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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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Small Gods: Spring Thaw - 2

Spring Thaw: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Spring Thaw Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 2046

Warnings: nothing this chapter.

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes hates winter. He always looks for the first signs of the ice thawing and new life growing. When that desire for the end of winter brings to him the god of the spring thaw, he discovers a brand new reason to get through winter.

Chapter 2

Bucky arrived at the movies twenty minutes before he had arranged to meet you and then proceeded to mentally curse himself out the entire time because of how eager it made him look. He was just considering leaving and coming back again so he could maybe come off as fashionably late when you appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped and spun around, instantly going into fight mode, and when he saw your slightly bemused expression, he instantly relaxed. You were wearing another warm winter coat that looked impossibly spring-like. This one was sky blue with daisies printed on it as if they were polka dots. Your hat, scarf, and gloves were in a darker shade of blue, and on the side of your beanie was a crochet daisy that matched the ones on your coat. “Hey, you’re early,” he said.

“So are you,” you said.

Bucky smiled sheepishly and ran his hand through the back of his hair. “Yeah. It’s been a while and I didn’t want to be late.” He held out a bouquet of different colored tulips for you. “I got you these.”

“Oh my,” you said, taking them and inhaling deeply. “These are so out of season. They must have cost a fortune.”

Bucky shrugged. The bouquet did cost significantly more money than when he’d last bought a girl flowers, but as that was in 1943, he didn’t think it was fair to compare. “It wasn’t so bad. And I knew you’d like them.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. Another first for this new life he had. It felt like a static shock and he flinched a little, and then hoped to god you didn’t notice because he wanted there to be more of that. He wanted that kind of physical affection that had been withheld for so long. “I love them,” you said. “Thank you.”

Bucky turned back toward the cinema and then debated what his next move should be. He had the tickets. Did he offer you his arm or just start walking? There were so many new rules about dating and he realized he didn’t know any of them. Did you hold doors and pull out chairs anymore? Who paid for things?

While he was thinking, you slipped your hand into his and pulled him toward the cinema. “Come on, slowpoke,” you said.

The warmth from your skin seemed to radiate out from you so that he could feel it through both his and your gloves.

“Do we need to buy tickets?” You asked when you entered the building.

“I’ve got them,” he said.

You took off your gloves and shoved them in your coat and looked up at him. “Then let me buy the candy.”

“Now that hardly seems fair,” Bucky said. “The tickets were cheap. You’ll have to mortgage your house for candy.”

You snorted. It was an adorable sound but you quickly covered your face in embarrassment. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Bucky laughed and rubbed your arm. “That was cute, don’t worry.”

You shook your head. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” you said. “So now I’m gonna buy candy so I can pretend it never happened.”

He chuckled and followed you to the counter as you bought popcorn, jolly ranchers, and a couple of sodas before the two of you headed into the theater. It was strange how familiar it felt to be on a movie date. Like muscle memory. He sat down in the assigned seat and you put your coat on your lap with the popcorn sitting in his. There was the awkward start where you aren’t sure if you should be touching or not - not that there was much choice in such a confined space. There was an accidental hand touch when both of you went for popcorn at the same time. Then you snuggled into him during the sappy parts and even though having you pressed against him felt alien to him. It felt familiar and comfortable and he put his arm around your shoulders and held you in a casual way he hadn’t done to anyone since before he was sent off to war.

It was dark when you both came out of the theater with your arm tucked in the crook of his. “Do you want to get a bite to eat?” He asked.

“I would love it. Just something simple though,” you said.

He nodded and the two of you began walking down the street together. “Thank you for this, Bucky,” you said as the two of you walked along. “I never do this.”

“I’m pretty out of practice too,” Bucky admitted.

“Why is that?” You asked. “You seem like a natural. Not to mention - you’re very handsome.”

Bucky looked at you, once again not sure if you were being completely honest with him or not. Not just about not recognizing him, but about any of it really. Questioning his reality had become second nature. He was used to being lied to and used. He was used to things being taken from him. “You really don’t know who I am?” He asked.

You stopped walking, a little startled, and looked him up and down. “I don’t meet too many people, I know we haven’t met.”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I’m the winter soldier?”

“Winter…?” You said, furrowing your brow. “You control winter?”

Bucky laughed. “No. What?”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing a little. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Captain America’s friend?” He asked, only to be met with the same look of confusion. “The Avengers?”

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I don’t keep up with current popular culture.”

“You don’t know about the people disappearing and then the fight and them showing up five years later?” Bucky asked.

“I mean… I know they all went away and came back, but I wasn’t…” you trailed off.

“Captain America? Iron Man? Thor?”

Finally, a glimmer of recognition reached your eyes and you smiled. “You know Thor?”

“I mean, a little. He’s a nice guy,” Bucky said.

“I know,” you said. “He’s really funny. Likes to fight a lot though.”

“Wait…” Bucky said. “Do you know Thor? Like you’ve met him?”

“Yes! I’ve met him. It was a long, long time ago,” you said, nodding enthusiastically. “Are the gods… are we showing ourselves again?”

Bucky blinked at you. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

You looked around and took his hand tugging him along. “We should go somewhere to talk.”

He walked with you until you found a diner and the two of you ducked inside and slipped into a booth by the window. You put your coat with your flowers beside you on the seat and neither of you said anything until the orders had been placed.

“It was easier back before,” you said as you began to play with the little tubs of half-and-half on the table.

“What was?” Bucky asked. “I don’t know what’s going on right now?”

“I’m a god, Bucky,” you said.

Bucky laughed. He wasn’t even sure why because he knew a god. He knew and had experienced far stranger things than gods. But here, sitting in a diner with you, the thought just struck him as absurd. “What?”

“Back before, when people were primitive and didn’t understand how things worked, we just walked with the mortals,” you said, answering a question he never asked as you looked out the window. You turned your attention back to him and lay your palms flat on the table. “I don’t know how to start the story.”

Bucky shook his head. “The beginning?”

“That goes back to before I even was,” you said. “And I don’t have all the story. From what I understand, when the universe was born, the worlds were formed from a central point where all matter was one. And then it exploded out in a mess of matter and energy. Some of that energy you and I would call magic. Some words, like Asgard and Olympus, were drenched in it…”

“Woah, hold up,” Bucky said. “Olympus is real?”

“You’ve met Thor but you doubt the existence of the Greek Gods?” You asked with your eyebrow raised.

“Right, okay,” Bucky said. “Go on.”

“The magic on Earth is weaker and so the gods here are also weaker. We came to be when people pray for us, even if that’s just a muttered hope, like “oh god let me pass this test,” you explained.

“So you’re telling me that there might be a god for the red light changing?” Bucky asked.

You nodded. “Oh yeah, they’re doing quite well for themselves.”

“That's…” Bucky said and shook his head as he tried to absorb it. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” he settled on. “So what are you?”

“The spring thaw,” you said.

“What? Like Persephone?” Bucky asked.

“Well, no,” you said. “For starters, she lives on Olympus and she’s way more powerful than I am. And she covers all over Spring. I’m just the part where the ice melts. I was way stronger back before industrial farming. People prayed to see the ice receding. Now, it still happens but not with as much need. Oh and also, when Persephone isn’t doing her thing, she has somewhere she goes.”

“What? What does that mean?” Bucky asked. “Where do you go?”

You shrug. “I’m just not.”

“Not what?”

“Not anything,” you said. “I’m here when people start wishing for the end of winter, and I’m gone when they stop.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and nodded. “Would you believe me if I said I know how that feels?”

“Really?” You asked. “How?”

The waiter came over and placed their orders in front of them. Bucky took a drink of his black coffee and wished it was something a little harder. Not that alcohol would actually do anything. “I guess I better start from the beginning too.”

As the two of you ate your meals, Bucky unloaded everything. From when he was born, to going to war, to being captured by HYDRA and experimented on, not just once but twice. About how they brainwashed him and had him commit unspeakable acts, and when they weren’t getting him to do these heinous things, they would freeze him, so that every time he woke he had no idea who he was or where he was or even what year it was. How he’d broken out of it and had to adjust to life on the run 60 years after the last time he had control of his body. How that had ended up going to shit and he’d opted to go on ice again because even that was better than living with what he had in his head. How they managed to get HYDRA out and he was just settling into life again when Thanos happened and he’d just stopped existing.

The food was gone by the time he was done with the story and he was on his third cup of coffee. He’d worry about staying up, but the caffeine would pass out of his system soon enough and besides, he didn’t sleep that great anyway.

You had listened intently, never interrupting, but the expression on your face told him how horrified and sad the story made you. “... and then the Avengers stopped being a thing and I tried to cancel out some of my bad with a friend and then I moved here.”

You reached over and took his hand. “I’m so sorry all that happened to you,” you said earnestly. “And I can see why we were drawn to each other.”

“Why is that?” Bucky asked.

“I bet you aren’t a big fan of the cold, huh?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, you could say that.”

“Were you hoping for some sign of the thaw?” You asked. He smiled and nodded. “And there I was. I probably felt it too.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said.

“I’d like to see you again,” you said. “Would that be alright?”

“How will that work if you’re only going to be here for such a short time?” Bucky asked.

“Well,” you said thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll have to enjoy the brief time we have?”

// NEXT

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #spring thaw

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ask-fantasy-sanders-sides · 4 years ago

Note

So, wait, toes Remus know that Virgil is a dragon too?? if he does, did Virgil tell him or did he just figure it out?

It wasn’t too long after their escape from the prison complex that Remus got irritated.

He didn’t regret dragging the strange assassin along — after all, Remus probably wouldn't have been able to escape without him — but he was getting more and more frustrated with his lack of response to...well, anything.

Remus has attempted more than once to scare and/or gross the stranger out with diatribes of gore and violence, but that hasn't phased him at all. Really, Remus thinks he probably should have expected that response from a dark-elven warrior, but it was a little jarring to have his usual monologues accepted with little more than a cursory glare. It didn't help that he had to speak to the soldier in the goblin language, which neither of them knew well enough to share many complex ideas.

Then, there were his rages. Remus wasn't really himself in that state, and he knew he was quite the sight to those who had never heard of a barbarian. He's pretty sure that if he had some foggy awareness of the assassin being disgusted or even mildly intrigued by his berserk mode, he would have remembered them. As it stands, nothing.

Then, there was his trump card: The first time Remus let out his true form and went berserk on a few guards, the assassin barely even noticed the difference. Remus dismissed it at the time, assuming they had just been busy doing their thing and hadn’t seen him do it. But, as they were sneaking away from the castle spires the next day and he had to dispose of some noble-looking witnesses, Remus definitely saw the assassin look at his wings.

Still he made absolutely no reaction! He doesn’t seem to react to much of anything, unless he’s being mad at Remus for yelling too loud or missing a swing. Admittedly, being able to spark annoyance in the stuck-up soldier is a little fun, but even his moments of anger are few and far between.

This is the first and only time someone has seen Remus’s kick-ass undead angel wings and not had a damn thing to say about it, and Remus can honestly say he hates it.

So, now that they’re finally outside of the Colony walls (and Remus doesn’t have to worry about the assassin chewing him out for making a scene,) Remus smirks deviously at the unsuspecting drow.

“Hey! Watch this,” Remus shouts, then closes his eyes to focus.

He reaches deep inside himself to connect with that boiling mass of discordant energy — a frothing core of divine light that’s spoiling rotten and necrotic, burning away the mold, healing, and then spoiling again, over and over with each beat of his two hearts. As he’s practiced ever since he was a child, Remus grabs that energy and pulls it out, dismissing a weight in his stomach that he hardly notices until it's time to let go.

The instinctual protective glamor that hides his true form dissolves in the firelight of his true essence, as bone-like angel wings, void-like eyes, and a tidal wave of smoke pour out of Remus like air from a popped balloon. A sickly green glow outlines his irises, his scars, and emblazons the emblem of a sword over his chest. He can feel it as the energy unfurls, how the world spins and sears into focus, how his senses grow sharp and breathing is suddenly so much easier than it’s ever been before. This is what he truly is, how he really looks, and it is a figure that strikes fear and awe in every creature who has the misfortune of seeing it.

All except one. Apparently.

The assassin simply stares at Remus, stone-still as Remus’s whole fucked up magical girl cutscene plays out point-blank in front of him. The fear-inducing necrotic gas rolls past the assassin's feet and into his lungs, but nothing happens. A few seconds pass, and he still hasn’t moved, but he’s clearly not gone into shock or anything of the kind.

Eventually, the assassin gets the impression that Remus is expecting a response. So, he cocks his hip out to one side and folds his arms, mimicking the facial expression that he’s gathered humans make when they’re confused: a pointed eyebrow raise.

(Given his usual glowering expression, it comes across more like sass.)

The minute passes, and though Remus feels the smoke dissipate and his eyes and scars return to normal with a sinking feeling in his gut, the wings remain. Instead of dismissing them, Remus throws his arms out wide with a growl,

“Seriously? That’s it? You’re not scared!”

“Scared?” The assassin parrots lowly.

A wide smile stretches across his lightly-freckled face. In the space of a blink he’s behind Remus, gently peeling the barbarian’s tattered shirt away to get a better look at the base of his wings.

He lays one ice-cold hand against the divot between them, touching him clinically, like he’s trying to figure out how solid Remus's wings are. His hand smooths gently across the stump where flesh gives way to semi-transparent bone before Remus's brain catches up. He shrieks and jumps away from him,

“What the shit are you doing?!” Remus squeaks, eyes wide as saucers. He would be more embarrassed by how absolutely unthreatening he sounds right now if he didn’t still feel the shape of that hand on him like a brand.

(He decides that this is more because of the supernatural nature of his wings, and not because Remus hasn't been touched that carefully by another person since he was like eleven. He doesn’t have time to unpack that feeling whatsoever.)

“You told me to look.” The assassin teases, openly laughing at Remus’s expense.

Then, — and Remus could swear he’s doing it slowly just to make sure Remus sees him — the soldier takes a deep exhale, and his purple eye flashes a soft glow. Suddenly, his body evaporates until he is a cloud of shadowy smoke. This smoke quickly blends in with the surrounding darkness of the cavern, and before Remus can get a word in edgewise, the assassin has re-solidified and is poking his back again.

“StoOOP TOuching me!” Remus yelps and spins around to face him, face red as blood and hands up in a defensive position, “Since when could you do that?!”

The assassin rolls his eyes at this, his hands falling to his sides. Now he takes a moment to think, before reaching down to untie his dagger belt and pull his tunic loose.

“What are you doing?” Remus protests louder, covering his eyes with his hands.

The assassin doesn’t respond.

Though he’s reciting curses in his head and trying very hard to respect this stranger’s privacy, Remus’s curiosity quickly gets the better of him.

He peeks out between his fingers to find the soldier shirtless, his white hair parted and pulled over his shoulders. He looks up at Remus with a completely unimpressed stare.

The assassin reaches out to grab one of Remus’s hands, then turns to show Remus his back.

Remus stares for a moment, eyes tracing the thin, ragged lines of a latticework of scars. They stretch across and around the assassin’s back, some older and some deeper. Most seem to have been inflicted by animals or monsters rather than weapons.

Remus feels no sense of pity at the display — he’s got his own patchwork of scars and his own complicated relationship to them, but over all he sees them more as a mark of survival, as stories to tell. But, he is definitely curious, and his mile-a-minute brain is already spinning outrageous tales to match each and every mark.

Then the assassin guides his hand up towards the top of his back, just alongside his spine. The skin there feels leathery, and significantly warmer than the skin of the elf’s hand, though the heat seems to be emanating from someplace lower on his spine. It’s also slightly off-color, a bit lighter than the skin around it. Whatever this is, this scar is old.

Remus traces the outline of it up, then off to the side as it tapers to a thin line between his shoulder and the base of his neck. The assassin’s ears twitch at the gesture, and Remus’s hand flinches away.

He turns to look at Remus over his shoulder, his neutral grimace returned.

“We are the same. Shadow and wings. You are kitrye'maelthra, right?”

“I don’t know what that is.” Remus frowns, always frustrated when the assassin sneaks an elven word or two into their rare conversations,

“I’m not super good at reading energies, but you don’t feel like an angel… You have wings??”

“No.” He frowns, his gaze becoming soft and distant, “Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Remus sighs, now reeling at the possibilities.

What sort of dark elf grows wings, and how can they be removed? He winces at the phantom pain to his own wings as he parcels through every guess. Did a monster tear them off? The scar was so smooth, it seemed more like they had been burned away with acid. Did he fall into the pit of a living ooze, or maybe it was a punishment from some cruel cultist—

“Yours are broken.” The assassin pries, still staring at him while Remus zoned out.

“Broken? No they're not!”

“You have no skin.” The assassin remarks, like that should have been obvious, “And you look like a ghost.”

“Wait, skin? Like a bat?” Remus laughs, imagining it. He shakes his head, “I’m not supposed to have skin! —Well, I mean, I am, but also feathers. Y’know, like a bird?”

“Bird?” The assassin repeats, like he doesn’t understand the word. He probably doesn’t, goddamn Underdark.

“...Ehh, forget about it. I’ll show you one when we get up there.” Remus shakes his head.

The assassin pulls his tunic back up and re-ties it. While he waits, a sudden thought knocks Remus out of his gruesome imaginings.

He thinks he probably shouldn’t ask, but it takes him all of three seconds to snap and say it anyway,

“Hey,” Remus hums offhandedly, like he’s not extremely invested in knowing the answer, “If you could ‘go ghost’ or whatever this whole time, why didn’t you just poof yourself out of that cell?”

(“And why did you stay to help me?” Remus refuses to add, because he is not that attached to his little stray-criminal monsterboy, goddamnit. He refuses.)

The assassin doesn’t answer or turn back to him, simply staring off in the direction of their path.

Remus huffs and rolls his eyes,

“Fine, damn, keep your secrets. Bet you just can’t hold it that long~”

“Don’t xhandal me, lotha mal'dhalaruk. Usstan orn da'urzotreth dosst et'zarreth.”

“Again, I do not know what the fuck that is.”

#lets roll #long post #long answer #janus's visions #tw violence mention #tw scars #hehe toes #ive stopped making the visions all in italics. its fun flavor but it makes them hard to read lol

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mycatshuman · 4 years ago

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Wrapped Up In A Romcom

Chapter 2: A Gay Spell

Warnings: I don think there are any, but let me know if I missed any

Pairings: Prinxiety

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🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️

Virgil stared at the man before him in disbelief. "Oh my god, this can't be happening!" Virgil exclaimed as he dropped to the ground and covered his ears. He stared at the ground as if it would give him answers. The mummy frowned at the man panicking before him.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"No!" Virgil squeaked. "You were- you're a mummy! You're dead! You're supposed to be dead!"

The mummy chuckled. "Ah yes. That, I'm sorry to have frightened you. I should probably explain." The mummy sat down facing Virgil who was barely keeping himself from having a complete mental breakdown. "My last wish was to come back to life when a handsome young fellow like yourself found me on the night of a full moon."

Virgil blinked. "Magic isn't real."

The other laughed. "You're in denial. It's understandable. Especially after having seen my gorgeous face."

Virgil sputtered. "What!?!" He yelled. "No!" Was this thousand of years old mummy fucking flirting with him?!?!? "I-" Virgil ran his hands through his hair, his arms shaking as he tried to process everything.

Roman, the mummy, if he could even be considered that anymore considering that he was brought back to life per the conditions of his spell, stared at the other for a moment before looking around his tomb. Not too bad. He turned back to the other male and noticed a light coming from a small stick on the floor. He gasped and reached forward to poke at the object. "It's like a mini torch!" He exclaimed. He gently picked it up and inspected it. "Where's the fire?" He moved to look into the lens of the flashlight only to yelp as he was blinded.

Virgil's head jolted up to look at Roman. "Hey! Don't do that. You could blind yourself." Virgil reached forward and the other dropped it into his hand.

"What is it?" Roman asked as he leaned forward a little to watch what Virgil did with it.

"It's a flashlight. I guess it would be something like a torch except it takes these things called batteries that give it energy."

"Where's the fire?"

Virgil laughed breathlessly. I'm really sitting here talking to a mummy. He shook his head. "There is no fire, there's like this tiny bulb of glass in there and some other stuff that makes it light up. Those bulbs are called lightbulbs. We use them to light buildings at night."

Roman stared at the object in the archeologist's hands with glittering eyes. Virgil looked up and froze. The ancient king before him looked absolutely enchanting as he looked upon the flashlight in awe. Virgil blinked rapidly as he shook the thoughts out of his head. Of course, more thoughts came in to replace those. Some slightly troubling thoughts. What now? How are we going to get out of here? What does Roman want to do? What about his things? All Virgil could do was ask, so that's what he did. "So...what do we do now?"

Roman looked up from the flashlight. "What do you mean?"

"I mean like, what are you going to do now that you're alive again? The world is different from what it was back than. It's been thousands of years. And your stuff, I don't think you'd want to leave it behind. And how are we getting out of here?"

Roman blinked. "You can't get out?" He cocked his head looking adorably confused.

"No, I fell through the ceiling in the passageway."

"Let us go look at the hole. Maybe there's something that can help us climb out." Roman held a hand out to Virgil.

Virgil looked at the hand for a few moments before grabbing it and allowing the other to pull him to his feet. During the time he had explored the tomb and met Roman, Virgil had briefly forgotten about his injured ankle. But as he stood, the pain returned with a vengeance. He let out a yelp and nearly dropped to the floor.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Roman asked as he leapt forward to catch Virgil. The mummy's arm wrapped around his waist and held him up as he leaned heavily on his right leg. After Roman helped him to lean back against the wall, he asked, "What happened?"

Virgil winced. He looked down at his ankles. He hissed as he noticed the swelling had gotten worse. "My ankled," he began. "I think I sprained it when I fell through the hole."

Roman kneeled before Virgil to get a closer look at the ankle. The archaeologist's slid down the wall as he held his ankle out at an odd angle. He leaned forward and untied his boot before yanking it off and letting out a sigh. "Sorry," he apologized. "I had to take it off, it was really hurting."

"Are you going to be able to get out of here?" Roman asked.

Virgil bit his lip. He was trying not to think about that. "I-" he focused on his ankle and gently poked at it and clenched his teeth. He let out a huff. "I don't know." He leaned forward and pulled off his pack and dropped it in his lap. "I'm going to wrap my ankle up and then we can try to climb out."

Roman frowned. "Should you really be on that ankle?"

Virgil grimaced as he pulled gauze out of his first aid kit. "Not really, but we don't really have much of a choice." He grabbed the ice pack from his kit and placed it on his ankle and then wrapped it up against his ankle with the gauze. He grabbed his boot and pulled it back on. "Alright, let's work on getting out of here."

"Wait! Can I borrow the torch?"

"The flashlight? Yeah." Virgil handed the light over to Roman slightly confused. The mummy took the light and left the burial chamber and entered the antechamber. Virgil limped behind him.

"What are you doing?"

Roman grabbed a deep basket and began filling it with jewelry and other items that could fit into the basket. "I'm just grabbing a few things that I want to keep."

"Oh."

Virgil watched as the other grabbed mostly jewelry. It amazed him that none of them broke when Roman picked them up. Maybe when the spell revived Roman, it returned all the items in his tomb to their former glory, as if they were just made moments ago.

"Wait!" Virgil shouted as Roman went to grab his makeup.

Roman paused and turned to the other. "What?"

"I don't think you should take the makeup."

A frown. "Why?"

"It might have stuff that can make you really sick. And we have better makeup now. All sorts of colors."

Roman's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Well in that case! Let's go!" He raced off to the passageway with Virgil struggling to keep up. When he got to the hole he set his basket down and glanced up at the hole. Virgil leaned against the wall with a huff as his ankle throbbed.

"I think-" Roman started. "-that I might have a ladder among my treasures." With that, he ran back to the antechamber. Virgil watched as most of the light disappeared from the room along with Roman. His anxious thoughts came rushing back as he stood waiting for Roman to get back. How am I going to explain this? Is anyone really going to believe I just happened to come across someone dressed like a mummy in the middle of the desert?

