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marmosa · 4 years ago

Text

oi, is it hot in here?

Fred x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: my best friend came over yesterday and showed me a snippet of one of her george fics and then immediately hyped me up to write this one. girls and gays i present the aquamenti spell, enjoy ;) (this is so out of pocket, could you tell i was going thru it). also if anyone wants more george content please let me know, i’m a fred girl through and through, but i have no shame in showing some love to george <3

***

“Fred, just because we’re allowed to legally use magic now, doesn’t mean we’re legally obliged to,” [y/n] mumbled, flat out glaring at him as he pouted at her from across the library table, trying once again to convince her to duel with him.

“Just because we’re not required to, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be tons of fun. Come on [y/n], you know just as well as I do that you’re dying to try out some new spells,” Fred pleaded, reaching across the table and pushing the book she was using to shield her face from his relentless puppy dog eyes down.

“Even so Weasley, you’re going to get yourself in a spot of trouble you’re not going to know how to get out of. Just because I play coy doesn’t mean I wouldn’t absolutely smoke your arse if we did duel,” she hummed surely, straightening her posture to emphasize her sudden breath of confidence.

“Win? I doubt that,” Fred shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a mischievous idea bubbling to the surface of his mind, “No, you’re not bold enough to win.”

“I- me? Not bold enough?” [y/n] sputtered, incredibly offended at his insinuation but still trying her best to stand her ground, “I know what you’re trying to do y’know and I know you’re also full of shit. You wouldn’t last a second against me.”

Fred glanced over at her, a smartass look on his face, “I think I could last at least two seconds, maybe five, maybe six, maybe a million, but you’re too much of a stick in the mud to find out.”

“I’m not a stick in the mud, I’m just smart enough to not let myself get dragged into your chaos- as fun as it is sometimes,” [y/n] mumbled the last bit, trying not to inflate his ego anymore than he needed, despite feeling no shame in admitting that his antics were usually paired with an inescapable rush of adrenaline.

“Yeah, whatever you say sweetheart,” Fred rolled his eyes, missing the quick crack in [y/n]’s composure at the pet name that practically rolled off his tongue with ease, “just don’t come crying to me when you get bored one afternoon and need someone to duel.”

[y/n] furrowed her brows and felt her competitive need finally snap, “Listen here you dim-wit, if you want a duel so bad you’ll get a duel, but don't you come crying to me when I hand you your arse on a silver-lined platter.”

Fred sat up excitedly, tapping his fingers against the table, “See, there’s that competitive [y/n] I was hoping for. I appreciate the threat, but you might want to save that fire for the duel, you’re gonna need it.”

“You’re a twat, you know that?” [y/n] grumbled, crossing her arms and sinking back into her chair.

“Only for you,” Fred winked, a shit-eating grin plaster on his face, “see you at the dueling grounds.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” [y/n] waved him off, biting back a smile.

***

“Aha! So you showed up in the end,” Fred cheered, dashing over and scooping [y/n] up in his arms, swinging her from side to side as she hung on for dear life.

As soon as he set her down she glared up at him like he’d just forced her to ride the worlds most dangerous roller coaster, “just because I was reluctant, doesn’t mean I’m a downer. I’m always true to my word Freddie.”

“Ahh,” He hummed low, crossing his arms and shrugging, tapping his chin inquisitively, “I suppose so. But what about that one time when you promised me that we’d go up to the tower and then you bailed-,”

“I had a potions exam to study for and my brain felt like it was melting, don’t you dare turn one on me. Last time I checked you were the one who bailed on me when we planned to go rob Filch of his-,” [y/n] started but was cut off when Fred pressed one of his hands against her mouth, shushing her with the other.

“You don’t want anyone to hear do you? That could get us in an enormous amount of trOUBLE- EW!” Fred hacked and jumped backwards, wiping his hand furiously against his jeans, “you’re a sick, sick woman.”

[y/n] grinned triumphantly, wiggling her eyebrows at his disgusted expression, “don’t lie, you loved it. Now come on, we came to duel, didn’t we?”

“You’re really testing my patience, [y/l/n],” Fred chuckled lowly, “but you’re right, get into position so I can completely ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” [y/n] hummed, winking at Fred as she shuffled into her spot, drawing her wand and bobbing it in her hand.

The duel began and the two made no waste of time jumping at each other, throwing charm after hex at one another, testing out every single spell in their arsenal (well the one’s that wouldn’t painfully injure or kill either of them anyway). It was electric, the wild passion for their craft buzzing excitedly behind their eyes, present in the way they danced around each other, avoiding spells and quickly returning them.

[y/n] felt a laugh bubble out of her chest when Fred disarmed her, dashing off to retrieve her tool, ducking as he fired another spell right over the top of her head. Fred couldn’t help but follow suit in laughter as she turned around and flung a disarming spell of her own, managing to hit him and send his wand flying farther away than he probably would’ve liked.

“Come on now, [y/n], you wouldn’t harm a totally helpless boy,” Fred pleaded teasingly, inching to the side while trying to maintain eye-contact with her, mostly for his own safety than showmanship.

“I told you when we started this Weasley, I wasn’t going to go easy on you,” [y/n] called out, jerking out her arm, “Aquamenti!”

Water sprung forth from her wand, shooting directly at Fred and knocking him clean to the floor, positively soaking him from head to toe. He sat up immediately, his mouth hanging open in shock, still processing what entirely had just happened.

“I won,” [y/n] muttered, cheer surging through her in unexpected waves, “I won!”

“Shut up!” Fred groaned from his spot on the floor, pushing himself up off the floor, the cold slowly but surely seeping into his bones, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

[y/n] bit back a smug grin, crossing her arms across her chest and tipping her head back as if she had just won a crown far too heavy for her head, “Sorry, what was that about me losing?”

Fred glared back at her, his narrowed eyes nearly on the brink of being completely shut, “Shut. Up,” he repeated, enunciating his pauses.

“Aww, is someone sad with the outcome,” [y/n] cooed, spinning around to face him as soon as she had retrieved his wand, her triumphant spirit being shoved aside as a more uncomfortable emotion took hold.

“Shut up and hand me my wand ya git,” Fred mumbled, snatching his wand back from her, “we get it, you won.”

