dark, chilling and you were nowhere to be found: he had to swim deeper.

He didn't have the time to think about taking off his clothes before jumping, he had only removed his black coat. And the fact that he was wearing layers didn't make it easier for him to swim.

But luckily he found you quicker than expected and got a firm hold on you, manhandling you in order to waste no more time.

When both of you came up to the surface, he called out your name multiple times but you weren't responsive. Holding your fragile frame in his arms, with the help of his crewmates, he managed to get you back on the dock.

Looking at your face in desperation for a sign of life, he tried his really best to keep his composure. But the fear in his eyes was evident. Getting on his knees he laid you on your back, tears welling in his eyes while maintaining a stern, angry look on his face.

He gave you cpr, tried everything in his power but nothing seemed to bring you back to life… to him. After the last mouth to mouth, he was exhausted. He looked at his crewmates for hope, but all he saw was faces close to crying.

He then turned his gaze back to you, drained and hopeless. He put his hand on one of yours and held it gently. Your skin felt strange, it wasn't like what he was used to. With his thumb, he circled swift emotions on the back of your hand and gave it a little squeeze.

…with that, he gave up.

He lowered his head, letting a warm tear move across his cheek and drop onto the wooden floor. He didn't want anyone to see him so… defeated.

Just then you moved your fingers a bit, the warmth of Shanks' hand was a huge contrast compared to the coldness of your damp clothes clinging to your body.

You weakly mewled Shanks' name but he was in a complete trance; He didn't hear you the first time.

You tried calling his name one more time, trying to open your eyes ever so slightly to get a look of his face.

He quickly switched his gaze back to you. there you were breathing, alive. That was the most miraculous thing Shanks swore he had ever experienced.

He softly whispered your name, a look of relief and adoration in his eyes as he tried to help you to get in a sitting position. With the help of his left hand on your lower back and right one holding your hand, you sat up coughing.

‘I thought I lost you.’

'Me too...’ You winced in pain. The air in your lungs was filled with water and the burning feeling made it hard to breathe or speak. Shanks looked worried but he continued.

'I'm glad you're here, with me… I can't bear the thought of you not being right by my side.

I need you more than anything in my life (Y/n) and I'm done trying to hide the fact that I love you. ’

'Shanks… I-’

'Don't tire yourself out sweetheart.’

Not being able to say those three words frustrated you so you grabbed him by his collar and planted a weak kiss on his lips.

Everyone around you was happy.

Ever since that day, Shanks and you became inseparable. Luffy always saw Shanks as a father figure, so it was only normal for him to look up to you as a mother figure.

Even though it created some sort of confusion and the assigned family ties made it difficult being a pirate, all that mattered to the both of you was Luffy's happiness.

*****

Present day

'Luffy! Looks like we have a visitor.’ yelled Nami.

'What? Where?’ He got hyper excited as he always did.

‘'Calm down cap. Visitors are mostly never welcome.’ Told Zoro in his usual grumpy tone.

'Would it hurt to be positive for once, Mosshead?’ asked Sanji.

'If it means that I'll be agreeing with you then yes… Cook.’

They started snarling at each other.

'Guys, quit it!’ Nami yelled once again.

The figure started to become more recognizable. It was a beautiful woman walking with a larger crew behind her but it was quite hard to observe the others: They were further away.

'Anybody know who she is?’ asked Usopp, confusion clear in his voice.

The strawhats stared at her, then turned to their captain in unison. Luffy was awfully quiet.

‘... Who is she Luffy?’ Nami questioned.

'That's my… mother.’ He stated very calmly.

The rest of the crew was shocked for many reasons. One, how could he stay so calm and two, she's his what now?

The woman and Luffy made eye contact. She looked so relieved to see him. Her eyebrows lifted upwards, her eyes teary. The same look was now on Luffy's face.

When they were few feets apart, the woman shouted

'Luffy?’

Upon hearing her calling his name and the sound of her voice, Luffy broke into tears of joy, lifting his arms high above his head, yelling ‘Mom!’ before running to her.

They hugged, everyone was confused. Then, the bigger picture started to unfold: The strangers' jolly ranger was the one no other than Red Haired Pirates’.

‘Are my eyes deceiving me or is that…’

‘Oh my god.’

‘Shanks?’

Luffy was crying like a baby in his mother’s arms while she looked peaceful holding him. They were lost in the moment when Shanks came up and wrapped his arms around both of them.

‘We saw your wanted poster… I’m proud of you kiddo.’ said Shanks pulling away from the hug to look Luffy in his eyes: They were already swollen.

‘We’re all proud of you sweet boy.’ added the woman.

Luffy was enamored, his happiness was all over his face. His hands then went over to his head, moreso to Shanks’ hat.

‘I think this is yours..’ he said, offering it back to Shanks, looking grateful. But Shanks could see through his defeated smile that he loved his hat and didn’t want to let go.

‘Don’t think so, kid. It belongs to you.’ he said, smiling warmly.

‘Plus.. your mother here thinks it suits you more.’ he whispered, rolling his eyes at her, laughing.

‘You think so?’ asked Luffy with a golden retriever energy, smiling ear to ear.

‘I know so.’ she replied, giving him a wink and shoving Shanks’ shoulder playfully.

‘Uh.. sorry to interrupt but… Luffy?’ It was Nami.

‘Yeah?’ Luffy answered, expectant huge eyes directed in her way. He looked completely oblivious.

‘...Care to introduce us?’

‘Oh right!’

He introduced his crew one by one: They were all thrilled to meet Shanks and the others. After all, he was one of the biggest pirates.

But what mattered the most was, Luffy was over the moon: He was with the ones he loved the most. Shanks, his mother and his own crew all in one place. How could he not be?

THE END

[quicktosimp]

Helping Healer

A/N: Welcome to day 3 of Survive the Night! This is my last day at summer camp, so I will be catching up and reading everyone else's fics!!!

Warnings: 18+, NonCon/DubCon, Drugging, Kidnapping, Bondage, Gags, Nipple Play, Sub!Neteyam, Alien Genitalia, Medical Kink, Aged Up Characters

The forest was dark; it seemed like even Pandora's flora refused to wake up. No matter where you turned, there was nothing but darkness, and the animals were silent… It was as if Eywa herself had abandoned the area. 

The Omatikaya had heard of the silent forest, And Jake had sworn off that area of the forest until it could be investigated further. Thus, Jake set out with a small elite team. They searched throughout the day and long past the start of eclipse. Leading us to now. Each member of the party had separated to cover more ground, leaving Neteyam on his own. His bow was drawn close, the feathers of his arrow brushing his cheek, ready to release at the first sight of danger. 

The worst part was the silence; for a Na’vi, all of Eywa’eveng had life. Movement, sounds, yet here… there was nothing…

Neteyam’s footprints were loud to his own ears, causing him to falter slightly. As he rightened himself, a small tawtute walked out. The tawtute was covered from head to two in odd baggy clothing, made of a material that none of the tawtute camps back at home. 

Neteyam rightened his bow; his lips curled into a snarl, “Who are you?”

The tawtute covered in the odd white material cocked their head to the side. They lifted their hand and pointed off to the side. Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Neteyam swung his bow to it. It was only a small tawtute devise, no bigger than his hand. He looked at it oddly, unsure what to think of the small thing as it hovered around. 

“We are testing,” The tawtute mumbled.

Neteyam turned back to ‘her?’, “Testing what exactly? What is your purpose here?” He growled lowly. 

‘She?’ opened her arms wide, hands open, “It is dead here; Pandora is sick,” The tawtute mumbled lowly and then lowered their arms; “we need samples to test.”

He snarled at her, “Explain!” Swinging between the tawtute and the flying machine, he did not like how exposed he was, yet the tawtute had nothing in their hands. 

“We need to see what is causing the death before we can try and heal,” They turn around, “Follow me, and I will show you the rot.”

Neteyam growled lowly as the tawtute walked away. The machine didn’t move from its spot, yet Neteyam felt he had no choice. He reluctantly lowered his bow and followed, his long legs easily catching up with the tawtute. As he followed the tawtute, the jungle became increasingly lifeless. The color drained from the environment, but the plants were in perfect shape; it was odd to Neteyam. 

He watches the tawtute as they stop near a large pit, pointing inside it, “This is where it starts.”

Neteyam’s ears folded back, and his tail flickered erratically as he crept toward the pit. It was a large gaping hole that went further than his eyes could see. 

The tawtute walks closer to Neteyam, grabbing his wrist and gently tugging him back, “Do not get close; the ledge is unstable.”

Neteyam growls as he rips his wrist out of their grasp, “Do not touch me, vrrtep!” but backs away from the pit. 

At his request, the tawtute backs away, not wanting to anger the Na’vi more, “We believe we have found the solution to cure the rot; we just need one final thing.”

Slowly, Neteyam turns to look at the tawtute, frowning in disbelief, “And what is that?”

When the tawtute spoke, their voice seemed lighter and happier, but it did nothing to cover what they said, “You.”

A sharp pain shot through Neteyam’s neck, causing him to yowl. He pivoted around, seeing the flying machine behind him, as he yanked out a needle from his neck. 

“Vrrtep!” Neteyam snarled as he attempted to draw his bow, but his strength failed him. 

The world spun around Neteyam as he stumbled to the jungle floor; the wet, moss-covered ground cushioned his fall. Neteyam struggled to get up, only succeeding in falling again. 

The tawtute walked over, leaning above Neteyam’s head, gently running their gloved hand over his braids.

Neteyam bared his teeth, letting out a weak hiss. 

The tawtute brought their hand to his jaw, easily closing his protesting mouth, and softly spoke, “Shhh, I know this is not pleasant. But don’t worry, I will take care of you.”

The world became too blurry as tears flooded his eyes, and the drug flowed through his system; Neteyam would no longer move his limbs as dark spots overtook his vision.

The tawtute giggled, “It will take a while, but soon you will love your new life.”

With that, Neteyam lost the fight and slipped into the darkness.

Cold that is the first thing that Neteyam feels. He is cold and uncomfortable. Neteyam went to ask why it was so cold, but his mouth refused to obey, instead causing a strangled moan to leave his lips. His mouth felt dry, and he tried to lick his lips, only to taste metal. Neteyam flinched at the offending taste and went to remove it from his mouth, but his arm refused to move. 

Neteyam struggled to open his eyes they felt so dry and heavy. 

Everything was white, causing pain to sear through his head. Another whine ripped from his throat as Neteyam finally peeled his eyes open. This time successfully, something was blocking the lights.

Neteyam’s blurry vision settles on a small tawtute; she is wearing a white coat similar to what the scientists back at camp wear. Their head blocked out the blinding lights.

Through his fuzzy mind, he could feel the warmth as the tawtute rested her hand against his cheek.

The tawtute smiled softly, “Good morning, Neteyam; you slept mighty well. Next time, I’ll make sure to adjust your dosage.” She removed her hand as she checked on the metal prongs in his mouth.

The tawtute couldn’t help but appreciate Neteyam’s body, his long, lean muscles, the result of years of hard work. 

She trailed her fingers down his chest, leaving heat in their wake, “You’re such a pretty thing,” She brought her second hand to his chest, squeezing the firm muscles, “It’s surprising, considering you are a mix breed.”

Neteyam whined at the touch, her warm hands kneading at his chest. His nipples already hardened from the coldness of the room, and her hands were so close to them. 

She grips his chest harder this time, “We weren't sure how you mixed breeds would come out, but even Lo’ak is in near-perfect condition.”

Neteyam’s eyes widened as he attempted to move, but his body refused to cooperate, laying limp on the metal table, “N-nnnn,” He moaned out.

The tawtute rubbed her thumbs over Neteyam’s pert nipples, giggling lightly, “Don’t worry, Lo’ak is in good hands; I know everyone on his team, and they’ll treat him like a prince.” She leaned down and took one of the pert nipples into her mouth, suckling on the hardened flesh.

Neteyam’s breath hitches, unable to move away from the wet warmth on his flesh. The gentle sucking sent waves of heat through his body, and he fought to not let a sound leave his lips. 

The tawtute chuckles as she pulls off with a pop, “You like that, hmmm?” She walks away and grabs a nearby clipboard, writing something down, “We’ll have to explore that further.”

Neteyam sluggishly blinks back tears, the turmoil of the tawtute touching him, nausea pooling in his stomach as he fights the sluggish heat spreading across his body to his groin. How his little brother is here facing the same torture, yet he can’t move a muscle. Uselessness spreads through him as tears slip past his eyes. 

“Oh, Neteyam, don’t cry,” she cooed, wiping off his tears. I know you’re very protective of your siblings; that's why I made sure Lo’ak is only with the best.”

She reached over to the metal tray next to Neteyam’s head, grabbing a syringe. “I’ve been watching you for so long, seeing you train, leading all those missions. Hell, I even gave you information just so that I could see you closer.”

Neteyam slowly blinked his eyes down to her hands; there was a tube in the crook of his arm; the tawtute grabbed the open end and inserted the syringe, quickly injecting the substances into his bloodstream. 

Warmth spread from the crook of his arm and throughout the rest of his body. “There now,” she cooed, discarding the syringe. “No more worries for you; the only thing you need to focus on is how I make you feel.”

“Mmmm,” Neteyam couldn’t stop moaning as he became warmer. The heat increased in his body, and the metal table became even colder underneath him. His brain became fuzzy, and his thinking slowed like molasses. 

The tawtute giggled lightly, “I bet that feels so much better,” she ran her hand over Neteyam’s braids, causing the beads to clink against the metal table. 

Neteyam shivered as her cold hand touched his heated skin. He wanted to lean into the cool touch but remained limp on the table, “Mnmmmmnn.”

His mouth felt dry, and he attempted to lick at his mouth only to taste the metal again; Netyeam tried again, whining as he met more metal, and his mouth remained dry.

“Poor Teyam, I know the spider gag isn’t comfortable, but right now, it’s for the best,” she cooed, leaning over him, "But maybe I can help with that little dryness that’s bothering you.”

Neteyam’s eyes slowly flickered to her face; if she weren’t a tawtute, she’d be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her smile was gentle and blocked out the horridly bright light; it cast a halo over her head, just like the angels Dad had told Neteyam about. 

Neteyam also remembered the story of Lucifer and how the beautiful angel of music became the reason for eternal damnation.

She brought her hand down to his cheek, rubbing it lovingly, causing the heat to bloom even more before spitting in Neteyam’s mouth. A yip-like noise came from Neteyam as her spit landed on his tongue: paskalin, It tasted as if she had eaten paskalin and something else remotely unique that Neteyam had never tasted before. 

It coated his tongue and slid down, the fire following the trail. As it reached the back of his throat, it forced him to swallow it. Neteyam’s throat bobbed as shame flooded him but was quickly followed by heat to his slit. 

She continued to gently rub his cheek, smiling softly, “What a good boy you are; you didn’t even try and fight it.” She was gleeful, questioning if Neteyam would have to be on the drug regimen as long as she initially believed.

A spark of rage flooded through Neteyam, followed by humiliation, yet it didn’t stop the muddiness on his head or the way his cock twitched in his slit. 

Regretfully, she removes her hand with a sigh, “Unfortunately, as much as I’d love to play with you all day, I do have to study you first.”

She turns towards the tools laid on the metal table; Neteyam’s eyes sluggishly follow her body, his brain too fuzzy to think of what she would do next. Flashes of heat rolled through his body, distracting him from whatever it was she was doing. 

If Neteyam could move, he’d wraith on the table or bring his hand down to his slit to ease the ache there. The way his cock keeps twitching inside him, begging for attention but unable to move outside of his slit for the freedom it craves.

The metal table's wheels squeaked over as she set it closer to the examination table. She grabs a pair of blue gloves and swiftly snaps them on, “I know these aren’t the most comfortable thing, but it is required for your examination.” She explained pitifully. 

She picked up a pen-like object, like the recorders that the scientists like to use back at base. She clipped it to her white lab coat and began to speak. 

“This is Dr. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), beginning the examination on the half-breed Na’vi, the subject's full name: Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan,” She stated expressionlessly. 

“In my previous logs, I have detailed that the subject, Neteyam, was physically above the average Na’vi, possibly due to his mixed heritage. However, the subject's mother, Neytiri, is a highly physical warrior, whom he seems to take after most.” She moved up to his head, parting his braids gently; the latex of the gloves felt horrendous in his hair, “Despite the subject looking almost completely Na’vi, he does share one physical human trait: the subject's kuru is placed lower along the base of the skull, same as his Avatar father.”

She pulled her hands away from his hair, letting her fingers skip into his mouth; all Neteaym could taste was the latex as she felt his tongue and teeth. “Teeth are perfectly proportioned,” she said, removing her fingers and moving to his chest. 

She felt at the prominent X shape found on Na’vi males: “The X shape is fully visible as it should be on an adult Na’vi male; we still do not understand the reasoning behind it.”

Neteyam’s eyes fluttered as his chest was touched, an area sensitive to him. The metal prongs in his mouth ensured his gasps couldn’t be held back.

“The subject is showing signs of arousal from examining his pectorals,” Her hand grabbed the firm muscle, squeezing it tightly.

“Oooooooo,” Neteyam’s timber voice sang through the room, drool dripping out of his mouth and down his face.

Dr. (Y/N) chuckled softly, “The subject's pectorals  are highly sensitive, as previous researchers have noted in Na’vi sexual biology.”

Bringing her free hand up, she started to squeeze the muscles,  encouraging the sounds from Neteyam, “As heard over the recording, the subject is easily aroused by stimulation to his pectorals,” Her grin looked sweet. 

Despite his loopy thought process, he knew that nothing but evil was behind her eyes. Yet her touch was sinfully perfect; each squeeze brought heat to his slit, leaving it relaxed and gaping for attention. His cock kept twitching inside his slit, the drugs making it impossible for him to get hard.

Regretfully, she moved her hands away from his chest, “It has been over 23 years since we have studied the Na’vi genitalia; we will now check to see if there are any differences between the previous research or if the subjects mixed blood created a biological difference.”

She placed her gloved hands on either side of his slit, “The central slit containing the subject's genitalia is perfectly placed, starting just below the hip and leading downwards.”

Just from the light touch near his slit made him crazy; he wanted to fuck into her hand or pussy just to relive the ache. Neteyam’s eyes widened as he realized what he thought; how could he ever think about wanting this vrrtep? She kidnapped him, drugged him, Lo’ak…. She kidnapped Lo’ak! Yet here, Neteyam lies lusting after her touch. 

“The central slit is already relaxed; it is not as swollen as previous research has stated. However, this is to be expected with the drugs keeping the subject cooperative,” Slowly she applies more pressure to the areas around his slit, forcing it open even more.

“Mmmmhhhh!” Neteyam moaned loudly as the cool air of the room entered his slit; he had never felt anything like it before, it was so cold he wanted to flinch away, and the way he was exposed was mortifying; Neteyam’s cheeks flushed, and tears spilled from his eyes.

Dr. (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully, “The subject's internal pouch is the proper color and dark pink with tints of purple,” she slipped two fingers inside Neteyam’s slit, gently prying it open.

Neteyam screamed from the pleasure; this slit had never been open like this before; the two fingers stuffed his already full slit even more, and his cock attempted to twitch in his slit. His hips twitched lightly, trying to get closer to the stimulation.

Dr. (Y/N) grinned, before slowly thrusting her fingers in and out of his slit, “The subject has begun overriding the drugs in his system; the pleasure center in the  Na’vi brain creates a chemical that neutralizes the effects.”

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Neteyam continued to moan as his slit was slowly fucked, her fingers wiggling and him spreading wide. 

“Due to the nature of the drugs in the subject's system, they will not be able to have an erection, nor will the subject ejaculate. However, this is a prime opportunity to study their reactions,” She stated plainly, as a sadistic grin covered her face.

Neteyam’s legs started to shake as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, but nothing more happened; it just kept going on and on and on.

His moans became shrill, turning to whines and cries. The pleasure never peeked, never grew more; it never ended: a constant assault of pleasure that is barely distinguishable from pain.

“Sop pease,” Neteyam cried out, his mouth working around the prongs in this mouth.

Despite all the drugs wearing off, his cock still hadn’t gotten hard. He just wanted it to end.

Dr. (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully before removing her fingers, slick-covered his gloves, glistening in the sun overhead light, “Alright, but only because you asked nicely.”

“Tank Yoo,” He moaned, letting his head rest against the metal, a pool of his tears soaking into his braids.

She giggled sweetly as if she hadn’t just tortured him for hours, “Now be a good boy, Neteyam. Get some good sleep for me so we can play again later,” she cooed.

Tears flowed faster from his dejected eyes, despairing at the thought of doing this again with her. 

So lost in his own thoughts, Neteyam didn’t see her grab the open end of his IV, inserting something into his bloodstream.

She pet his face gently, his slick now covering his face, “Good night, my Neteyam,” She whispered softly.

Neteyam’s eyes grew heavy, and this time, he relished the darkness that took over.