"Found it!" Roman exclaimed as he ran back into the passageway holding the ladder in triumph. Virgil smiled softly. Gosh he's adorable.

Roman propped the ladder up against the wall opposite Virgil. "That should work." He quickly climbed up and disappeared over the edge.

----------

Roman laughed. He couldn't believe it, he really was here. Thousands of years after his death having just been resurrected and saving an incredibly handsome man. He went to climb back down to grab his basket and help the other only to pause. Above him, the moon shone brightly illuminating the sands around him. He let out a gasp of awe. "Wow.." he was breathless.

"Uh...King Roman are you alright?"

The mummy whirled around to find the archeologist behind him with his basket.

Roman let out a yelp and rushed forward to take the basket. "You shouldn't have done that! I was going to go back down to get it." He led the other away from the hole and towards more solid ground.

Virgil limped along as fast as he could before stumbling. "Ouch!"

"I'm sorry!" Roman exclaimed and helped Virgil to sit up.

Virgil hissed as he held his ankle. "It's okay. We should hurry. I'm not sure how the others will take this."

"Others?" Roman asked as he cocked his head like an adorable puppy.

"Yeah, I'm an archaeologist. We dig for artifacts and stuff."

"What are artifacts?"

"They're like really old objects? So things you used when you were alive, likes plates and stuff. We also look for ancient places and tombs."

"Is that how you found my tomb?"

Virgil shook his head. "No, I was going for a walk to make myself sleepy but I ended up falling through the ceiling of your tomb."

Roman hummed, thoughtful. "What kind of find would my tomb be?"

Virgil let out a breathless laugh. "It would be a huge find! A mostly intact tomb practically untouched since it's owner had been sealed inside is a huge deal. You should have seen what happened when they found Tutankhamun's tomb. He is incredibly famous."

"Famous!" Roman's eyes glittered brightly. "I could be famous!"

Virgil winced. "I don't think it's a good idea to tell the world that you're a mummy come back to life. They might freak out. Governments would want to do tests on you and who knows that else would happen." Roman's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I mean, if your tomb is found, your name could become famous."

"Why wouldn't it be found?"

Virgil shrugged. "If you don't want it to be found I could help you try to hide it."

Roman hesitated for a moment. "Would...would you like to discover it?"

Virgil paused. "What?" He stayed silent for a few moments. "How?"

"Well, we go back and you tell the others about the tomb you found."

Virgil winced. "I-I don't know. We'd have to get you into some modern clothes and-" he paused and looked at Roman's basket. "Hide your stuff and- oh my god, all those things in your tomb look brand new! How the hell would I explain that?"

Roman winced. "Okay. Maybe we should just get you back and off that ankle."

Virgil nodded. "Yeah, that-that sounds good." He pushed himself up onto his knees and tried to pull himself up onto feet without putting too much weight on his left ankle.

"Here, let me help you." Roman pushed his basket to the crook of his arm and wrapped an arm around the other's waist and allowed him to support the others left side. "Alright now, let's go."

Slowly, the pair traversed through the desert as the moon lowered lazily, a sign of the morning creeping ever closer. "I don't think you ever gave me your name," Roman commented after a long stretch of silence.

Virgil stumbled slightly in his walking. He blinked. "Oh." He paused as he tried to go over his memories of the last hour. "I guess I haven't."

"I think it would only be fair that you share your name considering you already know mine."

Virgil laughed. "Yeah, uh…" of course he was nervous. His name was a bit of an odd one after all but Roman grew up in a time when people had names like Tutankhamun and Cleopatra and Ramses. So, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. "Its Virgil."

He drew out Virgil's name. "Vir-gil," Roman was quiet for a few moments before he smiled. "I like it." Virgil returned the smile. Then they continued on their way back to Virgil's camp. He was just a little nervous to think of what his boss would think.

🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️

WUIARC Taglist: @underestimatemethatwillbefun @existentialeggdogg @espepspes @meowthefluffy

Everything Taglist: @misery-killed-me @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @alias290 @odette-ssbu @ray-does-stuff

#ts virgil #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides au #mummy roman #wrapped up in a rom com #WUIARC #mycatshuman fics #mycatshuman writing #no read more #sanders sides fic #ts prinxiety #prinxiety

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itsmypeach13 · 4 years ago

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[Read only if you are okay with female &female relationships. Warning because of strong language, fighting scenes. Rating is +18]

[Hello my ravens! ❤️It's been an eternity but please welcome my second chapter of my Soma POV fanfic, things will get messy and entangled full of angst and more angst. I hope you'll like it, I spiced things up with flirty Valka and women fighting🤭 Let me know what you think in the comments any opinion/thought is welcome🥺❤️]

TALES OF THE BEAR-HEART: SOMA

CHAPTER II.

Battling Hearts

The soft crackling sound of fireflames embracing hardwood woke me up tenderly. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Revna sitting by the fire sharpening her dagger, preparing for the battle ahead of us. Her raven-black long hair was braided at the sides and neatly It must have been around dawn, but it was still pitch-black outside. Busy voices surrounded us, swords clinked, horses were running up and down impatiently, some people shouted over to the other with instructions. Valka's magical sleep potion put me so well to sleep, that I was surprised at myself how late I could join onboard the ship towards the brewing sea of bloodshed. I had to pull myself together and that only worked with some ice-cold river water and some excercise.

'Good morning Revna'-I greeted my warrior as I swiftly sat up and put on my stone-hard armor.

'To you as well.'-she wiked at me playfully and lifted up the pair of the iconic hammers fixating them on her sides. ' Now you slept well for sure, how is that you sleep the soundest when battle is so near?-she laughed a little and took a sip of water from the table.

'Valka's hand in that.-I raised my brows slightly. 'Sorry, I didn't plan to start like this Revna. I have to go now and freshen up. Shall we meet at the entrance of the longhouse?'

'You're such a womanizer you know that right?'-she held up her tusk. ' Valka is a fine woman, I am happy for you now. I will meet you there nevertheless.'

'Ha!..You're absolutely misunderstanding, but I have to rush now.'- After this conversation, the fine shilouette of Valka's back flashed through my mind from last night. I quickly stepped into reality once I was out of my hut. The Raven warriors painted their faces with red and white strokes, most of them were saddling the horses.

I hurried to the shores of the river nearby, finally allowing my flaming skin to meet with the freezing waves of water. I gathered some liquid in my palms so that I could splash it onto my face over and over again. It felt like a hit on my cheeks that put me into the right battling spirits, and imagining Randvi's head on the enemy's helped a lot also.

I did some stretching and sprinting in the shores, while sloppy waves embraced the land. I was sharpening my axe and asked for Thor's strength and blessing, when I heard cat-like footsteps from behind approaching me.

'Your blade is already sharp enough, Bear-heart'-said Valka smirking, while she walked up to me.

'I could cut down a village with it yes. I guess it's just my ritual before I actually do it.'

'I bought you some food, here, some died figs with bread and a slice of boar meat from last night.'- she kindly handed over the plate.

'Thank you Valka, the gods bless your kind spirit. This will help me to do my best today. For Ravensthorpe..and Eivor.' While I started eating quickly, we sat by the shore and Valka carried on.'

'Soma, you have to remember, whatever happens today, you can count on me, you know where to find me. I saw into your soul last night and found loneliness there. But you are not so alone.' -she stroked my arm then stood up and disappeared in the crowd of warriors.

I was startled a bit, the last piece of bread almost choked me. Was that a friendly invite to her hut? I mean, private hut? I guess she needs cleaning there if you know what I mean. Who would have thought.

***

When I rode to the longhouse, a massive crowd of warriors have gathered in front of the building. The golden locks of Eivor showed up with that deadly, stern smirk on her face. She was riding a snow-white mare with her armor glistening in the awakening morning sunrays. A huge hunnish bow spread on her broad back and two axes were fixated on her sides, one can never be so sure with just one, right? Randvi followed her closely, rumour has it that she is going in battle after long years spent in the map room. I was curious how she would perform outside these walls. Revna joined me swiftly and we quickly caught up with Eivor and other leaders riding in the front.

As if she sensed my closeness, the wolf-kissed greeted me with a wide smile.

'Morning Soma, I hope you are ready to spill some blood today with me.'

How could she know I was ready to do anything with her, my eyes wandered on those rosy lips talking to me. She looked stunning with freshly dried warpaint framing her ocean eyes.

'I will smash skulls today, as my father taught me'I assured her. ' You don't want to make it a contest, I am the champion in this.'

'We'll see, I will beat your ass.' Eivor uttering those words brought me to the depts of my wildest fantasies for a moment. Holy mother of.. A shiver went through my spine as I actually pictured this. 'Okay, whoever wins this beheading game will pay for the best ale in land for a week.'

'That's a deal, officially.'-Eivor agreed playfully.

As we left Ravensthorpe Randvi joined us to briefly go through our plans , and of course to keep an eye on her drengr.

'Hi Soma..I hope you haven't lacked the care and wealth of Ravensthorpe.'

'Thanks Randvi, I had everything I needed' except for Eivor in my bed last night, but I guess that's the VIP package. It’s good I didn’t say this out loud.

'Good. Now our plans are the following. Eivor and you will hide in the thick bushes of the main road on both sides with our archers. When Birna's army is well inside the trap, Eivor will sign you with her horn, then both of your teams will fire and wipe out as many as you can. I will wait for Eivor's horn and join with a group on horsebacks to push them back towards the hills where their camp is. We'll follow them and burn it down to force them out of mainland.

Cheolbert's army will be only used if necessary. They are stationed on the right side of the forest.'

'Smart plan Randvi, I am sure we can protect our people, which is the most important aim, I feel honoured to be here today and lead this army' -Eivor answered then we positioned our forces in the thick undergrowth of the main road. Some archers even hid high on the old oak trees to have a nice and deadly view on the road. Our eyes met with Eivor and I was once again stunned by those piercing blue eyes, radiating godlike power and trust in me. She made me weak with one stern look, this feeling was brand new for me..Soma trembling like a leaf in the autumn breeze? My eyes wandered lower, on Eivor’s bulging arms holding those big, heavy axes.

Revna positioned herself right beside me like a protective bastian ready to spill blood, her hands firmly gripping the two hammers.

’They will eat my hammer for breakfast.’-she whispered to me, keeping her voice down.

A medium group of soldiers were nearing our forces, all of them on horseback.

They were led by a young woman with blood red hair, riding on a pitch-black horse. Just before Eivor could use her horn to give the sign for us to attack them, the enemy started throwing flaming throving balls into the thick and completely dry undergrowth that caught on fire in no time. They knew exactly where we were hiding, forcing us to be distracted for a second and be stunned by their unexpected moves. Revna quickly brought me back to reality with her loud roar she jumped out of the bushes and ranted at our enemy. As if she were a deadly panther, she pulled a man down from his straddle , threw him on the ground finally smashing his face on both sides with her double hammers. What left off that head was forming an unrecognizable mixture of broken bones and flesh.

I joined her swiftly and shouted at all of my men:'Don't just stare, cut all of the bastards down and burn their flesh!' The archers could perform a swift attack from above before the flames got to the upper branches, then joined us from behind our shield wall Eivor was forming with the Ravens.

I quickly got on my horse and joined at the side of Revna, who was sandwiched between two twin shieldmaidens fighting with swords. Just before the bigger one could plunge her longsword into Revna's spine, I trapped her with my axe, agressively pulled her body to mine from behind holding her still for a moment shouting in her face: 'I will burn your whole village for this.' -then I slit her throat and pushed the body down to the dust. My face became sprayed with fresh blood, and I could see Revna kept herself busy, the other one joined her sister in death.

-Thanks Soma, I am glad you have my back, literally -Revna shouted at me with ave.

-I am never late, you know me.-I winked at her assuringly. -someone betrayed us Revna..we have to find that son of a bitch. -I shouted back while I saw a huge man charging at me with a poisoned axe.

-You will die bitch-his deep growl ecoed in my ears as I prepared for defense. I thought I would end him with my wit instead of my valuable strength, I slipped between his legs and cut right into his balls leaving him a suffering mess falling on his knees, and finally collapsing in the bloody pond forming underneath.

-Not today, bastard.-I stated. While we fought our way a little further with Revna I quickly looked behind my back to see how Eivor was holding up. Then I saw the blood-haired war-chief woman charging on her horse at full speed towards the wolf-kissed, she wanted to end Eivor. Her plan was to cut the head of the snake, I saw her green eyes burning with ambition, fury and wrath, she jumped off of her horse slamming Eivor to the ground. Unfortunately, the charging horse killed several men around Eivor failing to hold the shield wall.

I felt my heart beating in my throat , as both Eivor and that killer bitch disappeared from my sight behind the crowd of clashing soldiers.

-Revna, you have to hold this mess, I will be back!-I gave my clear orders to my right hand , and with that I ran into Eivor’s direction as if there was no tomorrow. Many men tried to stop me on my way, but I cut them all, roaring like a beast, both of my arms were drenched in blood. The inner bear has awoken. I saw Randvi charging on her horse towards the same spot, my worry mirrored in her desperate eyes. She fought like an amazon, a tiger let out of her cage , she was never really tamed behind that map table after all. I must admit she fought fiercely. Her long copper braid was dancing around in circles as she slain anyone who got near her. Unexpectedly, her horse got an arrow in the front leg, causing Randvi to fell foward harshly, she was flying several meters from the saddle. The killer-witch had supporter archers at the top of a nearby rock, they were backing their leader and her evil plans.

I didn't have time to care for Randvi, I slammed into the shield wall to see what was happening with Eivor behind it.

The blood-witch was strangling Eivor with her strong arm, Eivor had deep cuts on her own arms and her side. Fuck.. she really didn't see it coming.. oh that fucking bitch ! Eivor wanted to kick her in the face but her legs were entangled in strong hold by that serpent. She fought differently, wrestled her enemy, held the body in position to slowly end it with deadly cuts. I couldn't let her finish her work..my heart would break in two for an eternity..

I grabbed her hair pulling her upwards, while I watched her cry out from the pain.

-Hey, you blood whore, don't you dare to move or I will cut your pretty head off. Eivor broke free swiftly, but instinctively put her right hand on her ribs. I saw a considerable blood stain growing there, which felt like a punch in my stomach. It seemed I actually got one, as the redhead tried to break away. Just before I could end her, I felt a powerful but blunt hit on my back, an arrow's burning head fought it's way into my flesh. I instantly fell on my knees then I started to crawl on the ground ghasping the dust.

Eivor didn't give a fuck about her serious wound on her side she ran towards that sly whore to avenge this mess. Randvi arrived just in time her huge smash with her shield put the escaping rat onto the ground. The blood-witch was cornered and there was no way out. My sight became blurry and I wanted to vomit from the pain that radiated into my chest and my back.

'Tie this one up quickly, we'll inerrogate her at Ravensthorpe. Randvi instructed two soldiers. -Oh God..Eivor you're bleeding-she mumbled with care as she stepped to the wolf-kissed, her eyes wandered on the huge blood stain. Randvi's bottom lip was craked and bleeding, probably from a huge stroke.

'I am fine Randvi, bring our forces left to safety, we have to retreat, now' Eivor's raspy voice echoed, turning to Randvi. 'I can only thank my life to Soma' Eivor hurried to me while Randvi called a retreat to Ravensthorpe, we could defend the way from the woods but it was clearly a trap. Somebody gave valuable information to the enemy, Birna and Ivarr could attack any moment.Both sides lost countless men, the woods was in flames around us.

'My poor bird..' Eivor whispered calmly, holding me in her arms in a second sitting on her knees on the ground. She turned my body really slowly to spare me from the additional pain, I could have screamed out loud in my despair, but I couldn't show the slightest sign of weakness while she was around me.

'I m have to get this out now' she said apologetically, furrowing her brows.

I couldn't speak as I felt my power leaving me, I was close to fainting, so I just nodded and let myself concentrate on those strong arms being folded around me. This was the closest Eivor ever got to me.. my heart was burning and beating fast both from the trauma I endured and the excitement that was ruling over me inside.

'I will be as quick and gentle as possible'Eivor promised with a light smile.

I held onto her arm and mumbled a few words:'Just do it, please..' I closed my eyes knowing what will come.

Eivor clearly had pratice in this, as she firmly held onto the arrow, turned it slightly in my flesh, then pulled it out with a powerful move.

It felt as if a burning blade was turned inside me ripping out my flesh. The pain was undescribable with words, I cried out, my eyes became blurry with tears.

'Fucking GOD' I shouted.

'The worst is over Soma, I promise. I can thank my life to you, so I am in your debt, I will help you through this and bring you to Valka.' Eivor lifted me up, placed one of my arms around her neck and holding my weight with her arms below my knees. ' 'I got you now -she gently stroked my arm and carried me to her horse, we headed back to Ravensthorpe with our forces left , following Randvi's soldiers.

As we rode along those old oak trees I could feel the sweet scent of Eivor's skin around her collarbone as I laid my head on her broad chest. Small sweatdrops were glistening on her perfect face while her ice-blue eyes stayed focused on the road, I could watch this living statue of perfection all day.

Spring breeze played on my cheeks while I closed my eyes to just feel the bumps and turns of the road.

I couldn't get a peaceful monent as my thoughts caused me an inner turmoil. Where the hell was Revna? Did she join to Randvi and her forces? How am I supposed to fight like this? The hardest part of this battle is still ahead of us..I came here to defend Ravensthorpe, not to behave like a whining child. And who was that blood-haired shieldmaiden?

***

#ac eivor #eivor #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #lady eivor #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #ac soma #somabearheart #soma jarlskona #eivor x soma #randvi #ac valhalla fanfic

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 42 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hello darlings! The saga continues… Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Pearl’s eye started to wander and Violet set out on a quest to truly prove herself.

This Chapter: Aiden struggles with envy, Adore learns something extremely disturbing about her girlfriend, and Violet makes a friend in the park.

***

“Oof!” Katya held the sweater she was knitting in front of her face, blocking the view of the TV. “Oh god, that scene gets me every time.”

“I can see why this is one of your favorites.” Violet smiled, her pencil paused on her sketchpad as she watched Nancy’s powertrip, The Craft a surprisingly good film.

They were sitting on the couch in Trixie, Katya and Pearl’s apartment, Katya sending Violet a text if she wanted to come down and watch a movie.

Violet had learned early on that Katya despised people who were on their phones while watching movies, but that crafts were allowed, which was probably also why Katya had asked her specifically since Max was out of town. Pearl, Kim and Shangela were all on the no movies list, while Trixie was apparently walking on ‘thin fucking ice’ as Katya herself had said.

“I was a witch once.” Katya smiled, going back to the pink sweater with purple clouds she was knitting, the size of it making it clear that it was for Trixie. “Who doesn’t like a side of blood magic?”

Violet smiled, shaking her head as she turned her attention halfway back to her sketch, her hand doodling flowers along the lapel of the jacket she was working on.

***

“Kiara?”

Aiden was having a perfectly good day until she came over.

It was a little after lunch, the cafeteria serving the chicken he liked. He’d been working on some sketches, fairly satisfied with his progress so far, the days going by so fast.

He was on track to have almost 10 different looks finished by the end of the day when they had to turn them in, and so he was certain that he’d be getting into the Spring collection.

He had been perfecting a sleeve, when his pleasant thoughts had been rudely interrupted by Violet’s voice, as she approached their station to talk to Kiara.

“Hi,” Violet was holding a black portfolio in her hands, her pink nails tapping on the black vinyl. She was wearing a pair of black high waisted pants, a belt cinching in her waist and a long sleeved silk top. “I was wondering if I could see what you were working on for the Spring prêt-à-porter collection?”

“Sure? Kiara looked surprised, but she still grabbed her own stack of sketches, Kiara one of the few designers that still preferred to do everything by hand. “Why?

“I heard that you’re doing a jacket,” Violet put her portfolio down, “and I’m thinking of doing a jacket, so I just want to make sure we’re not submitting the same thing.”

Of course Violet was thinking of submitting a jacket.

“Scared of the competition Chachki?” Aiden was about to reach for his own sketch, his centerpiece for his spring submissions a jacket as well.

“No?” Violet looked at Aiden, her big brown eyes unblinking. “Why would I be?”

Aiden was about to open his mouth to respond when he realized that there was no point, his hand falling down.

That girl was just so incredibly condescending, and he hated her for it.

“Here we go.” Kiara said, gesturing to her sketches, tapping on the 3 versions of the jacket that she was going to submit.

“Hmm.” Violet peered at them, nodding. “Good. We’re not doing the same at all.”

“I showed you mine. Are you gonna show me yours?” Kiara asked, and Violet giggled, pulling out her own sketches.

“Deal,” she said, flipping open the portfolio.

As curious as he was, Aiden decided not to look, burying his head in his own work, now more determined than ever to get that jacket spot.

***

“Babyyy, pay attention to meeee,” Adore whined, tugging on Pearl’s top, attempting to nuzzle into her neck as they were on the bed. Pearl had invited her over for dinner, but the second they’d finished Katya’s famous twice-baked potatoes and garlic chicken (and several bottles of wine), she’d pulled out her laptop and begun working on content for Galactica’s new website.

Adore had never seen Pearl work after hours before. She was slightly shocked to see her do any real work, to be honest, imagining her position at Galactica to be purely schmoozing with brand reps and taking high-profile selfies at fancy events.

“Sorry, I have to finish this shit tonight.” Pearl finished the last of her wine and pressed a quick kiss to Adore’s forehead before going back to her computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard, Pearl actually typing at a surprisingly impressive speed.

“But…” Adore knew she was being a brat, but really, what was Pearl’s rush to finish something this late anyway? Would anyone even be ready to receive it? “Please-”

“Dore,” Pearl sighed, actually looking down at her. “I need to turn it into the site designers before midnight tonight. I thought I’d have time at work, but there was an influencer emergency and you know how those bitches get.”

Adore didn’t, in fact, know how influencers got, the realization that she knew absolutely nothing about Pearl’s work slowly creeping over her.

“I tried asking for extra time, but Fame said no.” Pearl pressed space, her short nails clacking against the black keys of her Macbook. “And unfortunately, eating her pussy right now for a favor is out of the question.” Pearl huffed. “Believe me. I tried.”

“What?” Adore’s hand froze on Pearl’s waist. “You tried what?”

“Eating her pussy?”

Adore sat up, rocking the bed. “Pearl!”

“What? You know that me and Fame used to hook up. We’ve done it for years.” Pearl turned to her with a curious expression. “They didn’t tell you?” Pearl raised a brow. “Huh.” She bit her lip, going back to her laptop. “I thought for sure they would when they were all freaked out about us getting together.”

“They?” Adore asked, trying to keep her voice from getting shrill. “Who is they?”

“Fame mostly” Pearl shrugged, “but I thought Bianca would have had something to say.”

“Wait, so...sorry.” Adore squeezed her eyes shut, trying to clear her mind before asking, “You and Fame used to hook up, and Bianca knew about it?”

“I assumed? I don’t know for sure, but why else would your sister hate me?” Pearl paused typing, a cheshire grin on her face. “I’m delightful.”

Adore could feel her heart pounding in her throat.

“And you… You were gonna...you were gonna cheat on me with her?”

“Cheat? Wha - No!” Pearl closed her laptop, putting it to the side before she turned to Adore, shaking her head. “I’m not cheating.”

“It sure as shit sounds like it.”

“We never talked about being exclusive? So I just figured…” Pearl shrugged, and Adore wanted to hit her. “You’re a really cool girl, and I thought you didn’t care about stuff like that.”

“Well…” Adore’s mind raced. She’d been so ready to get angry, throw an absolute fit, but Pearl calling her cool was having the effect of pouring aloe onto inflamed skin. “I mean...I guess that’s true, we never talked about it.”

“It’s 2014. Everyone who’s not an absolute square is open these days,” Pearl continued.

“Is that… I mean, so…” Adore swallowed hard. “So you want an open relationship?”

“I’m not running around town fucking everyone I meet, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just think like… We know how we feel about each other? So why worry about oppressive hetero-normative rules?” Pearl punctuated her question with a charming smile, and Adore could feel herself melting.

“Yeah, that...makes sense.”