[y/n] couldn’t help the heat that was crawling up her neck, suddenly hyperaware of the situation she was currently in. Why’d she chose that spell? Why’d she chose that spell in this random room, away from others, when he was wearing a crisp white dress shirt that was now clinging to him like a second skin- god she could see so much.

Fred glanced over at her with creased brows, confused at the sudden spot of silence, wondering what had gotten little miss triumphant to go so quiet. When he saw her shuffling through her book bag, an amused little smile wormed its way onto his face- oh he was going to have fun with this.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden, sweetheart?” Fred drawled, biting back a grin at the way she tensed her shoulders.

“No particular reason, just felt bad about rubbing in my victory s’all,” [y/n] replied, still shuffling through her bag for a, uh, pack of gum she could have sworn she had had earlier.

“You? Feel bad? About a dueling victory against me? Sounds like a lot of rubbish to me,” He shook his head, grabbing her shoulder and tugging her to her feet, “There’s something else.”

[y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, straining to avoid glancing down at his toned chest, “There is absolutely nothing else. Scout’s honor.”

Fred sported a smug grin as he leaned down to be eye level with her, his eyes raking over her face, noting her balled up fists shaking at her sides and her abnormally wide eyes, “Are you sure, you look awfully tense.”

“I’m not tense,” she waved him off, feeling near the verge of combustion trying to control herself. It didn’t particularly help that he was staring at her like that while her mind raced through the hundreds of ways this interaction could go, her heart hammering in her chest at the suggestiveness of her thoughts.

“Come on, you can tell me, I won’t say anything out of line,” he bargained, trying his best to coax her out of whatever dumb act she was playing at.

“Again, I am completely fine,” she reassured him, rocking on the balls of her feet, trying to subtly put some space between them.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Fred lilted, titling his head to the side slightly, “what, is something about me bothering you?”

[y/n] felt her stomach drop, so he did know, of course he knew, she wasn’t particularly inconspicuous about her dilemma, but she refused to let up now, “There is nothing about you that’s bothering me, Freddie.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is that you like what you see?” he teased, darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

“I-wait, now hold a minute-,” she began only to lose her voice as he backed her into one of the many pillars in that room, her palms pressing flat against the cool stone.

“See, I still don’t quite believe you,” he whispered, pressing his forearm over her head, placing the other on his hip as the water he’d been drenched in had practically sealed his pockets shut.

“And why not?” [y/n] struggled to maintain her composure, her resolve diminishing by the second.

“Because someone who’d didn’t like the view wouldn’t be staring at it so plainly,” He concluded, shamelessly eyeing her up and down.

[y/n] didn’t know if she wanted to curl up into a ball and die or yank him down by his collar and let him absolutely ravish her then and there, her mind was too clouded to pick one. Luckily, Fred seemed to be significantly more level-headed than she currently, which meant he made no waste of time taking the reigns of the situation.

“So, what if I did agree with you what then,” [y/n] muttered, looking down at her shoes, trying her best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’d say that you’re in luck because,” he placed his hand under her chin and tipped it back upwards, forcing her to look at him, “I’m enjoying my view just as much.”

“Well then, what’re you gonna do about it?” she quipped, shamelessly darting her eyes between his eyes and lips.

“I’d say kiss you, but only if you want it,” he replied, moving his hand up to cup her cheek.

“I do. I do want it, please Fred,” she pleaded, not even caring if she sounded desperate anymore, throwing her pride to the wind.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Fred leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, pressing her off the pillar and into him. It quickly became something desperate, longing, all their pent up tension finally spilling out of their overfilled cup. [y/n] felt up his chest, smiling to herself as she concluded that it did feel as nice as it looked.

He made quick work of hoisting her up, linking his arms under her thighs and pressing her back against the wall, relishing in finally being able to touch her the way he so desperately wanted to for all those years. She did the same, tangling her fingers into the wet hairs at the nape of his neck, basking in the warmth coming from him despite his soaking wet clothing.

“Do you want to stop?” Fred asked softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her jaw and neck, “we don’t have to go any further.”

“As lovely as continuing sounds,” she breathed, smoothing his hair out of his face, “I don’t think we’re geared for that right now. And you need to get changed of those clothes before you catch a cold.”

“Good lord you sound like my mother,” Fred groaned, knocking his forehead on her shoulder.

“Did you really just bring up your mother right now,” [y/n] asked incredulously, wiggling her way out of his grip and back onto her own two feet, “that’s weird man.”

“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t bring up my need of a change of clothes!” Fred exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air to emphasize his point, “Besides, who’s fault is that?”

“Someone stupid probably,” [y/n] shrugged, picking up her robes and tossing them square at him, “wear those so you don’t get colder, if someone asks, you took a dip in the lake.”

“That’s even more unbelievable than just telling someone straight up what we were doing,” Fred replied, flat out, pulling on the robes that we’re obviously too short for him.

“Well too bad, loser of the duel has to follow the winner’s rules,” [y/n] shrugged, offering him a smug smile.

“Can we go back to a couple minutes ago when I’d managed to shut you up?” Fred quipped, crossing his arms as he pouted at her.

“Nope, no can do, you kissed me Weasley which means I have nothing more to be embarrassed about,” [y/n] sang, taking his hands and swinging them along with hers.

“Well I take it back!”

“Please no,” she frowned, sinking her shoulders.

Fred sighed and pulled her into a hug, his words muffled against her hair as he mumbled softly, “I could never say no to that face.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#fred weasley imagines #harry potter #[y/n]#hogwarts #mar writes

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i-rely-on-you · 4 years ago

Text

I will never let you go

The smoke around her began to make her eyes water but she welcomed the stinging sensation. She deserved to be in pain. For what she had done to these people. Innocent settlers for all she knew. ‘Gods give her strength.’, she thought as her feet stepped over crumbled walls of buildings that were once homes to families. The crunch under her boots only amplifying the noise of burning wood and crumpling stone all around her.

The air smelled of singed flesh and she could see bodies littered all around her, peeking out of rubble and fallen structures.

That’s when her ears picked up on another noise, making her head snap to the side quickly.

It sounded foreign and off as if it didn’t belong here.

Following the weird sound floating over to her from the carcass of a caved in brick building the fairy stepped over stones and bodies alike before coming to a halt in the centre of a burned down house.