Banner by @cafekitsune

Taglist: @xylianasblog, @eywaite, @tallulah477, @hotdsworld

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

The lonely king - chapter three

The room was so dark it was an oubliette. Light squeezed in through a gap in the torn curtains, and you could see the silhouettes of clutter around the room. Stumbling, you managed to open the curtains and cursed your luck. Dust coated the walls, cobwebs hung on the corners of the ceiling, and of course, there wasn’t a ceiling supply in sight.

Of course, the room was two fucking stories. Even worse, the stairs were littered with shit.

Wading your way through the hoard, you managed to get to the bathroom. Light squeezed in through a circular, dust covered window. With a sigh, you pushed through more random brick-a-brack– old dolls, a random sock, and other things you couldn’t begin to name– and turned on the water. Brown sludge oozed into the iron claw tub and you held back a gag, waiting for the water to run clear. As soon as it did, you grabbed your pocket knife and cut your sweater into a crop top, dipping the makeshift rag into the water.

Then, you wiped a layer of dust from the window.

Well, it was a start.

Just as you started of course, the goblins invaded the bathroom like an invasive wasp species. They crowded the tiny room, climbing on top of the walls, swinging on a chandelier– who puts a fucking chandelier in the bathroom?-- and somehow bounced off the damn walls! You grabbed the nearest one by the collar and opened the window, tossing him out.

You went back to wiping the window, and as you did, a tiny goblin climbed into the sink. To be frank, you couldn’t tell if the guy was trying to break dance or possibly having a seizure. Sweat gathered at your brow, and you wiped it. The window was clean. You bent down to wipe the tub. All you had to do was keep going. Start small. Then get bigger. A goblin glanced at the tub, meeting your eyes. He then dumped a bucket of sludge into it.

You turned on the shower and shot him with water, before rinsing the crap away. After that, you filled the bathtub to the brim with hot water.

The next few hours divulged into frantic, sweaty madness, yet somehow, you grew a rhythm within it– every few minutes, you’d corner a goblin, load them with trash, and then toss them out the window. It all merged into a sort of music, the sound of your frantic heartbeat, your desperation and the scattering of your footsteps. You melted into it, burned into it, ignoring the ache in your muscles and the throb of your knuckles. You made do. Old bars of soap cleansed the toilet, the tile, the sink, and as soon as the bathroom was clean, the goblins ignored it.

Now, they were jumping like monkeys on the bed.

Paying them no mind, you pulled out old soap you found in the cabinet and dropped it into the now empty tub, filling it with water once more. As soon as that was done, you jumped into the rhythm again. You were used to chaos– working your job certainly didn’t help. The life you had lived thus far certainly didn’t help. It seemed as if that was all life was– a continuous, swirling, twisting steam of chaos.

“My, my, my, look at you!”

The goblins stilled. You didn’t. Even as he cleared his throat.

Instead, in the long awkward silence of the fae’s arrival, you’d grabbed a goblin by the arm, filled her shirt with trash, and tossed her out the window. She lay on the ground for a moment, dazed as her body popped itself back together, and then ran off. The strange man, if you could call him that, stared as you dusted off your hands and wiped your brow. He strutted towards the window like a proud peacock and looked down at his kingdom in satisfaction. You didn’t join him.

“I'd forgotten how pretty the view is from here,” he murmured, before sighing, “what a pity I won't be able to enjoy it! This room will be far too messy for my liking!” The goblins watched him. He rolled his eyes and turned to his subjects, gesturing, “Well? What are you all standing around for? Do what you're good at and cause a ruckus!”

It was as if the bubble of quiet popped, unleashing the hoard, and he smirked at you. You grabbed the nearest one, tied a pair of old shoes to his waist, and threw him out. You then looked at the others, hands on your hips.

“I want a pair of shoes.” one said.

“Yeah, everyone’s gettin free stuff. I want free stuff.”

“It’s trash,” you replied.

“SOMEONE GOT SOMETHIN GLITTERY!” One yelled, throwing their arms in the air, shaking with excitement, “AND I WANTS SOMETHING GLITTERY!”

“Yeah! So do I!”

“Me too!”

Their teeth sharpened, and their voices hissed, and maniacal laughter came from them. The Goblin King stood, tall and proud behind them, doing nothing. Not playing fair. That’s how it’d been all your life. People around you held all the cards while you held none, but you knew that in order to play this game, you didn’t need cards.

You just needed to be smart.

“I have glittery lip gloss.” you said, plucking the tube from your pocket, before swatching it on your hand, showing it to them, “It’s for your lips. Do you want some?”

They nodded eagerly.

You nodded, “Well, I'm thinking of tossing it out. I don't really need it, you know.”

They gasped, others shook with unhinged excitement. You looked towards the strange man, before looking out the window, watching goblins flock by. Clearly, that's what they were, and it was obvious he was their king. Just like it was obvious they were groupies for him– and here you were, surrounded by all of his abandoned stuff!

You held up the tube, and it caught the sunlight perfectly, casting holographic rainbows around the room, highlighting the glitter inside.

“Don't you want to be just like your king?” You asked, “he clearly likes glitter.”

They nodded.

“But you know what would be even better? If you gave this to him! It's brand new! I haven’t even gotten to use it yet! Can you believe it?”

They started to froth at the mouth now, looming closer. Some growled, others grunted, and your heart squeezed. They came closer, closer.

“Don't you want to give it to him?”

“Yes! Yes!” They called in unison, eyes glimmering like rubies, voices like hisses and animal calls, “yes! Yes! Something glittery for our king!”

“Then you better go fetch it!” You yelled, throwing it out the window.

They gasped, before all of them jumped out the window, diving after it. The others outside caught a glimpse of it, and dove after it. The goblins crowded around the lip gloss, tossing it, grabbing it, and the Goblin King watched, mouth agape, as they did.

He scoffed, “Clever.”

You grinned and dusted off your hands. He sent you another sneer.

“I'd keep cleaning, if i were you, it’d be a pity for your work to go to waste– it'd be even worse if you didn't finish on time,” he sent you a mock frown, summoning a clock, “remember, human, that time is short!”

He glared at the goblins outside.

“Just like my patience!” he muttered, before stomping off, leaving you alone.

You didn’t waste time trying to figure out what he felt, or risking his wrath. Instead, you continued on, picking up old trash, and setting aside sparkly things to throw outside to the goblins.

You also found, of all things, a rusted bucket. With a grin, you went to the bathroom and filled it with soap and water, scrubbing the floor like your life depended on it.

The Goblin King came back of course. He glared at you. Then, he glared at the room, trying his best to not look surprised.

“I ought to throw you into the bog of stench for all the chaos you've caused!”

You said nothing, and instead kept working on tying an old bristle brush to a hockey stick you found. You looked down at your laceless sneakers. This was worth it. Just a chance. Just a chance at having something that was yours, at having that quiet you always longed for, where for once, the world turned off.

“All the trouble!” The Goblin King wailed, “All the strife! I’m at my wits end! Look outside, you cretin! Look at all those goblins! Fighting over– gods, I don’t even know what they’re fighting over now!”

You tied the brush to the hockey stick, nodding in satisfaction. Then, you looked outside, to where the goblins crawled on top of each other. One screamed, before bashing another one upside the head with a chair.

“I think it’s a windchime,” you muttered.

He went towards the window and sighed like a dying man. He glared at you. He sneered. Why, he even glowered, but you were too busy sweeping the floor to notice. With a roll of his eyes, he continued brooding.

Somehow, the first floor got cleaned. The bed was made, the floor was swept, and even better, it shone! Somehow, even the stairs got cleaned, and as you marched up them, you couldn’t help the grin you wore. You had a chance, a chance. A stupid, single chance.

The first thing you did when you got to the other floor was draw back the curtains, revealing glittery trinkets. You grinned, and plucked one from the floor. If you had the time, you would’ve untangled the crystals, but instead, you opened the window.

“Yoohoo!” You called, waving what seemed the trinket in the air.

The goblins froze. They stared at it.

You threw it out the window and watched the stampede unfold again. You held back laughter as you heard a cry of anguish come from downstairs.

“It's just a damned trinket!” The Goblin King cried, “I hated that damn thing!”

You let him yell as you collected a pile of shiny things to throw.

Hours passed, and whenever he tried to distract you, you simply ignored him. When it got too quiet, you threw something shiny out the window, and relished in the way his majesty desperately tried to control it all.

He barely managed to distract you anymore. He was too busy running around, yelling at goblins, yelling out the window, going to the kitchen for a cup of tea, and then proceeding to repeat the process three to five times before standing around and glaring at you.

Soon enough, though, the glowering turned into a smirk, and his eyes shimmered in excitement. You worked faster, throwing out more things, scrubbing the floors, dusting the shelves, organizing, reorganizing, and feeling some semblance of victory as his smirk stilted. You ran down the stairs to scrub the tub, and ran around the room as The Goblin King pulled out a clock, watching you. The clock ticked, louder and louder, and your heart raced more and more. You rushed up and down the steps, putting things away, dusting off things, making last minute adjustments until– you heard it.

A gong that rumbled so loud it reverberated around the castle and bounced in your skull. You sank to the floor, panting as he inspected the room. Stomping around, he opened up the closets and drawers, groaning and moaning. You color coded everything! Separated the seasonal clothes! What did he think? What did it mean? He clamored up the steps and you listened to him rummage through the bookshelves. You alphabetized everything! Even organized it by genre and dates published!

There had to be something you missed.

You laid down on the cool, clean floor, not noticing his majesty coming down the stairs, and even worse, you didn’t pay attention to the scowl on his face. Surely, after all the ruckus you caused, all the chaos, there had to be something you missed! He couldn’t even thwart your attempts because you.. You cheated! He clomped to his childhood vanity, and ran a finger across the aged wood. Clean. Spotless. You even got the knick knacks dusted. He squinted at his old quilt, his old canopy– clean! Clean, somehow, clean!

The room looked like how he remembered it. You even managed to find a button to sew on his old childhood toy. A stuffed owl he used to carry around everywhere. He named it Jareth.

"You did it," he said.

"Of course I did!" You gasped, "And now, you're going to hire me!"

He pursed his lips in response, noting the cobwebs in your hair. You were utterly pathetic, really, like a bug, yet you somehow managed to cheat, and even worse, you dared to glare at him. He tilted his head, tapping his chin. What harm could you do, really? You just got lucky.

"I cleaned it!: you cried, “Everything! Look at the ceiling, at the floor! I got the vanity, the closet–"

"Where is everything?"

"The junk? Goblins. Either that, or it’s been organized!”

He hummed in response, and turned towards his bed again. For a moment, he felt a goblin kissing his head goodnight as he held that silly owl to his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t hear you panting, nor the goblins fighting outside, but just the quiet warmth of a summer evening.

When was the last time he had been in a room within his castle and felt that?

"You're hired." He then casually looked at you, before pulling a golden necklace out of the air, coated in emeralds, along with a pearl necklace and threw it at you, "Here is your payment."

Your eyes widened.

That wasn't a part of the deal, but like a greedy goblin, you reached for the jewelry anyway.

"You start tomorrow."

After mentally going over your work schedule, you nodded. You could make it work. He leaned over you, hands still on his hips.

"You shall be at that circle at dawn's first light. Any earlier, and I will let you go. Any later, and you can forget about a job."

You nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

You came right on time the next day. He gave you the same time, of course– thirteen hours, this time with cleaning supplies and a small chaotic horde of goblins. Though, they quickly scurried when you threatened to use them as a broom.

Soon enough, time passed, and after a quick inspection of the rooms you cleaned, you were given your reward with an order to come back tomorrow.

As you drove home, you noticed the sun was high in the sky. You gripped the steering wheel and looked at the pile of gold and jewels resting in your seat.

Your jaw set. You made your choice. You had to live with it now.

Pulling to the side of the road, you looked up the nearest pawn shop and drove straight to it.

You came out of it with an entire month's worth of groceries in your pocket.

[quaranmine]

Letters from the Lookout #4 - Letters Unsent

(HC Firewatch AU snippets, 1,656 words)

Grian wants to write a letter to Scar. He refuses to dictate it, though. CW: bringing back some of the suicidal ideation from chapter 11

August 1989

Jimmy’s flat is pleasantly dark and cozy. The sky outside is dark and rain spatters across the windows. The living room has a lamp lit in the corner, as well as warm light spilling out from the kitchen. The TV is on in the corner, and Joel and Lizzie sit curled up on the couch in front of it watching football. Jimmy isn’t here right now, having popped out to grab some takeout for them all. Joel is under strict orders to pay close attention to the game so he can fill Jimmy in when he gets back. 

It’s lovely, honestly. It feels…domestic. That’s actually something Jimmy had joked about, earlier—he’d said he felt like he needed to domesticate Grian again, after he spent so long during the summer living in the wilderness. 

Grian’s fine with that as long as being domesticated means he can melt into his bed and never leave. With the lights off, preferably. Jimmy seems to think it means other things though. Trips to the shop. To the pub. To the train station. Watching football on the television. 

So tonight Grian’s out of his room to socialize. And by socializing, he means sitting at the kitchen table alone with a notebook and pen while Joel and Lizzie sit in the other room. 

It’s been weeks since he last spoke to Scar. The absence grates on him. Scar would know what to say. He’d understand Grian. He’d fix it all. 

Grian can hardly think about the last time he spoke to Scar. He remembers snatches and pieces of it, but mostly his mind just flits over the day, refusing to settle on any one moment. There is a wall being built in his mind to protect him from the unimaginable. He tries to keep the lid on those memories tight, like it’s his personal Pandora’s Box. It doesn’t stop him from having nightmares about it—about the terrible way Mumbo looked, about the way he wanted to die, about the way the fire smelled and roared—but during the day he always lets his mind slide right off the idea entirely. 

Scar saved his life though. And he deserves more than radio silence for it. 

Grian still has his Forest Service-issued radio. It’s in his room here in Jimmy’s flat. The rangers didn’t bother to take it back from him after they visited him in the hospital, or perhaps they didn’t realize he even still had it. Grian still listens in on it sometimes. He listens to the bustling conversations that the English HAM radio enthusiasts in his area are having on the national talk frequency. He never speaks. Just listens. 

Scar is across an ocean right now, sitting in that lookout tower in the middle of the mountains, and he’s alone again. He’s the reason Grian is right here now. He’s also the reason Mumbo has a proper grave to visit. 

And thus, Grian wants to do better. There isn’t much he wants to do at all these days, aside from simply ceasing to exist, but this is one of them. He wants to close the loop. He wants to apologize. He wants to thank Scar. 

How does one reach a lookout on duty? By letter, of course. 

Grian knows the address of the Wapiti District Ranger’s office. He knows that any letter sent there addressed to Scar will eventually make its way to his cabin via supply drop, or Scar himself swinging by to pick it up on a day off. He just has to write it first. 

The writing is the part that is proving to be tricky, however. The burns on Grian’s arms, and the other exposed parts of his body have already healed but his hands remain a source of frustration. Four weeks on, they’re healed too—technically. He attends physical therapy twice a week. His doctor is worried about something called “contractures” that are causing his fingers and wrist to be consistently stiff. 

He is completely terrified that this will be forever. He’s terrified that the rest of his life is going to be full of fumbling around with things with fingers that don’t work quite right anymore. He never knew how much he took for granted until he couldn’t button his own shirt anymore. 

The doctor is confident it won’t be forever, so Grian clings to that little piece of hope like a life preserver. The doctor just says it needs time, compression, and therapy. The burns could have been significantly worse. If they were, the conversation would’ve been different. He’s been wearing a compression garment on his hand since the moment it was possible to do so and the doctor hasn’t given him permission yet to stop wearing it.  

He’s allowed to take it off now and then though, and so right now it is removed so that he can grasp the pen better. His hands still have poor grip strength, and the pen shakes. It’s either that or from the emotion. He closes his eyes, and pours his focus into keeping the pen straight, but trying to force precision is just as painful as it is ineffective. 

He tries to write, and the pen skitters across the page instead. 

He slams the pen down in frustration and runs his hands through his hair. It’s not working. It’s not going to work. He slowly starts to put the compression glove back on his hands. 

He needs…help. 

“Lizzie?” he calls. 

“Yeah?” she says back from the couch. 

He sets his teeth, and sighs. “Can you come help me with something for a moment?”

A moment later she wanders into the kitchen. Her pink hair is tied in a messy ponytail. For some reason when she walks in, Grian gets the distinct feeling he’s being babysat by them while Jimmy is out. He shakes the feeling off. It’s irrational; Jimmy is only out to pick up food for them, and Lizzie and Joel were invited to hang out. They probably did this every week while Grian was in America. Now he’s just able to be present too. 

“Whatcha need?” she asks. 

“I was trying to write a letter,” he says, and his face flushes with embarrassment. “I, um, can’t.”

He sees her look at the table, and back at him, the realization dawning on her without him having to say it out loud. “You want me to write it for you?” she says.

He nods. “If you don’t mind.”

She grins, pulls out one of the chairs from the table, and sits down. “Sure! I’d love to. Who’s it for?”

“It’s—well, it’s for a guy named Scar.”

“Scar?” she says, and then adds: “That’s a really weird name.” From anyone else, Grian would get defensive on Scar’s behalf, but he recognizes Lizzie’s irreverent bluntness well. 

“That’s your friend from the forest, right?” Joel calls from the living room where he’s been apparently eavesdropping. The way he calls it the forest makes it sound like a concept, a thing, and not a real place Grian briefly used to live. 

Lizzie makes a noise of recognition then. “Ohhh,” she says. “Now I remember you mentioning him before.”

“Yeah, he was in the lookout in the next sector over. He was my friend,” Grian says. “And that’s a nickname.”

“What’s his real name?” Lizzie asks. She pokes him in the shoulder. “You don’t talk much about him.”

Grian freezes. “I…don’t know,” he says. “He never told me his real name. It never seemed to matter.”

How could he not know? He’d never asked. It didn’t feel important. Scar was Scar, and that was all that was ever needed. Maybe it had been all Scar was ever comfortable with. 

Grian came to realize during his time in Shoshone National Forest that in the backpacking and associated communities, names were a much looser concept. On the Appalachian trail in the east and the Pacific Crest Trail in the west, through-hikers often adopted trail names for the journey. Similarly, Scar wasn’t the only fire lookout Grian had heard about over the summer who chose to go by some enigmatic name. 

“Okay!” Lizzie says, sensibly moving straight along past Grian’s mini crisis. She pulls the piece of paper over and grabs the pen. “Dear Scar…” she dictates aloud. Then she looks back up at him. “What next?”

“Um, let’s start by saying I’m having a friend write this for me,” he says.

“Dear Scar…I’m having my wonderful, talented friend write this letter for me,” she starts. Grian rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Something about gift horses. “Next?”

“I’m writing this to say…” he trails off. To say what? How, exactly, is he going to put this into words? He hasn’t planned this out at all but more significantly, he’s not sure he even can.

Dear Scar, I’m alive because you were looking out for me. I’m sorry I left the country before I could tell you that myself. 

Dear Scar, I didn’t kill myself because you talked me into running from the fire again. I’m sorry that I still want to do it sometimes, but I haven’t yet and I think I’m too tired to. 

Dear Scar, you didn’t think I was crazy when everyone else did. I’m sorry I got angry with you. I’m sorry I wasn’t nicer to you sometimes. 

Dear Scar, you made me laugh. I miss talking every day. 

“What do you want to say?” Lizzie prompts, and Grian realizes that he hasn’t said anything for quite a long time at this point. 

“I—I don’t know,” he says. The kitchen suddenly seems so hot and enclosed right now. “I’m sorry,” he says, and stands up. “I’m sorry,” he says again, grabs the papers from Lizzie. “I’m gonna—I'm gonna do this on my own, thank you.”

He goes to his bedroom, locks the door, and doesn’t come back out until Jimmy is knocking on it and begging him to eat.

[languajix]

Cabin 14 Beach Day RP

Cabin 14 RPed the beginning of their collaboration project with Cabin 15 for the beach sports day event! Then we fic-ified it a little for readability.

As morning broke across the campground of the Fandom Family Reunion, whatever passed for the sun began to rise and paint everything golden and glowing, warming the scales of the turtle known amongst his cabin as Uncle Mike. He had just been on an early morning walkabout, popping in to say hi to a few friends he'd made thus far while his nephews napped in their little bedside nest.

As he approached the front door, he noticed a flyer stuck to it. Interesting. He tugged the loose piece of paper off as he scanned the contents, rocking on his heels and growing more excited by the second, then burst through the door and brandished it in the air with a grin.

"Hope everybody packed their swim trunks and snorkels! Looks like we've got a beach sports day!"

Spirit POV

Everyone on both floors of Cabin Fourteen were bustling through their usual morning routines. While his brother Mika brushed his teeth in the bathroom, Spirit sat on the edge of their bunk, swinging his legs, watching everybody do their thing. ICE Donnie was blinking himself awake from his pillow pile, rubbing his eyes with a groan. Uncle Mike's baby turtle nephews were making little sleepy peeps as well.