“See, this is why you’re the fucking best.” Pearl closed her laptop and kissed Adore gently, cradling her head, and every last ounce of anger dissipated into thin air.

Well...anger at Pearl, anyway. She’d deal with Miss Goddamn Fame and her traitorous sister tomorrow.

“Don’t you need to work?” Adore asked, pressing into Pearl’s embrace.

“I’ll go in early tomorrow,” Pearl said, moving her lips to Adore’s neck.

Adore sighed happily, lavishing the attention, sure that being with Pearl was worth it.

***

Courtney had gotten to the office before 6 am to prepare for the Friday design meeting--organizing the nearly 400 sketches into categories, making scans and copies and mounting the originals on card stock, each one numbered for easy reference. In the end, she had a tabbed binder for each of the attendees with high-quality copies, just barely finishing by the time Miss Fame strolled in at 9:30.

They’d been at it for awhile now, and what had begun as an orderly review with everyone on the same page had devolved into chaos, tension high as people defended their opinions. She stood in the corner of the conference room, feet already aching in her 4-inch heels, trying to follow the rapid-fire conversation, Raja and Trixie bickering about pant length and Pearl tearing out the pages she didn’t like, tossing them to the floor.

“This skirt on 42 is nice, but it looks complicated. How much would it cost to manufacture it?” Pearl passed a sketch to Bendela, who was the head of the tailoring department.

Bendela examined it closely, before proclaiming, “At least $700.”

Pearl pulled it out of her hands, dropping it on the floor with the other rejects. “Bye!”

“Well, hey now…” Alyssa flipped to the same sketch in her own binder. “Maybe it wouldn’t work for the stores, but it’s still good. Could we save it for a potential runway look?”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Sure, but that’s not what we’re doing today.”

“Why don’t we put it aside and give Jovan some notes for runway?” Trixie suggested.

“That’s literally what I just said,” Alyssa snapped.

“I know, I’m agreeing with you!” Trixie exclaimed, handing her a fresh Red Bull. “Here, have some more gogo juice.”

“I really like this top on 27, but it would have to be a bit shorter to work with the other separates,” Alaska drawled, and Raja nodded, jotting down a note on the corresponding page of her binder.

“Yes, it’s pretty. What do you think, Fame?” asked Raja.

“It would be pretty, if it wasn’t in this disgusting color,” Fame said.

“Non-disgusting color coming right up!” Trixie said cheerfully, scribbling a note on the page.

“Trixie, I do not appreciate your tone.”

“Sorry Miss. You want to see something great? Check out Maxwell’s suit options. Starting on 104. He really outdid himself this year.” Trixie let out a loud chef’s kiss.

“Awww, thanks coach!” Maxwell said.

Courtney shifted, stretching a little, and noticed that Miss Fame had finished her coffee. Relieved for an excuse to move, she slipped from the meeting, grabbing her coat on the way to the elevators. She got Fame’s usual order as quickly as possible, along with her preferred apple cinnamon muffin to have on stand-by in case her blood sugar was having its usual pre-lunch dip, and returned to the 25th floor, shocked at the face that greeted her in the lobby when the elevator doors opened.

“Adore?”

“Courtney! Thank god. This bitch wouldn’t let me into Fame’s office-” Adore gestured towards Roxy, irritated, who gave her an equally dirty look in return, “And I need to talk to her.”

“Well…” Courtney beeped her access card, shooting Roxy an apologetic smile and saying, “Thanks, I got it.”

Once inside, she tossed her coat over her chair and turned back to Adore, who was rattling the doorknob of Fame’s office like a crazy person, pounding on the door.

“Fame? Fame, open up!”

“Adore…” Courtney touched her lightly on the shoulder. “She’s not in there. She’s in a meeting, with like, the whole senior design and marketing teams right now, and-”

“Well, I need to talk to her, right away.” Adore was clearly agitated.

“Are you okay? Can I-”

“No! I’m obviously not okay! I need to talk to her, now-”

“Okay. You wanna wait here until they break for lunch?” Courtney asked. “I can’t really ask her to leave without-”

“No, I want to talk to her. If you don’t want to interrupt, I will. I don’t give a shit about her meeting.” Adore charged forward, and Courtney caught her by the shoulders.

“Wait! Okay, I’ll tell her you’re here and that it’s urgent. Please, just…”

Adore seemed to begrudgingly accept this plan, crossing her arms and sitting on the edge of Courtney’s desk. “Two minutes and then I’m coming in.”

Courtney took a deep breath and made her way towards the conference room, trying not to wring her hands on the way. She was worried for whatever was making Adore so upset, but she also couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little at her demanding attitude. It wasn’t something that reared its head terribly often, but when it did...hoo boy. Spoiled brat Adore was by far the worst version of Adore--petulant, entitled, unyielding. Courtney prayed that she would get through this tantrum without a scene.

Courtney re-entered the conference room, handing Miss Fame her coffee and then turning to a fresh page in her notebook and scribbling out a note, trying to be as concise as possible.

Adore Delano here. Very upset. Needs to talk. Says it’s urgent.

She underlined “urgent” before showing it to her boss, hoping that she wouldn’t get scolded for her friend’s behavior.

Fame glanced at the note and then stood up, clearing her throat.

“I have to go attend to a family matter,” she announced, “but I’ll be back shortly.” She gestured vaguely to the empty chair beside her seat, indicating that Courtney should stay and take notes.

Courtney quickly sat down, pulling over Miss Fame’s binder.

***

When Miss Fame entered her office suite, Adore was there, pacing around. She looked physically fine, which was a relief, but Fame was still concerned, knowing that Adore wouldn’t come to her, not in the middle of the day like this, unless something terrible had happened.

“Hello darling, what on earth is going on-”

“Don’t fucking darling me!” Adore snapped, catching her off guard, and Fame took a deep breath, opening her door to her office and ushering Adore inside before firmly shutting it. For one thing, it would give them some privacy. And for another, it would make sure that no one passing by saw Adore’s messy hair and booty shorts.

“Is anybody hurt?”

“Fuck you!”

Fame sighed, locking the door. If she was going to screech like a maniac, they may as well have as much soundproofing as possible.

“Now, Adore-” Fame began, but Adore immediately interrupted.

“What the fuck do I have to do for y’all to stop treating me like a fucking child?!” Adore burst out, and Fame couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“A child? Since I was at your 15th birthday, I don’t think that’s very fair-”

“Don’t change the subject!” Adore shouted, looking genuinely upset, her hand shaking.

“What is the subject, dearheart?” Fame took a step forward, but Adore stepped back. Fame could feel her panic rising, wondering if something was actually wrong with Bianca, if anyone had gotten hurt. “I think we missed a step here-”

“Pearl! Pearl, is the fucking subject!” Adore jabbed a finger against her chest, Fame looking down.

“Adore!” No one had done that to Fame since she was a child, the action incredibly upsetting and weird.

“Specifically,” Adore poked her, “you,” poke “fucking her.” Adore looked up, her eyes filled with anger. “Is that clear enough?”

“Oh.” Fame’s heart sank, the secret apparently out. The last thing she ever wanted was for Adore to get hurt, but here they were. “How did you…” Fame looked over her shoulder, making sure the door was locked, hoping that Courtney was still in the conference room.

“Look at me!”

“How did you find out about this-”

“Pearl told me!”

Fuck.

“She apparently thought that you’d told me already.”

“Good god.” Fame closed her eyes briefly, cursing herself for not being more explicit with Pearl back in September. “She really shouldn’t have done that.”

“She?!” Adore yelled. “Why didn’t you? Why do you all fucking tiptoe around, protect me like I’m a goddamn infant?!”

“Adore-”

“I’m 24 fucking years old! Half of your employees are younger than me, and I know for a fact that you don’t treat them like delicate little babies-”

“Please. Calm down, I don’t-” Fame held up her hands. “Please.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You want the truth? The grown-up truth?”

“Yes!”

“Me not telling you about my…” Fame made a vague gesture, “history with Pearl. That wasn’t to protect you. That was to protect myself.”

“What…” Adore looked momentarily thrown by this, her anger replaced with confusion, and Fame pulled her onto the sofa, taking the opportunity to grasp one of her hands.

“She’s my employee, Adore.” Fame rubbed her thumb over Adore’s hand, gently caressing it. “We may have had an understanding between us, but…” Fame sighed. “Nobody else would--could understand.”

“You mean like your husband?” Adore shot back, face twisting once more into anger. “I can’t believe you would cheat on him, that you would-”

“I would never ‘cheat’ on Patrick. He knows everything. You don’t need to worry about my marriage. But I mean that if my...Interests came out publicly, it would be very damaging to my professional reputation. That’s what I feared.”

“And you didn’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anybody with things like this, Adore. So instead of telling you, I just...broke things off with her, and made sure she knew how much I love you. That I would be very angry if she mistreated you.”

Adore bit her lip, taking in what Fame had said, her blue eyes misty. “You went behind my back and told my girlfriend to be nice, or she’d be in trouble? Don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

“I’m sorry. It was a bad decision, but it wasn’t because I was trying to baby you. It was...it doesn’t matter. I can see now that I should have told you instead.”

“Yes. But…” Adore sighed. “I guess I understand why you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” Fame said. “Thank you for that.”

She pulled Adore close, hugging her tightly, trying to show how sorry she was. When Bianca had taken custody of Adore nearly ten years earlier, Fame felt like she shared the responsibility to look out for her.

She knew, of course, that sometimes that meant that she was overprotective, and maybe even patronizing, but she couldn’t help it: Adore would always be a sweet baby to her, someone who had been through hell far too young, who deserved to be a bit spoiled and sheltered.

“There’s one more thing I need to know,” Adore said, still chewing on her lip.

“What is it?”

“Does my sister know?”

Fame took a deep breath, tucking a lock of Adore’s fading purple hair behind her ear. “She does. But she’s the only one. Besides Patrick. And now you. And she promised me, swore on her life, that she’d never tell.”

“Hmm.”

***

“We’ll get the results tomorrow, and it isn’t that I’m like, nervous nervous, I just hope I have done a good enough job-”

Sutan smiled as he listened to Violet chat, the fact that she was actually sharing her honest feelings about Galactica’s prêt-à-porter collection feeling like a big deal.

Sutan had asked Violet out for lunch since he was already in midtown for a meeting, the two of them now walking hand in hand around Central Park, Sutan drinking coffee while Violet was sipping on tea. The air was crisp, Autumn leaves covering the ground, the people of New York taking in the beautiful day.

“Sutan!” Sutan felt a pull on his hand, Violet stopping dead in her tracks. “Sutan, look!”

He turned his head, not even registering what was happening before Violet had shoved her tea and bag into his arms, letting go of him to make a beeline towards a couple that were walking a small dog.

“Excuse me-” Violet cleared her throat, catching the couple’s attention. “Can I pet your dog? Please?”

“Of course!”

The couple smiled, and Sutan watched as Violet crouched down on the ground, quickly taking off her gloves and handing them to Sutan so the pug could sniff her fingers.

“Hey there, hello gorgeous, hi,” Violet smiled, her hand soon running over the puppy’s head, scratching it behind the ears. “That’s it, that’s a good boy.”

Sutan tilted his head. He had never seen Violet interact with a pet before, and somehow, he had assumed that she would be either a pet hater or a cat person, but she looked genuinely happy, and completely in love with the dog.

“What’s his name?”

“Dough. It’s his first trip to Central Park, he’s been looking forward to it all week.”

“Really?” Violet looked up, her smile never wavering as she chatted with the couple about the dog. “Oh Sutan, look how cute he is.”

“He’s very-”

“Who’s a good boy?” Violet grinned, cutting off Sutan as she scratched the pug’s chin. “Who’s a good boy?”

Sutan took a sip of his coffee, hiding a grin as Violet’s bag dug into the crock of his elbow. He had never seen Violet so willingly talk to strangers, had never seen her be so overly excited about anything that wasn’t related to fashion. He took another sip, pocketing Violet’s gloves as he watched her play with the dog, a sense of calm washing over him as Violet made Dough chase his own tail.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #adore x pearl #vitan #katya zamolodchikova #violet chachki #aiden zhane #adore delano #pearl liaison #courtney act #miss fame #raja gemini #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years ago

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5e Qiyana, Empress of the Elements build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Aley Ghallan. Made for Riot Games.)

So it turns out I was wrong about Evelynn: there is another champion who doesn’t have “the” in the title! Leave it to Qiyana to be special. Anyways: after making this post my brain decided to hype fixate on a potential Qiyana build and then... oops. It suddenly got made. Truth be told I still haven’t got a goddamn clue how Qiyana works in-game.

GOALS

Not my fault; they should have bowed - Qiyana’s an assassin which of course means we need assassin damage.

Let us throw rocks at them and laugh - The Empress of the Elements needs elements to control! Earth, Wind, Fire, and Air!

Why are you in my space? - Riot sort of just... decided Qiyana should have two dashes in her kit? I guess?

RACE

Qiyana is clearly human but the Ixtali have some innate magic to them, so for control over the primal magic of (area with trees) go for a Half-Elf for Fey Ancestry to resist charms and sleeping.

But we won’t just be going for any Half-Elf. You know me I use Dragonmarks way too much, but it works since the Dragonmarked houses are above the rest. We’ll be going for a Mark of Storm to control both the oceans and the river! As a Mark of Storm Half-Elf your Charisma increases by 2 (as per usual) and your Dexterity increases by 1. You have Windwright’s Intuition to add a d4 to any Acrobatics checks you may make (as well as Navigator’s Tools which is slightly less important), and the Storm’s Boon to resist Lightning damage. "I see you have mastered the element of wind."

Of course what we’re mainly here for is Headwinds for a bit of elemental manipulation! You can cast Gust at will, and at third level you can cast Gust of Wind once per Long Rest as a very shitty version of your ultimate! You can also learn a language of your choice and Primordial would let you speak to the earth; it’s up to you to make sure it listens!

IF DRAGONMARKS AREN’T AN OPTION: Both Drow Half-Elf and Wood Half-Elf work very well for Qiyana. Drow gives you more spells while Wood makes it easier for you to hide. You’d also get more ASIs by going for a regular Half Elf (as opposed to a Dragonmarked race) so put the +1 you’d get into Strength.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - Qiyana is a master of acrobatics, doing flips and kicks as she so desires.

14; CHARISMA - A ruler is meant to be attractive... and imposing.

13; STRENGTH - That ring you carry is heavy. Also it’s a multiclassing requirement.

12; CONSTITUTION - Qiyana is squishy in League but that doesn’t mean she has to be squishy for this build.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You must know your legacy in order to rule, and while your magic is a natural gift it’s good to know your way around Arcana.

8; WISDOM - So what if you have a hot head? You can shape the river to cool yourself off!

BACKGROUND

And here you were thinking I’d use Noble... Not many know of the Ixtali people, so you’re more of a Far Traveler than anything else. You get proficiency with skills but they don’t really fit you to be honest, so take Arcana and Nature proficiency to know your natural magic. You also gain proficiency with a musical instrument or gaming set of your choice (pick your fancy) and a language of your choice (also pick your fancy!)

But most importantly you know that you have All Eyes on You. Everyone knows you’re from the great land of Ixtal, and some will offer you service to know of the history of your great land. Won’t they be excited to know they’ll be joining your kingdom too?

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

You are an assassin, and an empress needs as many skills as she can get. Take proficiency in Acrobatics (obviously) and the three big Charisma skills: Deception, Persuasion, and Intimidation. You could get Performance instead for some TRUE DAMAGE, but trust me when I say Performance barely ever comes up in standard D&D. You also get Expertise in two skills: Nature and Arcana are kinda your thing, so...

As an empress you know just the right way to word your phrases to sound like Thieves’ Cant, and can understand any roguish discussion of those trying to overtake your throne. But of course as an assassin you’re expected to build lethality and Sneak Attack, doing an extra d6 to any enemy who mispositioned.

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

Second level Rogues get their Cunning Action, allowing you to have the Audacity to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a Bonus Action. It’s really nice when I can recreate League of Legends dashes as just... the Dash action.

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Third level Rogues get to choose their Roguish Archetype and Swashbucklers can move from enemy to enemy with ease and taunt them all the while. As a Swashbuckler you get two features but it’s more like three features: Fancy Footwork lets you dash away from a foe you’ve just hit without taking opportunity attacks.

Rakish Audacity meanwhile lets you Sneak Attack anyone who doesn’t have bodyguards, and has the added benefit of letting you add your Charisma to initiative rolls! "Some wait their turn, and some take what they deserve." Speaking of Sneak Attack: your Sneak Attack also increases to 2d6, and you also get Gust of Wind from your race now!

LEVEL 4 - ROGUE 4

4th level Rogues get an Ability Score Improvement: Dexterity kind of controls... everything that you do at the moment? So a +2 increase to DEX will go a long way.

(Artwork by eollynart on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 5 - PALADIN 1

Did you swear an oath to Ixtal? Well it doesn’t matter. As a Paladin you have a Divine Sense to know the lay of the land: if there are any Celestials, Fiends, Fey, or Undead walking through your river or if the land is Consecrated or Desecrated. The ability does have a limited number of uses and a limited range however, so be mindful.

You can also heal yourself (or others, I guess) with a Corrupting Potion thanks to Lay on Hands. You can even cure Poisons or Diseases with 5 health points, because no one is assassinating this empress!

LEVEL 6 - PALADIN 2

Second level Paladins get to choose their Fighting Style: while it may not be the most effective you need to control the elements, and Blessed Warrior will give you some more minor control over the world around you. Thaumaturgy is the main one we’re here for because we can’t get Prestidigitation, and while it’s perhaps not the most in-character Guidance is still always useful to have, if only to use it on yourself.

Now would also be a good chance to talk about your Ring Blade ohmlatl: I actually think opting for Two Weapon Fighting with Qiyana works quite well to recreate her weapon! I’d opt for two Scimitars but Shortswords obviously work well too. Alternatively a Rapier and Shield would still let you Sneak Attack while also letting you block attacks.

Of course you don’t just get cantrips: you get actual Spellcasting! You can prepare a number of spells equal to your Charisma modifier plus half your Paladin level (rounded down.) Divine Favor will let you use your passive to get more damage and Thunderous Smite will let you knock a foe down as if stunning them with an icy blade.

Other than that? Command suits you well but there are few other spells we really need. I’d recommend you ignore all of that and concentrate on Divine Smite, turning magic into raw damage with your blade! "I command you to die!"

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 3

The magic of Ixtal is ancient and to bend it to your will look no further than the Oath of the Ancients. You learn both Ensnaring Strike and Speak with Animals as Oath Spells (one of which is far more in-character than the other, but hey the birds can bow to you too), and you get two Channel Divinity options:

Nature’s Wrath will let you ensnare a creature within 10 feet of you. (It’s supposed to be flavored as vines but I’d reflavor it as ice from the river.) They can make a Strength or Dexterity saving throw or get free, but if they fail they will be restrained until they break out. Yeah there’s no max duration on this! Yes they can repeat the save each turn but the point still stands!

Turn the Faithless meanwhile is your standard turning effect, only this affects Feys and Fiends. The jungle natives know to bow to you, and usurpers shall be made to bow!

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 4

4th level means another Ability Score Improvement but I don’t think we’ve hidden in the grass enough. The Shadow Touched feat will let you increase your Charisma by 1 and will also give you the Invisibility spell for when you need it. You can also learn a first level Illusion or Necromancy spell like Disguise Self to change up your wardrobe as necessary. You can cast both these spells once per Long Rest without using a spell slot, but can then use your spell slots to cast them some more.

Speaking of spells you can prepare more of them. But again: not much I really want. I’d recommend waiting for...

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins get an Extra Attack, allowing you to attack twice in one turn for more chances to Sneak Attack, Smite, or both!

Additionally you get a lot of good stuff at this level! You can learn Misty Step and Moonbeam as Oath Spells to recreate Flash and what we’ll call your ultimate for the sake of this build. You can also prepare Branding Smite for more Elemental Wrath and uhhhh... oops that’s kinda all I want. I mean Lesser Restoration is nice in a pinch. Truthfully it’s 3rd level where the true Qiyana spells come in.

(Artist unknown. Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 6

6th level Paladins can evade any danger with their natural beauty. Aura of Protection grants a saving throw boost equal to your Charisma modifier to yourself and anyone within 10 feet of you, so their empress can lead and put those who oppose her in the dirt.

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 7

Oh did you think a bonus to saving throws wasn’t enough? Well as an Ancients Paladin you get Aura of Warding as well, giving yourself (and your allies) resistance to magic! This means that if you succeed on a saving throw against a spell you’ll take a quarter damage total (half of a half), and even if you (somehow) fail you’ll still only take half damage! "You are right to fear my greatness."

LEVEL 12 - PALADIN 8

8th level means another Ability Score Improvement: cap off that uneven Charisma score as well as your uneven Strength, because a +2 modifier is nice even if you aren’t really using it.

LEVEL 13 - PALADIN 9

9th level Paladins can cast third level spells which means oh boy: I get to tell you all the spells you should prepare to be in-character for Qiyana that you’re never going to be able to cast with your limited spell slots! Regardless Ancients Paladins get Plant Growth and Protection from Energy added to their spell list, to manipulate the elements to their liking. But with four other spells to prepare what should we take?

Elemental Weapon is the “yeah duh” spell, letting you invoke Elemental Wrath and really get value out of your passive. (It also makes your weapon a +1 which is helpful.)

Spirit Shroud is like Elemental Weapon but objectively better except for the fact that it doesn’t deal elemental damage. (Well it can deal Cold damage.) But instead of a d4 extra damage you’ll do a d8, and you can also slow those near you!

And again: I don’t really want any other spells. Almost like Qiyana is an AD champ masquerading as a spellcaster. You are allowed to take Cure Wounds you know? Just saying.

(Artwork by Mavoly on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 14 - ROGUE 5

Hey aren’t you an assassin? Shouldn’t we be concentrating on like, assassin stuff? 5th level Rogues get Uncanny Dodge, letting you spend your reaction to halve the damage of an attack against you. This would affect attack rolls from spells like Shocking Grasp, meaning it would stack with Aura of Warding, but you can’t Uncanny Dodge a spell to only take an eighth of the damage.

Oh and your Sneak Attack (finally!) increases to 3d6.

LEVEL 15 - ROGUE 6

6th level Rogues get Expertise in two more skills. By this point you should probably be at peak performance with Acrobatics. After that pick your poison for one of your Charisma skills if you want to deal in public relations, subterfuge, or pop music.

LEVEL 16 - ROGUE 7

Are saving throws still (somehow) getting you down? Well Evasion just makes it so you take 0 damage if you succeed on a Dexterity saving throw, and only half damage on a failure! It’s probably worth mentioning that you currently have a +13 DEX save. To put this into perspective Tiamat’s breath weapon is a DC 27 DEX save; meaning that you have a 30% chance to take zero damage from an attack from Tiamat.

Oh and your Sneak Attack increases to 4d6, so you can then destroy Tiamat with a Supreme Display of Talent.

LEVEL 17 - ROGUE 8

8th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement: Dexterity still controls our AC and attack rolls (along with many other things) and it still isn’t maxed, so capping it off at 20 would be a good idea. "Jaw-dropping, I know."

(Artwork by LittleKumaArt on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 18 - PALADIN 10

Rounding this build off with a final few levels in Paladin: level 10 Paladins get Aura of Courage, because if you’ve lasted long enough to hit level 18 why would you be afraid of anything? "So basic."

LEVEL 19 - PALADIN 11

11th level Paladins get Improved Divine Smite, letting them add a d8 Radiant damage to any hit with your weapon (not just hits with Divine Smite, despite the name.)

But I’m going to be honest: what I really wanted was the extra third level spell slot. Not that an extra d8 every attack isn’t good though! Show off that Royal Privilege!

LEVEL 20 - PALADIN 12

12th level Paladins get our final Ability Score Improvement: cap off your Charisma for a +5 Aura of Protection, and also more spells to prepare. "If talent were an element, perhaps I could throw some at them."