It was small and partially destroyed, the fire still nipping at its walls.

Suddenly her eyes focused on something moving in the dirt.

No more than 5 feet from her lay the wiggling body of an infant halfway covered by a fallen beam hanging over its head. The glare of the embers clinging to the wood above it making its face seem red and angry.

The momentary shock of the scene in front of her gave way to Farah darting forward, bridging the distance separating herself from the baby in less than two steps.

Falling to her knees she reached out a hand to shield the baby’s head from the falling ash floating down the wooden beam, the sizzling cinders burning her skin upon coming into contact with the back of her hand.

The mind fairy slid her hands beneath the small body carefully as not to jostle it too much should it be hurt.

Slipping her fingers as gently as she could under the still wiggling infants bottom. Reaching out her other hand to stabilise the head of the now crying babe she pulled it towards her and away from the fire that had started to crawl up the wooden pole.

Looking down at the very alive bundle of energy in her arms Farah sat back on her haunches just taking it in. ‘How was this baby still alive after all this carnage?’

As if just now coming awake to the situation the woman noticed the nakedness of the sniffling and gurgling child.

A girl. A tiny baby girl no more than a month old if she had to guess.

Her soft cries were subdued as if she had already given up on anyone ever coming for her and it made the fairies eyes sting but this time it wasn’t from the smoke.

Her tiny frail body was covered in soot and dirt from head to toe and almost immediately she noticed the temperature of her little body. It was too cold. She had already started to cool out.

Thinking on her feet had always been her strong suit and so the first thing coming to mind was, ‘Body heat is the quickest way to warm up a person!!’

With this thought she balanced the unhappy child on her lap and started to pull off her jacket and the shirt beneath. Dropping both garments to the floor beside her she gathered the infant in her arms, nestling her close to her chest and belly.

Grabbing for her discarded shirt the fairy began to swaddle up the baby’s back and bottom as best as she could.

Farah managed to pull on her jacket once more single handedly while supporting the child at her front with the other hand.

Seeing as the jacket she was wearing was made out of a material that would give enough to hold the babe close to her still, she began to pull up the zipper almost all the way. Leaving only a small amount of room at the neck for the little one to breathe.

Almost immediately after coming into contact with her front the child began to quiet, her little body melting into the muscled lines of Farah’s stomach.

Shushing her quietly the mind fairy began to rock from side to side gently, it was like an instinct taking over.

The woman had never had much experience with children much less babies.

Her time training under Rosalind had pulled her away from most of her friends who had become mothers over the years.

With a shocking realisation Farah’s head snapped up looking around wildly. ‘Where was Rosalind?’

She hadn’t seen her mentor once after having come down here to inspect the damage done to the settlement.

Hoping she wasn’t anywhere nearby she shushed the baby again softly upon hearing her making tiny noises from the depth of her jacket.

Looking down she could see that her little head had settled on her breast right over her heart, her soft cries turning into hiccups as she began to settle down.

Sinking a hand into the open flap of her jackets collar, Farah put her hand to the small head resting on her chest and began stroking the little dirty tufts of hair there.

It seemed like the touch had a grounding effect on the infant as she felt her calm down even more, the contact making the tiny girl drowsy with fatigue.

Still stunned Farah looked up from her position still kneeling in the dirt and began to rise on slightly unsteady feet.

The weight of the infant settling comfortably against her front as she began to look around for signs of other life that might still be out here.

But the only thing greeting her was the cold and empty silence accompanying death. A dreadful feeling settling in the pit of her stomach Farah decided to get back up the steep mountains edge in search of her friends.

Thinking of Ben and Saul made her anxious. Had they been hurt? Where had they vanished off to? And where had Rosalind gone off to all of the sudden? It wasn’t like her to not be gloating with a kill.

The shadow of that woman had been looking over her like a storm cloud long enough. This was the last straw Farah mused. She must’ve gone mad.

Killing an entire village, practically committing genocide. And for what? To kill a few Burned Ones? This was madness and now she had been made an accomplice.

Fury bubbled up in the fairy mixing with the guilt of what had transpired mere minutes ago. Fear and sadness leeching into worry and heartache as she looked down at the now peaceful babe in her arms.

Struggling up the ridge had been quite challenging as she tried not to falter on the slippery slope caked with mud and wet leafs. But once at the top she fell into an agitated step leading her away from the chaos and into the thick foliage of the forest before her.

It didn’t take long to get to the small clearing where they had stashed the cars.

Upon making it past the tree line her eyes fell on Saul leaning on the hood of the last remaining car. Ben was perched on the backseat, his legs dangling from inside the cabin. He looked deep in thought and hunched over whereas Saul looked to be deeply troubled and distressed. His leg bouncing up and down and his finger tipping a staccato of short and jumpy movements into his crossed arms.

Relief flooded her system upon seeing them unharmed. There was no trace of their mentor to be found which only added to her quiet exhale of abated fear.

Stepping over the last shrubbery separating her from her friends, she heard more than felt her boots crunch the gravel beneath her feet, alerting the soldier leaning against the car to her joining them in the clearing.

As if sensing her his eyes sought out hers as she stepped out from the shadows of the surrounding trees and into the light. His worry melting away a little instantly upon seeing her he immediately began moving towards her, pushing away from the car and starting a half jog in her direction.

Fear etched on his face as he took in her slightly curled inward body language.

Not even taking in the bulge at her front at first he let his eyes roam over her face for any signs of distress before saying, “Heavens where have you been?”

Upon reaching her he let his palms settle on her arms gently before his eyes fell to her hands covering her front protectively.

Letting his eyes take in the weird bulge and her fearful gaze he began, “Farah-…” before trailing off. Giving her a curious look he came closer, stepping up directly in front of her.

Chancing one last look at her guilt ridden face he looked down at her jacket and grasped the zipper carefully before sliding it downwards a little, only so much as to catch a glimpse at the top of the baby’s head.

“Gods, Farah what-…” his soft exclamation of surprise had the woman in front of him tighten her hold on the infant slightly.

Stepping up even closer to her, almost crowding her in the process had the soldiers wary look bleed away into curiosity as he turned a little sideways to make out the child’s face smushed into his best friends chest.