Through the gaps in the second floor railing, Spirit could see Scout and Scav leaning towards each other, deep in some sort of conversation that had morphed into nonsense noise by the time it filtered down to him. On the other side, Angelo had his back to the cabin, arm raised, glowing a little like he was doing some sort of magic.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spirit even thought he might have caught a glimpse of one of their special ops cabinmates moving past a window. Maybe. They were really hard to spot unless they wanted to be seen.

Then Uncle Mike burst in with an announcement! The next event was going to be...

“Beach?!” Spirit squeaked in excitement, he’d never been to the beach nor had he ever had a beach-related experience in the past, but there was a first for everything!

Uncle Mike raised the flyer in the air as though it would help prove his point in any way, wrinkled and folded over on itself as it was. "Yep! I've been by the lake before, and there is, in fact, a beach! Sand, something that I am pretty sure might be water if you squint... looks like it's going to be a fun day! I might see if my almost-brother Don wants to watch the kids; maybe they can build sandcastles or something."

Don. Spirit remembered Uncle Mike coming back to the cabin in the past couple of weeks with some stories to tell, saying he'd met a younger version of his brother - the Donatello who was in another dimension. The Donatello that Uncle Mike had met at the camp was apparently double mutated, or something - big, with lots of teeth, and Uncle Mike couldn't understand him through the growls, but as with most things, that didn't stop Uncle Mike from talking and trying to make friends.

Uncle Mike hopped towards his duffel bag at the foot of his bed, rummaging around in it for a second, and then humming happily while pulling something out: a strip of red fabric with two eyeholes.

He leaned in towards everybody currently in the cabin. Then he leaned back, looked around as though wary of spies or sneaky listeners-in, and finally leaned back towards his cabinmates. "...okay, everybody in here is going to see through my disguise faster than Clark Kent's glasses, so I'm letting you in on a little... secret. Me and a buddy of mine who is equally as handsome and fond of the color orange - we might actually be twins from another ooze - are gonna be causing some chaos. This guy has lots of great ideas, honestly, and I can't wait. We are cooking, as the youth say.

...But! Since this is a Raph-themed event, it's only appropriate for a Raph to be the one doing it. And if at the end of it all, they can't pin it on me because they think my brother - who is conveniently not here - was behind it all? Well then, that would be just too bad, wouldn't it?"

He dangled the red mask in front of them with a very devious grin and a wink. "I can trust you guys not to tell, right? Keep my secret identity?"

It took a second for Spirit to grasp what Uncle Mike was saying before it finally clicked and he let out a gasp and clapped his hands with a cheeky smile, “your secret is safe with me, Uncle Raphy!”

"I knew I could count on you, Spirit," Uncle Mike Uncle Raphy said, deepening his voice and doing a funny accent. "You make me - your red, buff, grumpy-on-the-outside-but-soft-on-the-inside uncle Raph who has been here the entire time - very proud. And if the best most awesome uncle Mike was here in the room with us, I'm sure he'd say the same."

With that, Uncle Mike pulled his own mask off over his head and worked at wrapping the red one around his eyes, doing up the knot with his singular hand. He started to frown and flex his arm muscles a little. Was this how Uncle Mike's Raph acted? Frowny and kind of silly, with a deep voice and an accent?

The cabin door swung open again, a little more controlled, this time, and Raphael and Cerulean made their way inside, boxes and boxes in hand. "Hey guys! We brought breakfast!" Raphael grinned, brandishing the towering stack in his arms.

"And news," Cerulean chimed in. "We met a few of our cabin neighbours people over at the mess hall. They're planning a capture the flag event and were wondering if we want to join."

Uncle Mike, er, Uncle Raphy coughed, as though the fake voice was kind of rough on his vocal cords. "As an experienced Raph of many years, capture the flag sounds right up my alley. I'm in." 

From the far wall where he was rifling through a cupboard, Marco frowned and looked down at Cerulean. “Sounds like a battle, I’m in. Let’s make sure our buddies on the roof are informed. I would be surprised if they are not spying on us now. I’ll bring one of my brothers with me.”

"First things first, we brought some rolls, some toast, some boxes of cereals..." Raph walked over to the kitchen and plopped his stack of boxes down on the counter, flipping the lids, pulling out the steaming contents of the baked goods and setting them out on the table plate by plate. It all looked so good that Spirit wished, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, that he could eat. Raph gestured over the spread. "Take your pick, guys."

"Good idea. We can strategise during breakfast." Cerulean pulled out a kettle to make some tea. He reached into his pocket for his phone, quickly typing a message before sending it.

Marco hummed in thought. "...well, is mystic powers a rule? If it isn’t, then I’ll take my Leo with me."

"Not sure. We didn't want to set anything in stone before we get everyone's agreement," Cerulean clarified as he slid his phone back in his pocket.

Marco smiled, his sharp teeth peeking out just slightly, giving it a menacing edge that sent a thrill down Spirit's spine. “Heh, for once I’m excited for one of these lame events.” Knowing Marco as he had for these past few weeks, Spirit could tell he was planning to scare the crap out of the other camp members.

“Wait are we playing capture the flag or going on a mission?” Spirit inquired as he drifted closer to the kitchen. He thought this was going to be a family friendly game; was he wrong?

Hunter POV

Hunter and the rest of their family followed Navy down from their little corner upstairs as the smell of fresh food wafted up through the kitchen and slowly filled the cabin. His big brother quickly whispered to them to feed themselves, and gave a quiet thank you awkwardly to the air, as none of them knew who brought the food.

As they sat down to eat, the conversation started flowing again over their heads, and Hunter could tell the moment Navy caught the mention of a game, perking up. “Oh, I'm sure it'd be great to do more socializing with other cabins! You know, since we've really not gone out and done much, and-”

“I don't know if a game of capture the flag would be good for ‘socialization’, big guy,” Hunter butted in, taking a bite out of the toast he had grabbed. He continued talking with a full mouth. “It's sort of, like, a competition.”

Navy clapped his fins together. “Well, uh, we can make it a friendly competition!”

How optimistic. “With those guys?” Hunter gestured with a thumb in Marco and Cerulean's general direction. “Good luck.”

"...Well you're certainly perceptive, aren't you?"

A figure shifted into view from behind Marco. He tipped his goggles up from the bridge of his beak to settle above his orange mask, right-eye seemingly brighter than usual. Once completely exposed, his palms found place in the 'empty' holster pockets hanging from his hips.

"Due to current circumstances, I will be the sole participant amongst my unit. I do hope that's not a problem."

It was one of those sneaky guys from the roof. The orange one. Mikhail. Hunter hadn't had much of a chance to get to know them all, personally, because they were always off doing some sneaky thing or another, but he was in tune enough with his instincts that he could usually smell or hear when they passed by. There were some things you just couldn't hide. Not from him.

Marco raised a brow. "Mhm, fair enough. I would rather not lose to a bunch of kids, so let’s not lose, okay?"

"Then perhaps we should call everyone for a quick meeting, yes? To figure out who would be joining the event." Cerulean drummed his fingers on the counter he was currently leaning against.

Marco nodded. “Hm, yes. I already have my pick. Not that you already hate him or anything, hence that’s why he’s tagging along.”

“Oh, fantastic.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “This will absolutely contribute to a great team environment.”

“We will be discussing the nitty gritty of the game with Cabin 15. We probably should make our way there after breakfast. For the meantime, tea?” Cerulean pulled out a couple of mugs.

Spirit turned to Mika, who was peacefully chewing on some cereal. “Are they planning a murder or a game?” He asked. Mika just air tapped his head and continued to eat. “Don’t worry about it,” was all he said.

Marco slightly raised his hand. “I’ll take a tea, if you don’t mind.”

“Before we go, I assume everyone here wants to win?” Cerulean poured a cup and placed it in front of Marco with a decisive thunk, eyeing him and Mikhael. “Any suggestions on how we ensure that?” His tone was light but his eyes said otherwise.

“There he goes again,” Raphael mumbled, chewing on his toast. He nudged the glass Navy was reaching for towards him.

Navy took the glass offered to him, taking a sip. "You know, I feel like I should be a little more worried about the people I'm surrounded by."

Hunter squinted at his brother. "You didn't get that idea when I told you one of them pulled a gun on somebody?"

Looking up from his bowl of ramen, ICE raised his only hand, "...following that subject, are weapons allowed?"

“Possibly, although I doubt permanent maiming would be allowed.” Cerulean tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Hunter scoffed at ICE. "I don't know if you should participate, shrimp." He stuffed the rest of his toast in his mouth, talking as he chewed. "Have you looked at yourself lately?"

ICE glared at him darkly, slamming his hand on the table and pushing himself to his feet, leaning towards Hunter as his chair scraped on the floor. "I would suggest you take that back. I know where you sleep."

Hunter huffed through his nose, crossing his arms across his plastron. "Cute."

Cerulean sighed. “Save the animosity for the other team, please. “

ICE hesitated, then sat back down, crossing his arm over his plastron. "Yeah Hunter, listen to the cabin leader," he said with a smug grin.

Cerulean raised his eyebrow but didn’t refuse the statement.

Hunter squinted his eyes and rolled them, but settled on just growling deeply and continuing to eat. It wouldn't be worth it to compete with someone that stubborn. Navy looked over at ICE with genuine worry in his eyes, and mouthed 'I'm sorry.'

ICE smiled innocently back, and whispered "Its alright, I'll let it slide."

Marco took the cup and swished the liquid around. “'Ensuring victory.' It’s hard to solidify a plan against enemies we don’t know. ...well, so-so we know. For now, we know that it’s consisted of versions of all of you. Every weakness that is yours could be theirs-“

Cerulean hummed, “true. The lack of information is unfortunate. My brothers and I had only minimal interactions with them and the information we had is lackluster. Does anyone here have longer interactions with the other cabin?”

While the two of them bounced ideas, Uncle Mike sighed, looking over at his nephews, currently curled up together on the bed. "I guess Don is probably gonna sit this game out, so I'll see about dropping the kids off with him. As a Raph, I can't let down our cabin by missing out on the action. It wouldn't be very Raphlike of me, y'know."

“Raph? I thought you were Uncle Mike?” Raphael bit the spoon he held in his mouth.

Uncle Mike gasped dramatically, holding his hand against his plastron. "You think I could be that amazing, spectacular brother of mine whomst've I love so much but rarely tell him outright except in life or death situations? Ha!"

Hunter was still struggling to get a proper read on Mike. He trusted the older turtle, for the most part. He hadn't done anything to not deserve that trust. He'd actually done more than anyone else in the cabin to gain Hunter's trust. There was just something so strange about thinking that Mike was supposed to be a version of Scout, his youngest brother. And the fact that, supposedly, Mike had three brothers in his own world, one of which was meant to be a version of Hunter himself. A turtle who he was currently trying to impersonate...

Mike glanced around for listeners in, then pulled up the very edge of his red mask and whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Raphael: "It's a secret identity. I am about to commit many crimes and they're never gonna pin them on me. As long as everyone here can keep my secret, at least." He winked and straightened back up.

Oh boy.

Maybe he really was a Scout.

Raphael blinked once, twice, before grinning in understanding. “Okay then, Uncle Raph. Oh, this is going to be weird,” he mumbled.

Hunter folded up another peice of toast to swallow whole. "It wasn't already weird?"

ICE POV

Tap tap tap, FE!Donnie skipped over to the breakfast table, breaking the tension by adding his own. "Sorry to intrude, buuut, I have some things prepared for the event!!” He smiled as he slipped what looked to be small pink balls in Marco's direction.

Knowing how the True Colors guys felt about most of the Fear's Embrace crew, ICE glanced at Cerulean, who looked like he was trying hard not to roll his eyes.

"I made smoke bombs too! We can throw them off!" FE!Donnie smiled ear to ear as he dropped a bag right in the center of the table. Awesome!!

Hunter put his head heavily in one hand. "No, you were right. It's gonna be weird."

ICE grinned and waved his hand to get FE!Donnie's attention. "Now that's my kind of guy! I'll take extras." He'd take them all!

Out of the corner of his eye, ICE just barely noticed Mikhail retreating into a corner to observe from afar. The cool special ops guy raised a hand to cover his mouth as he observed in silence.

FE!Donnie grinned as he waved to Mikhail. “Hey buddy! Want some smoke bombs? Can’t win without teamworrkkkkk!!!”

Mikhail quirked a brow, not giving the eccentric Donnie an answer as of yet.

“You’re just in time, Donnie, care for some toast?” Cerulean smiled, motioning at the spread before them.

”Oooooo! Sure!” FE!Donnie wiped some dust from his face, reaching for a slice.

“If we’re going for the win then what about placing traps around our flag so it’s harder for the other team to get it?” Spirit suggested, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Marco nodded, leaning forward. ”...Good idea, we could split up into groups, one that defends the flag and the others attack.”

“Some hidden mines would work.” A voice sounded from the door - Captain, leaning on the doorframe with Angelo smiling on his side.

"Jeez, how freaky are you guys?" Hunter looked around at all of the schemers, and ICE could feel his judgement from across the table. "Like, can I get a freak meter?" He gestured up and down with a flat hand. "Like how freaky are you being today?"

"Freaky enough to explode our opponents; they wanted a competition... we’ll give them one.” Marco smiled slightly, showing off his sharp teeth before taking a sip of tea. He was brutal. ICE could appreciate that.

“I want a pitfall trap! Team rocket style!” Spirit voiced.

“I heard we’re having a competition?” Angelo bounced on his heels. “Something about beating our opponents? I’m in!”

"Oh boy, they're gettin' the kid into it..." Hunter covered his eyes and groaned slightly.

“I like how you think. I have some pitfalls, too, back in the base. Put some spikes in there and it’ll take care of some of the incompetent intruders.” Captain gave a respectful nod to Spirit.

Spirit's eyes grew wide, and he returned Captain's nod with a thumbs up, looking a mix of nervous and excited.

“Nope!” Mika jumped up, flailing his arms around. “Let’s try to keep this as PG as we can, please?!” 

Spirit pouted, “you’re no fun...” ICE nodded in agreement. PG was for wimps. He'd seen worse his whole life, really.

“Maybe something a bit nonlethal, hmm? Perhaps some of those sleeping agents we saw in action that night?” Cerulean prompted Mikhail with a raised brow.

“Or we can just knock em out with something,” Angelo shrugged.

"...I could stun them. You wanted to see my power, right? I’ll have at 'em..."

“Oh yesyesyes yes please!” Spirit cheered at Marco’s offer.

Mikhail tilted his head. "Chemical warfare is Don's field and he's tapped out at the moment. But really, any form of incapacitation is preferred. Pretty sure it's going to have to be a layered process though to make sure they stay down and can't use their abilities out of panic or the like. Relying on a single point asset to take care of targets is never ideal."

Mikhail waved his hand lazily in the air.

"...Something something 'single point failure'."

“Making sure they stay down is pretty important, maybe I could make something…” Captain mumbled.

“Ooh ooh! You could use those tiny robots of yours with a dose of tranquilizers!”

Tranquilizers! ICE perked up more. The more bloodthirsty his cabin got, the more exciting things were.

Captain’s eyes widened. “Angelo, you’re a genius!” He began to pace, “we can set a designated time after we knocked them out so the robots can inject more tranquilizers to keep them down.”

"Combine that with something that can stunt power-use and that should cover everything worth major consideration," Mikhail said.

Marco chuckled. "...Nice to see some teamwork, but let’s make sure we have some fun and, most importantly, let’s not lose, fellas!"

Uncle Mike (wait, he was going by Uncle Raph today, right?) nodded approvingly. "No turtle left behind."

Marco looked out the window in the direction of the mess hall. ”I can go to the meeting point to go stalk the competition; I’ll send information to Chip so he can pass it on to you all. Anyone want to come with?” He turned to give Cerulean a pointed glance.

Cerulean seemed to consider it for a moment, before stepping forward, looking determined. Flipping over to mission mode, or something. "That might be a good idea. Do you need stealth or conversation?"

"Conversation, I'd rather not give them a reason to get their guard up." Marco rubbed his face, sighing, as though he wasn't looking forward to it.

Cerulean placed his hand on his plastron and smiled. “Then may I accompany you?” He glanced at Captain, “and perhaps... Chip, was it? Could send the information back to you.”

Captain’s frown deepened before he finally nodded. “Suit yourself.”

Marco stood up and looked down at Cerulean, clicking his goggles on. "...alright, kid, keep your guard up but not to the point it’s noticeable. Let’s go.” The antennas bounced as he walks over to the door.

Uncle, uh, Raph? blinked, taking a bite of toast. "Glad they didn't ask me," he murmured to Mika and ICE, out of earshot of Marco and the True Colors guys. "Don's my bro, and Mikenstein is my not-twin, y'know, and I probably know some stuff, but I don't wanna let down anybody. Them or us. So I'm not getting in the middle of this. Yet, anyways."

Captain POV

Chip floated over to Captain, whirring in a way that almost came off as nervous. It wasn't unwarranted, Captain was still a little bit interested in dissecting him, but that could wait. The mission was more important.

A hologram appeared in front of Captain, showing video footage from Marco’s goggles. “Here you go, sir!!” Chip chirped. “Hi again! Sorry for trying to disassemble you that time,” Angelo smiled. He prodded Captain's arm with his elbow. An encouragement.

“I’m not going to apologize. It started it,” Captain mumbled, walking to the table and turning so everyone could see the screen. Everyone present leaned in, interested in whatever their team members were about to discover at the meeting point.

Sitting down, Captain tapped his headgear, starting a new file to store the recording.

“You are lucky my sir made me work with you." The digital eye frowned. “But you do have access to some parts of the system! Of course, Marco implemented a kiddy firewall..." 

Chip turned to Angelo, then. “I accept your apology, at least SOMEONE HAS MANNERS!"

Captain’s fingers twitched in annoyance, but he brushed it off. There would be a chance to take revenge later. He ignored the babbling robot and focused on the recording.

Meanwhile, Angelo grinned. “Very cute! Kinda like-“ Apparently remembering their agreement to keep SHELLDON’s intelligence on the down low, he changed the subject. “I really like those markings you have,” he leaned over Captain's shoulder to point to Chip.

“Hm? Thank you! The ones on my rings are symbols, for a recipe! Kinda like a reminder!”

On the side of the hologram, the screen also displayed a file system. At a glance, Captain could see they were all locked. One of the locked files was a video labeled as 'The Incident.' Fascinating.

“Oooh what kind of recipe?” Angelo leaned on the back of Captain’s chair to get a closer look.

Captain stayed quiet, eyes scanning the files along with the camera recording.

“...Well, uhm." Chip whirred, appearing to process a thought before deciding to be open with them. “Are you aware of the substance Empyrean?”

Empyrean? Captain had gotten some good images of Chip in their earlier encounter, but he turned to make sure the 'recipe' was properly recorded just in case, as subtly as possible.

“Hmm? Of course! That’s what made us after all.” Captain glanced back to see Angelo had started to float, kicking his feet up behind him.

"Well it’s also used for Marco’s medicine, it’s what makes him kinda tired all the time and cranky - he wasn’t always like 'this.'"

Angelo’s open and playful expression immediately shuttered off. His feet hits the floor. “You know that can be dangerous right? He’s risking double mutation every time he uses it.” He crossed his arms. “Where do you even get that much empyrean? The council should’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

"Since the Kraang has plagued most of our world, it’s not too difficult to find. Mainly from a large crashed Kraang ship that’s not far from our base."

Angelo blinked. “Oh. Yeah the whole living in an apocalypse thing.” He leaned back, “Still. That’s very dangerous. I would hate to think what would happen if something went wrong. Experimenting with Empyrean is…” Captain could feel the way Angelo shuddered beside him, “dangerous, to say the least.”

"...it’s difficult when your resources are limited. Sometimes we don’t have a choice. So sorry - we got a little off topic..."

“So are we heading out to the mess hall, or cabin? And are we going now or later?” Spirit asked.

“We are currently researching our competitors. Marco and Cerulean will give us the go whenever they are ready.”

FE Donnie laughed. "Ehehe! For a robot designed by Marco, you really like to spill secrets. BUUUT luckily, spilling secrets are fun when they’re Marco’s!"

Angelo brushed past Captain as he pulled away, and Captain glanced out of the corner of his eye to watch him make his way to Raphael's chair and rest his chin on his head. Raphael patted his arm in comfort.

On the holographic iPad, a pop up message of a thumbs up showed from Marco. “Oh! It would seem he is signaling for the rest of us!” Chip said, hovering over the holographic iPad. FE!Donnie jumped up from where he had decided to flop down on the floor. “It’s game time, fellas! Let’s show ‘em! Make sure you don’t alarm them with any of our plans!! Any questions?” he stood there with his arms behind his back for a moment, barely waiting for a response before chiming in, “Good no questions! I’ll see you there!!”

He ran off playfully. “Yippe, game time!” Spirit cheered. He tugged insistently at Mika’s band tails. Mika quickly finished the rest of his cereal and got up from his seat to appease his ghostly brother.

“You have to play in my stead Mika!” Spirit pointed at him like a general giving orders, and Mika saluted at his brother. 