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Smash these idiots, won't you? - It may be a surprise to you but Rogues and Paladins are both very good at doing damage. 4d6 of Sneak Attack damage is never a bad thing, and that d8 from Improved Divine Smite helps too. And if they’re still standing then a regular Divine Smite will quickly force them to bow. What’s really nice is that unlike other Rogues you are practically guaranteed the Royal Privilege of Sneak Attacking your foes!

I would say “watch and learn,” but unfortunately you cannot learn this - Having a few spells in your back pocket never hurt anyone, and even your weakest spells pack quite a punch. Divine Favor stacks up over a long combat, and Ensnaring Strike can set an enemy up for failure.

Some people are just born better - I swear this happens whenever I make either a Rogue or a Paladin but it turns out that Rogue and Paladin are both extremely good at resisting damage. Evasion combined with Aura of Protection is huge but the biggest factor that makes this build so crazy is Aura of Warding. Ancients Paladin is one of the best Paladins in the game specifically because you take half damage from magic. Add this all onto a Rogue who can dash as a Bonus Action every turn, essentially got the Mobile feat for free, and has 135 health? You can be everywhere at once and you foes can’t do anything about it.

CONS

It is exhausting to crush you so much - While all your spells are amazing they’re also very limited. 3 spell slots for your best tricks means that you won’t pull them off too often. It also means that your Smiting abilities are a little limited overall.

That was no crushing; that was merely a squeeze - Multiclassing does give you a taste of everything but it also means that you miss out on the best of both worlds. Your sneak attack could be higher, and you didn’t get any of the particularly powerful Paladin features.

I'm extremely good... at everything - Well except for one thing: Wisdom. While Aura of Protection helps you somewhat with Wisdom saves +4 means nothing against higher tier spells. And of course a -1 to Perception and Insight never helped anyone.

But your greatness far overshadows your flaws. Show them that greatness and let the nature around you help magnify your magnificence. It is your right to conquer above all, and subject those beneath you for the glory of Ixaocan. Don’t let silly things like “sisters” or “birthright” or “hard CC” stop you. Go fight that 1v5 and prove how great you are!

(Artwork by Jessica “OwleyCat” Oyhenart. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Qiyana #dnd rogue #dnd paladin #Ixaocan #earth #water #grass?

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milkybunbuns · 4 years ago

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ii. battles → perfection masterlist → next → previous

w/c: 1.9 K

warnings: spoilers for season 1 episodes 6 and 7

a/n: I moved the basic hero training part to morning because I realised half way through it happened in the afternoon and I was too lazy to change everything 😅

A brand new day, which meant a brand new day of school. You wouldn’t even be surprised if today there would be another test and just unluckily for you, Hawks was nowhere to be seen in the morning, leaving you with no food (the fridge was empty) and there was no time to go shopping considering you were running late. Home school was kinda nicer, you could wake up whenever you want, learn whenever you want and train whenever you want, but sometimes it did get a little bit boring.

Sliding the door open quietly, you slid through the smallest opening possible and settled down in your seat, All Might completely oblivious to the fact that you had just walked in, 7 minutes late, however, it clearly didn’t go unnoticed by Iida. You watched as he raised his arm, panicking internally and waving your hands crazily at him, trying to signal him, no. Yet he paid no mind to you. Grrr, Iida!! Way to blow my sneaky entrance smh.

“Yes young Iida?”

“I’m sorry for disrupting the class, but I would like to point out that L/n-san has entered the classroom late and being part of UA, it is expected that all students should be on time”, he pointed at you, exposing you as everyone turned their heads towards you.

You heard whispers of ‘huhh, who’s that?’, ‘I didn’t see her’, ‘Is she new?’, which brought a lot of embarrassment upon yourself.

“It’s not very nice to whisper about someone in front of them kero”, Tsuyu, spoke up, which stopped all the whispers.

Iida stood up and bowed an almost perfect bow to All Might, “I’m sorry All Might for the discrepancy, please continue.”

“Right!”, the no.1 hero sweat dropped, “Please put on your costumes and meet me at Ground B”, he pressed a button on a remote, the wall somehow magically producing cases which held individual costumes based on requests. You grabbed your case, which was labelled no.9, looking around for Tsuyu so you thank her properly for standing up for you. Her green hair was pretty easy to spot, as you rushed to her.

“Oh hi L/n-san!”, she waved at you with her free hand, still keeping a fast pace.

“Hi Asui-san, thank you so much for standing up for me, I would’ve been a gonner without you.”

“It’s no problem at all and call me Tsuyu.”

“Alright Tsuyu, I was wondering if you’d like to be friends with me?”

“Of course! It’d be my pleasure kero”, okay phew it would’ve been so embarassing if she said no sjoakpa.

Everyone met outside, after changing into various hero costumes. Some looked out right ridiculous, Mineta’s was a great example for sure, while some looked really good and you couldn’t help but be in awe at Ochaco’s costume. It had a really nice colour palette consisting of pink, white and black and fitted her quirk really well.

“Ochaco!”, you waved her over, from where she was standing with Deku, quickly examining his hero costume, you noticed that the teeth looked a bit strange and he kinda looked like a bunny though it was clearly meant to be All Might style.

“Hi Y/n!!”, Ochaco smiled bouncing up and down excitedly, “This is so exciting! Our first hero training class!!”

“Yeah, I guess it is. Your costume is really cutee~”

She scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, “Thanks, but I honestly didn’t expect this to be skin-tight.”

“It’s good for your quirk and easier to manoeuvre around with a tight suit rather than a loose suit. We don’t want you accidentally making yourself float in a battle.”

“Oh yeah, of course, that would be pretty bad. But I love your costume, it’s really bright though, wouldn’t that be bad for stealth?”

“That’s why I’ve already figured out what I want to be. If or when I become a hero, I’m going to be a daylight hero.” Your costume was almost all white, but it also had bits of f/c with it. It consisted of white combat boots lined with stars in f/c near the soles, as well as 3/4 length leggings and a skin-tight top which was able to help cool you off. In terms of gadgets, you had heatproof f/c gloves, a utility belt which contained ice cubes in a small thermos, bandages, a small bottle of water. Other than those, you had a heatproof visor on your face. (Feel free to imagine up your own costume)

“Wait, you’ve already thought so far ahead, we still have 3 years here tho!”

“Well, maybe I’ll change my thoughts along the way, but lets listen to All Might before we get called out.”

“Right.”

It turned out you were put in team I, along with an invisible girl, who had introduced herself as Hagakure and a tail boy who was called Ojiro.

“Okay, Hagakure, you should go scout for them and me and Ojiro will protect the bomb.”

“On it!”, and she was soon out of the room, discarding her clothes in one of the many rooms to become completely invisible. The extra time for the villains was over and before you could begin anything, ice quickly made it’s way to your feet, trapping both you and Ojiro in the ice.

Ojiro pressed a finger to his ear pierce, “Hagakure! Where are you what’s the situation?”

“The Todoroki guy has frozen the whole building and he’s coming to the room right now!”

“Okay, I’ll get us out of this”, you activated your quirk, hands quickly heating up as you let them hover over your feet, the temperature enough to melt it off. Thanks to Todoroki, the whole room was cold, so you could freely use your quirk without overheating, but the negative to this was you could only use up any stored energy from before, since it was almost pitch-black in this room. The door slammed over before you could free Ojiro, revealing Todoroki, who seemed slightly surprised that you were free. He still had no clue how your quirk operated and what it did exactly.

“So,Todoroki-kun? You after this?”, you grabbed the bomb which was still coated in a thick layer of ice and ripped it right out of the ground, allowing a pair of wings to form on your back. He raised his right foot, slamming it down to create a large scale ice attack which you avoided easily, flying out of the window and onto the rooftop where your quirk could operate freely and without end, until your body temperature gets too hot.

Todoroki followed the particles of light out, creating his own path of ice, but by the time he arrived, you already had the bomb safely sitting on the other side of the roof, now instead of being coated with ice, being coated with light energy, which was hot to the touch and melted the ice. Wordlessly, he sent an ice attack towards you, hoping to knock you out to remove the barrier around the bomb. Well he knew it’d know you out, he knew his ice side was powerful. So when you rushed from behind the glacier, sending a ball of light towards him, he was shocked to say the least, but still dodged it.

“If you haven’t figured out by now, your ice only helps me. Using ice attacks is useless, to defeat me, you’ve gotta use your fire side.”

Todoroki frowned, “I can defeat you with just ice, no matter how powerful you are.”

“Hm?”, you arched an eyebrow then shrugged, “Alright, sure.” You created a few more light balls just enough so they were surrounding you, “Say bye then”, you sent them all at once, controlling them to follow Todoroki like guiding missiles. He quickly created a cube like shape of ice around himself, the ice shattering into pieces leaving him unscathed except for a few scratched form the shards which pierced him.

A glacier, larger than the others before raced towards you, and you thought quickly, covering the space around you with light energy which melted all the ice.

“Your quirk relies on light doesn’t it, so what if you run out of it”, Todoroki pointed out, now the rooftop was encased with a thick layer of ice all the way around which was too much for you to melt through without wasting all the energy you had saved. “And even though ice helps keep your body cold, how much of it can you handle before your body starts to get frostbite. My body was made to be able to withstand these temperatures, but yours is made to withstand heat.”

He could already see that you were shivering, your costume didn’t provide much warmth at all, since you simply assumed you would always be too hot rather than cold.

“No way am I letting you win”, you said through clenched teeth, if there was one thing you hated, it was losing. In your palms you held bits of light energy to keep you warm, but you knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, you had to think and act quickly. Your eyes darted around the ice room, all that was there was you, Todoroki and the bomb. Of course! The bomb! The bomb was still covered with light energy. You grabbed onto the bomb, burning your hands in the process, but still managing to throw it at the ice, the heat melting through the ice to create a hole out. At that moment, you realised you had been baited. Todoroki knew you could withstand the heat of your own light energy better than he could and made it so you had no choice but to use the energy form there which got rid of the layer so he could get the bomb. You watched in horror as he reached towards the bomb and in panic, you sent one towards his hand which was badly aimed and went over his arm instead and into the ice walls.

You lunched forwards, even though you knew there was no way you could make it to him in time, as he touched the bomb, signalling the heroes win. Placing his left hand on the floor, everything was melted off. You were shivering from the cold, frost forming along your body. He took notice and felt just a bit bad, and got permission from all might to take you to the nurse’s office. After all, a hero’s role was to save.

You got on the bed, rubbing your arms to try and get warmth, recovery girl’s quirk couldn’t help you warm up since it wasn’t really an injury.

“Here, I’ll warm you up”, Todoroki stated bluntly holding out his left hand.

“R-right thanks”, you chattered, trying to fit both of your hands in his, which were extremely warm, but not too hot. After a few moments of awkward silence, with him staring at you, you let go. “Thanks for the help, but I think I can warm up myself from here on.”

“Alright L/n-san, but I have proven that I can defeat you with only my right side. I will not need my left side to defeat you.”

His words left you thinking for a while, he only required half his strength to take you out, which meant you still had miles to improve. When you got third in the quirk apprehension test, you thought you were pretty good, but you never noticed the difference in power between you and Todoroki till now. Training was definitely needed.

previous - masterlist - next

tagged: @dyna-m1ght

#todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #mha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x y/n #bnha todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki #todoroki shoto #bnha #mha #boku no academia #my hero academia

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years ago

Text

The Once & Future Queen Pt.2

Storybrooke. Present. Mayor's Office. (Snow White sits down with the brand new Reporter for the Daily Mirror.) Reporter: "So, Snow White, tell us about what's been happening in Storybrooke recently?" Snow White: "Well, as you know it's been a pretty tough time for our family and Storybrooke's community as a whole. The last time Emma went back in time, she was back before any of us could notice, but it's been a week already and we just don't know when she'll return." Reporter: "You say 'when' as if you're certain Emma will be back?" Snow White: (Nods:) "Absolutely. There's not a doubt in my mind that Emma will be back." Reporter: "What makes you so sure?" Snow White: "Because that's what we do in our family. We find each other. Always." Reporter: "I see. Moving on slightly, Tiger Lily and Mulan were also victims of the time travel spell. How do you see them coping with their current situation, wherever they might be?" Snow White: "Mulan and Emma have travelled together before. She's a strong leader and excellent fighter, so I'm very glad that they're together in this. As far as Tiger Lily's concerned, I couldn't say." Reporter: "There are rumours that Tiger Lily was once Morgause's Fairy Godmother. That it was she who took the child to be raised by the High Priestesses of the Old Religion." Snow White: (Shaking her head:) "Uther Pendragon is the one responsible for what happened to his daughter." Reporter: "Very well. Tiger Lily's wand was found amongst the wreckage of Camelot's council chamber, is that true?" Snow White: "Unfortunately, yes. If Tiger Lily had managed to hold onto her wand, I believe she, Emma and Mulan would have already returned to us." Reporter: "Because that's how your daughter returned from the past the last time?" Snow White: "Correct." Reporter: "Okay. One last question for now then." Snow White: "Fire away." Reporter: "With Emma now missing, it neutralises the one thing Storybrooke had in its favour above all the United Realms; the combined magic your daughter shares with Regina." Snow White: (Shifts uncomfortably in her seat:) "And your question is?" Reporter: "Knowing that Morgana and Morgause are both still free, should the people of Storybrooke be concerned for their safety?" Snow White: (Takes a breath:) "As some people are aware, I have been taking over some of Regina's mayoral duties lately, which includes assuring the people that things are well in hand. All I can tell you is that as long as Morgana and Morgause are out there, no one knows what their next move might be."

Seas of Meredor. (Morgause and Morgana continue across the sea with the ferryman. Wyvern shriek as they fly around the fortress while the boat continues to the isle.) Enchanted Forest. Past. (Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell sit talking outside a tavern.) Tinker Bell: "Wait, so you're telling me that not only are you from the future, but where you're from those two are married?" Tiger Lily: "Shh, keep your voice down. (Nods:) Yes and they have a son and daughter together." Tinker Bell: "Wow. I guess the Pixie dust did lie." Tiger Lily: (Shrugs:) "Not really, I mean it did lead Regina to her True Love." Tinker Bell: (Considers, then smiles:) "Yeah, I guess that's true."

(Sitting at another table, Emma and Regina talk while Mulan stands a short distance away looking pensive.) Emma: "So, why didn't the King take you with him on his royal visit?" Regina: "Oh, my husband and King Midas are old friends. With Midas now a widower, Leopold thought I would be too bored while the men discussed business of state." Emma: "I see." Regina: "To be honest I think he much prefers when I stay at home to look after his daughter, Snow White. (Catches herself:) I'm sorry, that was rude of me, we've only just met and here I am burdening you with my problems." Emma: "Not at all. It must be hard to be viewed more as a babysitter than a wife." Regina: "Yes. Although in some respects, it's very much a relief." Emma: (Reading between the lines:) "You and the King haven't..." Regina: (Shakes her head:) "Oh, no. I am barely older than his daughter, and as 'Royal babysitter' it would be unseemly for the King to be sleeping with the help. (Both women chuckle at this:) There I go again, being most indiscreet about palace life." Emma: "Perhaps I make you feel comfortable enough to speak your mind?" Regina: (Smiles:) "I think you're right. (Picks up her tankard:) It's a refreshing change." (They clink their tankards together and drink.) Royal Guard: (Approaching their table:) "Queen Regina." Regina: (Turns to him:) "Yes?" Royal Guard: "Snow White sent me and my men to find you. She became worried when you weren't in your room this morning." Emma: (Under her breath:) "God forbid." Royal Guard: "What was that?" Regina: "Well as you can see, I'm fine, thank you very much." Royal Guard: "I have orders to escort you back to the palace." Regina: "And so you shall, after I am done speaking with my friend here." Royal Guard: "My orders-" Emma: (Rising from her seat:) "Listen, pal. The Queen and I were just talking, there's no need for-" Royal Guard: (Draws his sword:) "Stand back, wench, or I shall have you arrested." Regina: (Also stands:) "On who's authority?" Mulan: (Running in:) "Come on, Emma. Let's go." Royal Guard: "Listen to your friend, Miss, or there will be trouble." Regina: "Now wait just a minute." Royal Guard: (Grabbing Regina's arm:) "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I have my orders." Emma: "Hey! Get your stinking hands off her!" Royal Guard: "Out of my way, harlot." Regina: "Hey, you're hurting my arm!" Emma: "That's it." (Emma hauls off and punches the guard, sending him to the ground. Sighing resignedly, Mulan draws her sword and turns to the oncoming guards. Dispatching them quickly, the warrior turns back to see Emma straddling the man and beating his face to a pulp.) Mulan: (Pulling Emma off of him:) "Now we really need to go, before reinforcements arrive!" Emma: (Giving Regina her most regal bow:) "It was a pleasure, my Queen." (With that, Mulan and Emma take off running into the woods while Regina waves after them, smiling. As the Royal Guard staggers to his feet behind her, Regina elbows him in the face, knocking him unconscious.)

Isle of the Blessed. Present. (Morgause and Morgana approach an altar.) Morgause: “Samhain is almost upon us. We must hurry.” Morgana: (Stops walking:) “I can’t do this.” Morgause: “Sister. (Takes Morgana’s hand and together they continue forward towards the altar:) Remember what I told you. It is the only way. What you are about to do will affect everyone, even you. But most importantly, it will bring our enemies to their knees. You must be strong, remember that. (Morgause presents Morgana with a dagger:) Do not be scared. (Morgana takes the dagger:) I am not long for this world. There is nothing left for me here now. (Morgause weakly climbs onto the altar stone and takes Morgana’s hand:) Please, Sister, let my parting be my final gift to you.” (Morgause lies down.) Morgana: (Standing beside the altar, dagger raised:) “Eala leofu sweoster, paem gastum befaeste ic pe. Alys pa peoster pe inne onwunap.” (Morgana poises the dagger to strike, her eyes glow and she plunges it into Morgause’s chest. Morgause gasps. Morgana is blown off her feet.)

Xena & Gabrielle's Campsite. Woods. (Xena attempts to sleep while Gabrielle sits stargazing.) Gabrielle: “Looking out at the cosmos makes you think... about where we are... where we’ve been...where we’re going now.” Xena: (Rolls over and looks up:) “Yeah... and like the bigger now. Look. (Pointing towards the distance, both Xena and Gabrielle stare at the unusual activity taking place in the sky:) Have you ever seen anything like that?” Gabrielle: “No. But I think we’ve finally found where Morgana and Morgause are. What do you say?” Xena: (Nods:) “I say, let’s go check it out.” Isle of the Blessed. (Cailleach strokes Morgana’s cheek and Morgana wakes. Morgana sits up and sees the cloaked woman standing in front of the rift.) Morgana: “Who are you?” Cailleach: “I am the Cailleach, the gatekeeper to the spirit world. You have torn the veil between the worlds. (Eerie screams echo from the rift:) The Dorocha. They are the voices of the dead, my child. And, like the dead, they are numberless. (Morgana looks around in fear:) You are right to be afraid, Morgana. Your enemies will rue this day and all the destruction it brings, but you must beware. Tearing the veil between the worlds has created a new world, and you will not walk through it alone. The one they call Merlin will walk in your shadow. He is your destiny, and he is your doom.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Having successfully evaded capture, Emma and Mulan find themselves outside yet another tavern. When the heavens begin to open however, they have little choice but to enter.) Tavern. (A man is scrubbing the floor of the tavern.) Man: “Ah, great to see the Sheriff didn't scare everyone off. (Stands:) What can I get for you?” Mulan: “Oh, we didn't come here for the ale.” Emma: (Looking around:) “Nor, clearly, for the ambience. We came... (Turns to see the man, who is revealed to be Robin Hood:) Uh...” Mulan: (Stepping in:) “To get out of the rain. Do you have rooms here?” Robin: “We do, yes.” Emma: (Regaining her thoughts:) “Great. We’ll take two.” Robin: “Yes, well, uh, they’re not free.” Emma: “Right! (Pats her pockets:) I don’t seem to... Mulan? (Mulan shakes her head:) We don’t actually have any money.” Robin: “Then you have a problem.” Emma: “But we’re willing to work for a room. Right, Mulan?” Mulan: (Nods:) “Certainly.” Robin: (Looking Mulan up and down:) “I'm not in that line of business anymore.” Emma: “No but, it seems, you won't be in the tavern business, either. Was that a tax notice I saw on the door?” Robin: “Get to the point.” Emma: “Please just let us stay here and we’ll work for room and board. You can’t say fairer than that?” Robin: (Considers:) “Hm. My wife was thinking about hiring some extra hands around the place.” Emma: (Laughs, relieved:) “You’re married?” Robin: (Confused:) “Yes.” Emma: “That’s wonderful news.” Robin: (To Mulan:) “Is your friend all right?” Mulan: (Nods:) “She’s had a long day, probably light-headed from exhaustion.” Robin: “Shame. I could have done with you starting tonight. This floor’s playing havoc with my knees.” Emma: (Reaching out for the cloth in Robin’s hand:) “Not a problem! So we have a deal, right?” Robin: (Hesitates then hands over the cloth:) “Agreed. (Removing his apron:) Your rooms are up the stairs to your right. Now if you’ll excuse me ladies, I think I’ll turn in and give my wife the good news.” Mulan: “Good night.” Emma: “Yeah, night.” (Robin leaves.) Mulan: “I don’t know what you’re so happy about. We just escaped the royal guards to work for a man wanted by the Sheriff.” Emma: “Oh, details details. Think big picture, Mulan. Now we have a roof over our heads, Robin Hood is married and I just flirted with a younger version of my wife.” Mulan: “Yeah, about that, I thought you were concerned about messing up the timelines?” Emma: (Agitated:) “You are just determined to see the bad side to everything, aren’t you? Look, don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Now quit worrying, grab a sponge and help me wash this floor.” (Although still concerned by the day’s events, Mulan decides to let things go for now, instead concentrating on finishing the tavern floor so that they both might get some sleep.)

Village. Present. (On their way to investigate the odd light in the sky, Xena and Gabrielle pass through a village.) Xena: “It’s too quiet.” (They enter the village and all is silent. A door creaks loudly and they freeze until a goat bleats and wanders out. Continuing on, they enter one of the houses. Inside, they stare at the frosted corpses of some of the villagers.) Gabrielle: “What could have done this? (They turn as something flies past them:) You see that?” Xena: (Shakes her head:) “We are literally chasing shadows. Come on.” (They exit the house and search the village, now bearing torches. Xena splits off from Gabrielle when she hears a door shut in a barn. Gabrielle walks around cautiously and a chicken jumps out at her. She sighs in relief. Something shrieks quietly behind Xena and she sees a wisp of it as it exits the barn. Xena chases the shrieking wisp but loses it. Screams echo around Gabrielle. A wisp shoots straight for her.) Gabrielle: “Xena!” (Gabrielle uses her torch to repel the wisp.) Xena: (Running to her:) “What happened?” Gabrielle: “There’s something out there!” Xena: “You saw it?” Gabrielle: “When it saw the light, it fled. I don’t think it’s something you can chase or something you can kill.” (The shrieks echo.) Xena: “We need to get out of here.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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unicyclehippo · 5 years ago

Note

prompt - beau is so very tired of feeling helpless / "i have no magic. all i have are my fists." (sometimes i think a lot about the multiple times beau's lamented that there's nothing she could do in a fight because she doesn't have magic)

‘to you, master wizard with the heart of flame,’ the silver dragon says, rows upon rows of gleaming teeth and an intelligence—a kind intelligence, even—in those enormous eyes, ‘a boon, for freeing me from these bonds. if i may,’

a sliver talon lifts, touches to caleb’s brow. they are sooted and sore after fighting their way through the tunneling depths of the sorcerer’s lair and when that talon touches to his skin, wounds begin to close and dust and grime and mudded blood-and-dirt seas and flake away as though they cannot stand to be in the presence of this dragon.

caleb’s eyes—already wide—widen further. they flash over with a silver gleam, and he breathes out shakily.

‘never again shall fire harm thee. never singe your hair nor burn at your skin. and when you call for her, she shall answer with fervour.’