He could see her tiny button nose and her dirty cheeks as she lay slumbering, safely encased in Farah’s arms.

Looking back up at his fairy he saw the woman only shaking her head and motioning to the car. Catching onto the fear still lingering on her face quickly he wound his arm around her back, one hand settling on both of hers and steered her in the direction of the vehicle.

The crunching gravel beneath their feet alerted the earth fairy on the backseat, making him jump up quickly and assessing the situation with his finely honed astuteness.

He had always been able to read any situation before it could even unfold completely, making Farah throw him a grateful glance as he marched around the car quickly only to settle into the drivers seat with practiced ease.

Making their way over and slipping into the back quickly, Farah and Saul began to buckle themselves in, the specialist helping his partner carefully manoeuvre the belt and letting the buckle slip into place.

As soon as he heard the straps being safely secured the earth fairy started the car and sped off, leaving behind a trail of disrupted soil and a flurry of mud and dirt.

Leaving behind the burning settlement and the smell of their shared failure in the process.

Scooting closer to Farah, Saul began to peel away parts of the jacket obstructing his view.

The infant was still sleeping rather peacefully he noted, face still pressed to the fairy’s skin, a small amount of drool dribbling from the baby’s chin and running past the swell of Farah’s breasts.

Looking up from the child’s face now he directed his gaze at Farah, asking the only question neither of them could answer.

“How is this baby still alive? The whole god damn mountain exploded.”

Hearing a grunt of approval from the front, had them realise this had been on the earth fairy’s mind as well.

He hadn’t said anything but they knew he had seen their faces and the telltale bulge the size of an infant under Farah’s jacket, he could put two and two together just fine. She had actually found a survivor and a baby no less.

Tears sprang to the mind fairy’s eyes again at the thought of all the lives lost on that mountain. That settlement. It was a gruesome fate for these villagers to have to die like this.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat she looked down again in disbelief because she herself didn’t understand how it was even possible for a tiny human such as this to have survived the attack. The blast alone should have obliterated all life within a five mile radius at least and she had found the girl right in the epicentre of where lightning had struck. It was impossible really.

Levelling the man sitting close to her with tearful eyes she whispered, “I don’t know.”

Shaking her head a little she continued, her voice a little stronger now. “I found her in between the rubble and I didn’t think, I just reacted and grabbed her and came to find you two. I don’t understand it either but strangely enough she seemed completely unharmed.”

Farah looked at him with tears in her eyes threatening to fall and shook her head once more, disbelief still clinging to her because she too didn’t understand either.

It was a wonder in on itself that she hadn’t been burned by any of the flames licking at the ground around her. Or that that wooden beam hadn’t come down on her, crushing her in the process.

Marvelling at the tiny creature in his partners arms Sauls eyes went wide. “A little baby girl unharmed by the flames.” Maybe wonders did exist after all. “You think it was magic that protected her?”

Her mind still in turmoil Farah thought about it for a moment before a sudden fear gripped at her heart.

Taking hold of the soldiers hand next to her in a hasty movement that surprised the both of them she rushed out, “Rosalind can’t find out Saul! She can’t find out! If she finds her she will want to get rid of any and all evidence linking us to this place! Saul I can’t -“, but she was cut off by him shushing her gently.

A calloused hand settled on her cheek as her specialist touched his forehead to hers soothingly.

“Shh Farah it’s alright she won’t find out, I promise. We will find a way to protect her shhh.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally leaked past her closed eyelids and she let out a small strangled sob at the thought of loosing this little girl after only just having found her.

This little wonder.

Slipping his arms around her shoulders gently Saul held her to him securely.

His warm and strong frame the only thing keeping the woman in his arms from falling apart completely as she wept.

A lot of people had died today and they would forever be feeling responsible for each and every life that had been lost. Every soul that had been extinguished prematurely.

But they would keep this little flame burning even if it was the last thing they did.

Whatever it took.

-fin ?

Thank you so much for reading 😊 Tell me what you think in the comments and feel free to leave some kudos as well ♥️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30367080

#silrah #fanfic #ao3 #farah dowling x saul silva #farah dowling #saul silva #farah is taking a nap #bring back farah dowling 2k22 #farahs hair

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fenheart87 · 4 years ago

Text

Goats Gone Wild

The rehearsals went perfectly, despite everyone saying that it might fall apart and completely spiral out of control and that would to be expected as it was rehearsal and gave them time to fix it. The flower arrangements were gorgeous, Jagged cried when he saw his official wedding suit and Penny had successfully been conned into taking an actual spa day to relax and have a great time with the ladies in her wedding party.

Tom and Sabine were of course on cake duty in providing other food and refreshments for the big day. With them in charge no one was concerned that the seasoned caterers would have any trouble. The tables and chairs were tastefully decorated and with just enough 'rock n' roll' vibe for Jagged to not complain too much because Jagged always be Jagged.

Of course, for the power duo of the music world, fate may have approved for them to meet, fall in love and live long enough to plan the wedding but it didn't have to be nice all the time. A small mishap and the power was out most of the night, delaying everything from food to simply getting ready for most of the practical preparations.

Marinette was running on no sleep, no faith and after the power outage, no coffee. Everyone had their wedding clothes and the weather predicting rain at some point made it seem like a tiny accomplishment. Those who had cars to drive would be fine and most could take extra passengers but it would take some people two trips. She had spoken to her Maman and Papa already, they had put the cake in the deep freeze plus had a gas/solar powered generator to offer a space for others in the wedding party.

She still had no idea who would be escorting her down the aisle to fulfill her Maiden of Honor duty, there wasn't time to meet him now because they were sorely behind schedule. Pushing the thought to the side, Marinette slipped into a chic dress but not the one for the ceremony. That was safely at the venue they had booked just in case they needed a place to relocate. Sending up a quick prayer and a threat that this would be a memorable day, Marinette grabbed her clutch and left her apartment.

Marinette could distantly hear her phone ringing even though it was right besides her. She had yet to exit the safety of her car as she watched the chaos unfold. There was a small zoo of animals running around and Jagged was riding a llama, Fang happily scaring the poor creature. Nimbly she picked up her still ringing phone and answered it.

"H-hello?"

"Is this Marinette?"

"Yes I'm Ma-ma-Marinette… Who are you?"