“The opposing team will know no peace.” Spirit nodded upon hearing confirmation and smiled. “Now let’s hurry! I wanna meet the other cabin members!” Mikhail pushed his self off the wall and popped his fingers, already heading out. Captain heard him chuckle in amusement at everyone's excitement. Mike gathered up his nibbles and followed behind. Navy herded his brothers to go along with the group, Scout skipping along in front. ICE followed along behind Navy, still in the process of putting on his eyeliner.

Captain felt the buzzing of his own 'go' signal from Cerulean and stood up. He glanced at his brothers who no doubt also felt it, and tilted his head towards the door.

"I guess we're going now," Raphael stood up, making Angelo, who was still clinging to his neck, rise up with him.

Angelo climbed and sat himself on Raph's shoulder, ducking along when Raph passed the kitchen doorway so as to not hit his head.

Time to see what the other cabin had in store.

-

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Hold Every Memory by @languajix

Ghost of the Past by @wandering-ghost

Second Shot by @twignotstick

Fear's Embrace by @karonkar

True Colors by @v-albion

It's a Complicated Equation by @leilanising

Covert AU by @chessman-protocol

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

Summer Birthdays Surprises of Love

Summer Birthdays Surprises of Love

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Napoleon Bonaparte x OC (Elaine) Tag: Established relationship Birthday Fluff Surprises Kisses Fluff

Word Count : 1.327 Author’s Note: Happy Birthday Honey @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

I am here to wish you a very happy birthday as very happy indeed you make me everytime we chat. 😍

You always shine like a star enriching the fandom and the entire workd alike with your dazzling presence. 😘

I am happy and proud to call you my friend for it I wish to see you smile everyday like today. 🥰

I thus hope in all honesty this humble gift would be enough to thank you for all the adventures we shared together. ❤

Tag list @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 

@violettduchess @lichtluv @rjthirsty 

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊 Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was a placid summer morning, on any other occasion they would have used it to their own advantage to go to the beach or stay home lazing around in their private pool in long sessions of love making … but not that day.

They were lazing cuddling on the swinging porch bench talking about everything and nothing, his fingers lazily caressing her hair as she purred softly nuzzling in his neck pawning at his chest heabutting it like a clingy swan.

“I hope you enjoyed my homemade breakfast.”

“Of course I did, thank you. It was all delicious.”

“Good cause I have so much in store for you today.”

“You didn't have to ?”

“Trust me there is nothing more rewarding than making you happy the day you are born.”

“I love you so much. Elaine.”

“I love you too, Leon.”

Gently he took her hand in his, enticing his ginger sin hers as they walked through the garden. 

She began to walk toward a bush when suddenly crouched down to it, something white caught her eyes and soon she noticed it was a piece of paper far from ordinary.

A swan origami, that judging by the expert way it was made it must have been a work of his lover, proved by the elegant signature of the written words on its wings.

The idea he learnt it only to make her happy, warmed her heart with affection.

“What did it say, my little ?”

“It seems we have to find all of them, to find a surprise.”

“We haven’t time to waste then.”

And so their whimsical treasure hunt began, bringing them on trees’ tops and in rabbit’s holes, patching every corner of the garden 

It was noon and the air was pretty hot but the freshness of the wind helped them regain their energy, to continue.

At each paper bird they dove deeper into the forest surrounding their cottage and before they knew it they reached a little lake.

It was a special place for them, she still remembers the first time he brought her to propose to her. 

It was so romantic she wasn't able to hold back and jump in his arms tumbling with him on the ground.

She smiled fondly at the memory following him as she sat quietly next to the pool diving her hand in it, splashing playfully his husband who smiled brightly at her all the while. 

“Ahhh Look Napoleone ducks.”  

She clapped her hands happily as the birds walked towards her, lining up to be petted, squealing excitedly as she distributed them some pieces of bread Napoleon offered her to take from the paper bag he had hidden in his trousers pockets.

Her laugh tingled like a wind chime in the summer breeze and as warm as the sun.

“They are so pretty. Leone, I found your duck-version.”

There was an innocent mirth in her smile as she took the black and white goose in her arm gazing back at him, enough to enrapture him in that lovely spectacle.

“Ehhehe I am sure it did, but it seems his companion is quite jealous.”

“Oh this laughing merrily she took another all white with little spots of brown here and there.”

“It looks like you nunuche.”

“Ehhehe You are right. I wonder if they are a couple.”

“I am sure they are.”

“I love petting them, they are soo soft, and they seem to love you too.”

“I see you have rivals ma reine.”

The pout on her lips was way too adorable but he desired to see her smile more and so he leaned over brushing his lips on hers.

“Don’t worry Rose, you are my only one.”

“As you are to me, Leone.”

“I know you would have liked it mia piccola that’s why I brought you there.”

“How long did you know they were there ?”

“I discovered it only recently, they must be newcomers.”

Before they knew it, the ducks vanished in the forest where they came from.

“Ahhh they went away.” she looked so down he had to took her hand squeezing it softly 

“Please don’t be sad, we can come here as many times as you like.”

“Really ?” The sun returned once more to her cheery blossom eyes as she gazed hopefully at him.

“Of course we can.It will be our little secret.”

She giggled happily squeezing his hand as he entwined his fingers with hers, before walking away hand in hand gazing up at the stars as the begin twinkle in the night sky. 

“Leone.”

“Yes dear ?”

“Our home isn’t in the opposite direction ?”

“It is … but my surprise isn’t.”

“What, there is more ?”

“Of course I want to make you the happiest you ever were today.”

“You are always so gentle to me.”

“Au contraire, ma reine. You are the sweetest one, I am only showing you my love.”

“But you do it everyday.”

“As you do but today is special, n’est pas ma petite ?”

“You have a way with words you know.”

“Only for you ma petite rose.”

Swiftly he went to hug her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist before tickling their way to her eyes.

“Now my good girl, close your eyes.”

She giggled softly, placing her hands above his. 

“Your surprises never fail to make me happy.”

“I hope this won’t be an exception.”

Gently he guided her toward a place where he made her sit on an armchair, she obeyed promptly leaning back against the cushions, turning to look in the directions where she heard him walking toward. 

“Now open your lipsand say Ahhh.”

“Like this ?”

“You are going great mon amour. Now close it and enjoy.”

The sweet savour of chocolate mixing with the light taste of the fig was a treat for her taste buds, cherishing the surprise as much as she was, chewing on it slowly, not wanting the taste to be washed away from anything … except that from Napoleone’s tongue, an image that makes her cheeks ablaze with a mix of ambarassent and anticipation. 

“Leone, it's delicious.” 

“I am so happy to hear that, then you are definitely ready for it.”

“For what ?”

“Open your eyes.””

“Oh my gosh.” 

“Do you like it ?”

“Leone I love it.”

She jumped in his arms smacking a kiss on his lips before reaching for the cake, at the center of the candid tablecloth stood a complex sculpture entirely of white chocolate of two swans whose curved necks created a heart.

“You baked it yourself.” 

She couldn't believe her eyes, it was an amazing gift like those she could only dream of, but with Napoleone around she knew that each dream turned into reality.

“I did, it took ages but it was tenfold worth it to see you smile.”

“Happy Birthday amore mio.”

“Thank you Napoleone.I don’t know how to thank you.”

“There is no need to, your smile is more than a royal reward for me. Your happiness brightens my day, you do. Your existence gave me purpose, never forget that.”

His touch was unbearably gentle as he brushed on her cheek,  gazing straight into her eyes conveying all the honesty and affection of his words in a tender kiss as he melted his lips on hers.

“I love you mia principessa more than you ever know.”

“I love you too, mio principe, so very much.”

The stars in the sky twinkled even brighter as he carried her princess style toward their room, ready to give her a much more intimate proof of his love, to the one and only that captured her heart, making him happier than he ever was, than he ever imagined being in all his dreams.

Together they found home to create, cherish and fill with the feelings bounding their heart, the same emotion that made the Universe go around since the beginning, the powerful spell of love.

[gerbiloftriumph]

Floating Castle Liveblog (second read)

Turns out I just can't stay away from this book, or stop myself from doing live updates on Goodreads, probably to the irritation of my followers there and to the chagrin of the website itself, which is now overwriting old updates with newer ones, thus, my need to post them all here. For posterity.

And because I love Telgrin just that much.

March 17, 2019 –

page 0

I feel a sad reading funk coming on and the only way I can think to save it is with my boi, the greatest sassy villain ever, Telgrin. Awww yiss (I don't feel the mood for Princess Bride for once, so next step down it is). Feel free to follow along as I keysmash glee about this doofy lame villain and his impractical floating castle (usingthekqreddit's.pdfshackcoughahhhhkkk you didn't hear that from me.)

page 3

It just cracks me up to see a literal castle sailing by in the storm. Alex can pretend all he likes that it’s just a cloud formation—it’s still dang wacky and impractical.

page 8

Graham: Did you see anything weird out there? Alexander: Well, I mean. A literal floating castle, probably? Graham: Yes, that sounds sensible. Carry on. I’m grinning like a fool and I’m not even ten pages in. This book is my flavor of perfect delight, glossy purple prose and all.

page 11

The fact that Telgrin's castle is in a perpetual thundercloud? He's the sort of dude who would, in a modern au, just listen to the rainymood app constantly. I feel it deeeeeeep in my soul. The anticipation of the plot points has me positively grinning and I keep telling myself, "No, slow down and enjoy. The kelpie and troll and frog and tree wizard and all aren't going anywhere. It's okay."

page 14

I want to scoop Graham up in a big hug. He seems like a great person, such a strong king. Showing nothing but peace and respect to everyone, regardless of social status, who comes in talking about that Spooky Castle, and he's completely chill *until* he's alone with Alexander and can finally drop that mask and honestly show his fear. Even if you're unfamiliar with the source material, this is good character detail.

page 17

"A strange castle has intruded upon the peace of Daventry. I think it fair to assume that only a powerful magic could have transported it here." No, Graham, flying castles are perfectly normal things. Like birds. (here comes telgrin the sassmaster i'm so exciiiitedddd)

page 18

"While Graham occupied the throne, what misfortune could long hold sway over Daventry? What evil could prevail?" cough foreshadowing cough cough hack wheeze

page 19

I still believe with my whole heart that this bearded and blustery and large Sir Brian is a reference to Brian Blessed and I don't care what anyone else thinks.

page 21

Heeeeeeere's Telgrin! Struttin' in, debris from the door all in a cloud, swinging that stupid crystal staff in step with his walk, and freaking "pleased by the dumbfounded reaction his appearance had caused." My melodramatic diva. Let's do thiiiiis.

page 22

Graham, furious, demands to know why Telgrin's here. Telgrin flings back his head and cackles: "'Who am I? Why, I am your new neighbor! Have you not seen my castle there in the distance?' The man paused. He seemed to expect Graham to say something then, but the king simply stared at him. This seemed to unnerve the stranger somewhat" because how do you banter in silence? You can't be the sassmaster if no one plays! :3

page 23

Telgrin wouldn't come to the castle to announce himself as Ye Olde Villain until Graham had summoned a full contingent of knights. Telgrin, Sassmaster and Diva, requires a proper audience before strutting around. <3

page 23

"Do you seriously believe that simply declaring yourself king will make you king in truth?" "*Believe* it? I know it. It is a fact. Who can dispute it?" Graham rose slowly from his throne, straightened to his full height. Unblinking, his gaze was fixed upon Telgrin. "*I* can." "You dare defy me?" "I do." A twisted smile tugged briefly at the corners of Telgrin's mouth. "Good. I was rather hoping you would." Sassy.

page 25

Telgrin is so blissed out on his own sassy triumph that we could SO EASILY dropkick him and snap that stupid crystal staff in half and we'd win and the book would be over in a mere 30 pages. I swear, he's not watching his back at all. Alexander, take him out at the knees! ...or, don't. That's fine. We contracted a full novel from Sierra. I get it.

page 32

I want a Valanice book. I want this series to be a quartet instead of a trilogy. I want this so deep in my soul.

page 32

TREE WIZARD. I can't stop grinning; I love tree wizard. He's trying to nod and shrug and he doesn't have shoulders so he can't, because he's a TREE.

page 40

"Telgrin is a stealer of souls." "A stealer of souls? What's that?" Alexander, the name is on the tin. It isn't hard to figure out.

page 41

I know I should stop updating every few pages. I'm spoiling things and probably being annoying but it's been a long weekend and this is Exactly my flavor of comedy: tree wizard is offering Cyril to Alex, since he "'does all those things that I can no longer do for myself. And he is very good at keeping the woodpeckers away.' This did not sound like the sort of help that Alexander was looking for." Be polite, Alex. :3

page 45

Of all the things I remember from reading this book a year ago, Tree Wizard and his Tea is one of my top favorite mental images. Doesn't matter that we're slowly turning into a tree. Tea time is very important and we will Not miss it. There's even fanart of Tree Wizard and his tea on Tumblr, that's how important it is.

page 45

Alexander (paraphrased): "Sooo...do you know how to stop being a tree?" Morowyn: "Oh, yeah, totes figured that out. Could do it whenever I wanted. Kinda has a drawback, though." Alexander: "Yeah? What's that?" Morowyn: "I would immediately die." Alexander: "......yep, that's a drawback."

March 19, 2019

page 57

“Do you know where to look for a soul? Have you ever seen one?” One would assume it’s glowy and vaguely Graham-shaped.

page 64

I can not believe I forgot about this Literal Ringwraith character. It’s...just a Ringwraith. Pure and simple and obvious.

page 74

I did remember the Literal Lembas Bread, though. Fantasy tropes! *jazz hands*

page 78

One of the classic fantasy tropes is doing a long walk from point a to point b. I’ve got to give Mills credit: I don’t think I’ve read any other book that fills its protagonists up with magic bread that induces energetic power-walking before.

page 80

I remember being annoyed by this conversation the first time, but that was before I realized I held a Masterpiece of High Literature in my hands: “Good apple,” Cyril said. “Very good.” “Sweet.” “Mmm.”

page 87

“A rope, some apples,” Cyril said, frowning. “I still don’t see what you’re planning.” It’s called A Sierra Solution, Cyril, and they only make sense half the time, because this game series is haaaaard.

page 90

Kelpie rodeo. In what sensible fantasy novel would this be allowed? None, man. I love this book. [gerbil note: this scene also has fanart, because this book is amazing]

March 19, 2019

page 97

Alexander: Ho there! Sir Ogre! Ogre: /what did you call me/?! At least, that’s how it should go.

[gerbil note again: i did totally steal this very lame joke for captive crown later on and i'm not even sorry about it]

page 100

I didn’t quite realize how dorky this was the first time, but now I’m paying attention I’ve realized: Telgrin has exactly One lone storm cloud that occasionally spits out a lightning bolt, just hovering over the tower. In my head, this looks like a Winnie the Pooh cloud. Is that all the magic he could summon? One tiny cloud? Lame, and yet So On Brand for my sassmaster.

page 107

We've now entered the Road to El Dorado sequence of the book and I'm perfectly content. Barrel scene eheheheheeeee

page 112

Once again, the book stresses, it is but *one* cloud. One very black and lightning filled cloud, but a single cloud, nevertheless, providing all the ambient noise and mood. I find this bizarrely hilarious. It feels like Telgrin's equivalent of keeping his phone on low battery mode so he can keep using the Rainymood app.

page 120

The sassmaster's lair is just the most Extra thing. It's like he read a book on what villains are supposed to do, so he did it. He's got it all: high ceilings that vanish to dark, ludicrous amounts of moldering velvet curtains, "hideously ornate" braziers, and a perfectly silly black throne. Telgrin, pleaaase this is so unnecessary and not remotely sensible. You've copied someone else's homework, and badly. ilu.

page 121

And Alexander refuses to play the game. Telgrin has all these expectations on how this conversation is meant to go, he's basically reciting a script, and Alexander's just like, "Uhhhh....what?" So Telgrin moves on to Cyril, like Cyril will play along properly. I just can't. I love Telgrin to unfeasible levels of nonsense.

page 122

(Incidentally, I'm still kinda salty that Graham's soul isn't in the throne room, wedged in Telgrin's overly-flashy staff. It just feels more right than where he *actually* is.)

page 123

"You are an evil man." "So it has been said." Telgrin shrugged. "Personally I've always found that such abstractions do not apply well to life in the real world. They make matters that are by their very nature complex seem rather too simple, don't you think?" "Evil," Alexander repeated. Telgrin sighed. "I can see that you're really not up to a probing and dispassionate philosophical discussion" Modern AU: he's a Bro

page 125

I'm fairly certain this reference to Alexander having a hard time with stairs is a reference to the older KQ games in which if you misstep, you're going down, and if you're more than a few feet up, you're a dead man and you've got to reload a save. :)

March 21, 2019

page 129

Out of curiosity, I googled a Barikar to see if this was a real fantasy creature, but the only actual result is from the King's Quest Fanwiki to tell me that, yes, Telgrin owns a Barikar. ....nice, I guess.

page 130

By all technical and decent writing standards, this book is probably awful. Er. I mean, awfully great. High literature, deffo. But it *feels* like a King's Quest game. Every new place is described with just enough detail that you can so easily picture it in those stark, retro early gaming colors, or that pixel painting KQ5 style. I super love it.

page 131

The King's Quest fanwiki tells me that Telgrin owns the only Barikar in all of the entire canon of all fantasy, but it doesn't tell me if Telgrin *loves* his Barikar. I hope he does, because no one else possibly could. What a hideous beastie.

page 134

You boys should be ashamed of yourselves, disposing of a barikar. There was only one in ALL of fantasy EVER and now there's none.

page 139

I hate how funny I think it is that Alexander isn't even pulled together enough to answer his own mental questions. "Yes" is not always the correct answer, sir.

page 143

sassmaster diva telgrin's tragic childhood backstory-----OH WAIT NO IT'S NOT TRAGIC HE'S JUST ALWAYS BEEN A PUNK. I love him.

March 27, 2019

page 143

I wonder what Telgrin’s first thought was when he, A Pathetic Scullery Boy (tm) chopped Owen’s head off, presumably with a Vaguely Magical movement because clean-one-chop head removal is hard even with the help of gravity, man, and Owen’s head just started swearing at him from the floor. Like. That’s a dang weird mental image.

page 144

He holds his own head under his arm like it’s a football and it cracks me up. It’s meant to be serious and scary, probably, but I just love this headless ghost.

page 146

The most over the top baby monitor ever created

page 152

In fairness, this part is one of the most like the game-version would probably be, and it works the least because Alexander is working from information we don’t have. As a gamer we would have heard all Owen’s instructions and had to replicate them perfectly to avoid nasty game overs. As a reader it would have been repetitive for Owen to tell us, then watch Alex act, but there’s a disconnect now.

page 156

“After allowing himself to wallow in depression for a short while”—like, twenty seconds, if that.

page 180

Sinofas (paraphrased): Sooooo.....about that magic flying leap out of the tallest tower. What was that about? Alexander: We had a pressing need to leave the castle. Sinofas: Ever heard of a *door,* sirrah? (do note that I haven't stopped smiling for like twenty pages; this book's greaaat)

page 181

Alexander, paraphrased: So....you're not...friends with Telgrin, are you? Sinofas: He put his Giant Castle in my front yard and won't move it. What do you think??

page 183

I can't believe Mills feels he has to point out that Alexander makes for one Handsome Frog. A "rather large and handsome frog," indeed. Ffff.

page 183

And, I quote, "Did you speak, Sir Frog?" "That's Prince Frog, to you." Alexander, *please* reign in some of your sass. It's not helping matters.

page 198

I feel like the further this book goes, the stronger Alexander's sass gets. It'll never be Telgrin levels of sass because that man is the Sassmaster Diva, but it's dang good.

page 212

Sassmaster Telgrin *still* can't get anyone to dialogue properly with him. Graham's just as obstinate as Alexander and is really good at One Syllable Responses. My gorgeous royal family.

page 223

"At that moment, her second head . . . appeared to wake. It opened its eyes, blinked, and said, "Hmph. What's happening? Where am I?" "It's all right, dear," the first head said. "Go back to sleep. I'm just going to kill this man here." "Oh, that's all right then." I adore this book in ways I cannot express.

page 225

I'm so glad magic in this world, with this staff, works by wishing. So, basically, Telgrin must have said, "I wish King Graham's soul was mine" and so it was, and "I wish I had a fireball to kill Alexander," and bam. It's like he's making little birthday cake wishes, but Horrible Magic happens instead and it's kinda hilariously great. :3

page 230

Telgrin, through a magical hologram because this book is great: "Oi! There you are!" Alexander, exhausted and annoyed: "Whaddya want, Telgrin?" "What do you think? You've stolen my staff. I want it back." "That's too bad. I'm fairly sure that I don't want to give it to you." Now is not the time to start having a holographic fight. Pull back that sass, kiddos.