‘t-thank you, oh dragon of silver,’ caleb murmurs, bows.

the dragon rises slowly from its nest, it’s captivity bed. it is slender, though whether that is natural or due to being held for so long, there’s no way to tell. its forelegs clutch at the edge of the nest and with a long, sibilant hiss that cracks and carves up from its gut like a pained groan, the silver dragon hoists itself up. steps with cavern-shaking steps down into the chamber. for though it may be slender, it is also immense—the talon that had so gently tapped caleb had been easily almost as tall as nott.

‘and for you,’ the silver dragon breathes. ‘glittering jewel, healer,’

‘jester. jester lavorre, um, your majesty?’

the dragon laughs a laugh of pealing bells, grand and silver. the sharp face seems to curl into a smile. ‘i am no majesty. simply a traveller.’

‘oh well, you know, maybe one day,’

‘perhaps,’ the dragon agrees. it bows it’s head, turns so that it may examine jester with an immense glowing eye. the pupil is entirely consumed by the sclera, the entirety of the eye mercurial gleaming silver.

they rely heavily on branding, dragons.

‘you are my kin,’ the dragon says after a moment. ‘you embrace the cold, as i do.’

‘oh! yes! i thought you were going to say we were long lost relatives or something, that would be so mysterious and incredible!’

‘it would indeed. i will look into it,’ the dragon promises. the creature is so immense and strange and frankly terrifying even weakened that it’s impossible to tell if they are just appeasing jester or if they mean it. ‘may i?’ when she nods, the dragon lifts their talon again. there is a flash of silver where it meets jester’s forehead and then gone.

‘what - what did it do?’

‘i have not the ability to grant flight. but wherever you may go, a friendly wind shall follow.’

‘a friendly wind,’ jester repeats, awed. ‘like, a fart?’

caleb and most of the others wince but the dragon booms its laugh again.

‘freed at last,’ it says, no shortage of wonder in its voice, ‘and a reason to laugh. it feels good.’

the dragon moves forward, slowly, toward the centre of the chamber. nott stands there and they exchange quiet words for short while, something beau thought impossible with the size of the creature. after a moment, the dragon pulls a small scale from the side of its neck—small meaning it is fully the size of a dinner plate in nott’s hands—and nods to her. to fjord, a breath of air so cold that when the fog has faded, icicles cling to his hair, his eyelashes. he tries to blink them away and then, with a smile, lifts his hand and seems to pull at the icicles—only to find that while the ones on his face did respond, so too did the immense icicles that cling to the ceiling. pulling a face, fjord releases the spell, thanks the dragon. to yasha, it plucks a hair, a strand of its whiskers, and says something to pull tears to her eyes. she is quick to tie the strand around her head like a headband or circlet. it gleams the same silver as the dragon.

‘grave keeper,’ the dragon says, seemingly delighted, when it sees caduceus. ‘what brings you so far from your charge?’

‘i am - looking to heal my home.’

‘heal it? from the sight of you, i would name you clay,’

‘you would be correct,’ caduceus agrees, smile blooming as he ducks his head. ‘and what may we call you?’

‘zoelfir. a name i owned long ago.’

‘zoelfir. good name.’

‘mm.’ the dragon pulls in a great breath, eyes half closed. ‘how fine it is to be free! how fine it is to hear my own name. you have done me a great service today.’ the talon comes up, pauses long enough for caduceus to nod, and the flash of silver. ‘to help protect your home, when it is righted.’

‘i appreciate your saying when, zoelfir. that’s very nice of you.’

‘i have faith, master clay.’

with that, an a benevolent smile, the dragon slowly stretches out their wings. the leather creaks and groans like sails in the wind but finally snaps out to their full span and with a roar the dragon pushes up off its hind legs and, wings beating a few times, weak and then stronger and stronger, zoelfir the silver climbs on a cold wind up the massive chimney of this space and into the biting cold of the storm above.

‘wow! i can’t believe we saved a dragon, you guys!’

‘do you think it makes up for the one we stole from?’ fjord asks. ‘balance and all that.’

‘you know, i don’t know. i could ask the traveller.’

‘i think they are too separate for anything to change, any animosity to be eased,’ caleb says. his eyes are still glowing faintly as he examines his hands. for a moment, it almost looks as though there is flame in his very veins but then the moment passes; a trick of the light, probably. ‘what think you, beauregard? you are very quiet.’

beau blinks. looks over to caleb with an oddly serene, blank expression. ‘i think we gotta figure out how to get out of here.’

‘yes, but first,’ nott announces, popping up between them all, ‘pillage! zolly-‘

‘zoelfir.’

‘- said most of this shit belonged to the sorcerer and he doesn’t want it. she? they? zolly doesn’t want it so we’re welcome to take as much as we want! how cool is that!’

‘ah. were there restrictions to this grand gift?’

‘nothing that came from zolly. no scales, no blood, no teeth,’ nott tells caleb, gnashing her own sharp teeth. ‘other than that... as much as fits into the bag of holding, i guess?’

‘incredible.’

beau takes the second watch that night atop the mountain just inside the mouth of the cave. the others have long since fallen asleep and she’s tempted to do the same—exhaustion weighing heavily on them all. to fight the temptation, beau steps out of the magic hut and hunches, shivering, against the cold of the night and the storm.

the fog and snow parts in the distance. beau grabs for her bo and gloves—but the lack of crackling energy in them tells her they’re still dormant. she slips away from the hut, forward, to see what it is.

the same parting comes again. this time, beau can see it is more like a billowing, and she looks up in time to find zoelfir descending, wings buffeting the thick fog as the dragon looks for a safe perch. the claws crunch down upon ice and rock and zoelfir shakes out their body, spines and scales clacking with a metallic chorus as they do so. as the body shifts, and the scales sing, the body begins to contort and shrink until the gigantic form is only huge, and then much smaller—the size of an ordinary human. and beau loses them once again in the closing wall of fog until she hears the tap of boots.

the form zoelfir has chosen is female, seemingly at first glance. not too terribly tall, with vibrant silver hair that would only look aged from a distance. up close, as the dragon enters the cavern, it almost glows. the eyes, too, are still silver and retain their ability to see in the dark; they find beau where she stands and the dark skin the dragon has chosen creases with a wide smile.

‘good evening.’

‘hey. dope transformation.’

‘thank you.’ zoelfir holds out their hands, opens and closes them a few times into fists. ‘it is strange to have such small blunt appendages but it is not for always. simply to join you all for discussions, if i might.’

‘huh? oh, yeah, i’m sure everyone’d love that. just knock on the dome, caleb’ll let you in.’

zoelfir cocks their head to the side. ‘you say it as though you do not intend to join.’

‘someone has to keep watch.’

‘your eyes cannot see in this. what would be the point?’

‘i promised?’ beau suggests with a shrug. ‘i dunno. something to do. makes everyone feel safe.’

‘surely with my assurance that i saw nothing, you may join us?’

beau stiffens. looks down at the cold hand zoelfir has set on her elbow. ‘no. thanks.’

the dragon recoils slightly, pulls their hand from beau. ‘very well,’ they agree. ‘i shall go speak with your friend the wizard. excuse me.’

beau listens hard to the footsteps, the low hum of greeting as the others awake and welcome zoelfir into the hut. then, she hears someone leave.

‘beau?’

jester. of course it is.

‘are you coming inside? zolly said you were shivering out here.’

‘i’m fine.’

‘they’re going to tell us about how they got captured and about this really cool place in the north. fjord thinks it was that place that’s now a ruin, you know, just above where cad’s home is in the woods? but we don’t really know how long zolly has been caught here.’ jester moves a little closer when beau doesn’t respond or turn to look at her. ‘beau?’

‘sounds fun.’

‘yeah!’

‘i’m gonna keep watch.’

‘oh. really? all alo—do you want me to stay with you?’ she shuffles the last few steps closer to beau. nearly but not quite touching. beau can feel the warmth of her beside her and she knows she’ll have to head back into the hut soon if jester of all people feels warm.

‘no. no, go in and talk to the dragon. not a lot of people can say they’ve done that.’

she can see out of the corner of her eye the deep frown that crumples jester’s face. mostly confusion.

‘right, which is why you should come in too! zolly said there’s no one out there—‘

‘i’m not going in. someone has to keep watc-‘

‘beau, we’re safe, that’s silly,’

‘it’s what i can do!’ beau snaps, whirling on her, shaking off the hand jester set on her elbow. the exact same place zoelfir had set their hand. ‘i can do this!’

‘of course you can,’ jester agrees immediately. ‘but - ‘

‘please.’

jester looks fully dismayed now, which is the last thing beau wanted, and she steps in close enough that she isn’t touching but she feels like she is. she’s almost of a height with beau which means that beau has to turn her head to the side when jester moves in so that they don’t collide. she looks out into the flurry of white and feels her eyes sting with the wind.

‘is everything okay?’ she asks, setting her hands on beau’s waist. the light touch makes beau’s middle tense hard and she winces, feeling the pull of a vicious wound, only half healed. ‘i know it was a hard fight and not your best but,’

‘not my best?’

‘well,’

‘i didn’t land a single hit. i didn’t do fuck all to that sorcerer. i have my fists and a stick, jester, and that’s -‘ beau blinks a few times, shakes her head. with each shake, it’s like the fog is clearing and she sees what she’s been ignoring for - fuck - a while now. ‘it’s not enough.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘i mean i’m a human!’

‘caleb’s human!’

‘caleb can summon fey creatures and fireballs from the sky. he’s different from me. i just punch things.’

‘why are you saying it like that? it’s a good thing! you - you’ve saved our lives and, and for the truth out of avantika-‘

‘and for her fucking neck snapped right in front of us! that’s - i’m not saying it wasn’t what she deserved but that’s on me.’ beau scrubs at her face with the palm of one hand. steps back from jester and the hands still on her waist. ‘i can’t heal. i can’t shoot fire or control water or fly. let’s face it - the only reason i’m here is because i’m too much of a stubborn asshole to realise i’m way out of my depth.’

jester stares at her for a long moment. then, ‘why are you saying this now? why not earlier? why not - we can get you a magic sword or something, beau, or a familiar or you can join up with the traveller and he can give you powers and - ‘

‘jes. jes, no,’

‘why not? this is something we can fix!’ jester seems to realise what she has said at the same moment it hits; her eyes go wide as beau’s flutter shut, as beau takes a step back like she’s taken a physical blow. ‘that’s not what i meant.’

‘you’re not wrong,’

‘no, no i am, i am wrong,’

‘jester. we all know it. i’m not—‘ beau braces herself to say it. her throat feels tight and rough like she’s been screaming, or crying. ‘i’m not special. everyone else in this group is a hero - a wizard or healers or someone who literally fucking died and is remaking her body. or a literal angel. i’m just—some deadbeat criminal who became a librarian. even the dragon knows it.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘you can’t have missed it. they gave everyone a boon but me.’

jester had missed it, obviously. not that beau can hold it against her—it was obviously a big deal and distracting as all hell.

‘i get it. i didn’t help save them, not really.’ beau shrugs. shivers. ‘i’m - pretty tired. i think i’m gonna turn in early.’

jester just stares.

exhaustedly, beau just sighs. ‘g’night, jes. sleep well.’

#cr tag #prompt fill #tagging my stories

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ohmightydevviepuu · 5 years ago

Text

hello love (a silent kiss from a wish) / CS January Joy

part one of two for the @csjanuaryjoy AO3

When Elsa admitted that she had no control over the ice swirling around and seeping into Emma’s bloodstream, Emma knew fear unlike any she’d experienced yet.

She just--she wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay. And that they would all live, happily ever after.

thanks to @thisonesatellite, @profdanglaisstuff and @optomisticgirl for encouragement and love.

special birthday shoutout to @distant-rose <3 <3 <3

(i would like to note that @optomisticgirl’s epic “Days of Future’s Past” inspired part of this story) (you should read it)

@shireness-says @shardminds @mariakov81 @stahlop @kmomof4 @carpedzem @jonirobinson64 @spartanguard (for science)

part two will post on 24 january!

the time-slip is a classic and i would be remiss if i did not point other other gems (that i am aware of) in this fandom: a seed of hope by @unfolded73 in time by @justanotherwannabeclassic i jumped across from you (oh what a thing to do) by @bemusedbicycle

this story was inspired by an old sailor moon fic called quirks by vievre (on FF dot net)

one.

Emma Swan was freezing.

She had never, in her entire life, known it was possible to be this cold. She thought she’d understood cold--had endured cold, had survived cold, living on the streets in Minnesota in the winter, camping out in the backseat of her unheated Beetle in Boston, shivering in a jail cell in Phoenix.

She’d been wrong.

“If I could just--lay down for a minute,” she panted, letting Elsa help her to the ground.

“Emma,” Elsa said. “Emma--talk to me. Tell me more.”

Emma wasn’t sure if she was going to survive this. She heard her father’s voice on the other side of the ice wall and knew that he would be disappointed in her. She tried to imagine him saying something supportive and ridiculous and cheerful and exhorting her to have hope, but she--she couldn’t. Hope had vanished at least 20 degrees ago.

Emma was too damn cold for hope.

“Parents don’t always help,” Elsa murmured, but Emma was having difficulty following the conversation from one end to the other. She could hear the static squelching on the walkie from the other side of the ice wall and knew that David Nolan was doing everything in his power to get her out of here. And Hook--

“That has to be very lonely,” Emma said, but the movement of her lips did little to help her stay warm.

Emma wasn’t going to think about Hook, about how she’d refused to let him break down her walls--metaphorically speaking--and how she was now trapped behind a literal wall, made of ice, and wasn’t that one hell of a metaphor?

But she knew that he was probably trying just as hard to break that one down, too. She tried to imagine the pair of them, the prince and the pirate, just to make herself laugh, to move her muscles, but it was cold--too cold for anything to be funny.

“Were you born with magic, or cursed?”

She’d seen some weird shit in her life, and even weirder shit in the year and change she’d lived in Storybrooke. She’d eaten chimera and killed a dragon and led a mutiny of Lost Boys. She’d seen a flying monkey in New York City. But when Elsa admitted that she had no control over the ice swirling around and seeping into Emma’s bloodstream, Emma knew fear unlike any she’d experienced yet.

Fear of loss--because, for the first time in her life, she had something to lose.

Her parents, her family. Henry. Hook.

“I’m very sorry I trapped us here,” Elsa said. “I didn’t mean it.”

Emma knew that, she did--she just wished that she knew everything was going to turn out all right.

That they were all going to live, happily ever after.

She was barely conscious and did not see the glow of the wishing star in the ice underneath her.

two.

He came awake all at once.

Two hundred years shipboard made a man a very light sleeper, and in the years since, Killian Jones had been content to be awakened most mornings by the movements of his still-drowsing wife. She would breathe against his skin, tickling him. He would feel her lips against his back in light butterfly kisses along his spine or her fingers as she traced the designs inked into his arm. He would feel the gentle pressure of her body as she pulled herself closer to him, and hear her whisper: “For heat.” And then he would nod, allowing her the simple fiction and enjoying the way she fit perfectly against him as he watched the sun rise through the filmy curtains of their east-facing bedroom.

He was unaccustomed to the sight that greeted him on this morning, however. He was cold and stiff--”Getting old, babe,” she would say, giggling--and when he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was a portable heating device on the floor of the Charmings’ old loft.

The loft that no one in their family had occupied for years.

It came to him in phases: the awkwardness of sitting on the floor; the pain in his shoulder and neck; his arm, oddly positioned behind him and over his shoulder. He tried to move, but couldn’t. Something-- someone --was holding his arm in place.

Instinctively, Killian twisted--he needed to check, he needed--

When he tried to pull his hand from her grasp, she turned, though she didn’t wake. Emma Swan was curled up on the old too-small couch in the old too-small family loft, his old greatcoat pulled up to her chin and his hand wrapped tightly in hers.

He wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. Neither was she.

three.

Killian examined himself in the mirror.

He was wearing one of his linen blouses and a pair of leather trousers, his waistcoat discarded on the wash basin. The boots lined up next to the couch had pointed toes instead of rounded and buckles instead of zippers. Though he always protested to his wife that he still ‘retained his youthful glow’, the reflection that greeted him was younger, and harder, and Killian suddenly missed the laugh lines and crow’s feet he had begun to accumulate.

With a sigh, Killian pulled his shirt up by the hem, already suspecting what he was going to see. His skin was largely unblemished, except for his tattoos; the scar he carried from Excalibur was missing. He had not yet been wounded. Killed.

He had not yet asked--begged, pleaded--she had not yet--

Killian closed his eyes and for an instant, he could feel his wife’s fingers tracing the pale silver line in the dark, the way she did on the nights where it still, sometimes, all felt like too much, when one or both of them was restless, when the only thing that kept the darkness at bay was the light they created together. He exhaled, scrubbing his hand down his face.

The sliding door separating the washroom from the living area still stuck--of course it did, he reminded himself, no one had ever bothered to fix it--but he maneuvered it gently, hoping not to wake anyone, least of all the baby. The cot was in its old spot by the alcove and if he had to postulate, his brother-in-law was--at most--three or four weeks old and still well into his screaming phase.

Killian would bet gold doubloons on unloaded dice that there was sleeping Arendellian royalty in the bed at the top of the ladder.

Which meant that the Emma Swan curled up on the couch, under his coat, was not his wife.

He examined her, taking in the gold of her hair in the early morning sunlight, and saw that the strands of silver that had begun to twine around the gold were missing. She appeared to be relaxed--he doubted anyone else would notice--but his Emma slept with complete abandon, and Killian could see that even in repose, in her family’s loft, this Emma was on her guard.

He wanted to touch her. His fingers practically itched. He wanted to smooth away the worry line on her forehead, to run his palm across her cheek, to wind his fingers into her hair. But this Emma still had walls that were miles high, and would not welcome his touch or his breaching of her carefully-constructed boundaries, no matter that he had, once upon a time, literally attempted to tear down a wall between them. He had bruised his shoulders, had blunted his hook on the solid ice and been rewarded with the feeling of the weight of her in his arms for the first time.

And when he’d carried her back to the loft, wrapped in his coat, she’d pulled his hand into both of hers and didn’t let go, clasping and unclasping their fingers, tracing the metal of his rings. He remembered it, they way her hand had felt, small and cold; the way her eyes had softened when she wouldn’t let him leave.

That was last night, unless he missed his guess, and just as he had the realization, she opened her eyes.

Emma startled very slightly--another thing that his Emma had not done in years--and relaxed infinitesimally as she saw him. “Hook,” she said, and smiled. Her eyes were sleepy but crinkled at the corners as she met his gaze; she laughed at him every time, but Killian always swore that the morning sun made them glitter a particularly vibrant shade of green.

And that’s when his breath caught, in that moment, when all he saw was the woman he had married. His True Love. (“Capital ‘T’, capital ‘L’,” she always said, as if he could possibly forget.)

“Good morning, Swan,” he said, kneeling to put their eyes at a level. He tried, and failed, to hold back, restricting himself to brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “Have you warmed up at all?”

four.

The shower at Granny’s was worse than he remembered.

Killian wasn’t sure if it was the pressure of the water, or the fact that he missed Emma’s open shampoo bottles and the scent of her around him while he bathed. Maybe it was that the shower in their home was big enough for both of them, a circumstance they frequently took advantage of. Killian reached for his old black dressing gown that was still brand new in this time, and had not been appropriated by his wife. He stepped out of the bathroom, thumbing the scar on his abdomen that wasn’t there, and took in the room: the corners of the sheet tucked in with military precision, the hand-drawn map of Storybrooke tacked to the wall, his books stacked precisely on the wooden desk in the corner.

It was clean. None of the photographs Snow had started gifting them, which multiplied on what felt like a weekly basis, cluttering every surface. None of the detritus his Emma left in her wake wherever she went. When he’d walked through the door and didn’t immediately trip over Emma’s boots, which she would leave wherever she happened to take them off, it felt wrong.

She’d sent him “home”, and that felt wrong, too, but Killian knew there would be no changing her mind and no reason for her to think any other way. Especially not when she’d allowed his touch and then immediately pulled back into herself. Emma had merely thanked him for spending the night, shooing him out the door, and he had gone.

“I’ve slept in far worse places for less worthy reasons, love,” he’d said, conscious of Snow--of Mary Margaret--and David trying not to watch them from their alcove. They were destined to be forever watched, always interrupted, and they’d long ago given up changing the locks. “Far be it for me to deny a beautiful woman such a simple request.”

He’d been there for her, and she’d allowed it, and he had never forgotten how that felt.

But now, in the Spartan room he’d once maintained as his own, there was much else to consider. This wasn’t time travel, nor was it another reality--two things he, unfortunately, had practical experience with. He had not gone through a portal, or been transported by other magical means. It did not match Emma’s and Regina’s descriptions of waking up in the Wish world, or being sent through the looking-glass.

To his best approximation, he had merely woken up in the body of his younger self, on a day that he had already lived.

That left him with two questions: why?

And--perhaps more importantly--where was the Killian Jones that had been meant to live this day?

five.

The bed was warm, and it was that as much as anything that alerted his senses and pulled him fully and completely awake. The bed was warm, and strange, and there was filtered sunlight coming in through flimsy window coverings. He was wearing neither hook nor brace--nor shirt--and he wasn’t alone.

Hook lay sprawled on his stomach, and there was on his back the weight of another person, their arm draped across his neck and a cheek against his shoulder. He tried to remember the last time he had woken up with someone in his bed in the daylight, and when he lost count of the years, he rolled over onto his back.

Emma Swan followed his movement, mumbling to herself as she re-settled her head on his chest, and Hook froze.

Bad joke, that, he thought to himself, when he had just last evening been surrounded by literal miles of ice--when Swan had nearly frozen to death in a spell gone awry.

She was anything but cold at the moment, her breath tickling his skin. Her hair was tied up at the top of her head in some kind of knot, and he had a delicious view of the skin at the back of her neck and the silver chain she wore. They were tangled together in a web of soft sheets and he could feel, from where she pressed against him, that she wore little or nothing beneath her sleeping shirt.

He didn’t belong here.

Though he had often fantasized about what he and Emma Swan could do, should they ever find themselves in bed together, her present reaction to this manner of company would likely end poorly. Emma Swan had carefully constructed boundaries, and this was a violation of all of them.

He didn’t belong here, and Hook knew this couldn’t be a dream. It was too real; he could feel the weight of her against him, and the softness of the mattress under him, and the warmth of the sunlight against his skin. There had been no portal that he was aware of, no other means of magical transport. He did not know what else it could be, other than a curse, and though he would happily kiss her--

Hook exhaled a laugh through his nostrils.

His previous attempts at curse-breaking had not been successful. He would rather enjoy this feeling for a few minutes longer than endure another knee in the groin for his efforts.

But.

He had thought of her, every day of the year that they had been apart, and dreamed of her every night, and this was--

He remembered carrying Emma back into her parents’ loft last night, under the worried and watchful eyes of her family, and of Elsa. He had been easily persuaded to stay, just by the look in her eyes that told him she needed him. Hook knew she couldn’t verbalize it, not yet, but she needed him, and he could be there for her.

And now, Hook found himself in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar place, with a very familiar yet unfamiliar woman pulling him closer with every breath she took.

Her hand moved, and he saw it: the slender silver band around the fourth finger of her right hand as she absent-mindedly traced the tattoo along his collarbone. Hook watched her, mesmerized by her obvious familiarity with the intricate design, the way the light reflected on the ring, and he noticed something else.

He wore one, too.

six.

Killian stood in his rented room, letting the weight of his greatcoat settle on his shoulders, and realized there was another question he needed to account for.

What now?

Zelena was clearly not an option in this time. Regina was still avoiding as much of the Charming clan as she could as often as she could rationalize it. The crocodile was, for obvious reasons, out of the question. Mary Margaret and David would undoubtedly panic, and then work to convince him that his discarded solutions were viable possibilities, and all of these years later he still stayed away from the convent and its inhabitants whenever possible.

They had forgiven him, but he still had not. Killian felt a pang as he thought of all of the ways he could attempt to change what was about to happen, and the chain of events that would follow. Few knew better than Killian Jones the cost of meddling with the past, however. And there was too much that would be put at risk if he even tried.

But--in the meantime--what if he just enjoyed this quiet moment, and spent a day with Emma Swan? He was turning the key in the lock and on his way down to the diner before he even completed the thought.