"Ah I'm Luka the best man, Jagged and Penny paired us to walk down the aisle together. Things are uh pretty chaotic and I haven't seen you yet so just making sure you're not the one getting cold feet."

"No, I uh just pulled up. Where did the petting zoo come from?"

"Jagged's idea."

"You know, sometimes I forget he's technically a Couffaine then he pulls shit like this. Where is Anarka when I need the courage to slam his famous and insured face?" Her neck gave up trying to support her head and she let it flop forward to blare her horn, startling the llama and delighting Jagged as he fought to stay seated.

"I'll come to you." Luka's voice was actually soothing and calmed Marinette's nerves enough to move her head to the steering wheel. Distant sounds of goats screaming at each other and the loudness that was Jagged seeped into her quiet space within the car. A light knock on the window drew her from her quiet place within her mind, and Marinette emerged from her car instead of just rolling down the window.

Luka was tall and slender, ocean blue eyes matched the tips of his hair and would match the color of her dress for the ceremony perfectly. He radiated a soft aura that drew her into staring for longer than appropriate.

"Well hello there fair Maiden of Honor."

"Ah yes hello mysterious Best Man. Would you happen to know how bad things are?" The designer bravely faced the stream of messages on her phone, some only minutes old and others hours old. Asking for an update methodically from everyone individually, she let Luka guide her into the venue.

"Jagged is currently trying to convince Penny to keep a llama or a goat from the petting zoo, half of the guests are either not coming at all or left because of the chaos you see around you. The wedding party is here and just enough people to provide witnesses and news coverage. One of the photographers had to back out and the fill in is allergic to the flowers, his only allergy actually, nice guy otherwise. The goats have eaten some of the décor and their fearless mountain climbing leader took off with the ring pillow."

"Where the rings are sewed on… So at this point, the cake is the only thing safe. I can work with that, first let's find Penny because I'm sure her blood pressure is through the roof, next we need to remove the flowers that are a problem, if Ivan is here then he has the fake bouquets in his van and we can put those inside and have the photographer that's not allergic take the pictures outside. Jagged will be Jagged but when it's time he will behave and only have eyes for Penny so let him do his thing. We need to find the rings so get as many people looking for them as we can. Once I check on Penny I'll figure out the rest, I'm getting updates and rearranging as we speak."

"You know, this is kind of weird for me…" Sky blue eyes met ocean and time suspended again for a moment, "I know Jagged considers you like his unofficial niece so it makes it weird that you are absolutely beautiful and I feel like he might try to kill me for just being around you."

"N-no it's fine! I mean he chose after all, if he has a problem I'll take a page from the captain's book!" A blush graced her pale cheeks, accenting the light blush she had applied earlier. "Now go be a Best Man and make sure the groom doesn't sign his life away and marry a llama instead."

"Aye aye fair maiden." Luka winked and parted ways, leaving Marinette’s heart racing more than it was before.

"Stupid pretty boy with their stupid smiles… Penny, are you in here?" Marinette knocked on the door, waiting until it opened.

"Hey Mari, I knew what would happen when I said yes to Jagged but please no more animals."

"Don't worry, no more animals. The cake is fine but I need to find your rings which I guess a goat ran off with?"

"Yeah, Jagged wanted to get a picture and the goat took advantage." Penny laughed and resumed her seat where Jean-Luc was already fixing her make-up.

"So this is going to be Plan P?" Marinette teased, taking a moment to change into the other dress.

"You bet! Once the circus is over here we will all meet up at your parents bakery for cake and food." Penny winked carefully, causing the younger woman to giggle.

"Let me go find those rings." Throwing on some flats, Marinette left the room with a wave and headed outside. If the goat was a mountain goat then he was probably hidden with the trees. Hiking up her skirt and trekking through the mud that was somehow everywhere and followed the distant sounds of child-like screaming.

There stood the goat, calming chewing on the ring pillow and staring at her with it's judgmental eyes.

"Okay, you give that back right now."

"MAAAAAA!!!" It bleated loudly before resuming its speedy chewing

"Don't make me do this…" The designer tried to get closer and the goat kept retreating with every step. "Oh come on! You know, what fine!"

"MAAAAAA!!" It screamed again and she took the chance to lunge and tackled the goat into the mud. Trying to get a solid grip on the ring piow was difficult as the goat kept trying to kick here or just rip the pillow in two, she wouldn't mind that much, after all it's the rings she was after.

"Just give me the rings and you can keep the stupid pillow you ugly stupid goat!" Marinette grunted as it became a test of tug of war, the sound of fabric ripping made her panic and kick the goat. It worked to get the goat to let go but it charged her and screamed in her face. The sound covered up the approach of the two men.

"Uh Marinette, why are you wrestling with a goat?"

"Oh you know, thought I would try my hand at it, have you seen these guns from gator chasing," She flexed one arm a couple times, "or how about these legs?" Hiking her skirt up wasn't her best idea ever but it was so worth the blush and cute word vomit from her wedding date.

"I uh well, yeah. I mean- you look hot as IN YOU'LL NEED TO COOL OFF BEFORE THE WEDDING!" Luka groaned and covered his eyes in shame.

"Oi mate, are you ogling my goat?" Dingo slapped his back, nearly causing the musician to topple into the mud with Marinette and the goat who resumed chewing on the ring pillow it had stolen, the rings recovered sneakily.

"Okay, the arch can burn for all I care and maybe fry up some bacon if we're lucky." She accepted Luka's help to get up and onto a less muddy patch of grass. The trio made their way back, Dingo as she learned, was fond of Napoleon and argued the entire way back.

"I'll 'ave you know that pigs are some the best pets!"

"No way, Hamster all the way! You can't even own one in the city unless it's a teacup pig and why would you even want one?"

"Oi! All pigs are cool, you can't just love one kind because that's not true devotion!"

"Will you two stop-" Luka froze as the smell of smoke wafted closer and squinted thoughtfully. Was that, yup the arch was burning.

"Great, Plan P is fully in action now!" The maiden of honor groaned, slapping her hands over her mud smeared face.

"Oh god no! Please spare Napoleon! No bacon at this wedding!" Dingo sprinted across the field to where the pigs were kept.