April 2, 2019

page 231

"The fact that this book is about the same size and heft as my Nintendo Switch tablet with like a pt 14 font, and the fact that it's still taken me into week three to read it, means I'm nice and deep in this reading slump. This should be a six hour read at *maximum*. Telgrin, take me away.

page 236

Alexander, you can't just order princesses to do what you want with magic. that's so rude.

page 237

To be 100% clear, Alexander, Telgrin learned literally everything he knows from Owen, and we can see how Telgrin turned out. One miiiight assume that Owen himself is not the most Noble of nobility.

page 240

"Alexander looked long upon the poor, filthy, shabby, beheaded, half-crazed man" -- I dunno, Alex, I might have led with the Beheaded part. Just sayin', seems the most important part.

page 248

"Alexander thought that it would be inappropriate to express regrets for the incident, since those regrets would not be deeply felt." Alexander, be polite. Don't start snarking with the villain, now.

page 250

"Lydia, Lydia, don't you understand? A man wants to idealize the woman he is to wed. This becomes extremely difficult *when she keeps bloody carping at him.*" Telgrin's breakdown from Eloquent Bro is the best thing ever.

page 260

Since the fight is taking place off screen, it reads most hilariously, with each combatant yelling, "Oh, yeah, that was okay, but what about THIS" followed by just basically a stream of sound effects. It's like reading an anime battle where they would normally shout out their attack names and I'm so into it.

page 266

Can I also add that I find it Entirely Hysterical that this HUGE FLOATING CASTLE is literally pinned into place? With like, a big bobby pin driven into the ground? And that's *it*? This is so impractical on so many levels, Telgrin.

April 3, 2019

page 267

Alexander actually expected Telgrin to win that fight, hah. Good confidence for the Good Team, I guess (Owen's placement on the Good Team being...sketchy, at best, of course).

page 273

See, Graham, Cyril remembers HIS adventuring rope when he goes off on missions. Take notes; it'll help you out in your 2015 voyage.

page 278

Cyril, you stud muffin.

page 283

"How did you find this?" "I got lost." Bab.

April 16, 2019

page 289

Graham Dying bedscenes are like, a favorite staple of this series, innit? And then KQ9 just had to go and take it allllll the way. Hhhh.

page 292

Come on, come on, someone say "a heart is a heavy burden" at Graham. Make this book perfectly complete. No? Okay, fine.

page 293

"I have much to be thankful for. I have escaped the torments that Telgrin thought to inflict on my spirit. I am in my own body again, in my own home, safe and surrounded by family and friends. But what makes me most grateful is that I am able to look upon your face once again, my dear one. For that is everything." Valanice laughed softly, and said, "Rest. You are delirious, I think." My FAVORITE royal couple hhhhhhh.

April 16, 2019 – Finished Reading

Five stars out of five stars. Again.

[qwerty-between-the-lines]

Will and Nico dance

Couples' night at Camp Half-Blood was in full swing, and thus far Dionysus had seen nothing he could criticize.

Chiron: What is your judgment sir? Is couples' night to become a regular camp event?

Dionysus: Oh, I don't care Chiron. Just another event for me to chaperone. I mean, what else is there for me to do, right? Sit around playing pinochle and drinking diet soda?

Dionysus: (frowns slightly) It is Peter Johnson and Annie Bell that I worry about more than any of these other young'uns here. They've made breaking the rules into a fine art.

Chiron: Indeed. You'll get no argument from me.

Thus far, Dionysus hadn't seen Percy and Annabeth do anything that he could get onto them for, but he'd been watching them all evening.

He couldn't get onto them for dancing he didn't suppose. After all, every couple there was dancing.

Abruptly, the song Highway to Hell ended, and Will figured it was he and Nico's turn for a couples' song.

He made his way up to the huge stereo with ultra-magnified sound that Leo had invented.

After scrolling through the massive database of songs that Leo had preprogrammed into it, Will made his selection before returning to Nico's side.

Will: (whispering into Nico's ear) I want us to dance. I picked out this song just for you.

Nico:

Nico: (shy response) Well, alright Will. Only for you...

Will: (takes Nico's hand) There's that hint of a smile that I love pulling from you.

The corners of Nico's mouth just barely made a smile again. Will knew that coming from his boyfriend - that meant happy.

He led Nico out to the dance floor and carefully took his hand, as Nico embraced Will's waist loosely.

The music began to play.

Will: (whispering) Listen Nico. This song is for you.

Nobody can tell ya... there's only one song worth singing

They may try and sell ya... cause it hangs them up... to see someone like you...

You gotta... make your own kind of music...

Sing your own special song...

Make your own kind of music...

Even if nobody else sings along...

Nico couldn't stop his eyes from getting a little watery, but he was absolutely beaming at Will. He'd rarely felt so loved and appreciated than he did in this moment.

He pulled the son of Apollo into a full embrace and laid his head against Will's chest. Will continued to guide their steps to the beat of the music.

...it may be rough going...

Just to do your thing's, the hardest thing to do...

You gotta... make your own kind of music...

Sing your own special song...

Make your own kind of music...

Even if nobody else sings along...

Nico looked up at Will, feeling that rare moment for him. That moment of being so full of love and joy. That he didn't even care where they were, or who saw.

Nico pulled Will in for a kiss, as Mama Cass's voice continued to set the mood.

Nico couldn't help thinking with wonder just how well Will had gotten to know him. This song was an exact fit for him.

The other campers cheered and applauded.

Dionysus: Alright, Nino and Bill. Break it up you two!

[ashxketchum]

Pokeshipping- "You're so very tempting..."

Thank you for sending this request so I could write something for each of my ships! I was meaning to update one of my Pokeshipping fics since Idk July or something and somehow couldn't bring myself to do so. This prompt pushed me to write them and I'm able to end the year by updating that fic so that's a huge task of my check list!

This one is set a few months after this fic I wrote for them, but you don't have to necessarily read it since this works as a standalone too.

Thank you once again, for all the requests! Hope you have a great 2024!

Post divider by @/cafekitsune

Prompt: "You're so very tempting..."

Ash didn’t realise that he was shaking his leg until Pikachu jumped onto his knee and chirped irritably at him to stop. Returning his attention back to his surroundings, he shook his head and patted Pikachu’s head softly as an apology, before putting both his knees together and straightening up his back against the staircase on which he was seated. Pikachu, satisfied by accomplishing his task, trotted away as quickly as he had appeared making Ash focus on the party proceeding in full swing around him. It was a bit odd that he was sitting down patiently in a corner and not the main cause for the loud laughs or happy singing that reverberated across his living room, but to his disappointment, no one else seemed to notice this yet. A pout settled on his lips as he watched the scene in front of him and the thought that he could have been out there mingling with everyone else if it wasn’t for the utter defeat he’d faced today crossed his mind.

The defeat had nothing to do with Pokemon, by the way, but it was still a battle, the kind that Ash was not yet well accustomed to. It had only been two months since Misty and him announced to everyone that they were dating and the reaction of their friends and family wasn’t quite what he expected it to be. From his mother to Goh, not one person was surprised with the news and instead, they all treated it like a confirmation of something that they’d already figured out because the two hadn’t done a good job of hiding it. Misty found this funny but Ash was a little hurt because he took pride in how subtle he’d been with the moves he made on her. The only person who was truly in awe of his version of the story was Brock, and well, that was never a good sign when it came to romance. So Ash decided that tonight, at the year end party which would be attended by all their friends and family, he would steal Misty away from the crowd for a moment and show her just how good he was at hiding the details of their relationship from everyone else.

The flaw in his plan?

Misty wasn’t privy to it and was thus enjoying herself a little too much without him.

He didn’t have a problem with her having fun, honestly, she deserved it after all the things they dealt with in Paldea, but he’d spent half the night trying to catch her attention and failing at it miserably. Now, sitting by himself on the staircase that led to the upper floor of his house, Ash was beginning to doubt just how noticeable he was to Misty and if they hadn't run into each other at such an early age, would he still have managed to win her over? Perhaps his thoughts were an exaggeration of the situation at hand, but the interruptions he’d faced all night had broken down his spirit considerably.

The first person to disrupt his plan was his own mother. Granted that at the time his mother took that step, Ash hadn’t even formulated this plan, but he still couldn’t help to put a fraction of the blame on her.

From what Misty shared with them over the years, her sisters were barely ever around for the holiday season, having received invitations to perform at cruises and resorts across regions. Being the only one who actually cared about taking care of the Cerulean Gym, in the past few years, Misty often spent this time of the year alone with only the Pokemon at the Gym to keep her company. With Ash and Misty having announced their relationship, his mother thought it normal to invite Misty to spend both Christmas and New Year’s in Pallet Town, which gave even Ash a reason to take a break from his travels and stay at home for the holidays. Pokemon from the Cerulean Gym were transferred to Oak Laboratory for the week so Misty could check up on them easily and Ash’s Pokemon too could enjoy some new company. With all of this sorted, Ash thought he’d get to have some relaxing time alone with his girlfriend, but when Christmas morning arrived and the gifts were opened, his vacation was turned upside down.

He was sure that the Quaquaval themed necklace and bracelet set he’d gotten for Misty would be the highlight of her morning, but apparently his mother had other plans. She’d knitted family sweaters for all of them, with a Pikachu and Togepi pattern that seemed to be quite the hit with everyone. Ash didn’t have a problem with the sweater per se and he was touched that his mother had made one for not just Pikachu, but Misty’s Psyduck as well. This, however, led to the entire morning turning into a photo op where they all changed into these sweaters and posed for a million photos together. He couldn’t understand at first why Misty was so excited about the sweaters or for clicking so many photos but as the week passed, he started to see things more clearly.

His mom had made Misty feel like she belonged to a family for the first time, and of course, Ash was extremely happy to see her look so happy, but he wished his mother had picked any other time of the year to do so. After Christmas, all Misty did was help out his mom with whatever chore needed to be done, the two went shopping together or did something equally boring that Ash did not want to be a part of. One day, they even took the train to go all the way to Celadon City just to shop at the city’s department store. Each morning Ash would wake up with the determination that today he would take Misty out for a walk in the nearby woods or coax her into having a Pokemon battle, but by the time he was done eating breakfast, his mother and her were already getting prepped to start the day’s activity.

The day of the party rolled around in the blink of an eye leaving Ash with little choice but to end this wild Zangoose chase by whatever means necessary.

But then he came face to face with the second problem.

His mom knew that neither Ash nor Misty were capable enough to cook something for the party, so she put him in charge of setting up the house, moving all the furniture around to make space or hanging the decorations with the help of Mr. Mime. But Misty, who despite knowing she lacked the right skills for it, really wanted to help out in the kitchen and was made in charge of handling the drinks. Ash managed to finish his tasks quicker because he asked more of his Pokemon to help, so when he came across Misty in the kitchen wearing a lab coat and measuring different coloured liquids in glasses, his shoulders slumped. Just like everything else, Misty was treating this like a competition, hoping to come up with a drink that would be praised by everyone at the party.

Looking at the odd colours in her experimental glasses, Ash gulped and slowly edged out of the kitchen before she could ask him to try one of her concoctions. Using his free time to run to the nearest store, he bought extra soda as a backup. As much as he wanted to believe in Misty, given her past record, he thought it was best if there was something to fall back on and her attempts wouldn’t become the laughing stock of the party.

But Ash should’ve known, that in the past week, his instincts had been way off the mark and once again, Misty managed to turn the tide in her favour. Her Pokemon Type themed drinks were a hit at the party and everyone seemed to want more of it. Every time Ash saw an opening to grab Misty and drag her to his secret corner (his room), someone would interrupt by claiming that the Fire Type or whatever punch was out and she’d rush to the kitchen to make a fresh batch, leaving Ash disgruntled and in the dust. What grated his nerves more was that the drinks were actually very delicious and he himself was guilty of draining the Electric Type and Dragon Type flavour containers dry.

The only winning takeaway he’d gotten so far from tonight was that Misty had decided to wear the necklace and bracelet he’d gifted her and every time someone complimented her, her viridian eyes would find him across the room before she smiled and thanked the person for their compliment. This made Ash’s heart race, making him even more impatient to carry out his plan, but the night went on with no opening in sight.

The dejected aura that he was giving off in a corner hadn’t caught Misty’s eye yet, but Ash knew that he had someone in his life that he could rely on no matter the odds. When Pikachu returned to him for a second time, he was expecting to get electric shocked into enjoying the party for what it was worth, but instead, his best friend dropped something in his lap, finally diverting his attention from his sad train of thoughts.

“Pikachu, where did you…?” Ash picked up the small item from his lap as the signs of a real smile appeared on his face.

Pikachu just shrugged in response and pointed his tail towards the kitchen, using his tiny paws to act out that Misty was alone in there right now. Covering the item within his palm, Ash raised his other hand for a high five which Pikachu obliged to happily. Thanking his partner with a quick nod, he left his spot on the stairs and discreetly made his way to the kitchen, hoping that his friends would continue to ignore him as he made his escape.

Relief and excitement washed over him when he entered the kitchen to find Misty bustling about by herself. Taking this chance when she was still distracted, Ash quietly shut the kitchen door behind himself and tiptoed up to Misty so he could envelop his arms around her waist and finally take her by surprise for the first time that night.

“Wha-, oh Ash. It’s you.” Her voice went from bewildered to a happy sigh in a matter of seconds as she leaned into his back and allowed him to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Glad of you to finally notice,” he said, unable to hold back the sulkiness from his tone.

“You’re such a kid sometimes.” She laughed, raising her hand to his cheek.

“Wow, haven’t heard that insult in a while,” Ash grumbled, tightening his hold around her waist to let her know that he wanted her to fix all her attention on him.

“Well, you’ve been somewhat of a gentleman lately, who would’ve thought huh?”

“Hey, I always had the potential, just needed the right person to bring it out.”

Misty was still for a moment and then suddenly she peeled his hands from around her waist and turned on her heels to face him. Folding her hands across her chest, she raised a suspicious eyebrow at him, “Okay, mister, out with it. What do you want?”

Ash’s jaw dropped open at how quickly she’d figured out that he was trying to butter her up, but given that he’d managed to motivate himself to keep trying, he shook off the setback and grinned sheepishly back at her, “Nothing. Why would you think that?”

“You’re being clingy yet sweet, obviously you need something from me,” Misty stated with a casual shrug.

“Or I’m just being romantic-” Ash moved his hands forward towards her waist again, “because you’re so very tempting in that dress.”

Misty caught both his hands by the arm and stilled them, smirking at him, “Ash, I’m wearing a sweater and a skirt, and you clearly have something going on in your tiny mind so please, out with it.”

Ash wiggled out of her grasp with a pout, running his eyes over her once again and cursing himself for not noticing that despite the sweater and the skirt being the same in colour, they were still separate pieces of fabric. But he still had one more trick up his sleeve, courtesy of Pikachu, clearly the only one in his life who still wanted to see him happy. Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out the item he’d received earlier, dangling it over their heads and returned Misty’s smirk with a smug one of his own.

“Look, Mist, we’re under a mistletoe, you know the rules.”

“Holy Mew, Ash!” She glanced upwards at the worn out Christmas decoration and then looked back at him with more suspicion in her eyes, “Have you been carrying that around the entire night just for this?”

“What? No!” Ash quickly stuttered out a response, feeling his neck turn warm from embarrassment, “Pikachu gave this to me a minute ago, I’m not that crazy.” He emphasised the last bit as normally as he could, but Misty still seemed wary of him. He lowered the mistletoe and shoved it back in his pocket with a sigh, realising that there was no point in trying to hide the truth from her since she could read him like an open book anyway, “Okay, I give up.” Ash raised both his arms as a surrendering gesture and he noticed that Misty’s face softened at this sight. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he rubbed the back of his head as he mumbled out the truth, “I just wanted to surprise you tonight, but it didn’t work in my favour.”

“Surprise me? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know…” Ash shrugged, avoiding Misty’s piercing gaze by looking at his feet as he felt the warmth of embarrassment travel from his neck to his cheeks, “I guess I miss the thrill of sneaking around without anyone knowing.”

Misty considered his words for a while and oddly Ash welcomed the silence between them. He took that time to console himself for not being able to finish the one task he’d set out to do before the year ended tonight. Despite his failure, he still felt a bit giddy from how quickly Misty had managed to figure out his intentions, she knew him better than anyone else, maybe sometimes even himself. He allowed his gaze to fall on her again and smiled at the sight of her eyebrows knit together and lips twisted sideways as she analysed the situation in her head. Back when they were kids, a conversation like this would always have ended in an argument, but now the two were so much more accommodating of what the other wanted.

“I see. I can’t deny that phase was certainly exciting,” Misty met his gaze and smiled knowingly so Ash knew what her next words would be even before she spoke, “Does this also have something to do with nobody being excited when we made our relationship public?”

“Maybe…”

“Oh, Ash…” She laughed, taking a step forward to cup both his cheeks in her palms, her bright eyes were filled with such pure warmth that Ash found his entire body grow hot under her adoring gaze. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his, with the tips of their noses brushing against each other, she spoke in a low, whimsical voice that made his heart race at a thundering speed.

“How do you make me fall for you every single time?”

“Wh- wh- what?”

“Listen,” Misty said, lifting her forehead and dropping her hands from his cheek, resting one on his chest and the other on his lips, ignoring his stuttering completely, “They’re about to start the countdown.”

Sure enough, Ash could hear the chattering voices of his friends more clearly since the music had been turned down. But he still didn’t understand what Misty was hinting at with that mischievous glint in her jewel like eyes. Catching onto his obliviousness, she shook her head exasperatedly and grabbed his hand, dragging him along with full force back to the living room where the party crowd had gathered in a circle to welcome the New Year with a chant. Misty squeezed her way right into the centre just as the countdown was about to reach its climax. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his so she could whisper in his ear over the loud noise.

“Let’s make everyone else’s New Year a little more memorable, shall we?”

Ash was still clueless about what she had in mind but the minute the crowd shouted one, Misty didn’t give him any more time to think and pressed her lips against his, not caring at all about the crowd that surrounded them. At first, he was stunned, but when Misty’s fingers slid into his hair, his body moved on instinct and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer into the kiss. He smiled against her lips when he heard the shouts of surprise surround them but it no longer mattered to him because he knew that he’d won everything the moment Misty had decided to give all her love to him.

Thank you for reading!

[error-of-society]

Danganronpa Despair Time Chapter 2 murder scheme and secret theory.

Spoilers for Danganronpa Despair Time up too Chapter 2 Episode 11:

TW: S3lf H@ rm, Su*c*de, m*rder

I want to try to piece together the murder and the remaining secrets while Danganronpa Despair Time is on hiatus.

Firstly I want to talk about how the murder happened.

The killer overheard Arei and Eden after Arturo threatened Eden. So they wrote a note asking to meet with Arei at the playground at around 7:30. Everyone believes the note said 7:30PM because the minnows are found at the crime scene but it was actually 7:30AM. 

(Picture from chapter 2 episode 10) 

Notice the corner missing, where it would normally say AM or PM. (This is also what I think Charles is going to talk about after he said “we fucked up”)

They prepared two jugs of water filled with water from the relaxation room sometime after Nico fed the minnows, which was probably just before night time. They then obtained the rope from the storage room. 

When Arei and the killer met up they knocked Arei out and tied her hands together. Then they threw the rope around the swing set or the bars on the ceiling. They tied one end of the rope to the jugs of water that were on the spinny thing, and the other to Arei's neck. The killer then spun the spinny thing very quickly, causing the rope to pull and thus breaking her neck. During this the handles of the water jugs may have broken causing the fish and water to come out. Making everyone believe the murder happened before nighttime but this all happened just before 8am when the morning announcement came. The fish and water probably dried up in a matter of minutes as Teruko has stated. 

(Quote from chapter 2 episode 8)

They then tried to dispose of some of the evidence in the trash. (Water jugs, tape and the note)

(Picture from chapter 2 episode 8)

And hid the remaining rope under the spinny thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now I want to go over the remaining secrets which are the tried suicide 3 times(the secret Veronika got), you are a murder (the secret Arei got), poisoning the competition (the secret Xander got), family is dead (the secret Min got) and self harm (the secret Hu got), aswell as the secret David got.

(Picture from chapter 2 episode 8)

Red = confirmed 

Blue = Speculation 

I believe David is lying that he got Xander and actually got Teruko’s secret, he did briefly try to get Teruko to say her own secret during the trial.

(Quotes from chapter 2 episode 11)

(Further proven with the very beginning where an unknown person says they must kill Teruko)

(Quote from prologue episode 1)

Min and Xander got each other’s, as Xander definitely suffers from survivor guilt, and Min really needed to win the exam. (Check out the bonus episodes)

Hu says “if no one relies on me, then I won’t be useful anymore”, I believe her secret is the suicide one. 

(Quote from chapter 2 episode 11)

Veronika’s secret is probably the self harm one as she has mentioned she gets bored easily.

(Quote from chapter 2 episode 7)

Leaving the last remaining one Levi, the possible murder, who I believe is the killer of this case. And possibly the only one strong enough to spin the spinny thing fast enough.

The killer could also be Veronika. As she was there when Arei’s rope was taken to storage, and when the are circulation in the playground was mentioned.

This all speculation and is nowhere perfect. For example: Why not just tie the rope to the spinny thing and then just dump the minnow water on the ground? I was just trying to make sense of the broken handles of the water jugs.