“Good morning, Captain.” Granny Lucas greeted him with an appreciative grin, and Killian could not help but smile back as he ordered his coffee.

“Coffee?” Granny’s eyebrows quirked upward. “Finally starting to rub off on you, are we?”

“You know that you can...rub…wherever you wish, Mrs. Lucas,” he said, waggling his eyebrows in the way that she liked.

She flicked her towel at him. “You watch yourself, boy,” she said, the way that she always did, before turning to pour out a cup of coffee. “How do you take it?” she said.

“Ah,” he said, caught off-guard. Emma drank coffee, Emma and Dave, who made a pot every day at the station, and he had first gotten into the habit of bringing her a morning fix in the weeks after she had restored his heart to his body. “Black,” he said.

Before that, he had drunk tea.

He checked his phone for the time while he waited for Granny to hand the cup over, and looked up to see her watching him. “Sheriff won’t be here for a few minutes yet,” she said.

“Aye,” he agreed.

“You doing okay with that thing?” she asked, gesturing at the device.

Killian ran his finger over the keypad, hovering over the ‘Emma’ button. He shrugged. “Needs must, and all of that,” he said. “Have a hot chocolate ready?”

Granny smiled. “Sure,” she agreed, watching him take a sip. “You know I’m rooting for you two.”

Killian nearly spat out his coffee before turning to face her, one eyebrow raised.

The bell over the door rang and Granny gave him a wink. He put his mug down. “Faint heart never won fair lady,” she said, handing him a cup of cocoa doused in whipped cream.

He turned back toward the door. When Emma spotted him, their eyes met for a moment before she relaxed into a small smile and gave him a little wave, pointing to a booth. Their booth. The one where they ate breakfast every weekend, had family dinner at least once per week, afternoon coffee breaks after quickies in the restroom and the time he had persuaded Ruby and Dorothy to close early, commandeering the old jukebox and dancing with her in the middle of the diner.

Killian waited for her to sit before handing her the mug, careful not to spill, and mindful of the way her hands immediately encircled it and how she touched her pulse points against the heat of the beverage for warmth. “Still cold, love?” he said, wishing he could pull her hands into his, rub his own thumb across her wrist, trace the five-petaled flower tattoo with his finger.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She gave him another small smile and a shrug. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Only mostly dead, then?” Killian smiled at her, affecting a calm he knew his other self had not felt.

Emma paused mid-sip and looked out the window. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “I guess I should be glad you didn’t go through my clothes, looking for loose change.”

Killian chuckled. He understood that reference--

--and he shouldn’t.

Emma noticed. Of course she noticed. Half a dozen emotions flashed across her face before she settled on the easiest one, and Killian would swear she was wishing for another dagger to hold against his neck--bad joke, that--as she asked: “Who the fuck are you?”

seven.

It was a wedding band.

It was a wedding band .

He--

She--??

Hook sat up, dislodging both the dozing woman and the sheets. She muttered a curse under her breath and grumbled as she rolled over to the other side of the mattress, and he saw the ornament on the chain he had just been admiring, and he swore.

Colorfully, describing anatomically impossible acts in several languages and ending with an emphatic “bloody hell .”

She--Emma Swan--his wife --sat up immediately, her expression brimming with concern. “Killian?” She held her hand out, her right hand, putting her palm against his chest and spreading her fingers. She inhaled and exhaled, deeply, and “breathe, Killian,” she whispered. “It’s okay.” He felt himself falling into her rhythm, the metal cool against his skin, his eyes drawn to the ring between her breasts against the thin fabric of her sleeping shirt. They looked--she looked--different. Rounder?

Hook averted his eyes, embarrassed. She looked down at herself, her hand brushing her abdomen, and back up, guiding her face with his palm until he was looking at her again.

He couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself leaning into the pressure of her hand against his cheek.

Shaking his head, Hook found he wasn’t quite capable of speech.

His eyes closed. “Killian,” she said, her voice gentle. “Killian, look at me. Did you dream about Excalibur?”

He shook his head again, still uncomprehending. “I don’t--Swan--I’m not--”

“Come back to me, Killian,” she said, and it was a command. “Here and now, babe, look at me.” Her hand was back on his chest, her breathing rhythmic and soothing. “Tell me something you know is true.”

He looked at her. Finally, he said, “I think we’re going to have a bit of a problem there, love,” and laughed.

The sound was more than somewhat unhinged, and Emma’s hand fell away. “Okay,” she said. Her expression had changed into something he was more intimately familiar with: suspicion. “Tell me the last thing you remember, then.”

Hook caught her hand in his, finding himself suddenly unwilling to let her pull away. She surprised him by immediately lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can tell me.”

“The ice wall,” he said. “Last night, you were trapped in a wall of ice and you nearly froze to death. We took you home, to your family’s loft, with a woman called Elsa. I didn’t want you to be alone, so I stayed. When I woke up--” he shook his head “--I was here.”

Emma’s mouth was open. For a minute, she said absolutely nothing, until the confusion on her face cleared. “Oh,” she said. “ Oh, oh, shit--”

She took a few deep breaths of her own, closing her eyes before she looked at him again. “Hook?”

He nodded, and her fingers tightened around his.

“Our second date,” she said, and smiled.

Hook laughed; this time, there was a trace of humor in the sound.

“Aye,” he said, rubbing his finger against the silver ring she wore. “I don’t suppose you ever found the champagne?”

eight.

Hook bathed--showered--letting the hot water steam up around him as he chased his own thoughts in circles. The shower smelled like her.

It was distracting.

Though it was far less distracting than the ring he couldn’t bring himself to take off.

“Swan, we should talk,” he’d said, and Emma laughed.

“I find,” she said with a smirk, “that when my husband says that to me, I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

He glared at her. “Poor form, Swan,” he said. “Using a man’s words against him.”

She’d called him ‘Hook’ as if there was a distinction. Perhaps there was; perhaps that’s what happened when a man woke up years into his own future. That’s what she’d said: “Oh, shit,” in her typical state of eloquence. “That was real--you really--” She’d laughed until she was nearly in tears, until he’d needed to steady her with his arm and she’d smiled at him, as though she expected nothing else. “You’re in our house,” she’d said finally. “In the future.”

Perhaps, in that instance, he was no longer the same man he once was. Hook wanted to know, and yet he didn’t. He rubbed the ring again--”It’s real,” she’d said, “I promise”--and thought maybe that was all he needed to know. That, and the way she’d smiled, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk after,” she’d said, his wife said, and smiled a smile that lit up the entire room. “You can use the shower. Pretty sure you’ll find everything you need.”

But he didn’t belong here.

Hook kept repeating that to himself, like a touchstone, but everywhere he turned, he was contradicted. There was his soap in the shower next to the open, flowery-scented bottles that were Emma’s. A razor on the wash basin, a straight-edge with a shaving brush, stood solitary amidst the cosmetics. Everything he needed, indeed. The soap was the same kind he’d gotten into the habit of using since the curse, from the washroom at the inn, with its clean scent of citrus and hint of spice.

It mingled well with the open bottles that smelled like Emma.

He wrapped himself in a towel, a luxurious sheet of soft fabric that covered him past his knees, and dragged his thumb against a six-inch scar bisecting his abdomen. The closet held boots and jackets and waistcoats; his brace and hook were on the table next to the bed. On the shelf was the chest he had carried with him on the Jolly Roger across the centuries.

And Emma Swan wore his brother’s ring on a chain around her neck.

There were pictures dotted on every surface, small miniatures depicting him or Swan or Henry or some combination of all three. Pictures of himself and Charming, of Snow White and Emma, of the four of them together, of the wedding-- his wedding. To Emma Swan.

Hook had never given much thought to the future. He had lived the majority of his unnaturally long life with only one goal and a single-minded focus on its achievement.

He had never seen a sunset so perfect.

Hook dressed himself, buckling his brace and selecting a blue shirt and a black waistcoat and, after a moment of hesitation, a jacket. Clothing was armor. It was the facade he chose to show to the world. He had never been less certain of what a day might bring in his entire life and he did not intend to face it in nothing more than the low-slung trousers of soft fabric in which he had awoken.

And a gentleman would never parade himself about in a state of undress.

“Hey, sailor!” Emma’s voice easily carried up to where he stood. In their bedroom. “Breakfast is ready!”

nine.

She was angry.

That was an emotion with which Killian was intimately familiar. Hers, and his--because the Darkness had left its mark upon each of them. Killian’s already-short fuse was, occasionally, shorter than it ever had been. Emma sometimes retreated behind walls that were taller than ever. They fought it as they had everything else--together--and kept the same rules, always: always talk to each other. If that didn’t work, then talk to someone else.

And when all else failed, there was Archie, who called it “post-traumatic stress disorder”.

“Fucking post-traumatic savior disorder, more like,” Emma always said, her body brimming with frustration. But her hand didn’t shake anymore and that was, itself, a victory.

Somehow, they got through it. Together.

But all of that was to come much later.

For now, Emma Swan was angry, and she repeated her question.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Killian watched her, calculating the best way to answer her question. Honestly, for a start.

“My name is Killian Jones,” he said, and her eyes narrowed, assessing him, until she nodded.

“Killian Jones who suddenly learned what Netflix is?” she asked.

It was her favorite movie. He could practically recite it as well as she could at this point.

“Killian Jones who has had more opportunity to familiarize himself with Netflix, yes.” He smirked. “And all of the pleasures of ‘Netflix and chill’.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“I’m not the Killian Jones with whom you are currently acquainted,” he admitted.

Emma’s hand went to her forehead. “What the actual fuck?”

He wanted to reach for her hand. He wanted to, but he didn’t. “I can’t properly say, but I woke up this morning in our--in your family’s loft. That is not where I went to sleep last night. I fell asleep in my own bed, in my own home.” With his wife, whom he missed more and more. It wasn’t--

She didn’t--

It wasn’t Emma , he realized. She was exactly as he remembered, and he loved her now just as he had done then It was the way his fingers itched, and his sudden understanding of why.

“Holy shit,” Emma muttered. “You’re--”

“From the future,” he finished. “Aye.” He rubbed his finger against his ring--the wrong ring--to stop himself reaching for her hand.

“When?” Emma said.

“I really shouldn’t say,” Killian hedged. “Several years from now.”

“You’re still in Storybrooke? You--you stayed, in Storybrooke?”

It was the Darkness again, or rather the magic that had come with it. Though he had no aptitude and even less interest, he retained just enough of it that he could feel her, his Emma, because of the bonds they shared. Like a warm sunlight against his skin, nothing more, but he had gotten so used to it that he felt chilly in the shade. The feeling was enhanced by physical contact.

Only this body had not yet been subject to the Darkness.

And this Emma did not--yet--love him. Not the way she would; not the way she did .

“Aye,” he said, looking directly at her. “I’m still in Storybrooke. My entire life is here.”

His Emma loved to touch; she needed it almost as much as he did. Their fingers intertwined, her body flush against him as they walked, her hand splayed against his chest as they lay on the couch or in their bed, against his heart. As though she needed to remind herself--to remind both of them--that it was still there, and still beating.

Her eyes widened for an instant before she looked away. She seemed suddenly uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “Listen to me, love,” Killian said. “You and I, we’ve done this part before. Just answer me: Am I telling you a lie? Because I’d rather not have to do the whole bit with the flying monkey and the brig to prove to you I am who I say I am.”

“David doesn’t have bologna,” Emma said, and Killian could hear acceptance in her words, perhaps with a hint of a smile.

“A fact for which I remain eternally grateful,” Killian said.

She smirked.

He smiled.

“So,” she said. “If you’re here, then my Hook--” She blushed and cleared her throat and started again. “The Hook from this time is--where? There? Where you came from?”

He shrugged. It was the most likely explanation.

“And you’re not, like, I don’t know,” Emma said, “worried? Upset?”

He shrugged again. “Why should I be?”

“And that’s it?” She was incredulous. “You’re just going to, what, stay here?”

“I could give you a ‘hope’ speech, if you want. I’ve got a fair few memorized by now.” He laughed. “Let’s just say, darling, that you and I always get back to each other in the end.”

In New York, in Camelot, in the Underworld, in Neverland.

Always.

That’s what it meant to be True Love--capital ‘T’, capital ‘L’--to not give up, to never stop looking. To always make the choice, and choose each other.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Killian said. “He is yours. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

She bit her lip and looked out the window. “I believe you,” she whispered.

#csjanuaryjoy #csjj #january joy 2020 #cs fic #cs january joy

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talesofsonicasura · 5 years ago

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Keeper of Dreams

A story I written last year and can be considered a very weird brain child if I'm being honest. We've seen the ridiculous power that certain cute citizens of Dreamland can conjure up. Let's see how it goes involving a certain devil filled universe.

Children missing, wife slain and seriously injured, a dark knight treads to find the pieces of his now broken life. Funny thing is... Dreams come to those that least expect it and for Sparda, they can be his salvation, whether big or in case this particular case, cute and very small.

Long long ago, there existed a world of dreams. A place where innocent thoughts of every living creature manifested and brought to life. This world, Popstar, was the holder of the country of bliss known as Dreamland. It was very peaceful filled with all kinds of bright and wonderful characters in the shape of its citizens and wildlife. Dreamland was the core of the Dream World which existed between imagination and reality. Creatures of the dark, Nightmares threatened the balance to destroy Dreamland with the Dream World following.

However it had its own protectors, the Star Warriors and their leader, the Dream Keeper. The Star Warriors were fighters born from the hearts of the brave and kind, each powerful and unique in their own right. The Dream Keeper, their general, a being who possesses the essence of the God of Dreams himself capable of traveling from reality to Dreamland with ease.

Every Dream Keeper and their warriors were successful in driving back the nightmares while protecting Dreamland especially with the power of their strongest warrior. However all good things had to come to an end. Dreamland was under attack from the inside. Their strongest warrior had been taken over by a malevolent force that they had never seen before. The land was in a panic, especially since it was also the day that the child of their Dream Keeper had been born. A child who wouldn't be able to protect herself.

Whatever changed their comrade was devouring everything in darkness as it spread like a vile disease. Dreamland had to be abandoned, the sacred core and the Dream Keeper's child evacuated immediately. The Dream Keeper gathered all of his available warriors and his most trusted comrades. He turned to his main general but also closest friend and handed the warrior his child with a final task. "Protect her." The Dream Keeper was going to face his possessed warrior alone.

The Star Warriors tried to stop him but their most trusted general stood in their way. They realized their keeper's daughter and the core came first. With heavy hearts, the Star Warriors evacuated leaving behind their home empty of life except for their lost comrade and their Dream Keeper. One large flash of light was seen through the darkness that consumed Dreamland whole. A red butterfly fluttering towards them once the light had died.

Their keeper and most cherished friend were both forever gone. What was left of their fallen comrades was their two children. The Dream Keeper's daughter and the child of their fallen friend. Soon years had passed, the Star Warriors watched over the two children of that dark night, Rosa and Kirby. The young girl and the pink puffball were inseparable, never saw one without the other. The sacred core had crafted an item to house a brand new Dreamland, the Book of Dreams. They spent time looking for lost civilians and missing comrades but also a place where they could rest and recover.

Rosa and Kirby being trained to not only protect themselves but the Book of Dreams for it now laid on Rosa to protect it. The group had safely made it to their deceased generals home, the Planet Earth. The monsters of the past wouldn't be able to reach them in their previous general's realm. The rescue ship descended to the surface below, perfectly concealed within the woods of a place near a city called Redgrave. Kirby and Rosa, being as mischievous as young children were, ran off to explore the woods. An act that changed everything.

A little girl of around 7 years old was playing in the field of flowers within the forest. Her hair curly and pink like magenta roses, eyes a sparkling green and two yellow star shaped marks on her slightly rosy cheeks. Following her was a tiny strange creature. It was pink and reminded anyone of a puffball upon first glance, dark blue eyes, red shoe like feet, stubby little arms and absolutely adorable. Their names were Rosa Everglade and Kirby Kabai. Siblings in bond not blood.

"You have to be faster than that to catch me brother!" Rosa giggled. The little puffball Kirby giggled too before speeding up to catch up with his sibling. It didn't take long for Kirby to jump on the girl before they rolled and tumbled through the field laughing. Rosa however stopped when she spotted a growing puddle of red and a shadow covering her.

Her eyes looked up to meet the body of an injured male giant. His purple coat dyed in large blotches of red, white cravat stained crimson, white gloves though one was completely red holding a bleeding wound, skin deathly pale and ice blue eyes foggy under a monocle.

He eyed Rosa before his pale orbs landed on Kirby and those foggy blue widened greatly. The man wobbled then tilted before beginning to fall towards the ground. He would have hit it too, if two gloved hands didn't grab him. These hands belonged to a grey masked dark blue puffball with glowing yellow eyes, purple armored boots, dark blue shoulder pads marked by a yellow M and soft purple cape. "Papa Meta Knight. Is he going to be okay?" Rosa questioned looking at the dark blue puffball unperturbed.

"Don't worry little star. He'll be okay once Doctor Healmore treats his injuries but it'll take time for him to adjust upon seeing Kirby. For now let's return to the Halberd, everyone is worried sick about you both." The knight spoke, calm voice riddled heavily with a Spanish accent. Rosa merely scratched her head sheepishly while Kirby tilted his head clearly confused.

It had been a trap. An ambush to separate him from his mate and nestlings. Something Sparda foolishly ran into without thought. For a 2000 year old demon, he was such a fool. He was fortunate that he had survived but 1 cm to the right and the Legendary Dark Knight would've been slain for sure. Yet it was too late for his family.

Came back to a now burning home, missing nestlings nowhere to be seen or sensed and the still blood covered body of his human mate laying outside the park lifeless. His carelessness had cost him dearly but he couldn't lay there to die. His nestlings were out there somewhere, alive.

Thought about to rest up and regain some of his strength was interrupted when he had sensed it. A peculiar energy slightly demonic in nature but one he couldn't read the remainder of its whole. However it felt bright, similar to that of his nestlings. Very very close to the point it could be his two sons. Sparda pushed himself forward from there.

Dragging himself to that signature, his wounded body leaving a trail of red as he went. He couldn't stop… he had to find them… Then his eyes laid on magenta hair and green eyes… A little girl around his nestlings' age before falling on the source. A nestling of some sort...round and puffy but he could easily feel the ocean of power in its tiny form along with a shred of hope… Then everything went black.

A quiet beeping repeated in his head as he grumbled in pain. Bright blue eyes opened up to stare into dark blue and black cute orbs under glasses. These eyes belonging to a small blue puffball dressed as a doctor. What was the word to describe something like this creature? Cute...if he remembered correctly.

Sparda looked at what he guessed was the doctor who treated him with a bewildered look. "Good to see you are awake. You were quite beaten up when Meta Knight brought you in. Giving 7 year old kids scares like that isn't a smart thing to do." A soft adult male voice came from the puffball. Strange he would admit, but he would be a hypocrite to judge.

The puffball jumped off his chest as Sparda sat up on the hospital bed and now able to see his surroundings. He appeared to be in a 'medical bay' being the human's version of a healer though it appeared the room was mixed with things he'd seen in hospitals along with actual magic ingredients healers used from his memory used. A mix of past and modern being the term. "Where am I? May I ask thou name who healed me?" Sparda inquired, the puffball let out an amused chuckle.

"Thy name is Simon Healmore, chief doctor of the Halberd's medical bay. I asked my assistants to give you space since we didn't want to overwhelm you once you woke up. Would you like to speak with our captain? He was the one who brought you here himself after all." Healmore questioned, looking at the dark knight. He had a thoughtful look but nodded.

"You can come in Captain Meta Knight!" Healmore called as the armor knight walked in his cape coating his body almost like a count. Sparda was honestly surprised that the masked puffball was even able to carry him but he could feel the immense power in this Meta Knight's small body. Looks can be pure deception.

"I am glad you appear better now. My name is Meta Kishin or what my subordinates and my adoptive daughter Rosa calls me Meta Knight. I am the captain of the Halberd and it's crew." Meta Knight spoke before giving a respective bow. Sparda could smile at the irony of being rescued by a warrior like Meta. He was more humble than other devils who held the title of knight and even a fraction of the masked creature's power. "I thank you for saving my life. My name is Sparda, known to others as the Legendary Dark Knight." Sparda bowed back in honest gratitude.

"Can I ask why a devil general was attacked by his own kind? We already knew when I brought you in that you were a demon. Star Warriors can sense what is human and what is not. Your wounds reek purely of demon." Meta questioned taking the human disguised devil by surprise. He heard stories about the Star Warriors and their home, Dreamland. It was a fairytale for many demons since Dreamland holds the source of unimaginable power. Power that could rival every demon king that ever ruled.

"I betrayed my own kind by protecting humankind and had two children with my human mate… I was ambushed and led away from my family. Found my dear mate laying lifeless and both of my nestlings vanished." Sparda said softly in sorrow and regret.

Meta Knight's eyes turned light blue and Healmore had a saddened look on his face. "I am very sorry for your loss. Though if I may ask a question... how did you find Rosa and Kirby?" The knight questioned. No demon could lock onto the aura of a Living Dream. They can hide themselves from their supernatural senses unless injured or ill.

"I felt a faint signature of demonic energy similar to my nestlings. I followed it only to find the little girl and that small pink nestling instead." Sparda answered, Simon's eyes widening in response. "That explains it. The reason why Kirby has traces of demon energy… he must have been born of your children's dreams. The people of Dreamland are born from fragments of dreams, especially those of children. Kirby must have been made from fragments of your own children's dreams and in turn carry a signature similar to them." Simon explained as Sparda had a wistful look.

"Made from my nestlings' dreams? No wonder why I felt both Dante and Vergil's own energy from Kirby and the massive amount of power hidden deep inside. Can Kirby have the potential to seek out my sons?" Sparda questioned Meta Knight. "You are correct though Kirby isn't able to at the moment. He's too young to properly sense your children's energy but it doesn't mean your children aren't safe. On the night Kirby was created, a spell was cast." Meta Knight explained.

"Weaver's of this newborn dream. Granted protection under the Dream God's seam. Safe haven shall always be grant. Impenetrable from the force of any tyrant. Yet sanctuary shall isn't forever. If thy bond fell prey to hatred's endeavor. Death will truly flood. By the first crimson spray of thy own blood." Simon quoted. Sparda easily understood what it detailed.

"My children are safe...until they draw the blood of one another?" Sparda questioned. "Correct. If they purposely harmed the other with the intent to kill or with pure hatred, the spell preventing them from facing death will break. This spell is granted for each creator of a Star Warrior as a sort of blessing." Meta Knight explained. "Then it should give me time to find my sons." The former demon general picked himself off from the bed.

"I rather not rush off if I were you. It won't be easy finding your kids and you haven't fully recovered your strength yet. Fighting alone almost got you killed once and it wouldn't miss the opportunity to try again." Healmore spoke, Sparda looked back at the doctor. It was clear neither of them were going to back unless...

"I think an arrangement should be made. We'll help you recover and find your sons. In exchange, we wish for information about this world and a chance to find a safe haven to house the refugees on my ship." Meta Knight offered much to both occupants' surprise. Sparda went in thought for a moment upon those words.

The knight had raised very important points. He hadn't recovered his power and also had no resources that could help him find his nestlings. There's the fact he is alone and no safe place to recuperate or any leads. If he took Meta Knight's offer then not only could he get back his full power and find his sons but he will also have powerful allies to assist him and a place to go if things ever went to Hell. "Very well Meta Knight. I shall agree to your offer." Sparda said as Meta Knight bowed in agreement.

"Yay! Spar-Spar gets to stay!" Came a childish giggle for Rose and Kirby popped up from underneath a table to their surprise. "Great Kabu! Were you two hiding under there the whole time?!" Healmore asked, clearly taken off guard by the children's entrance. "Spar-Spar! Spar-Spar!" Kirby giggled while he nodded.

Sparda couldn't help but raise his eyebrow in amusement at the ridiculous name the two kids gave him. "Mischievous little imps aren't they?" Sparda asked, obviously amused watching the two children run around him. Out of everything he was called in his life, no one had ever called the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, Spar-Spar.