"Well let's find the bride and groom and get the hell outta here." Luka proposed, calmly walking the rest of the way with Marinette keeping pace. There was a firefighter giving directions to everyone to stand far away from the building and the burning arch.

"Well this is not what I expected…" A tall blond muttered to himself, standing apart from the rest of the group.

"Well it is a Couffaine wedding, they are chaos magnets." Marinette joked, attempting to rid herself and dress of the half dried dirt clods.

"Well Jagged has always been… Unique. Good to see you again Marinette."

"I resent that, Jagged is the dumpster fire and Penny is the best and craziest person on earth since she somehow agreed to marry that mess."

"Uh, who are you?"

"Me? Wait, Marinette don't tell me you're mad at me again!"

"Luka what on earth-"

"This is why I told Pa it was better if we didn't show up to his wedding, your anger issues. First you nearly gave poor Nona a scare when you wanted to eat Napoleon, then set the arch on fire and lastly took off after Samuel, a poor defenseless goat."

"Uh how do you know each other?"

"Oh this again?! Lemme tell you, this little spitfire is my wife and she's been pissed at me ever since our arranged marriage was official on paper."

"Luka! That's enough!" The mud on her face hid the blush but the tips of her ears were it began to flake glowed red.

"Baby, you know we're supposed to talk when you're angry with me, that was the agreement."

"Shove it up your ass!"

The wail of sirens startled the three adults but what nearly knocked them over was a blur of neon green, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"HELP ME MATE, I CAN'T GO BACK! IT'S NOT SAFE!!"

The station was filled with a workflow hum as the entire wedding party and a few guests waited in the cell block for someone to explain why everyone had been arrested and brought in. Marinette had made use of the sink and cleared off as much dirt from her being as she could. Penny was steadily ignoring Jagged who at this point had been pleading with her and trying to get a straight answer if they would still be tying the knot or not.

"Couffaine! You're next!" The Sargent growled, shuffling paperwork around. Roger was slowly trying to inch away to not be caught in the crossfire and pulling the rookie away with him.

"Uh which one sir?"

"What do you mean which one?! Just Couffaine!" The Sargent snapped, taking a deep pull of his coffee. When he looked up to see a group of people his face went stone blank.

"Okay so uh, maybe start with the charges and we can help decipher the correct Couffaine?" The petite Chinese woman bite her lip in nerves, echoed by the blond dressed in a matching pink dress. Glancing around he saw a slender woman holding the hand of said blonde in pink, also in a nice party dress. A man with purple hair to match, oh Jagged Stone, was dressed in a suit with a spin. Another woman with purple hair standing next to him and dressed in the more elaborate gown. He easily recognized Anarka by her grey hair and fierce glare, even if she was cleaned up nicely. To the left of the only one brave enough to speak was a young man, a flower in his lapel matching the one on her dress but with light blue tipped hair. Behind him was a kid with a mohawk that nearly grazed the ceiling and a slender brunette who was trying to keep from bouncing around the cell.

"Sorry Sargent…?" The woman tried again, offering a hesitant smile.

"Sargent Le Grand and you are who?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng uh Couffaine." He blinked twice and looked back through the paperwork.

"Why the hell did no one even specify male or female for the perp?! Or a first name, even an initial would be helpful!"

"Sorry Sarge, I uh just -"

"Forget it rookie, there are a pile of complaints and I can't read them aloud so why don't you tell me what you're in trouble for and I'll find the ticket?"

"Uh that's just it sir… We were all rounded up at the wedding and brought here with no explanation."

"I do not get paid enough for this." He downed the remaining coffee and left the desk, making his way into his office.

"Oi where are you goin'?! You can't keep us cage like a bunch of goats!" The mohawk kid finally escaped the brunette and rattled the jail bars.

"Someone figure out these charges and get them out of my cell!" Sargent le Grand promptly got up and went into his office, slamming the office door shut.

“Roger, why donna ya be a good boy and let me and me crew out of here? You know we have the Boat Fund for when you’re hoititty rules and our love of chaos clash.”

“Anarka, I really do have to charge the tickets before we can discuss payment. uh, “ Roger glanced at the Sargent’s door and saw it still closed. “Okay so we have one charge of setting public property on fire, one count of illegal animal petting zoo, “

“He said he was rock ‘n roll with her permits!”

“One count of naming your pig Napoleon, haven’t seen that in a while…”

“Oi! I can name my piggy whatever I please!”

“Two counts of animal abuse, one for feeding the goats pillows and one for what’s assumed trying to bury it alive,”

“Oh please, I had to chase it through the woods and mud because it took off with the pillow in the first place!”

“One count for act of terrorism, this one being related to flowers and serious life-threatening allergy,”

“He was a fill in, he signed the disclosure and those charges are bogus.”

“And to wrap it up, one count of illegally sailing in the city.”

“Give me Liberty or give me death!”

“I’m just going to mark all this down and charge the fund. I do apologize for having to crash your wedding Mister Stone and Miss Rolling, I do hope you have plans to finalize your commitment.” Roger opened the cell door and everyone filed out, Dingo sticking his tongue out before being smacked by three different hands.

“Oi!”

“Oi nothing fashion hazard!” Marinette snapped, moving to the front of the group. “Here’s what we’re going to do, everyone is going to quietly make their way to my parents bakery which is just a couple blocks away. While we are there, we can take turns cleaning up and then enjoy a nice meal and some delicious cake that Papa has worked so hard to make perfect for today. At this point, if someone is ordained and could marry them while at my parents house that would at least complete my to-do list.”

“I got ya mate! Let’s gooooo!” Dingo whooped and took off running while Brielle shared a look with Luka before following.

“Well definitely a memorable day wouldn’t you say Marinette?” Penny asked as she slipped her arm around the younger’s.

“I’ll say… You aren’t thinking of having spawns with him are you?”

“Hey, rock n roll is the life for me, no worries my favorite rock n roll designer!” Jagged chimed in, pausing his argument with the Captain for a moment.

“Aye, with Juleka and Luka that’s all the extra chaos he needs.”

“Uh I can explain…” Luka hunched over and raised his shoulder’s to hide somewhat.

“Wedding first then you can use the rest of the time to explain.”