If you guys have any theories or ideas I would love to hear them.

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Fall Around

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Ferelith ventures out on a personal quest after receiving information there may be a shop nearby that can help her translate a tome in her possession. Though she is willing to go alone, Astarion insists on trailing along. And thus ensues a playful adventure. (Bonus content in further chapters)

Notes: I felt helplessly romantic today and was reading through some things. I remember when I first wrote this, I thought it was the most raunchy thing I had ever written. I then went on to write more raunchy things. I edited this today and just wanted to repost it.

Another Note: 100% NSFW!!!!! You can make lemonade with these lemons.

Read here on Ao3.

It was a rounded stone staircase to a two-story cabin that Ferelith walked up. The sign hanging from the doorway read  Apothecary . Nothing else. No clever title, no surnames. Just...  Apothecary . It was usually those kind of shops she enjoyed the most. They were always straightforward. And she could generally find what she was looking for. She had insisted on going alone, but Astarion refused to allow her to travel by herself. There was too much at risk and he claimed he would rather act as a gentlemen escort than sit at camp with nothing to do. He was mostly quiet, which was odd, but she enjoyed his company nonetheless. He followed her up the staircase, also observing the sign swinging above the door.

"Charming," he said behind her. "You're sure this is it?"

"If not, we'll find out shortly."

"Fair enough," he sighed.

Ferelith opened the door to find a quaint room filled with shelves. Unfortunately... most of them were empty. Behind the desk was a man dressed in dark green robes. He seemed to be busy binding some sort of pouch but tossed it aside the moment he saw customers.

"Good afternoon!" he smiled. "I'm afraid the shop is low on stock. But I'm sure can help you find something today."

"I'm not exactly here to buy anything. I just had a few questions about some runes I found."

"Runes?" his brow lowered. "Well, I'm a bit rusty. But I can see what I can do."

Ferelith looked over her shoulder to her companion. Perhaps they had chosen poorly after all. The man led them around his counter to a small sitting area in the corner. Behind it was an archway. She did the best she could to lean over to get a better look, but the man took notice and put himself between her and the doorway. He gave Astarion a warning glance before he sat at the table. 

"Let's see what you have," he diverted their attention.

Ferelith took her component bag from around her shoulder, hanging it off the back of the chair. She sat down and reached into a breast pocket behind the front of her leather vest. She tossed the book on the table, causing the shopkeep to flinch as if it produced some sort of foul odor.

"What is this?" he said, his tone suddenly changing.

"A book," she replied nonchalantly.

"That's not a book... that's a plague. A bane cursed upon the unfortunate."

Ferelith exchanged a look with Astarion, who remained standing next to her.

"I'm only trying to decypher a message within it."

The shopkeep laughed, holding his stomach so as not to burst. "The best thing you can do with a book like this is to throw it away."

"I can't," she leaned forward. "If you could just-"

"I'll not touch anything that dark from the fey," he shook his head. "Why don't  you  tell me where you got it?"

A hand slammed down onto the table, shaking the book upon it. Astarion was leaning on that hand, hovering over the shopkeep, his eyes burning red.

"It's nothing more than just a silly book," he attempted persuasion. "If you could simply just... look  at it, that is all we ask."

The man was suddenly shaken but intrigued by Astarion in some way.

"You look different as well," he narrowed his eyes. "Where are  you  from?"

Ferelith let out a heavy sigh. "Perhaps we could trade, sir. I have a variety of items, here. I could pay you for your time."

The man looked over, glancing down into the bag that she now held open. The contents inside made him bolt from his chair. Astarion abruptly pushed him back down as Ferelith casually rummaged through the bag.

"Both of you," his face was filled with horror, Astarion's hand still lingering. "Creatures of the night. Fowl descendants of darkness. I'll have nothing to do with your evil plots."

"I assure you, this is far more boring than whatever it is you're imagining," Astarion crossed his arms.

"Get out of my shop!"

Ferelith froze, holding a jar of what appeared to be wasps in her hand. She looked to Astarion, who shrugged and gave her a questioning look. He was asking for permission, but she shook her head, shoving the jar back in her bag.

"We'll go," she rose from her chair.

Astarion placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her closer to the door. It was an affectionate gesture that was odd to her, but she allowed it, feeling some sort of desire from him to protect her. The man fumbled behind them, mumbling about hellfire and dark fey. Ferelith did what she could to ignore him, but she could feel the rage swelling inside her. As they exited the door, Ferelith turned, lowering Astarion's hand from her side.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," she gave a slight bow.

"I will not be fooled by your disguise," he stated in an angry tone. "You can't hide what you are, hag."

Not another word escaped her mouth before Astarion put himself between her and the shopkeeper. His hand clasped around his throat and slammed him into the wall and part of the door frame, causing it to crack. Ferelith could see the indention on the man’s neck where his fingertips dug into him, causing his face to turn red and his eyes to bulge. Astarion snarled, showing the full extent of his fangs.

"I would be very careful what you say next," he said. "If I even give you the chance."

The man tried to speak but only choked on his tongue. Astarion refused to let go. He waited until his face turned nearly purple before he released him, causing him to collapse on his stoop. He coughed loudly, gasping as the air tried to come in and out of his starved lungs. He reached out to grasp anything to help him onto his feet. Astarion stepped aside to avoid his flailing hand which eventually found the railing. The man looked up, his bloodshot eyes widening in fear as Astarion looked down at him. The expression he gave was that of disgust and his hand flexed as if waiting for Ferelith to permit him to slaughter the pathetic creature. It made something inside her squirm. 

"I'll call the guard," his voice was hoarse. "I'll call them. And they'll cut that pretty head of yours, revealing what you truly are. They'll hunt down your abomination. Both of you are damned."

Astarion calmly stepped forward over him but felt the warmth of Ferelith’s touch on his hand. That did not stop the man from falling backward. His hands scrambled beneath his shirt, looking for what appeared to be an amulet of sorts. Small mutters of prayer came from his mouth as he looked about, questioning if shouting for help would be worth it. Ferelith knelt to the man, her pale yellow eyes looking at what he clutched to his chest. 

"You'll die soon," she said calmly. "But not by my hand. I'll find what I need elsewhere." 

Astarion bared his fangs one last time to keep the man quiet. Ferelith, on the other hand, was already descending the stairs. Her face was full of frustration to the point a wrinkle had formed on the bridge of her nose. He knew the moment she did not deny his touch in the shop, she was heavy with emotion. Ferelith was not a touch sort of person. However, something changed within her as they rounded the corner and she pulled him down into an alley. He couldn't ask why, as there was no time. She pulled him forward with her arms wrapped tightly around him, shoving her face into his shoulder to allow her scream to become muffled. Astarion raised both hands in the air, looking from side to side as she released her anger. He could feel the vibrations on his skin and oddly wished it was more attractive than it really was. 

When Ferelith had finished her face had turned red. She panted heavily and pushed him away, brushing her hair from her face. With a deep inhale she held her breath, straightened her tunic, and exhaled. As she did, the color drained from her face. Her true self had returned. 

"Fucking bastard," she mumbled to herself. 

"Do you want me to go back? I could just kill him." 

Ferelith turned to him, her expression fading from anger to what he was sure he could not mistake for lust. A smile spread across her lips followed by a small bit of laughter. She stepped closer to him, her hands sliding up his chest and clutching the collar of his armor. She yanked down hard, pulling him onto her lips. As unexpected as it was, it most certainly was wanted. Their kiss was heavy and even somewhat sloppy. It was as if she had been desiring this for days. When she pulled away, she left her lips hanging under his. She opened her eyes and looked up into his.

“I like what you did... at the shop.”

“Touch your back?” he questioned.

“No... the way you shoved him into his chair.”

“Oh...?” he purred back in reply. “Anything... else?”

Ferelith let go of his collar, running her hands down his chest.

“I like the way you frightened him with your threats. The way you spoke...”

“Go on...” his hands were reaching down to her thighs.

“I couldn’t help myself. I was wet watching you shout at him.”

Astarion groaned as he bent his knees, lifting her and placing her back against the wall.

“And when you squeezed his neck...”

She felt his grip tighten around the bottom of her thighs as he pressed his pelvis against her. Her interest in his antics left him wanting, too. The excitement brought him to her lips as he thrust her aggressively against the brick behind them. There was no shame to him, but he still worried about the attention they could bring after the uproar they had just caused. Dying in an alley wasn't ideal, but it wouldn't have been a bad way to go with her at his lips. 

"I have an idea," she said on the cusp of his lips between breaths.

"If it involves being inside you, I won't need much persuading," he replied quickly. 

"The shopkeep is distracted with the guard. The building is empty." 

Astarion's face lit up, a wide smile forming and showing all the points of his teeth. "You wicked... wicked woman." 

There was no hesitation from Ferelith as she turned, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her. Following was easy, his steps correlating with hers as they ran back down the alley. She marched up the steps, looking back to smile at him. They would have to go around another alley to the back of the house. Somehow, she knew the way, as if she had been planning to break in all along. Watching the back of her, her hair bouncing as she ran, the over-the-shoulder smile, her hand clutching his own... something about it made him feel free. There was no beat to his heart, but something in his chest rushed through him. 

It tightened as they approached the back of the shop. Ferelith let go of his hand when she stepped to the window. Peering in through a crack, she had been correct. The man had left the house empty. Unguarded. And was more than likely leaving to report the incident to the town guard. The window’s shutters were bolted, but it was nothing Astarion could not pick through. It fell to the ground with a thud and he opened it quietly. With ease, he climbed inside. Ferelith quickly followed. 

The room they landed in appeared to be the mixing room in the back. Dried herbs were hanging from the rafts, empty cauldrons were waiting to be scrubbed, various notes were nailed to the walls, and random tools of the craft were scattered about. But the one thing that was abundant in the room... were tables. And it took Ferelith no time to pick one, scattered with notes and herbs. She took Astarion by the hand, walking backward and slowly dragging him with her. He watched as she slid herself on a table with her arms leaned back to support her. She spread her legs, inviting him. He accepted, sliding his hands from her knees down her thighs. They resumed their kiss from the alleyway, Ferelith reaching desperately for his breeches. 

This was a side to her he had never seen before. Not outside of dreams, anyway. There was a ferocity to her kiss and a look in her eye that sparked something inside him. It made him impatient as well. As she had finished untying the string at his waist, she reached down the front of his breeches, grabbing him around the shaft and pulling upward. There was a heavy exhale from him as she moved her hand around it, feeling the wetness from his tip with her thumb. Her boots needed to be removed. Now. His hands were quick, sliding them off one leg and then the other. He wasn't quite sure where he threw them, but he was willing to purchase her new ones if he had to. Her leathers were next, in which case she had had already begun to untie them. With one hand, he lifted her from the table. And with a combined effort from the two, they slid the pants to her ankles. One leg he managed to slide off, the other he didn't have time for. 

Rising between her legs, he grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her forward aggressively and kissing her with an open mouth. She pulled him forward by the hips, thrusting herself into him at the edge of the table. As he reached down to pull himself out, he realized how incredibly hard he truly was. She was pulling at him, pulling at his darker instinct. With his hand still around the tip, he moved a finger to the cloth of her small clothes that blocked his path. He shifted them to the side and rubbed the tip of his finger against her, feeling how ready she was to have him. She squirmed, biting his lip and making him groan. She drew him in again, her hands now buried under the sides of his pants and digging into his hip bones. He slid his hand down to the base of his shaft, feeling it slick from his wetness and now hers. 

He moaned loudly when he dove inside, causing him to toss back his head. The soft warmth of her walls tightened around him. She kissed him on the neck, stretching up to bite his jaw. He moaned again, pulling out and thrusting back in. Her hands rose under his shirt, clawing at his lower back as he began to pump inside her. He kissed her again, breathing heavily through his nose. The more he was inside, the faster he began to move. Small whimpers came from the back of her throat. He had decided he wanted to hear more of them. He removed his lips to bury his face into her shoulder. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on either side of her and onto the table, causing her to lean back and push her bottom half further to the edge. He moved harder, making her cry out with pleasure, clutching his back to stay balanced. Her legs rose and she wrapped them around him. But he needed more space. He moved his hand to her thigh, where he grabbed it and lifted it to plunge deeper into her. 

It felt good. It felt so damn good. Her body tightened and she felt the first convulsion that sent a chill through her body, signaling the beginnings of her climax. Astarion groaned deeply, a heavy breath that billowed from the bottom of his lungs. Her pleasure was ecstasy to him. The more she shouted, the harder he thrust. He straightened himself up, watching his manhood slide in and out of her. Her cloth panties were still pushed to the side and he decided they were a hinderance to his sight. There wasn't time for pause, so he reached down and tugged. They ripped apart at his hand with no trouble at all. However, the full impact of seeing himself inside her was overwhelming and he quickly looked away as he felt a twitch that would cause him to cum too quickly. He looked at her, instead, watching her body bounce in motion with his movements. Her head was craned back, her neck arched upward and he could see her cheeks getting red. Her nails dug into his flesh and he growled but did not stop. He slid his arm through the crook in her leg below the knee, holding her at her lower back. His movement slowed to a steady in-and-out thrust. Her walls were pulsing, ready and wanting... and waiting. The hand on the table came up her back, straightening her and resting on the back of her head. His fingers tangled into her hair and he could feel her hot breath on his neck. He tightened his grip, feeling another surge for himself, as well. 

"Cum for me," he said into her ear.

A soft moan fell from her lips, slipping into his ear. Her hands retracted from his back, slithering their way back down to his hips where she felt him push and pull.

"Make me," she whispered back.

He pulled her away from him, gently, to look her in the eyes. There was the spark again. The look of defiance. It made him want to slam her onto the table. But he couldn't. Not yet. He wanted to make her suffer. He pumped slowly, feeling the insides tighten each time he passed through. She was close. And as her face became askew, mouth open with hooded eyes, he could see she was resisting. She was voluntarily tightening herself and releasing, holding on to extend her pleasure. He grinned, thoroughly enjoying watching the expression on her face change as he went deeper and deeper with every sway.

"Oh," she said, her mouth hanging open. "Oh... my..."

Her hands squeezed his hips, desperately trying to move him. But he was in control. And the consistency of his cock passing through her walls and touching deep inside her sent a steady flowing chill through her body. He could feel it, too, her walls no longer pulsing... but tightening. He pressed his lips firmly together, fighting his own climax as she became wetter around him. He hummed loudly, his hand unclutching the back of her head and slamming onto the table. 

"Don't stop," she begged, loosening her grasp and letting him move. 

She felt it from her fingertips down to the very tips of her toes, a warm sensation that tingled her entire body. And at the center was Astarion, still steadily and slowly pumping into her. There was a loud cry followed by desperate gasps for air and small whimpers. He placed his other hand on the table giving one last thrust into her as he felt her loosen. His head lifted, kissing her immediately. And he would have been able to contain himself... if he hadn't felt the bite of her teeth on his bottom lip. He pulled away, but she hadn't let go, his lip sliding between them. The darkness came back, just when he thought he had controlled it. He only had to take a half step to slide her off the surface. Her legs were shaking and he held her up, helping her turn over. A foot came down onto the pants still wrapped around her ankle. And as he turned her, they came off her foot. Ferelith tried to steady herself, but it was no use. Astarion had thrust himself back inside her without any gentle ease. Her arms rose to the table and she tried to plant them down before he reached up, grabbing one of her wrists and holding it behind her back. With her free arm, she reached up to grab the other end... but could not find it. Instead, she wrinkled the research that was left on the table. It rocked back and forth as he slammed himself against her. And it was all she could do to just enjoy it. Her eyes rolled back and she could feel herself tighten around him again, the sensitivity from before heightening his deep thrusts. 

The slickness from her orgasm made it easy for him to slide in and out without resistance, allowing his pace to move faster. And harder. Ferelith could not control the cries coming from her mouth as he touched the very center of her over and over. He had another urge to grab her, his sinister thoughts coming out again. Not wanting to completely incapacitate her, he grabbed her rear and squeezed it until he made a handprint. He watched her bounce against his hips, his cock sliding effortlessly into her. He watched for a moment, the visual combining with the sensation sending him over the edge. He let go of her wrist, grabbing both her hips and pulling her closer, thrusting deeper inside her. He pushed two more times before finally feeling himself release. He moaned loudly, continuing to bounce her on him as he felt his manhood twitch inside her. He pulled himself out, examining the creamy liquid on his member.

He let go of Ferelith but quickly caught her as she began to lean too far to one side. She turned around with his hands to guide her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"More than alright," she panted, hoisting herself up.

They both began to laugh, Ferelith leaning her forehead against his and running her hands up his arms. 

"Here," he lifted her onto the table, knowing she would spill what was inside her onto the research they had just spoiled. "Let me find something to clean up with."

Looking around, he didn't trust anything inside the apothecary to clean himself with. He casually walked into the front area and noticed a robe hanging on a coat rack near the door. He gave a quick glance out the window and saw no one was near the shop. Then grabbed the robe to head back to Ferelith, who was patiently waiting and catching her breath. He wiped himself first, which was hardly a mess at all, and handed it to his partner. He tucked himself back into his breeches and tied it up just as neatly as before. 

"Could... could you maybe not watch?" she said standing up.

There was a small drip that descended her leg. He lifted a brow, feeling himself harden again at his handy work. 

"I suppose I could give the lady some privacy," his eyes rose to meet her.

He gave a slight gracious bow before turning his back, walking toward a different part of the room. It was covered in books. Many of them were old and covered in dust as if they had not been touched in a very long time. The titles seemed to have obscure names. Something similar to what Ferelith would read. He had no knowledge of such things, but he could tell magic from cultism. And these books were certainly darker in nature. He grabbed one, in particular, an emerald green book with a faded gold bird stamped on the side. He opened it to see it was written in elvish. Something he was acquainted with. But then other parts he could not understand. And as he flipped through the book, he noticed small charts of what appeared to be runes. 

"Ferelith..." he called quietly. 

"Yes?" she asked sweetly.

He smiled, wanting to look at her, but not wanting to disrupt her space. He had noticed she was always more pleasant after a good orgasm. This wasn't the first time she used that tone with him. He adored it and the warm feeling it gave him.

"You should look at this. It appears we were in the right place after all."

He heard the thud of the robe falling to the floor and the soft pitter-patter of her feet trotting toward him. She snatched the book from him, causing him to look over with disdain. With her leathers draped over her shoulders, she began to flip through the pages. Her mind was lost in thought and her eyes stuck in a trance, she sat the book down the table. They didn't leave the page as she slid her legs through the pantholes.

"That stingy prick," she said, her eyes still darting through the words. 

"I thought he didn't deal with the fey?"

"I don't think he does. This is sylvan. Druidic. Old... druidic."

She hopped pulling her pants to her waste but when she reached down to tie them, she didn't feel the strings. A quick flash of annoyance came onto her face, but she was still too focused. 

"It's part of a set..." she flipped the book over to see the bird. "One of three. I believe I have another that belongs to it."

"Are any of these part of the set?"

Ferelith finally looked up to Astarion, who was gesturing to the series of books he had discovered. Her hand touched each one as her eyes scanned over their spines. She took out several of them, opening them and finding more runes, more sigils, more spells. One book in particular she tapped.

"This, here. Abyssal? Infernal?"

"Infernal," he said, leaning over her.

"You can read it?"

"Some," he said.

"Perfect... that will make transcribing it much easier," her eyes lit up when she looked at him. 

"Let's get started. I'll grab the rest of the books," he began to stack them together on the table.

Ferelith placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn and look in her direction. It slid to his neck while her other caressed the side of his face. 

"I've never been more attracted to you," she said before she kissed him.

Wrapping his arms around her, he felt the sudden urge to throw her on another table. 

"Do we have time for another round?" he said above a whisper, his hand sliding underneath her.

"Doubtful," she said with a satisfied exhale but slid his hand away. 

Ferelith turned back toward the table, placing the books she had pulled out into her satchel. Before she could face the bookshelf to grab the others, she felt hands around her waste. He pressed her against the table, his teeth grazing the side of her neck. She folded, pressing her backside into his crotch, dropping the bag, and letting out a loud moan. He reached back down, tucking his hand beneath her breeches where he could feel she wasn't wearing anything beneath them. Just as she reached up to grab the back of his head, there was a sudden scream from the door. 

Astarion pulled his hand away, quickly turning to see the shopkeep had made his way back. Ferelith reached down, grabbing the bag with the books in it. He shoved her toward the window and she climbed through clumsily, tripping a bit before she caught her footing. She took off running before she knew Astarion was behind her. But within a few short seconds, she could hear his footsteps followed by the cursing of a man leaning out the window. Ferelith was fast, especially on bare feet, but Astarion was by far faster. She could hear him panting behind her. She hadn't the slightest idea of where she was going, but she zipped through the alleyways until she knew they were safe. She found a path with a stack of crates and slowed her pace to flop down behind them. Astarion was right behind her, placing his back on the wall and sliding down next to her. Breathing heavily, they both looked at one another. And much like two troublesome children, the second their eyes met, they burst into laughter. Ferelith paused to admire the authenticity of his laugh. Seeing him smile like that, his head back with his laughter echoing off the walls, it made her feel a genuine sense of joy that usually had a hard time finding a place in her life. 