"Rosa and Kirby, if you have enough energy to run circles around our guest then you have energy to go to Susie and Magolor for your daily lessons. Or do I have to get Dedede to take you both there." Meta Knight asked as that got the sibling duo to stop in their tracks. "Ok! We're going meanie! Please don't get Pen-Pen on us! Come on Kirby!" Rosa exclaims, both kids ran out of the room leaving a trail of dust in their wake from how fast they went.

Healmore chuckled seeing how quick the little kids were to leave. "King Dedede sure left an impression on those two. Though considering his habit of taking their desserts as punishment and the sweet tooth both siblings have it's understandable. Now then Sparda, we did manage to find you a room to sleep in. However considering the large amounts of refugees, you'll be sharing a room with Taranza for now. Taranza is one of our best mages and highly skilled at our craft. He is also the best when it comes to showing the ins and outs of the ship to newcomers." Healmore explained.

"Very well. I thank you for your hospitality." Sparda answered, the small doctor escorted him out of the medical bay. The white haired man was greeted to an incredible sight that was held in this vast ship. It was a large plaza filled with so much life and energy. Trees, plants and all sorts of flora nestled comfortably amongst multiple stands, tents and businesses. Children of different forms and species were playing as the adults went through their normal lives. It looked more like a town than part of a ship. "Sparda, this is one of the numerous camps within the Airship Halberd. Welcome to Star Plaza." Healmore stated with a smile on his face.

First impressions were everything when it came to meeting new people or going to new places. And if Sparda was honest about something. It was that the Halberd wasn't any normal ship and neither were it's passengers. It was expected when a demon witnessed something only dreams held. And dreams can create the impossible and a bit of magic to bring it to life.

And that is it. Yes. I crossed Devil May Cry with Kirby. Sparda is alive in this because there is a huge lack of stories where he is alive. Not counting the ones that are misleading from inappropriate tagging. Hope you enjoyed it folks!

#mun sonicasura #tales of sonicasura #sonicasura #devil may cry #dmc sparda #sparda #sparda lives au #kirby x DMC #kirby #nintendo kirby #meta knight #kirby oc #dmc #au #crossover #dark knight sparda #devil may cry meets kirby #story #original story

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fc5holidayexchange · 5 years ago

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FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

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Title: Gävlebocken

Deputy Mattie Covington/Sharky Boshaw- Mattie and Sharky reunite after a failed trip to burn the Gavle Goat

@ma-sulevin

Hi Kate! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, wherever you are and however you're celebrating! Hope the festive season is full of joy and magic! I had a fabulous time writing Mattie and Sharky together and I hope you enjoy reading it! xxxx

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“All I’m saying, shorty, is never leave a man behind. Marilyn Manson and Carly Rae Jepson wanted to go torch some Gävlebocken butt too, y’know? And who was I to deny them their Bejeebus given right as Incendiary-Americans?”

Mattie cuddled the red-cheeked pyromaniac closer into her chest as she eased his sorrows on the couch. He hadn’t stopped blushing since she’d collected him from Missoula International Airport, where he’d been marched from the building between the firm grip of two unforgiving, no doubt underpaid TSA officers, cuffed at the wrist and short two of his beloved (and musically christened) flamethrowers.

“... you know, they probably sell flamethrowers in Sweden. You could have got one when you got there. Or matches. Shit, there’s plenty of sticks you could have rubbed together too.” She mused, trying to make light of the situation.

Sharky Boshaw was having none of it.

“Nuh-uh, no-can-do. Had to be them, babe.”

“Only the best for the holy grail of goat effigies, I guess?”

He nodded and crushed his face into her.

She couldn’t tell if the residual ruby tinge on his face was from the trauma of his ordeal (though he was hardly a stranger to arrest), from the abundance of alcohol still in his system, or from where the ravenous teeth of a cold winter beast had nibbled at him. December had fallen, and the snow was up to their knees. The smell of evergreen firs and smoky chimneys and roasting meat and fresh gingerbread permeated across the county. Even the sickly scent of Bliss had subsided, the cold-sensitive Georgia peaches known locally as the Seeds having retreated indoors for the season.

Christmas was coming.

Boshaw Manor’s festive decorations were tacky and yet, made with love. The Christmas tree was a little scorched on the edges, and adorned with homemade ornaments that were just beer tops looped onto string. They twinkled rainbow in the glow from the string lights, and tinkled as they clinked against each other. Paper chains and worn tinsel in emerald and silver shades hung from every available surface, and though he had no fireplace, he’d dragged a metal bin into the centre of the living room so they could roast chestnuts and make smores through the long winter nights.

However, Sharky’s favourite holiday accessory was a slightly dusty Santa figurine. He had, at some point, made the toymaker his own little flamethrower from aluminium foil, and the rotund, bushy bearded fellow still clung to it with his moth-eaten mittens, ready to chargrill Rudolph. But truly the highlight of Santa’s unusual skillset, the crown jewel in his sleigh full of secret talents, was the voice recording feature.

From the depths of Santa’s cookie filled belly, Sharky’s voice echoed:

“Burn baby burn… CHRISTMAS INFERNO”

And now, the jolly figure danced laboriously by the door, Boomer resting beside him, snoring along to the increasingly demonic rasp (Mattie made a mental note to replace the batteries).

Of course, this year, Mattie had put her own little touches on the place.

When he’d first taken her in, Earl had given her a little archangel statue, with beautiful, expansive wings, and a majestic flaming blade in it’s right hand, and her name engraved upon it. ‘Matilda means mighty in battle’ he’d explained, pulling her into a hug to assure her of just how strong she was. And last year, Nancy had knitted her a little yellow star, gold flecked through it, to sit atop the tree, and now it sat pride of place, shimmering like the true holy light.

It was slightly overwhelming, to see her things, however few, amongst Sharky’s.

To know that now, she and Sharky could make Christmas memories together.

That was the best gift of all.

And normally, snuggled together on a winter’s night like this, she’d be teasing him, slipping her chilled hands down the back of his shirt, or tickling his neck which made him squirm and giggle the most, or even sticking an icy naked foot into his face when he wasn’t paying attention. Or she’d be letting her hands wander into his pants, and they’d be making love and basking in each other’s glow until the sun came up.

But the sheer misery welling in his eyes, Christmas dreams obliterated and Hall of Flame pedestals empty, like a baby bird beak without a worm to sate it’s hunger, sent a pang of guilt ricocheting through every inch of her. One that made her stomach squirm and her lip quiver. He was her family, and though her dad back in Challis hadn’t exactly been the model of perfect, or even the model of good, she knew with all the certainty in her heart that families weren’t supposed to look so despairing at Christmas.

“What were you thinking, Shark?”

“I, uh… I wanted to surprise you.”

“And you thought running off to Europe to go burn down a giant goat was the best way to do that? I’d have taken socks instead, you know. Or a John Seed's head on a spike.”

She moved to hold his hand, fingers intertwining comfortingly, and he sniffed loudly in appreciation. Mattie felt so complete when her hand was nestled in his- who needed gloves to when you had a hand to hold?

"Just because Hurk nearly got Wicker-manned out in Europe, doesn't mean you have to."

He mumbled in reply, sheepishly resigned to his deeper urges- "I'm a Khaleesi. I go where the flame takes me."

She chuckled softly and teased:

“I know, babe. I know. Who do you think is the one who prints the posters? The whole station is more like a groupie's bedroom."

Mattie cursed the day she’d so catastrophically put her foot in it. A late night drinking and feasting up in the Whitetails, near Fort Drubman, out under the stars and the bleak winter moonlight. A slew of cultist corpses were ragdolled along the path behind them, definitely not having a Merry Christmas, and a skinned Judge or two had fallen prey to Jess’s hungry trapper knife. The pelts would make a fine coat for next year’s snowfall and the burgundy branding of Jacob’s chosen mutts was simply an added trophy for Mattie’s slightly feral friend.

There they were. Mattie, Sharky, Hurk, Jess, and Staci (who'd called in sick from his night shift), with Boomer and Cheeseburger at their heels.

Munching on fish from the iced over rivers.

Getting drunk out of their minds and trying to forget all the shit that the past months had wrought.

The topic of conversation had turned to (what else) fire. They’d just proudly set alight to the old lumber mill, and watched the Peggies scatter like roaches from the scene. Merry on Whistling Beaver beer, Mattie had hiccoughed and giggled after her umpteenth bottle, snuggled under Sharky's arm, and announced loudly:

“Did you guys know there’s a huge ass wicker goat in Sweden? They put it up for Christmas every year and it keeps getting toasted.”

Well, it’s not like she’d expected him to take off a week later towards the airport… after he’d downed probably somewhere near a keg's worth of homemade eggnog… all rum, barely an egg or a nog in sight.

But Charlemagne Victor Boshaw’s eyes had illuminated with possibility, and so had the eyes of the airport security officers at the sizable lethal and flammable weapons he’d packed into his luggage. Having the fuzz for a girlfriend, who could come flaunting an arrest warrant and claim jurisdiction over the prisoner was an absolute saving grace, it turned out. The TSA had handed him over with very little resistance.

And now, here they were, back home in the depths of the county, almost definitely up a couple of places on the ‘no fly’ terror watchlist.

Sharky sat up suddenly and rubbed at his slightly runny nose, a sudden determination taking root in his chest. Spring coming early as a flower bloomed there, petals of fury and vengeance and abject loyalty to his cause.

"We gotta get Carly and Marilyn back. We gotta Ocean’s Eight, Sandra Bullock the airport, po-po. You and me, Hurk, sure we can get Nick and Kim on the crew too, what are we up to, five, Boshaw’s five, Sharky’s five-?“

Mattie nuzzled her face into the top of his head. She was a hell of a lot shorter than him, but he’d sunk into the couch so deeply that she could now smell the scent of his Old Spice shampoo and see the bald patch where he'd thought wearing a crown made of sparklers at Thanksgiving fireworks was a good idea.

“Yeah, I’m sure a woman heavily into her third trimester is gonna really be up for a heist-“

“Kim? Fuck yeah, she can kick butt with a bump, her centre of gravity’s probably on kung fu master levels here. Ooooh, maybe the baby’ll come early and kick some airport ass too.”

“I think it’ll be more like she’ll kick your butt for not inviting me along to go torch the goat."

It was crazy, knowing that next Christmas, there would be a Baby Rye for Santa to visit. And that maybe, in the Christmases to come, there'd be a brood of Baby Boshaws too, ready to tear the tree down and hurl food at each other, giddy in their festive hysteria. She thought about sharing such a fanciful idea with him, and went to murmur a few sweet suggestions in his ruddy ear. Maybe they could make some new dreams tonight...

Sharky wasn’t listening though.

“Maybe we go Die Hard 2 instead… be in keeping with the ol’ time of year?”

“All the guys who break into the airport die in that movie, Shark.”

She sighed and stroked his cheek.

"I think, maybe, as much as it sucks, we just have to let this one go."

He went to open his mouth to protest or beg or maybe come out with another heist movie to take inspiration from, but the words seemed to fizzle away on the end of his tongue. He knew it was futile. She was right. His visions of making the headlines in every Swedish tabloid evaporated, his name destined not to be heralded by enthusiasts of the Gävlebocken legacy. His shoulders sagged and he seemed to want to disappear into his worn green sweatshirt, like a turtle burrowing back into its shell.

"Hey, y'know, who wants to go smoke the goat anyway, much better things to burn here. Seeds and shit."

He settled into moody, reflective, uncharacteristic silence and Mattie knew not to push the subject any further. And while searching her thoughts for a way to soothe his wounds and bring the hope and joy of the festive season back into his heart, she casually leaned over to the table and picked up his abandoned plane ticket, also slightly singed like everything else the man owned (what had happened this time, Mattie couldn’t even begin to guess).

Her stomach dropped.

The rollercoaster was taking an unexpected plunge deeper into irony.

There it was, printed neatly under DESTINATION.

A final foil for the Sharknado that had sought to wreak havoc across the fjords of Scandinavia.

“Shark, babe…”

“Yeah?”

“The big ass goat is in Sweden, right? You know, next to Norway?”

“Home of the dancing queen an' the smorgasbord. Oooh, and the chef.” He proceeded to spit out a garbled string of vowels in poor imitation of the Swedish language.

Mattie sighed and for a moment, debated whether to just keep her mouth shut. To let his Christmas dreams, however shattered, maintain some form of dignity. But laughter pulled at the corners of her mouth, from the singsong Muppetry in her ear and the ridiculous error before her eyes and she just knew it would make him laugh too;

“... Shark, this ticket is for Switzerland.”

He gave her a little confused frown and she wrapped her arms around his neck, to press her forehead, and then her lips softly to his.

“God, I love you so much.”

He returned her kiss, sharing her warmth and the sweet taste of hot cocoa and a sprig of mint and melted marshmallow, running his hands through her wind-swept hair. They lost themselves in each other, forgetting the snow falling fast outside, and the bodies across the county buried deep amongst the icy grass, and the slowly fading tire tracks from their long journey home.

And wrapped in the comforting embrace of her best friend, Mattie’s imagination shone.

A flame taking to the tinder, spreading until it burned so strongly, it could never be extinguished.

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"My extremities are getting real cold, chica, an' I'm too young to lose my junk t’ frostbite."

"Don't worry, you'll be warm soon enough."

"Heh heh, sounds like a party."

Mattie had led Sharky through the dark forestry, the trees naked and sparse like a threadbare patchwork blanket. They'd walked for some time, boots snapping the carpet of fallen branches and crunching in the deep snow and squeaking over patches of icy oil spills across the roads, until they'd reached a pasture south of the Henbane.

And now, in the early hours of the morning, he stood blindfolded, Mattie's hands protectively on his shoulders (although she'd been tempted to mischievously let him wander into a patch of shrubbery or two, but decided she didn't want to be pulling thorns and thistles out of his ass all night).

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

A few more steps, up a slight incline, the frozen grass snapping underfoot.

“OK, you can look now.”

Sharky tore off the blindfold in childlike impatience and his eyes widened at the sight he beheld.

Before them, silhouetted by the amber light from surrounding torches and the staring full moon, stood a large wicker goat.

A Gävlebocken… well, a Hopebocken.

A warm earthy brown, as though the trees hadn’t perished weeks before, with bark flaking from it to make the fur seem shaggy, thick, truly like a majestic beast from the hills of Scandinavia, with fleece enough to shroud a Viking king. Horns magnificent upon its head, red and gold Christmas ribbons adorning them like Roman wreaths. His nose was round and his face was long and he stood watch upon the hill, noble, a guardian, a protector.

And at his feet were gathered the artists of this crudely fashioned idol. Nick and Kim, Hurk and Adelaide and Xander, Dutch and Jess, Jerome and Mary May, Virgil and Wade and Eli and Tammy and Merle… it seemed the whole county, faces beaming and hands willing, had stepped forward to play their part in Sharky's Christmas miracle.

Mattie watched Sharky take a stunned step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you." She whispered into his ear, taking his hand and giving it a little squeeze.

And there was that smile she loved so much. His eyes crinkled in the corners and a laugh catapulted itself from deep in his throat into the night air. It rose like a ball of light, and exploded into a thousand stars to light the county and every county beyond it.

"I… I…" He stammered, pupils dilated, entranced, and he turned back to face the love of his life, choking on the wonderment and the realisation of just what she had done for him. “I can…?”

“You bet.”

“And I ain’t gonna get arrested?”

“Like that’s bothered you before?” She grinned and watched as he jumped and whooped, punching the air. Overwhelmed with adrenaline. Crying her name to the heavens, unabashedly proclaiming how much he loved her and all who had come to give him this gift.

“Shark… Shark?”

His head spunt to gaze at her.

An almost breathless gasp escaped him.

And the look on his face made Mattie want to throw herself upon him and never let go.

In her outstretched arms, lay a new flamethrower, blue and purple disco graffiti emblazoned on the side, and a big red bow ornately tied along the neck. She carefully placed it in his hands, and he weighed it, mesmerized, feeling the perfect balance of the full canister of fuel, and the soon-to-be warmed steel. Tears bloomed in the corners of his as he grasped it. As he readied himself for the greatest bonfire of his life.

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

She placed a careful kiss on his lips.

“Now… go toast that goat.”

#Deputy/Sharky Boshaw #Sharky Boshaw #Deputy oc #Christmas fluff #cuddling #present giving #comforting #mentions of fire and arson #mention of dead bodies #mention of skinning animals #fc5holidayexchange #gift: fic #ma-sulevin #submission

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ricky-corderbro · 5 years ago

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Here I am, Stuck in a Freezer with You || Ricky & Kaden

Ricky and Kaden find themselves stuck in a freezer during a middle of the night ice cream run. Maybe it’s the cold that’s slowly killing them, but, emotional progress is made.

@chasseurdeloup

There was no way in hell Kaden could stay in his apartment another night. Hell he barely managed to the other night. And the only reason he slept was because he passed out after getting drunk off his ass on wine. He had most of what he needed ready to pack up and go before heading off into the woods for the next few days but there were a few essentials he was missing. Most of them were beer. Some of them were ice cream. The big stupid “Ice Cave” in the back of the convenience store thankfully had both. Kaden knew he was getting the giant ass box full of bottles so hunting down the ice cream first sounded smarter, made the balancing act of putting the pint on top of the box on his way to the register a little easier. Too bad the balancing act of his life had gone to fucking hell in a handbasket. No, he was going to avoid thinking about this right now out in public. Last thing he needed. He scanned the aisles looking for a good mint chocolate chip, preferably one that wasn’t unnaturally green. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone. Who he recognized. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself under his breath. He didn’t really need seal boy to see him this disheveled. Guess that ship had sailed. “How does this keep happening?” He let out a sigh. “Is this more or less depressing than meeting in the hospital?”

There had to be a word for what came after exhaustion, because Ricky didn’t think that exhausted covered it anymore. The asanbosam, the mimes at Al’s, the thing at Yours Mime and Ours… he felt like he hadn’t had a break in years and it was starting to wear him ragged. Which is how he’d found himself down at the QuikTrip slightly outside of town shopping for that special brand of junk food you only ate when you were too tired or too drunk to be an actual adult. The Ice Cave in the back of the store felt comfortably chilly to him, wrapped as he was in an old swim team hoodie, and as he scanned the shelves of non-dairy ice cream to find something that was good to eat while binge watching terrible cartoons online he saw a remarkably disheveled looking Kaden Langley on the other side of the cooler. It truly was the most tenuous of peaces they lived in right now; a truce made wobbly by their pasts and only slightly stable by the knowledge that they weren’t going to kill each other at first sight. Maybe second. But not first. He shrugged broadly, picking up a pint of vegan gelato to look at the ingredient list, “Depressing? About the same I’d say. Shameful? Well probably more since it looks like neither of us really wanted to be seen shopping for ice cream at three in the morning.” Kaden looked like he’d just come off one helluva bender, but Ricky wasn’t going to bring that up. At least not at first, “Are you really looking at mint chocolate chip ice cream? Like a fucking psychopath?”

“Funny enough, you got that right.” Kaden sighed and picked out his stupid ice cream. At least Ricky looked about as put together as he did. “And what the fuck is wrong with mint chocolate chip?” He caught sight of the vegan gelato. Vegan? Merde, is that even ice cream any more? Why bother? Just crush some ice and eat that, it probably tastes as good.” He shook his head and placed his carton of ice cream on top of the box full of beer cans. “Why are you here at three in the morning, anyway?” Items in hand, Kaden was headed out of this stupid store, or at least the stupid Ice Cave. Then there was a loud commotion. His brow furrowed. Sounds of a scuffle outside the door. Shouts. Screaming. Claws? A bang. His head shot towards the door. And the window went dark as something fell in front of it. Putain. “No. No, no, no,” he shouted as he dropped the box of beer and threw himself into the door, hoping it’d budge. Nothing. Just a bruised shoulder. He tried again. Same result. Stuck. They were stuck. Together. And there was probably a really good monster to kill on the other side of the door, too. That’d cheer him up so much, too. “Putain.” He sighed and set up the box, sat on it, and opened up the ice cream. “Just my fucking luck.”

“It’s such an old person ice cream. It’s right the fuck up there with Rum Raisin and that shit.” Ricky flipped Kaden off as a pint of cardamom gelato and a pint of lavender went into his basket, “We’re a carnivorous species. Milk makes my tummy sad.” There was a kerfuffle from outside the ice cave as Kaden went to leave; Ricky couldn’t hear much over the cacophonous roar of the cooler fans but he could see shadows outside, and he could very clearly see Kaden with his hunter strength fail to open the cooler door, “You. have got. To be fucking kidding me.” If Kaden couldn’t open the door there was no way Ricky could so he wouldn’t even bother trying. He’d probably pop a stitch or something. He chose to follow Kadens lead though, and popped the top off his ice cream, “Couldn’t sleep. Decided to do some midnight shopping. And apparently get stuck in a freezer with you.” He fashioned a makeshift spoon out of the lid and popped his fake teeth out. Kaden already knew what he was and ice cream made them feel weird, “You look like shit warmed over though. What the fuck happened to you?”

“Mint chocolate chip is classic, not old. There’s a difference.” He sighed and then grumbled, mostly to himself, “To be fair, I am getting close to over the hills in hunter years.” Still, he rolled his eyes when he saw Ricky’s middle finger. “Your tummy? No wonder you think I’m old when you talk like you’re five.” Kaden sneered a little as he watched Ricky remove his false teeth. It was so easy to forget sometimes that he was talking to a monster. Shit like that was always a reminder. He tried to bristle off the feeling of his skin crawling at the sight of his real teeth. Or maybe that was just the shiver of cold that ran through him while eating ice cream in a walk in freezer. Whatever, it wasn’t like he could kill him, anyway. Even without the threat of Morgan biting him, too much effort. He was sort of the only suspect at the moment. Plus, being stuck with a dead body for however long this was going to take was surprisingly going to be worse conversation. And he just wasn’t in the mood. “Me? Oh nothing. Just found out I’m an idiot and that my girlfriend’s a fae. Go on. Laugh. I’ve been called a mime fucker so many times, I’m almost used to being the town joke. Could be nice to have a different punchline.”

“Uh huh. Whatever. Enjoy your weird toothpaste dessert.” It was somewhat comforting to know that even trapped in a freezer they could still keep up their special brand of insult-based peace. “Don’t knock it til you try it. Cardamom ice cream is where it’s fucking at, my dude. It’s the best flavor.” Ricky held the pint out across the freezer to Kaden, at least some semblance of a peace offering since the chances of them being rescued before shift change was very slim. “I’m sorry. Fucking Kavanagh is a fae? And she had the gall to get snippy with me when I told her that fucking amulet was probably magical?! Fucking rude that’s what that is. Goddamn fucking rude.” He continued to eat his ice cream as he watched Kaden. That can’t have been an easy position he suddenly found himself in, which probably explained why he looked like he’d been living off Everclear and remorse, “In my defense, I did attempt to dissuade people from saying you were a mime fucker. So many other things about you are just so fucking terrible, we might as well focus on the truth and not the falsehoods. But… can’t be easy, especially given your life’s work. And put that fucking sneer in your back pocket, fae-fucker. You know I’m a goddamn Selkie. I’m not closeting myself unnecessarily in front of you. You don’t have a whole lotta room to be judgmental right now anyway. So. You gonna ice your girlfriend?”

Kaden rolled his eyes but took a chunk of the weird ass ice cream with his makeshift spoon anyway. Putain. He was right. It was pretty good. “It’s alright.” No way was he admitting to seal boy he made a potentially better choice than him. “She doesn't realize she’s fae. It’s an impressive level of denial.” That he didn’t know what the fuck to do with. His eyes were focused deeply on the ice cream in front of him, poking around it a bit with his sad lid spoon as if he could push it back and forth like food on a dinner plate when you were too distracted to bother eating. “Well thanks. Good to know I can count on you to run an ethical slander campaign. But yeah. It’s not. I thought she was--” It was strange how, of all snips back and forth, “fae-fucker” was the only one that stung. Like a needle piercing into him. Probably because this might be the nicest context he was sure to hear that used in the future. If he chose to. Stay, that was. He pushed back the lump in his throat and kept his eyes on his ice cream. “I don’t know yet.” Fuck. This wasn’t where he wanted to be. At all. Not feeling like this. He glanced up at the door, hopeful, but no change. All he could do was grip the carton a little tighter, watch some of the ice cream push up ever slightly within the cardboard container.