#lukanette endgame #marinette dupain cheng #lovebugs and snake charmers #dingo king #jagged stone #ml au #penny rolling #chaos #sprint challenge #never trust a goat #they will always fuck shit up #cocky little shit

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occult-castiel · 4 years ago

Text

A thread with no end

Cool metal lighter in hand, he finally takes a glance at the reason for all of this.

It's small, swallowed whole by the thick yellow clothes Sam has it in. It yawns, puppy-like, and fixes his wide eyes on Dean.

Blue. Big and impossibly blue. Its shades too light, closer to ice than ocean, but it pulls something loose in him. It's — it's almost like —

When Jack is born, he doesn't come out fully grown.

[Part One]

[Ao3]

Chapter 2

When the sharp edges of adrenaline settle, the last couple of days are a blur to think about. The absence of it is always its own kind of tired — aches become apparent again. His temples sting. All thoughts are filtered through sludge. His stomach gurgles out loud groans. The reminder is a desperate attempt to make bodily functions matter again, but the desire for food is numb. If anything it makes him sick.

He shakes his head, uses his free hand to blanket his face, pinch the bridge. Trapped under the rough pressure, his tear ducts throb. But it’s all right. It’s fine.

Fucking peachy.

Sloppy and mechanical, as Dean pulls the two of them off the ground. He doesn't look at the embers. The ash. His joins cry against all movement, each jagged step a chore. What should be solid ground slips loose under his boots. He has to catch himself with each half-stumble towards the house. Little snivels turn to full body whines, and Dean doesn't blame the kid. It can't be fun to get jerked around by some idiot that forgot how to walk right.

The door juts open with a creak, and whatever course of action he might've tried to take vanishes.

Unfiltered sunlight glimmers in through the curtainless window. Dust particles dance in yellow above the table where it's — it’s just empty now. His last pitstop. The last place Dean would ever get to look. To touch. Legs on autopilot, he trudges over.

Light glistens off the table's glossy finish. Glints against the discarded keyring Sam somehow remembered to salvage. Carefully, he skims the tips of his fingers over the cool surface, and dread sits like a rock in his stomach. It was warm, right after. But the air has long since leeched any heat Cas left behind.

Throat tense, he cups the keyring under his palm. Tightens his fist around it until the metal digs in and his arm trembles.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. They used to have more allies. Friends. Something they could fall back on after so long of having nothing, but none of it even lasts. Like the universe has decided The Sam and Dean Adventure just ain't multiplayer.

"Dean?"

He shoves the keys in his pocket. "Yeah. Down here."

Sam clunks down the steps and gives Dean a tight smile. Grey bags under his eyes highlight the bloodshot tendrils. His whole body slumped in on itself, the exhaustion of the last however-the-fuck long hitting him like a brick. Maybe he looks that bad too.

Over one shoulder Sam has the world's largest baby bag — lime green and burgeoning with diapers. The zippers stuck halfway around. It thunks when it hits the floor, and Sam shakes a bottle. "Made some formula. There's an extra in the side pocket."

"Thanks." Dean takes it. "Gonna have to toss the other one. Stuff can only sit out an hour."

Sam doesn't say anything to that, just scrapes a chair to the table, plops down, and buries his face in his hands. That's okay. Silence suits Dean just fine.

He repositions the baby in his arms, cradles the head against his shoulder so he's more upright. The kid latches on to the plastic nipple with ease.

The last time he fee a baby was a lifetime ago in some stranger’s home, babysitting with an ex-angel post attempted-murder. He and Cas had straightened out his not-dates house, and the baby started fussing. The bottle was already made. He didn’t think about it when he started feeding the kid. When Cas saw him, he gave Dean a pleased smile and said you're good at this.

It jolted his pulse. Compliments had a way of hitting him funny, but right then? In the low light of a picture-perfect suburban home? Right from the very human Cas who has sex and goes on dates and looks at Dean like he’s worth something?

Neck warm and mind blank, he offered to help Cas do it right without thinking.

And it was good, the light touches, soft adjustments that weren't necessary. But Cas never dressed down that much, so it was better than good. Dean spent the whole time thinking about how thin his cotton shirt was. Cas was smaller without the layers, and the warmth of him unfiltered. He tried to peel his hands away, but it was like he couldn't stop. Angel or mud-monkey, Cas felt strong and whole.

The comfort of the words stuck with him for days. The feel of Cas underneath him never left.

God, he should be here now.

The baby’s pudgy face grimaces, and Dean moves the bottle back until it evens out again.

"We need to figure out what we're doing." Sam's palms muffle his voice.

"We're going home. Welcome to the joys of parenthood. Here’s to hoping it doesn't kill us during puberty."

"It has a name." Sam drops his arms to his sides. "Jack. Kelly made videos on her laptop for him."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well ain't that just lovely?"

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean."

He's two steps away from being the spitting image of some scandalized Victorian chick, and it crawls under Dean's skin.

"What? Jack here is the son of Satan, Sam. Fucking pardon me for not caring about mommy’s little home videos," Dean says. The baby — Jack, whatever — whimpers. Body tense, Dean slowly slides the bottle from his mouth.

"He's a baby, not a monster. And I'm just saying we don't have to — to tuck our tails and go home."

White spit-like liquid dribbles from Jack's mouth. Dean sighs.

"Fan-freakin'-tastic. I forgot babies did this crap." Dean sighs, storms over to the table, and places the bottle down with a hard clank. "I'm not seeing an array of options here. We can't exactly put a Nephilim up for adoption. Or hire a babysitter." Carefully, he brushes off Jack's mouth with the color of his onesie. It’s probably the cleanest thing they have to do it with.

"There's Mom. If the portal was opened once, there's gotta be a way to do it again. Maybe the Book of the Damned, or the Demon Tablet..." Sam perks up. "We could try and get Donatello to help —”

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there." Dean lays Jack flat against his shoulder and pats his back. "First of all, you really want a soulless dude and Lucifer's kid bumping shoulders? Don't think they could be, I dunno, a bad influence on each other?" Jack releases a puff of air and Dean adjusts him back down. He levels a hard stare at Sam. "Second of all: Moms dead. Nothings gonna help that."

Sam doesn't miss a beat. "You don't know that."

Buzzing vibrates from Dean's pocket. He yanks it from his pocket for it. "Pretty sure I do. Lucifer ganked her the minute the portal closed."