" That ," he caught his breath, "was not what I expected when you said you needed a few things from town."

"You'll learn not to have expectations with me," she grinned.

"Spontaneity all the way through, then?" he turned to look at her, taking her hand into his. "Should be fun."

He lifted it, kissing her knuckles and holding her hand to his mouth while looking at her with large eyes. Ferelith rolled her eyes, taking her hand back from him. 

"Alright, enough," she rose to her feet. "Let's get back to camp."

There was a sudden pull on her strings... oddly, from the back. She looked over at Astarion, tying her breeches for her.

"Are you aware your pants are on backward?"

"What? No!"

"Would you like to fix them?"

"No... You can take them off for me later."

"Oh, yes. Be sure to remind me, darling," he turned around, waving his hands behind his back. "Now get on my back. I'll carry you. Just until we're out of town. These city streets are filthier than the dirt-trodden paths."

Ferelith adjusted her satchel across her shoulder, feeling the heaviness from the weight of the books. She looked at Astarion's back, his hands stretched behind him waiting for her. It was clear she wanted to decline, but something was preventing her from doing so. The fluttering of joy came through her chest again. Astarion looked over his shoulder, becoming impatient.

"Well? Come on."

One last smile to him, and she reluctantly hopped on his back, hearing him make a small grunt as he hoisted her up. 

"Do you think he'd be willing to give back my boots?" she said, her head resting atop his.

"We can certainly try." Astarion shrugged. "If not, my offer still stands on killing him."

And they both grinned, the wind blowing slightly through the wide alleyway as they made their voyage out of town.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 27

Quintus’ mood swings render him ever unpredictable. Gaius displays curiosity regarding your marriage. You set sail for Rome.

Chapter list

You manage to slip under the covers soundlessly and do thus not rouse Quintus. Sleep does not come easy, though, with a raging mind that settles on anything but rest, and your eyes feel heavy in the morning, whilst Quintus loudly makes his hangover known. You draw the sheets over your body to block out the cold whilst you watch your husband dress for the day, groaning about how his head feels like it’s being split open.

“What was in that wine?” he grunts, rubbing his temples and squeezing his eyes shut, and you roll onto your side to support your stomach a little better. 

“I told them to get the best they could find,” you say, “Apparently, it was heavier than expected.”

“You don’t need to tell me.” Quintus responds, adjusting his armour. He drapes an extra layer over his shoulders before turning to you, dark eyes flitting over your form.

“Don’t forget to pack your things. We’ll leave tomorrow before daybreak.”

You let out a noise. “For how long should I pack?”

“A week.”

He leans down and the brush of his mouth against yours is nothing compared to the way Atticus thoroughly loves you. Thinking back on last night, you try to not let your disgust regarding Quintus’ kiss get the better of you.

When he leaves, you lay for a while longer, caressing the itching skin of your stomach, attempting to muster the courage to pack your belongings. Had Quintus not revealed the true intentions of his trip to Rome yesterday, you would have been delighted to go. Now, you feared either you or Lucius slipping up, and you just hoped to get a word in before Quintus could speak to your brother. After all, you hope to convince him into fleeing or at least be mindful of what might come.

It feels wrong to ask such a thing of him for your own sake. 

But how will you live in eternal regret if you let Atticus go and remain in the life you have now?

You eventually manage to drag yourself out of bed and wash yourself before slipping into something comfortable. The skin around your lips is dry by the chafe of Atticus’ stubble, a pleasant memory dancing inside your mind as you start packing your belongings with mixed feelings surging through you. In light of his work, Atticus is around for a while, so the fact that you are the one to leave Capernaum by tomorrow pains you greatly. After all, you aren’t sure when you’ll run into him again.

After choosing a few garments as well as some accessories that go with them, you take it easy for the day. With grape juice and apricots at hand, you take a seat underneath the tree overlooking the Sea of Galilee. The copy of the verses taken from Song of Songs rests in your lap and you read them intently, wondering who wrote them and allowing your mind to go to the Preacher that has caused so much upheaval lately.

The image of his eyes floods your vision. The moment had been brief but long enough to know that Jesus was no ordinary Man, at least compared to all the other Jewish preachers you had seen in the streets. Jesus didn’t seem to boast loudly about His achievements, He didn’t pray loudly on the corner of the street, nor did He require any donations.

It was interesting to you. All your life, you had never really questioned the polytheism within Roman culture. When you were younger, you used to pray daily to whatever deity you needed assistance from. For every moment of the day, there was a different god you sought out. 

They had been silent despite your loyalty.

You had begged the gods to prevent your marriage, and they didn’t. You had pleaded that Quintus would start to really love you, and nothing came of it. In your desperation, you had even asked if you could fall for your husband in the hopes that being with him would be less taxing throughout life, but your aversion only grew.

Overtime, your faith dwindled, and it brings you here, feeling not an ounce of guilt for taking keen interest in Jewish Scriptures.

But what about this God is different from the ones within Roman culture? The few poems you’ve got on you are hardly enough to figure this out and visiting a synagogue was out of the question. No matter if and how you’d get that information, what you knew is that you simply had to know more. Jesus’ warm eyes had been too inviting to suppress that intrigue now.

You nearly spit your juice back into your cup as a sudden jolt goes through your belly. With widened eyes, you swallow quickly and look down at your stomach, the parchment stirring at the arch of your body as you move in discomfort.

Putting down the cup, you move aside the scroll and wonder what is going on, until that same feeling goes through you again. 

Your bladder suddenly feels tight and sudden pain surges through it before it shifts higher to your navel and– the baby, you suddenly realise, and you gasp as you lay your hand on your stomach – it takes a second to comprehend that you have just felt your child move for the first time.

Sitting as still as you can, you cradle your tummy and wait for another good minute to notice any movement, but the baby seems to have gone back to sleep. Joy shunts through you, causing the greatest of grins to spread over your face. It falls just as fast when you are briefly overcome with the urge to call Atticus’ name, for you know that he is not close to hear and seeking him out in the light of day to share the news would mean a death sentence if witnessed by the wrong people at the wrong time. 

Tears shiver inside your vision and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

With a defeated sigh, you rub your thumb over your stomach, drawing small circles as you celebrate the moment in silence, utterly alone.

_ 

Quintus returns home late, fuming. The vein on the side of his head throbs and his knuckles are white as he squeezes the cup of wine between his fingers. Even though the first words he had said when he had woken up had been that he’d never drink a single drop of alcohol again, something that had happened at work has put him in a foul mood.

“Just my luck,” Quintus grunts, nursing his drink as you enter the room. “Right when things are finally, finally starting to get sorted out, this happens. It must be a curse from the gods. Have you been praying lately?”

“Of course,” you lie, “What is going on, Quin? Has something happened–”

“Matthew quit.” Quintus hisses through gritted teeth, “He has the best job out of all the Jews in all of Capernaum. Has a mansion, more than enough money to eat like a king every night, and then Gaius comes to me telling me that he dropped everything to follow… Follow that Jewish Rabbi!”

“Jesus?”

Quintus gives you a sharp look. “Yes! Stop mentioning His name, I really don’t like that Man.” 

“Why did Matthew… Did he really just… Leave?”

“What a fool, right?” your husband huffs, seething behind his cup as he throws it back in one gulp. “Gaius is already going through the applications for a new publicanus. I trusted Matthew’s wit more than any of the lot combined. Now, we’re back at zero regarding the tax collection here. He’ll be difficult to replace.”

Chewing on his nail, Quintus puts down his cup before inhaling through his nose. “Have you packed your things, dear?”

“I have.” you respond, “Everything is in the chest in the bedroom–”

“Good, call over a servant to have it hauled into the cart. I’ll be packing my final necessities and then we’ll leave for Rome.”

Your heart drops. “Now?” Part of you had been daydreaming about Atticus climbing through your window and kissing you senseless in the midst of night. Now even the possibility thereof fades as Quintus gives a nod and heads over to the wardrobe to pull out robes and tunics to bring. 

“What about your work? You cannot leave now, whilst the town is on the verge of disarray!”

“Aren’t you just grateful , darling, that I’m bringing you with me to Rome? Where’s that whining little brat that begged to go and see her darling brother?”

Your hands clench into fists at the words. 

Quintus’ eyes meet yours. “Do what I say and get yourself ready to leave.”

“But Quintus, I’m five months pregnant, I cannot just—”

He lunges forward and stands so close that his nose brushes yours, his eyes filled with fury. “Don’t get on my nerves!” he spits, drops of saliva landing on your face, but you resist the urge to flinch. “We need to go there and be back as soon as possible! I don’t expect you to understand but I’ve got better things to do then go on a fun little family outing.”

“Then why are we going in the first place?”

He grits his teeth and blinks. “Because you keep pleading to go,” he says. “And I hope it will finally stop your annoying whimpering about it.”

Your eyes widen. He doesn’t remember telling you about his ulterior motives last night. Quintus turns away to continue packing. 

Before you can decide whether you’d do best to keep it hidden that you know about it, the words already leave your lips. “You’re going to interrogate my brother about the letter I sent him.”

He halts in his movements and slowly turns to you, something unreadable on his features. In moments like these, he scares you the most. You would have avoided his gaze if it weren’t for the wave of confidence suddenly washing over you, though it fades just as fast as soon as his eyes lock with yours. 

“Honestly, (Y/n), I don’t think I can trust you anymore. That letter was very concerning to me and apparently, you don’t want to tell me about it, so I need to investigate myself.”

“You’ll find nothing,” you whisper, “And then you’ll pout, as you always do when you don’t get your way, because then you realise that our trip would have been for nothing and you’ll make me feel guilty for not convincing you enough.”

A warning finger hovers in the air as it points at you. 

“I’m already in a foul mood, (Y/n), and you’re incredibly close to making it a hundred times worse. Shut your mouth, know your place and do as I say!”

You shrink, as you often do when your heart breaks inside your chest, for Quintus is a stark contrast of a man who you love so deeply, who you perhaps could have been with in another life. Stepping back, you cast down your gaze and exit the room to find a servant to assist you. 

Telling two men to head up the stairs, you head further into the estate as they go to do so. In the kitchen, you find Gaius, bent over a pile of applications to take Matthew’s place. You reckon Quintus must have invited him in after work so that the Praetor can keep an eye on the process even in his off-duty hours. 

“Hello, Primi.” you greet him. He looks up and gives you a tight-lipped smile and nods in response. Taking a look over his shoulder, you see a Jewish name on the scroll.

“Ma’am,” Gaius finally verbalises, “Would you believe it? Matthew was being shunned for his position yet a dozen others are more than happy to take his place when it comes to it.”

You hum. “Men are fools in the face of money no matter where they come from, Gaius.”

Gaius mutters an affirmative reply and scribbles something down. 

“How did it happen?” you wonder, “His departure, I mean.”

The Primi lifts his pen and rests it in the inkwell. “Matthew?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, that Preacher walked by. Thought nothing of it at first, until He halted and turned around, calling for Matthew to follow Him. The kid gave me the key to his house, his ledger, everything. Even got his dog.”

Your brow furrows. “Oh. Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Gaius affirms. 

You chew your bottom lip and let out a small noise. “How peculiar.”

“It is going to be difficult to find a replacement that somehow matches his competence.”

Nodding in agreement, you sigh. “He is indeed very bright. But I hope he’ll be happy wherever he goes.” At that, Gaius frowns, then opens his mouth to speak yet immediately closes it again, deciding against whatever he was going to comment. Instead, he turns to you fully, the volume of his voice decreasing. 

“Forgive me if I am talking out of turn here, ma’am, but… That sounded like quite the disagreement upstairs.”

Your face pales and you swallow hard, finding something akin to pity in his eyes. “Beg your pardon?” you mutter. Gaius shakes his head, stuttering for a moment as he attempts to find the right words, holding up his hands in defence. 

“A-As I said I mean no disrespect, I just…”

“You just what, Gaius?” The nasal drawl of Quintus tears through the room and you inhale sharply at the sudden sound. “Go on, finish that sentence. Don’t you have your own wife back home to worry about, huh?” Hurt flashes behind the Primi’s eyes but your husband does not pick up on it - you do - and an apologetic sound leaves Gaius’ throat. 

“I-I’m deeply sorry for even mentioning it, Dominus.”

“It’s none of your business, Gaius.” Quintus snaps. “I don’t think I brought you in here to talk to my wife about my marriage. Take your things and leave us alone. When we return from Rome I expect you to have found a decent replacement for Matthew, or else you and I are going to have a chat of which you will certainly not enjoy the outcome.”

Gulping, Gaius bows his head in shame and whispers: “Yes, Dominus,” before taking up the scrolls and scurrying out of the house. 

“Can you believe his nerve?” Quintus scoffs, “And that from one of the best men around Capernaum. I mean, his performance is far from perfect, but I had expected way better from him.”

You step forward and put your hand on Quintus’ arm in the hopes it will calm him down. He sharply pivots but softens as soon as he realises that it is you and you force a smile on your features, giving him a reassuring look. “Perhaps that Gaius is having a hard day, too. After all, he needs to quickly find someone of an unmatched calibre to take over the booth. It must be stressful for him.”

A scowl spreads over his face. “Are you pitying him, (Y/n)? Come on, now. Don’t be stupid. Anyways, I’ve finished packing as well. We’ll leave after dinner. That way, we’ll be in Rome within two days, stay for three and leave again. Be back before the start of next week, hm?”

You keep your head down for the rest of the evening, eating in silence and listening to him ramble on about whatever keeps him busy. The slander about Jews as well as about the Preacher with the kind eyes slips off of you like water off a duck’s back, for you’ve already had your fill of your husband’s whining. Every so often, your gaze would go to the door, hoping that Atticus has found an excuse to come by regardless.

He does not, much to your dismay.

Quintus helps you inside the carriage before climbing in himself. It’s another kind of wagon compared to the one you previously travelled with, one with curtains on each side that you can pull shut around the roofed carriage, and memories flood back on your previous trip outside Capernaum. This one, however, was of way less delight and showed no trace of your wonderful lover whom you yearned to catch but a glimpse of. 

You travel through the dark with a decent amount of security around you. With the baby moving inside of you every so often, you feel exhaustion creep up. Once your eyelids are heavy, Quintus pats his shoulder so that you can rest against him. It is the first truly genuine domestic thing he has done for you in a long time and you accept his offer, for there is no other way to sleep.

The ride to the harbour is long, with drivers taking turns so that they can rest next to one another every so often, and at the crack of dawn, you watch how your belongings are loaded into the ship that carries goods for trade on the other side of the water. Quintus has arranged a decent hut for the two of you as you travel overseas, and you first snooze there for a while before starting to explore the upper deck, a scroll of parchment under your arm. 

The vessel has already departed when you finally sit down with your back against a barrel overlooking the vast expanse of the Mare Magnum . With the wind positively in its sails, the ship tears across the water easily. Under its salty scent and the pad of sandals around you, you gaze out over the waves with narrowed eyes, an almost genuine smile tugging at your lip upon the sensation of warm sunlight stinging your face. If Atticus had been here, would he be sitting next to you, holding your hand as he’d tell you countless stories about his adventures at sea as a Cohortes Urbanae? You aren’t even sure if his work entails him partaking in such environments, but you like to think that he can tell you something interesting about everything .

Quintus appears in your field of vision and blocks the sunlight from you so that you are now cast within a shadow of his form, and you look up at him with an expression that shows indignance. “Darling,” he greets, way softer than the way he had regarded you earlier today, and he holds out his hand. “Walk with me.” It is not a request but rather an order, so you allow him to help you up, an involuntary grunt leaving you at the discomfort of your belly. 

The Praetor holds out his arm and casts an expectant glance your way, and you don’t have any choice but to cradle your fingers around the inside of his elbow. The pair of you head over to the bow of the ship in silence, patrolling and working guards stepping out of your way with cautious frowns on their brow, before halting at the railing to look out over the water. There is sea for as far as the eye reaches and you wonder how long it will take to reach the other side, even though you’ve gone on this same route months ago, albeit to Capernaum that time, and you realise that a whole year of living there is steadily closing in on you. 

You rest your hands on the wood and sigh, inhaling the fresh air that makes your mind feel at ease, as if the wind rips away the intrusive thoughts of what would happen if you were to push Quintus over the edge of the ship into the unforgiving waves below, or if you’d be strong enough to do so. It drifts away to Atticus instead so that you can block out your husband standing so close to you, watching you from the corner of his eye.

“You look very beautiful like that.” Quintus says. He’s worlds apart from where he was yesterday evening and it takes you aback every time just how fickle he is. “I… I apologise for yelling at you yesterday.” Warily, you look at him, awaiting the catch regarding his pardon. “I trust that there is no reason to address this to your siblings nor your father, hm?” There it is. He is attempting to convince you not to mention his abusive behaviour to your family. 

Although, you are certain that if your father knew, he wouldn’t even care to begin with. Even worse, you’re convinced he’d take Quintus’ side. In hindsight, he treated your mother in the exact same way, albeit with less bruises on her limbs and brow.

“Okay,” you reply after a long silence, not exactly promising him to keep your mouth shut yet enough for him to smile and put a hand on the small of your back. 

“I do not tell you often enough that I love you. You know that, right? That I love you. Sometimes you might think that I do not, but I say these things for your own good. You’re a woman. You don’t know how the world works.”

You force back the nausea that builds up inside your throat. Whereas you’re surprised that you’re not struggling with how much the ship is teetering across the sea, your husband’s words seem to evoke that same bodily aversion altogether. Thickly swallowing, you force a smile on your face. 

“I felt the baby move yesterday.” It is a successful attempt to divert his attention from the fact that you haven’t replied to his statement and his eyes widen. A rare, genuine smile spreads across his features and you are filled with immense grief at the notion that you’d much rather share this news with Atticus instead, and you wonder how his face would have lit up upon said news.

“Truly?” Quintus mutters with an ajar mouth, “That means my son is healthy. Praise Juno!” He laughs and a few soldiers cast curious glances your way at the sound. His hand settles on your tummy before you can shy away from it and you gulp at how tightly he grips you – how possessive he still is – and his other hand cradles your jaw. “Everything will be alright.” he tells you, “We are going to raise such a strong soldier together. He’ll be a Governor one day. I’ll be remembered as the father of a great asset to the Roman Empire.” 

It is always about himself. 

“Come, come darling.” Quintus says when you don’t reply, and he ushers you in front of him so that you can look out over the water. He wraps his arms around you from behind and his kiss that lands against the side of your neck makes you want to hunch over the railing to throw up, but you force it down. 

As he embraces you, your heart breaks inside your chest as Rome draws ever closer. 

Luckily, he doesn’t see the tears that leak across your cheeks, disturbed by the wind.

Next chapter Chapter list

[merlinnski]

Bloodstained Snow

Moshang fic - 3.7k words Hurt/comfort, mild blood & injury, angst with a happy ending

This fic has been cross-posted to AO3 if you would prefer to read/support it there!

---

The winters within the Northern Desert were harsh. 

The winds always howled, soft snowflakes were more akin to small shards of ice against bare skin, and the sky was pitch black more often than the soft hues of blue during the day. The climate was far more unforgiving, yet the ice demons of the Northern Desert were completely unfazed. This was hardly a change to them. 

To Shang Qinghua, it was unpleasant. 

The innumerable stacks of papers on his desk seemed more daunting than usual, a flood of obstacles he no longer had the energy to tackle. Despite the warm furs wrapped tightly around him he shivered near constantly. There was only so much Mobei Jun could do to help him during the difficult winters he still had yet to grow accustomed to. Thus leading him to his current predicament. 

He was shut away in his chambers, burrowed underneath multiple layers of warm, thick blankets that he’s hoarded. His hair was untied, the clothes he wore were unruly. The usual bags under his eyes seemed darker than usual. To put it frankly–he looked like a mess. Shang Qinghua felt like doing nothing.

He knew he had to get up and work, he just couldn’t get himself to. 

There was a soft knock at the door. He groaned, pushing his blanket burrow off of him slightly to sit up properly. He waited in silence for a moment until another knock came. If it was who he thought it was, it was an incredibly bad time. 

“Who is it?” He asked, loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. He hoped the response was from anyone but the person he thought it was. 

“It’s me,” A familiar gruff voice responded, muffled by the door. 

Shang Qinghua wanted to hide back under his blankets and act like he didn’t exist. 

“One minute, My King!” He tossed the blankets off of him quickly and rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over himself in the process. 

He ran a hand through his hair, tying it back hastily. It was a messy bun, but still better than simply leaving it down. He then rushed to the door, swinging it open swiftly to be greeted face-to-face with Mobei Jun. The demon was looking down at him with a quirked eyebrow, scrutinizing his appearance. “Sorry for taking so long, did you need something?” He apologized, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“Is Qinghua not feeling well?” Mobei Jun asked instead, a mildly concerned look on his face. 