“Uh huh. Alright my flawlessly toned ass. It’s fucking amazing. They make a really solid sweet corn one too. Which I know sounds like the weirdest flavor of ice cream on Earth but is actually pretty fucking good.” Ricky snorted, the hot air leaving his nostrils in a blast of steam, “Impressive level of denial. Fucking stupid level of denial is what it is. So, what, she’s just gonna keep faking herself into thinking she’s human until she handles too much iron and dies?” He shook his head, pushing wild curls out of his face as he continued to eat his ice cream, “It’s so comforting to know that even when confronted by the prospect of having to murder your girlfriend in cold blood you’re still ever the staunch and steadfast Hunter. I’m shocked it gave you even a little pause. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for her obituary. Bake a pie for the wake.” He watched as Kaden attempted to take his feelings out on the poor carton of ice cream in his hands, “Mint chocolate chip is a gross flavor but it doesn’t deserve the beating you’re giving that poor carton. Is the Hunter actually wrestling with his conscience?! I’m in utter disbelief that you even have one. I thought for you people it was only the hunt and nothing else mattered.” He continued to work his way through the pint of ice cream in his lap, keeping one eye on Kaden. He didn’t entirely trust that the other man wouldn’t kill him in here.

“That sounds disgusting. You can keep it.” There was another clash outside the door and Kaden’s eyes shot up, hopeful. Nope, still closed. Still dark. “I don’t know. She thinks it’s all a medical condition. She knows it’s real but won’t admit it’s supernatural. So hopefully she can figure out the iron ‘allergy.’” He sighed again. That wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. Any of it. If he had it all, that was. He could just walk away, be done. Like he wished he could walk away right now. His brow creased and his gaze shot up at the word murder. “Wait, what? Murder? I thought you meant break up with her. I’m not fucking killing my girlfriend you brainless ball of blubber.” He looked around and found a bottlecap and chucked it at Ricky’s head. “That’s how I should be. What I’m sure my parents wanted.” He relaxed his grip on the carton and watched the ice cream settle back down into the container, a little more melted than before. Even so, a shiver went through him. Fuck, it wasn’t that cold when he was just walking in and walking out. Sitting here was another story. “Hell, I know it’s what my parents wanted. My mother’s been fucking following me as a ghost since… Anyway, she fucking made an appareance to Regan. Scared the shit out of her. Told her to stay away from me.”

“Uh huh. There’s trying to turn a blind eye to shit and then there’s being willfully ignorant in a way that’s gonna get your ass killed.” Ricky’s mind flashed briefly to Skylar and he shook the image out of his head, “She may be book smart, but your girlfriend’s a fucking idiot when it comes to self-preservation.” As Kaden had the audacity to look shocked Ricky shot him what he hoped was his most withering look, “Really. You’re really gonna play the victim card here, bitch. Of course I have to wonder if you of all fucking people are gonna kill her. And in what world does “ice her” just mean break up? That’s pretty much universally always means kill.” Ricky watched a shiver rumble through Kaden’s body and for a brief moment started to get concerned. He hadn’t even considered that being stuck in a freezer for several hours would be dangerous for Kaden. He sloughed off his sweatshirt and tossed it across the freezer, “Here. It’ll be warm at least. We run hot, so, I can stand being in here better than you can.” Kaden was definitely pretty low on the list of people Ricky wanted to be shirtless in front of, but, better a living Kaden than a dead one. “Oh of course. The speciest ghost gets to manifest meanwhile my mom is floating somewhere around town and I don’t get to see her.”

“She’s not an idiot,” he snapped. Sure, Ricky had a point. But Kaden just couldn’t sit there and shit all over her because she was having trouble grappling with everything that was happening to her. Fuck, he was having trouble with it himself and he was inundated with the supernatural from day one. He clenched his jaw at the accusation. “I don’t know, I thought you meant ice like freeze out! Not that. Putain. How the fuck would I know that? English isn’t my first fucking language, you connard.” Kaden could feel his teeth start to chatter, the cold was cutting right down to the bone. And just when he thought he’d simply have to suck it up, the selfie offered his sweatshirt. Some part of him still felt wrong accepting kindness from a monster, that they were capable of it. The same way it was strange to learn someone he cared about so deeply was something he’d labeled as a monster for so long. Still, he reached out and took the sweatshirt. As proud as he was, freezing to death due to stubbornness was too stupid even for him. “I wouldn’t be jealous. At least you know she passed on. I… might be stuck making that decision later on.” He wanted to add that probably meant Ricky’s mother trusted her son more than his mother seemed to trust him. Putain, maybe for good reason. He was talking to a fucking selkie like he was a person. “And you didn’t have to hear your dead mother stop just short of calling you disgraceful.” His voice was low, hardly a whisper. Shit, seal boy probably couldn’t hear him. Maybe for the best. “How’d she die?” he asked, a little louder than he might for most.

“She’s a little bit of an idiot.” Ricky finished his ice cream, and carefully set the empty carton in his basket so he could pay for it if they ever made it out if here, “It’s not mine either, and I still manage to know what it means. You’re thinking of ghosting. Also, I’m now realizing, a confusing turn of phrase given your profession.” It was somewhat edifying to watch the feature length film of emotions that skittered across Kaden’s face before he finally accepted the sweatshirt and pulled it on. “I did laundry yesterday. So it’s clean. I just wore it from the house to here. Congrats you’re now repping the UMWC swim team. As the conversation shifted to the most thin and fragile of ice Ricky reevaluated where they were. Where dead mothers were involved things could quickly get ugly. “She didn’t pass on.” He muttered, thinking for a moment how much he’d love to hear his mother call him disgraceful if it meant that he could hear her at all one more time. “Well if you believe the coroner’s report/the story we told the town, a very bad car accident.” He idly scratched at one tattooed shoulder, pushing his glasses up on his face before he heaved a sigh and looked Kaden in the eyes, “But the actual cause of death was the same reason so many of us die.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate any further. They’d had enough fights for Kaden to know exactly what he meant by that. “What about yours?”

Kaden shot him one last look before letting it lie. It was one thing for him to bemoan Regan’s innability to accept the supernatural, it waas another for this kid to sit there and call her stupid. “I lived over half my life on another continent, cut me a break. I do pretty fucking well,” he grumbled as he shrugged into the sweatshirt. “Oh yeah, sure the swim team would love to take on the guy who almost drowned. Wait, is it cheating for you to be on a swim team? You know. Given,” he said and gestured to Ricky, just all of him, implying the whole seal thing. Guess it didn’t matter much, he probably wasn’t the only one on the team to be honest, not in this town. As the topic changed, his brows knit together. Why wouldn’t she be able to pass o-- It hit him. Combined with the fact that Ricky implied, she was surely killed by hunters. He understood. “I’m sorry. That… So you know. I’ve never agreed with, uh, selling of the skins. Your skins, I guess.” Taking trophies was one thing. Hunting the supernatural for profit, that really wasn’t the point of what they did. A bounty for a kill that could save lives, sure, that was just getting paid for your work. But hunting down selkies for their skins or fae for their wings… it never sat well with him. Collecting those didn’t make humanity any safer, just gave eccentric collectors something to line the walls with. The ice cream was hardly melted, or finished, but he couldn’t eat any more. And not just because of the temperature. “Coroner's report said animal attack.” He huffed a laugh. “Werewolf. What else? Both my parents were there. It, uh, it was… They were more than experienced. This wolf… uh, brutal and vicious don’t begin to cover it.”

“You get no break. I speak three and a half languages. Get on my level scrub.” Ricky knew there was a pretty hefty chance that Kaden spoke more languages than he did but he couldn’t resist any opportunity to get a tiny jab in. “Mmmmm…. Arguable. Really the only benefit I’d have in human form is increased oxygen capacity in my blood. It’s not like I’ve got webbed hands and feet or anything. Also you can say selkie. It’s not a dirty word. At least not for most people, I guess I can see how it would turn to ash in your mouth.” Kaden’s bumbling apology was something, a small scant something, “Forgive me if that isn’t incredibly comforting. The line between trophy hunter and exterminator is pretty fucking thin.” He leaned back for a moment before remembering that he didn’t have a shirt on and that the cold metal of the shelving unit behind him felt remarkably like being burned with how cold it was, “That’s one helluva villain origin story right there. I am sorry, that must have been rough.” Idly spinning his mother’s silver ring around his finger he sighed heavily, “Do…. you people…. And you’ll forgive my tone of utter disgust there, have a way you commemorate those who’ve fallen exacting your mighty purge?”

“And a half? What the fuck is a half language? But if we’re going by those rules, me too, connard.” Kaden wasn’t sure what his half language would be but there had to be at least one. Hell, Canadian French had to count as its own, right? Still, he wasn’t wrong. The word selkie, it was hard for him to say. Not in the general sense, sure, but it was too hard to reconcile in his mind the portrait of a monster with someone he was sitting across the way having a moderately decent chat with. The disparate pieces didn’t fit together in the nice ordered slots he was used to them sliding into. He thought about snipping at the extermination remark, and the villain line, ask him what the hell he meant by that, but it felt wrong. Somehow. Decided to nod and accept the small sympathies instead. Maybe he was just too cold to waste his breath arguing with a seal. “Bury the dead. If there’s anything left to bury. Move on. That’s about it,” he said with a shrug. Too many hunters died too often to waste too much time on commemorating death. It also never sat well with him, but there wasn't much he could do. “I, uh, I do have this,” he said as he pulled up the sleeves of the sweatshirt and his shit to show the roman numerals tattooed on his inner forearm, just below the joint. “I take it one of those is for…” He trailed off, nodding at Ricky and scanning his tattoos.

“I’m proficient but not fully fluent in ASL. Is what that means. Dickface.” Somehow the insulting barbs they threw back and forth between them helped this feel like a normal conversation and not something where they were veering incredibly and uncomfortably close to treating each other like actual real people; revealing incredibly private portions of their damaged pasts. “Mm. Stands to reason I guess. You don’t seem like a particularly sentimental organization.” Ricky leaned forward though, when Kaden pulled up the sleeve of the sweatshirt to reveal the numbers, numbers that looked startlingly like a date, tattooed on his forearm. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it was probably the date his parents had died. “This?” Ricky leaned back and gestured to the complicated knotting design that occupied most of the left half of his torso, “Yeah.” he paused for a long moment, looking at the glittering silver ring with the same design on it before sliding it off and tentatively passing it to Kaden, “My mom’s clan. I’m the last member of Clan Muirgen living in America now. We’re not a super common species to begin with and tend to stick pretty close to our ancestral grounds. Only reason she was here at all was UMWC offered her a pretty sweet package to finish her doctorate and a job teaching. Guess she should have stayed in Rinn Mhaoile. Though… if she’d done that she wouldn’t have met my dad and then I wouldn’t be here. So. Hard to try to untangle the strings of the past.”

Kaden rolled his eyes even though, fine, that seemed like a fair half a language. But they were agreeing on too much and being too fucking cordial not to disapprove of at least one stupid insignificant comment. It was more than a little uncomfortable how much they had in common, how much of their stories overlapped while coming from different sides of the coin. Kaden may not be the last Langley in the world, there were some distant second cousins, but he was as good as the last of his line. It was strange connecting or trying to understand someone who he only saw as a monster not that long ago. “That sucks.” It was all he could manage to say. Anything else felt like it was too fake or like he was taking over the narrative or some shit. He hated when he talked about his parents and suddenly it was about that time someone’s cat died once. Which is why he normally didn’t. He got the feeling Ricky didn’t talk a whole lot about his mother either. “I always wonder what it would be like if my parents didn’t go on that hunt. So I mean, I kind of get it. A little. No siblings either. It sucks. I’m sorry.” He shivered, even in the sweatshirt it was cold. “Of course if we never make it out of this fucking freezer, it’ll never matter.”

Ricky eyed Kaden as the other man talked; suddenly very aware of how their lives were very very similar even if they themselves were polar opposites. “It does suck. It sucked more when I was younger. When I was 10 and my mom had just been murdered and my dad decided that even if it meant leaving me behind he couldn’t stand to be in White Crest anymore. Time heals a lot. Not everything. But a lot. I still fly back to Rinn Mhaoile every year to recarve her name on the tidestone of remembrance her clan has in the bay.” He watched steam rise off his warmer-than-human body and wondered how long it would take him to freeze to death in here. A sight longer than Kaden though that wasn’t as comforting as it once would have been, “I think they wanted to have more kids. But they never got around to it. It’s fine though. I’ve got a found family I love here in town and a million and a half cousins that I FaceTime constantly to keep up to date on family gossip. You practically need one of those corkboards with pictures and strings that conspiracy idiots have to keep track of all of the drama.” The silence stretched between them, cut only by the droning whir of the fans pumping arctic air down on them, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry as well. It’s a terrible thing to go through. And we only have to survive til shift change at 7. I know they have to come in to do a temperature check. I used to date a guy who worked at one of these when I was in high school.”

“He left? That’s--” Kaden couldn’t imagine. He’d been orphaned, sure, but it wasn’t by his parent’s choices. Well, not entirely. Sure they’d chosen to go out that night, but they wouldn’t just abandon him like that. Right? Not while he was their legacy. All of that shit. “That’s bullshit. That he did that.” He rubbed his arms with his hands, hoping to warm them. His skin might be colder than Regan’s for once. It would have been funny if the circumstances weren’t what they were. Thinking of her hit like a kick in the gut. Thinking of how cold he was just made it worse. “Family. Sounds nice. I, uh, my only family is pretty much other hunters at this point. Not related. We-- none of my relatives survived long enough for me to know them. Not sure there’s a Langely out there who’s died asleep in their bed. Not for a long fucking time at least. Centuries maybe.” He sighed and saw his breath form in the cold air in front of him. “Doubt that will end with me. Especially not if we never leave here.” 7. What time was it now? He checked his watch. Putain. They still had a while. “Well if I freeze to death, guess I won’t have to worry about any fucking decisions I have to make.”

“We all make choices in how we process our grief.” Ricky had the benefit of over a decade of hindsight, but he remembered how brightly his rage had burned, “I don’t think he could stand how much I looked like him but was truly like her. It always served to remind him of the true love he’d had taken from him.” He propped a leg up on a shelf, leaning back to listen to Kaden talk, “Is it that truly genetic then? Being a hunter? Like father like son? There was always a chance my parents could have birthed a human child; but I think genetically I was always more likely to be selkie than I was to be human. There’s something to be said for found family. My father’s side is all gay-hating arch conservatives so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on them. Winston, Blanche, Dee, Deidre…. These are better family members than I could ever have been shackled to by birth.” His laugh sent a billow of steam into the freezer air as he shook his head, “I’m not going to let you freeze to death in here, Langley. Even if I have to spoon you to keep you warm. You don’t get to use death as an excuse to get out of this decision.” As his bright smile faded into something more quiet and yet more sincere he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in steepled fingers, “As little as I know my opinion means to you, I do trust you to make the right choice. You’re a dick, and a douche, and an asshole… but you’re a good man. As much insane bullshit as there is in the world; I feel I can usually trust the hearts of good men. So don’t fuck it up.”

#kaden #chatzy #here i am stuck in a freezer with you

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starstruck-xavier · 5 years ago

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30 or 33 for Prinxiety?

A Love Story Between Ice and Fire

30: “i don’t want to hurt you” for prinxiety in my magic au!! i hope the magic talk isn’t too complicated hfghfd in short: virgil has water and ice magic, roman has fire magic, roman can melt virgil’s ice and virgil can hurt roman with his water magic but he’s scared that he’ll accidentally do so. love ensues

ao3 || wattpad || fanfiction masterpost

words: 1652 ships: romantic prinxiety warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, food mention, one vague implication of sex, crying and a healthy heap of angst

summary: Virgil loves Roman but he's afraid of hurting him. Roman loves Virgil and he'll never let go.

If Roman had known that Virgil’s ice magic would be overflowing when he got here, he wouldn’t have pushed himself so hard at the magic gym.

In fact, not only is his ice overflowing, turning a patch of the floor around him where he lies on his side into a miniature skating rink, but he appears to be hyperventilating, stuck in his brain, zoned out completely. Roman quickly drops to Virgil’s side, careful not to skid on the ice, and examines Virgil’s state. He has his arms up to cover his face as if he’s guarding himself from a hit, and his chest is rapidly rising and falling. The only noise he makes is his rattly breathing and sparse, short whimpers. It breaks the fire-user’s heart to see him shivering, possibly from the cold, perhaps from the panic. His first instinct is to melt the ice, but he decides against it. The first thing to do is let Virgil know he’s there, prepare him for the discomfort of magic fire.

"Hey, Virgil, are you in there?” Roman’s voice falls to something akin to a stage whisper. It’s loud enough to penetrate the clouds in Virgil’s head without startling him and making the ice patch even larger. His arms twitch; he drags the air into his lungs as if he’s trying to breathe tarmac. A sign that he’s heard, at least. Roman continues to bring him back to earth. “I'm here for you, stormcloud. Try to take a deep breath in with me, okay?”

Virgil continues to shake, but one of his arms falls away from his face so that he can see Roman. There’s a glint of recognition in his eyes, but they look misty and distant. Still, he breaths in at Roman’s request, sputtery, unstable, and it all rushes out after a second, but he tries again. Over and over again, he tries to hold his breath, looking a little more frustrated each time he loses it, but Roman keeps whispering to him, saying nothing in particular, just bringing him out of his head and into the real world once again. Virgil’s shivering ceases for a moment as he finally seems to hold a stable breath all the way through, his eyes finally moving up to look into Roman’s, but then it starts up again. Roman can see his own breath condensing before him as he realises just how cold Virgil is getting.

“I'm gonna melt your ice, okay, virge?" He reaches out to take Virgil’s hands.

"No," The water-user begins to protest weakly, scared of what might happen to Roman. "No, nonono—“

Roman shushes him gently and shuffles over to lay on his side, face to face with him, and wraps one arm around his middle. Virgil squirms and huffs, but Roman holds on tight and begins to work his magic, melting the ice, radiating warmth from his body. Counteracting the ice magic always makes Virgil feel weird; it hurts ever so slightly and elicits a sharp gasp from him, but after a moment he gives in and collapses against Roman’s chest. The heat is relieving now. Gradually, the ice shrinks into little patches until eventually it leaves behind a damp carpet. It feels uncomfortable, but Roman doesn’t mind. The only thing that matters is Virgil right now.

However, he suddenly begins to feel a familiar fatigue. He remembers how hard he’d been working at the magic gym, training his fire to be even stronger and running down his energy. Melting the ice must’ve taken the last of it, because the heat begins to leave his body.

Virgil also quickly notices how the warmth is short-lived. “Roman?" He pushes himself up onto his elbows, the dread beginning to return to his face. “Roman, you feel cold— Roman—“

"Shh, shh." He cups the side of Virgil’s face with one hand. “I'm okay.”

"No, you’re not. No— your magic is burning out, no, no…” Virgil shifts again, onto his knees. He holds his own hands close to his chest, as if he’s afraid to make Roman even colder. His breathing quickens, he’s about to start hyperventilating again, but Roman sits up slowly and touches Virgil’s face again, gently. He brushes the icy streaks out of Virgil’s eyes and inspects them.

"Your water’s not overflowing, you’re not gonna hurt me. C’mon, hug?" He takes his hands away from Virgil’s face and holds his arms out. The shorter boy freezes in thought for a second, then sighs and lets his body slump into Roman’s, resting his head on his shoulder.

He still seems tense, though. “I'm just gonna make you colder.”

Roman buries his nose into Virgil’s snowy-coloured hair, ignoring the way it makes him shiver. "I can handle it.”

"Can I at least get you a hot chocolate or something?” Virgil asks, but he doesn’t seem to make an effort to move right away.

"Hmm," The fire-user squeezes Virgil lightly, and then lets him go. "You do make the best hot chocolate.”

For the first time in hours, Virgil cracks a tiny smile. "It’s just store-brand chocolate powder and milk.”

"Yeah, but you get the consistency just right.” Roman allows Virgil to pull him up to his feet and presses a kiss to his nose.

The water-user sits him down on a chair in the kitchen, then quickly darts away to find some blankets. They aren’t the best for providing heat itself, but the hot chocolate certainly will be, and blankets are always comfortable. After giving Roman what some would say an excessive amount of soft blankets, Virgil locates two mugs in one cabinet and the chocolate powder in another.

Roman still shivers slightly under the blankets, but the slight natural body heat he always has is beginning to return, only slightly, trapped in the cocoon of comfort. “I'm sorry I hurt you when I melted your ice." He smiles apologetically.

"Huh?” Virgil whirls around after mixing the powder and milk together. "Oh, it’s okay. You were only helping me out. It’s just… you wasted your energy on me.”

"Spent," He corrects the water-user. "Not wasted. I was pushing it at the gym, I should’ve taken it easier. Logan even told me that, and I ignored him, so I'm at fault.” Roman sighs. The monotone buzz of the microwave fills the room as Virgil walks back over and pushes himself up onto the table, facing Roman adjacently.

"I can see that, but still. I was panicking over dumb stuff.” Virgil hunches over and watches the microwave passively.

Reaching out to place his hand on Virgil’s arm, Roman frowns. "You were barely breathing and you were about to turn the house into some panicked, twisted winter wonderland. I don’t think you’d do that if you were only thinking about dumb stuff.”

"Hmm," An uncertain hum leaves Virgil’s throat. "I guess." He looks like he’s about to say more, but the microwave suddenly beeps and he jumps at the loud noise before hopping off the table and retrieving the mug, stirring the drink around a little more before pressing it into Roman’s cold hands. "I was thinking about last night, among other things.”

Remembering the many events that occurred yesterday, Roman meets Virgil’s eyes with worry as he takes a sip of the hot chocolate. "What about last night?”

Virgil sighs pensively and reclaims his spot on the table. "After the four of us did our first real mission together and we all crashed at Logan’s afterwards, I kinda realised I'd fallen in love with you and then we kissed and… I wasn’t thinking too much about it until earlier, when you were gone and I remembered everything." He leaves out the part where one kiss turned into a thousand, clothes were discarded and they fell asleep in Logan’s spare room with laboured, exhilarated breaths, but they both find themselves smiling just a little at that memory, even if Virgil’s smile only lasts for one second. "I love you, but I'm scared that one day I'll hurt you with my water magic. I… I don’t want to hurt you. I'd never forgive myself if I did." He casts his eyes downward. Roman can see the tears gathering in his eyes despite the way his fringe falls down to cover part of his face.

“Virgil, darling." He reaches out with one hand, gently swiping at the tears despite how Virgil flinches by instinct - this isn’t water magic overflow, it doesn’t hurt him, he reminds himself. "I trust wholeheartedly that you will never hurt me on purpose. I was being serious when I said that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Any accidental magic water contact or fire burnout or anything else doesn’t take away from the fact that I discovered this amazing person who I'll never let go.” Virgil’s fully crying now, sniffling and hitching his breath, but Roman places the now empty mug to the side and drapes the blankets on his shoulders over the back of his chair so he can stand and envelop Virgil in his arms. "It’s going to be okay. We can work this out.”

The heat is returning to Roman’s body, the drink warming him up from the inside and so Virgil’s touch doesn’t make him shiver as he continues to hold him close to his chest, only pulling away after some time to kiss his tears away and then connect their lips in something less enthusiastic but just as passionate as last night. Unspoken words hang in the air, ‘I'll protect you’, ‘I don’t want to let go’, ‘I will never leave you’.

Conversations about getting Virgil back into magic training so that he won’t overflow are yet to be had, but for now, all Virgil needs to know is that it’s going to be okay. And he trusts that it will be, deciding to take that terrifying leap of faith all for love.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #xavier's fanfiction #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #virgil angst #roman angst #ts virgil #ts roman #virgil x roman #roman x virgil #underestimatemethatwillbefun

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