“Huh..?” Shang Qinghua looked dumbfounded for a moment before hastily shaking his head. “Oh! No, no no, I’m perfectly fine, My King. Nothing to worry about.” Mobei Jun narrowed his eyes, though it seemed he decided against rebutting. “If you insist.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief. It was a mercy that Mobei Jun decided not to pry. 

“I was wondering if you would like to go for a walk with me,” The demon said after a moment of silence, keeping his expression neutral. 

“A walk? Where?” That caught Shang Qinghua off guard. Mobei Jun rarely asked for him to do much during the past winters they’ve spent together, what could have changed? “There’s a demon clan in the mountains that’s been causing trouble. I mean to scope it out and decide the next course of action,” He explained, lowering his gaze slightly. “This king wondered if you would like to come and get some fresh air.”

‘You look like you could use it’ was left unsaid between them. There was no mistaking that look on Mobei Jun’s face. He wanted him to come along regardless of his answer. Shang Qinghua sighed, the corners of his lips turning upwards slightly into a tired smile. 

“Alright, My King. I’ll come along. When are we expected to leave?” He was already creating a mental checklist in his head of things he needed to prepare before setting off. A set of extremely warm clothes included.

“As soon as Qinghua is ready.” Was all Mobei Jun had supplied as an answer, crossing his arms against his chest. 

That was not helpful in the slightest, he thought to himself dully. 

“Um… Is a blizzard still going on outside? It’s not dark out, is it?” He asked anxiously, fidgeting with his hands in the process.

He really didn’t want to suffer hypothermia mid-walk. Not even the expensive–and quite heavy–fur cloak Mobei Jun gifted him would save him from the below freezing temperatures of a winter storm. 

“The winds have calmed down. It should be safe for travel,” He supplied, which was enough of an answer for Qinghua. 

“...Okay. Just give me a moment, My King. I’ll be right out.” Shang Qinghua lightly closed the door, scanning the room for his dresser.

He changed quickly into something warmer, an outfit that was selected specifically for him by Mobei Jun a few years ago. It was light blue in color and a soft fabric that he particularly enjoyed. Qinghua then quickly untied his hair, running a brush through it to make himself look slightly more presentable. Once he was satisfied, he nodded to himself.

He still looked paler than usual, like an absolute mess, but at least he looked better than before. That was enough.

He slid the heavy cloak over his shoulders, the fur-lined collar tickling his cheek lightly. He opened the door again, greeted with the sight of Mobei Jun leaning against the wall. At the sight of him, he stood up straight, tilting his head inquisitively. “Ready to go?” He asked, maintaining his cool demeanor. 

A few demon servants passed by in the halls behind him, carrying a variety of different trays and papers with them. Seemed like they were busier than usual. “I’m ready,” Shang Qinghua confirmed, exiting his room quietly. 

Mobei Jun took off in long strides towards one end of the corridor, keeping his speed slow enough to allow Qinghua to keep up behind him. He stayed as close to the ice king as possible, keeping his head down.

He could only mentally prepare himself for the cold journey ahead of them.

—

‘Safe for travel’ my ass, Shang Qinghua thought bitterly, shivering aggressively underneath the thick layers of warm fabric he wore. 

The snowflakes that littered the sky were blown into his face and onto his hair, melting on contact and chilling what little skin he left uncovered. They felt like small shards of ice stabbing into him, mildly painful but still barely tolerable. Though the moon had yet to rise, the darkened clouds that covered the demon realm’s sun left little light for them. You could almost mistake the day for night with how hardly visible the world around him seemed to be. 

Mobei Jun was a few steps ahead of him, maintaining the same slow pace he had earlier. Shang Qinghua was hardly keeping up as it was, his legs knee-deep in the powdered snow beneath them. It hardly seemed to faze the ice demon, however, given that he moved around as if it were nothing more than a mere inconvenience in his way. 

One trip up, and Qinghua believes he may end up buried underneath the snow and unable to get himself out without falling over again. Remind him again why he designed such an unforgiving land? 

“My King, how much longer until we’re at the tribe?” He raised his voice loud enough for Mobei Jun to hear him, trudging through the deep snow in a hurry to keep up. 

Mobei Jun paused to look over his shoulder, his brows furrowed. “Not too far from here. Is Qinghua cold?” 

Cold is an understatement! I’m freezing my balls off! Shang Qinghua forced a small smile. That–and his rapid shivering–was enough of a hint for Mobei Jun to reach over and take his hand. 

The minute Mobei Jun’s hand came in contact with his, a feeling of warmth flooded through him. His eyes widened subconsciously at the feeling, realization dawning upon him. He lowered his head, sighing a breath of relief. The shivering was slow to cease, but it eventually faded away into a light tremble. “Thank you,” Shang Qinghua said quietly.

They began walking through the snow again, this time hand-in-hand. Every time Qinghua was close to tripping over himself, Mobei Jun was there to keep him upright. It was a bizarre feeling, being given so much care. 

With how many years they’ve been together, he should’ve been used to the attention by now.

“You should have said something sooner,” Mobei Jun reprimanded lightly, tightening his hold on Qinghua’s hand. “I would have helped.”

“I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” Shang Qinghua frowned.

“Inconvenience me? Qinghua, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask if you need something.” Mobei Jun paused again to turn and look at him, his usual stoic expression changed into something… Soft. Concerned. 

Shang Qinghua lowered his head, biting his chapped lip hard. “I’m just… Not used to it. That’s all. I’m usually the one pushed to help others, not the other way around.”

“I’ll help you get used to it. Qinghua deserves to be helped as much as he helps others,” Mobei Jun said with determination, turning away to continue his trudge forward.

Qinghua could only stare at the back of Mobei Jun’s fur-lined cloak in shock. How had he become so lucky? Was this a cruel joke the system was playing on him after who knows how long of silence? He almost fell forward as his arm was tugged by Mobei Jun–a sign that he should keep moving forward. He was standing still for far too long. 

He rushed forward, his mind running a mile a minute. There was so much he wanted to blurt out, to fill the silence between them with his mindless ranting. Yet the minute he opened his mouth to speak, nothing escaped his lips. He truly was rendered completely speechless. 

The ice demon’s actions shouldn’t be a surprise to him. Through the dense fog of his self-loathing, he knew that Mobei Jun loved him. This was how he was always treated since the day he was confessed to. Nothing has changed. 

Perhaps the loneliness of his room during the dark winter truly affected him more than he thought. 

After a while of walking, the mountains that dotted the horizon seemed far closer and bigger than before. Shang Qinghua could hardly feel his legs after all the walking, exhaustion weighing his body down significantly. He groaned, tugging Mobei Jun’s hand lightly to get him to stop.

“My King, can’t we take a small break?” He asked, his expression as tired as he felt.

“If we stay out for too long, we won’t make it back before the night settles in,” Mobei Jun explained with as much of an apologetic look as he could put out.

Shang Qinghua shook his head in dismay, a frustrated look in his eye. “The last time I walked this much was when I had to go up and down Qing Jing peak repeatedly. It was miserable.” 

Mobei Jun seemed to tense, narrowing his eyes. “Qinghua.” 

“Like, I know it’s healthy and all to exercise like that, but come on. Isn’t it some odd torture tactic for someone like me who sits around all day filing paperwork?” He rambled on, dropping all sense of formalities near instantly.

“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun tried again, his stance growing more tense by the second.

“And I know My King had good intentions, but can’t we please just take one of your portals? Surely that would be so much faster and less time consuming-” He didn’t have a chance to finish. 

“Qinghua!” He was quickly pulled aside, his balance lost as he tumbled into Mobei Jun’s chest.

A sharp shard of crimson ice was deeply embedded into the snow they were standing at just a second ago. Shang Qinghua felt his blood run cold. “We’ve been followed,” Mobei Jun hissed, pulling Shang Qinghua behind him. 

Shang Qinghua squinted, looking out into the distance in front of them. A group of around five figures were blurred by the snowfall, yet their silhouettes were distinguishable. A bead of cold sweat slid down Shang Qinghua’s forehead, a nervousness setting in. Mobei Jun could handle them for sure, but that last attack was a little too close for comfort. 

They flung a few more ice shards their way, prompting them to keep dodging each strike. It was difficult to move fluidly with how sluggish he felt after their long walk, but not impossible. 

“Qinghua, I’m going to take care of them. I need you to stay here. Don’t move. Understand?” Mobei Jun kept his sharp gaze trained on the enemies, not giving Shang Qinghua a second glance. 

“I understand. Please, stay safe.” He watched with helplessness as Mobei Jun pulled his hand away, leaving him to the freezing cold once again. 

He almost immediately began shivering, his arms wrapped around himself subconsciously as he watched the fight before him go down. 

Mobei Jun had summoned his sword, a murderous glint in his eye. It was a five versus one, but something seemed off to Qinghua.

Four of them seemed to focus on keeping Mobei Jun distracted with innumerable quick attacks, the clashing of their blades slicing the former stillness of the air. The fifth, however, was undetected. 

He was sneaking behind Mobei Jun, preparing a strong attack that had Qinghua up and running towards the middle of the fight. He couldn’t let that happen. 

If Mobei Jun got struck by that… The fight would be over. 

“My King! You need to move!” He weaved between the enemy and rammed into Mobei Jun, shoving him to the ground just in time to avoid the sneak attack. 

A sharp pain coursed through his side, forcing him to see stars for a good moment. He winced, peeling himself up and off of Mobei Jun to get a better look at him. He didn’t dare look at where he was injured out of fear of what he’d see. Splotches of red stained the blue of Mobei Jun’s robes where he had just been. That was enough.

“Qinghua-” Mobei Jun was swiftly interrupted. 

“Let me help you. I can fight too.” He murmured, standing up properly.

The enemies that surrounded them seemed to have been dumbfounded by Shang Qinghua’s sudden intrusion. The minute he stood back up, they were already prepared for another attack against them. 

He drew his blade, getting into stance. The adrenaline he felt at the moment kept him from feeling the brunt of the pain his injury gave. Mobei Jun slowly got back up behind him, bracing himself a second time for another fight. 

With their teamwork, the five demons that came after them were dead within minutes. Their blood stained the white snow red, a gruesome sight for anyone who wasn’t used to the violence Mobei Jun often exuded.

Shang Qinghua dropped his sword into the snow, his breaths heavy. The adrenaline was wearing off, black spots invading his vision. Mobei Jun turned to look at him, a slight smile on his face. 

“Qinghua, I had no idea you were so resilient,” He praised, walking closer to the smaller man. 

Shang Qinghua almost didn’t hear him. …Have I just been wife plotted in my own novel?

“Is it… Is it over?” He spoke softly, his body swaying. A light breeze could knock him over. 

“Qinghua?” Mobei Jun paused, his eyes narrowed quickly as he scanned his appearance. 

He couldn’t hang on. His knees gave out, his body plummeting to the ground as quickly as his consciousness faded. Mobei Jun rushed forward to grab him before he could fall into the piles of bloodstained snow beneath them. 

“Qinghua!”

—

The first thing he felt upon slipping back into consciousness was pain. 

His waist was killing him, a constant throb that distracted his thoughts every chance it could get. It was hard to think with the pain fogging his mind. The most Shang Qinghua could tell was that he was no longer out in the wilds of the Northern Desert. There weren't any howling winds to freeze him to the bone, nor were there snowflakes dampening his face. 

He was actually warm.

He could feel the weight of a blanket covering his body and a firm mattress beneath him. Fire crackled in the distance, keeping the room he was kept in a comfortable temperature. Shang Qinghua could almost delude himself into thinking what had happened was just a horrible dream. It all came back to him like being hit by a truck. The walk. The fight. Protecting Mobei Jun. Blacking out. He opened his eyes abruptly, sitting up in a panic and regretting it immediately. He hissed loudly, another stab of pain coursing through his body at the sudden action. Cold hands were pressed down on his shoulders, attempting to push him back into a lying position. 

“Qinghua.” He was greeted with the sight of Mobei Jun, who looked considerably more tired than usual. 

There was a concerned frown on his face, with a hint of fear in his eyes. It was an unusual sight for him. “You shouldn’t move around so abruptly. Your wound might reopen.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Shang Qinghua laid back against the pillows behind him, his voice hoarse. “How long was I out for?”

“A few days.” Mobei Jun lowered his head, sitting back down on a chair that he had pulled up next to the bed. “This Mobei Jun was… Scared.” 

Shang Qinghua nearly choked. What the fuck?! Scared?? Mobei Jun was scared because of me???

“Scared?” He asked softly, tilting his head slightly. “Mobei, there’s no need to be scared.” Mobei Jun’s pointed ears lowered, solidifying the saddened look on his face. “You weren’t waking up after I brought you back and patched your wound. I thought I was going to lose you.” “Oh, My King…” Shang Qinghua inhaled, forcing himself back up into a sitting position. “Come here.” The small action brought more pain upon his weak body, but he forcefully ignored it. He waited patiently for Mobei Jun to get a little closer to him. 

“Qinghua, stop moving,” He admonished lightly, the words dying in his throat as he was pulled into a hug. 

It was by no means a comfortable hug. It was about as comfortable as you could get when one person was sitting in bed while the other was leaned over. But it was exactly the sort of comfort Shang Qinghua knew Mobei Jun needed. He could feel the demon’s muscles relaxing in his hold, his forehead resting on Qinghua’s shoulder. 

“I’m not going anywhere. It’ll take more than that to kill me.” He smiled warmly. “Besides, I really thought I looked pretty bada- I mean cool. I thought I looked pretty cool back there! Did you see how I fought them off with you? I haven’t been able to do that in a while!”

“Yes, Qinghua looked very cool.” Mobei Jun smiled back, pulling himself away from the hug to give Shang Qinghua a moment to rest. “A little reckless, but this Mobei Jun is proud.” 

Shang Qinghua short-circuited. He paused, his eyes widening. Nobody’s ever said they were proud of him before. It was almost enough to bring him straight to tears. “Are you… Are you genuine?” He stammered, his mind running faster than his mouth could handle. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Mobei Jun shook his head, crossing his legs. “I mean it.” “That… I-” He cut himself off, speechless. He fiddled with his hands, unsure of what to do. “I’m happy. I’m happy I could help.” Mobei Jun stood up from his seat, pushing the chair back slightly. He approached the end of the bed and bent down to give Shang Qinghua a gentle kiss to the forehead, closing his eyes in the process. Shang Qinghua could feel his face flush bright red, his heart beating faster. He wanted to hide under the blanket until he could calm himself down again.  

“It’s getting late, you should rest some more.” Mobei Jun stood straight again, the gentle smile tugging his lips upwards. “It should help you heal quicker.”

Woah, woah, wait. He’s just leaving like that? Shang Qinghua felt as perplexed as he looked. 

“Wait, hold on,” He paused, unsure of how to word what he was going to say. How ironic, huh. “Uhh… Would it be okay if I stayed with you? After I recover, I mean.” 

“Stay with me? Aren’t you already living in the Northern Fortress with me?” He raised an eyebrow, confusion written all over Mobei Jun’s expression. “Well, yes, but I mean… Like sharing a room.” He averted his gaze to the wall, embarrassment flaring up. “It’s just a little lonely. That’s all.” 

Silence descended upon them, incredibly uncomfortable. Shang Qinghua tensed, quickly looking back to face Mobei Jun. He flailed his arms around in a panic, ignoring the innumerable spikes of pain that shot through him. 

“But of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to! I’m perfectly fine sleeping alone! Winter is just incredibly dark and depressing and there’s not a whole lot to do besides work and… more work so-”  He was interrupted swiftly, his mouth shutting almost as fast as it opened. 

“Qinghua, you’re perfectly fine to share my room with me. Please, just relax,” Mobei Jun stressed, placing a hand on his shoulder to nudge him back down into the bed. “At this rate I’ll have to call the doctor again to patch you back up.” 

“No need, no need.” Shang Qinghua quickly dismissed the idea. “I’ll rest.”

“Good.” Mobei Jun turned his back to the bed, approaching the door on the other side of the room. “I’ll return in the morning, rest well.” 

“Oh, before you leave!” Shang Qinghua called out, before sharply inhaling. “I love you, Mobei.” He didn’t see the way Mobei Jun’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly composed himself before replying, “I love you too, Qinghua.” 

The door clicked shut, and he was left to his thoughts once again.  What used to feel like a lonely, depressing room no longer felt as lonely as it once did before. 

[srenann]

To be fair, the security in this place was actually insane. Every corner of the Strixhaven campus that Srenann had studied thus far was covered by some sort of construct, entity, or sentient magical item that felt the need to greet her like she was the center of the universe. Which, for all she understood about this place, could be exactly where they were in truth. Her mind was still fuzzy in regards to how she wound up her, separated from her team and known life, but she wasn't exactly torn up about it... like most people were. For Srenann, there wasn't much to go back to. A wealthy heiress to a clueless family, a military fighting one of many wars that will no doubt be lost to history at some point. A godless world on the brink of collapse...? Okay, maybe she was being a bit melodramatic in her thinking, but she also hadn't been able to sit still long enough this morning to drink her coffee — which bizarrely, tasted the exact same as the kind she drank at home. Not military home, either. Home-home. As if she was given her favourite blend out of nowhere.

❝ This place is too weird... ❞ She said quietly to herself, approaching a painting at the end of the hall quietly. It was a rather small percent chance, but she figured she'd test it nonetheless. Being the only thing of note in this odd hallway, Srenann had a mind to check behind the large portrait for a secret passage. As she felt along the outside of the frame thoughtfully, her finger grazed over an unusual bump in the metalwork. A self-satisfied grin decorated her face then as she pressed it, causing the painting to swing open suddenly.

Imagine Srenann's surprise when she was greeted with the visage of another person, blond and elven it seemed, crouched uncomfortably in a tunnel just beyond the entrance where this portrait would lead. From her guess, he had found another entrance somewhere and was doing some exploring himself when he'd met a sudden dead end and lacked the space for his larger frame to turn around in. With the portrait open though, he could potentially get out. If Srenann let him.

❝ I was expecting many things from this school, ❞ she said, folding her arms over her chest and jutting one hip to the side as she shifted her weight, ❝ a cute boy in a secret wall tunnel? That definitely wasn't on the list for today. ❞

infiltration: half success (ft. @raeltherevenant)

[ryker-writes]

Oh invitations on OC interaction? (sorry about sending two similar asks before, tumblr did a weird thing where when I hit send on the first one, it asked me to add tags to the post. Thus confusing me into thinking I had somehow created a post and I hit cancel, didn't even know it had actually sent it. Weird tumblr glitching I guess)

I can see a few different ways my Bobo may interact with Jaxon. Since the pop music club is canonically just Lilia, Cater, and Kalim (if I recall correctly I do think they said it's just them 3), I could see Bobo playing with Jaxon. She's interested in the club purely for playing since she used to do that as a fun getaway hobby back home, so seeing how Lilia, Kalim, and Cater just mostly chat, she doesn't really swing by it often.

If she gets invited over while Jaxon's playing, I can see her seating herself at the drums and trying to play along with him. She'd be willing to play whatever song he wants to play, but if he just tells her to leave him alone, she'll go. She has no interest in trying to force herself onto others. (Unlike Kalim who has kidnapped Idia into a party in one vignette)

She tends to wake up early and go to bed late so there's chances of her running across Jaxon when he's out roaming maybe? Bobo may try to join him for stargazing if he's doing that, but I'm not actually sure if she would just walk up to a stranger and join them. Maybe depending if she really needs a distraction from everything that's going on. Again will leave him be if he tells her to.

I would like to share how I think she would respond to his fear magic, but I have some more questions about it. It sounds like his unique magic just gives one a certain degree of feeling fear. So would that mean he would possibly cause someone to hallucinate their worst fears in front of them?

Oooooo thank you for this I love it! Also don't worry about the second ask I get it. Tumblr did that to me too not to long ago and it confused me too.

I think the two would actually get along really well! Jaxon is also part of the club for the music and not the chats. He really likes playing guitar as his escape from everything too! Most of the time during club meetings, he just finds a corner or goes against the wall away from the others to play.

He doesn't talk much so he won't be the type to invite her to play with him, but he's not going to turn her down if she wants to. He mostly plays a lot of rock music with energy. Most of the time he plays slower things when he's on his own away from others.

Jaxon most likely won't tell her to go away. If he doesn't want to be around someone, he'll just walk away without a word. But he get's along much better with people who don't force themselves on him, or forcing their way into his space. If she's just playing music with him from time to time, he probably thinks she's alright.

He barely sleeps at night, so I think there's a good chance they'll run into each other. He spends most of his time in the courtyard. If she joins him, he might ask her what she's doing there, but probably won't talk much aside from that. He'll most likely be silent and just keep doing what he's doing.

As for his magic, it's more like he heightens the feeling of fear. He doesn't really make them see hallucinations of their fears. When his magic activates on others, he basically becomes the thing they're afraid of. It makes them fear him, even if they have no reason to. Basically, if he was using his unique magic in a room full of people, they would be able to pin point that it's coming from him because they feel more scared of him. I hope that makes sense