"You can't —"

Unknown. He sends the asshole to voicemail.

Sam shakes his head. Sighs. "Whatever. Who was that?"

"Not Donatello." Well, it could've been. But whatever. He grabs the baby bag, then slings the lime green wrecking ball of a bag over his shoulder. "You've got Baby's keys. I'm taking the truck."

The coach squeaks. Before Dean can make it out the door, Sam grabs the strap. The force yanks him in place. Dean swivels around and glares. Sam drops his hand and gives Dean a weary look.

"Can we just talk about this?"

Dean swivels around. "I don't know what you want from me. Crowley's dead. Kelly's dead. Cas is —" Pain pangs his chest, a little twinge that sends pin-pricks through his torso, down his arms. His eyes dart away and land on the table. The discarded, half-finished bottle sits just outside of the sunlight’s path. "Mom’s gone. We even lost Rowena. So I'm gonna take the kid, find a motel the next state over, and put up whatever sigils I can to let the dick brigade know they aren't welcome. Rinse and repeat until we’re back home."

Sam scoffs, but whatever energy he had left is burned out. "Whatever. We'll talk later."

"Unlikely."

By the time Dean walks over to the table and grabs the bottle, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Dean pushes past Sam and grabs the bottle. By the time he walks through the door, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Ash has blown around the yard, smeared it in grey. Eyes downcast, pointedly away from the remnants, he beeline for the truck. Wind whistles by and smears ash across the lawn. Dean stares at the mustard-colored wet spots on Jack's clothes instead.

Cars are like a testament to the owner. The truck is immaculate. The burgundy shines — there’s not a spec of dirt marring the strips of pearl-white.

Dean doesn't bat an eye at the car seat. It’s green. Of course it’s green. His breath doesn't catch at the stupid cartoon bee sticker smiling at him on the car seat’s side. And he doesn't think about Cas.

Not him stumbling through a Walmart visit to buy the thing. God, he bets the nerdy little guy compared brands, sifted through online reviews in the middle of the aisle. He doesn’t picture how pleased Cas must've been at finding a pack of sticks, of all things. How the rest of them are most likely sitting in the glovebox. How it was probably the last enjoyable moment he had. Dean doesn't think — he doesn't. Merely shrugs the baby bag off onto the floorboard, buckles Jack in, and clicks the door closed.

Sweat slick forehead pressed against the doorframe, Dean squeezes his eyes shut.

The last conversation he had with Cas is a blur. An actual conversation, not stress-filled bickering over the newest pile of shit dumped on their doorstep.

Dean tries to swallow, but the motion stops halfway through, and there’s nothing there to force down.

The last movie night he'd managed to drag Cas into was over a month ago. It might’ve been the last time where either of them were reasonably happy. The last time his lips would tilt up in that small way that knots Dean's stomach. It isn’t fair. It's all wrong, and there’s no way to fix it. No magic is strong enough to bring an angel back, The only witch that could’ve tried is dead too. And any power Heaven could spare wouldn’t be used to help him. There’s only one shot to take, and it's the same useless one everyone’s thought of trying at some point.

Dean grabs the side of the truck bed and turns his head towards the sky. He sighs. Here goes nothing. "Okay, Chuck. Or God, whatever. We need your help. You said — you said the world would be fine with us. It isn't. We've lost everything."

He takes a deep breath, rocks his head to the ground. "You left. And I've never asked you for anything. Never begged. But now you're gonna bring him back. Cas. Mom. Hell, even Crowley." His hand tightens. "You owe us, you son of a bitch."

"Please." It's begging. He knows it is and doesn't care. He’d beg for weeks straight if it wasn’t useless. "Please help us."

A beat passes. Nothing happens. He didn’t expect it to work. God's never really gave a shit before, has he?

It's fine. All fine.

Jack cries when Dean slams the door. He strangles the steering wheel between his hands, hands that itch to inflict. Hit. Destroy. Sure as fuck not to nurture, not to quell the newborn screams, because Cas was wrong. Dean isn’t good at this.

A handful of deep breaths later, he leans down and fishes out a pink pacifier from the bag. Jack latches onto it, his pudgy face relaxed. Blue eyes float up to Dean. Innocent, full. It stings, and Dean turns away before his body uses whatever scraps of water it has left to make him cry again.

When he brings the engine to life, Zeppelin creeps through the speakers, one track after the next in an order he memorized long before Cas got the chance.

He plays it front to back on repeat until hunger and exhaustion win out, and he finds a motel.

#destiel #deancas #not sure if ill post eevery chapter on here #cause i have the feeling this us gunna be longer than i originally anticipated #and having a 30+ series on tumbkr seems messy #but ill at least out this one up here too #destiel fanfic #a thread with no end

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dont-tempt-me-frodo · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: The first time Jaskier sees Geralt hunting a selkimore, and the ensuing panic because Geralt Did Not advise that the best method was to “get it from the inside”

hey so thank you for this, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write.

you can also read it on ao3

“So, what is it we’re hunting again?” Jaskier chirped as he struggled to keep up with the Witcher.

Geralt grunted as he waded through waist high reeds and rushes. The scent of silt off the lake ahead of them hung heavy in the air and the thick heat of the sun was stifling.

“The alderman didn’t seem very sure about it,” Jaskier stumbled slightly, readjusted his lute strap and tried to pick up the pace, “He was very vague. ‘A big monster in the lake is eating people.’ That was all about he said wasn’t it? Did you get anymore from the villagers? You know? The witnesses? I mean, you’ve taken on contracts with less to go on before but – Geralt? Are you even listening to me?” Jaskier stopped, hands on his hips, frown on his face.

Geralt paused, scanning the surface of the lake with keen amber eyes, then continued to push his way towards the shoreline. He didn’t miss Jaskier’s indignant huff and he rolled his eyes.

“A selkimore,” he gruffed.

“A what?” Jaskier hurried to catch up to him again.

“A selk – A big monster in the lake that eats people, though not usually on purpose,” the Witcher growled with a sigh.

“Wait what?”

“They’re plankton feeders but can suck up a boat if it gets in the way of its feeding path. Usually I try to leave them alone, but this one has settled too close to people,” Geralt grunted, “And we are not hunting anything. I am hunting it. You are going to stay out of the way.”

“Yes, yes,” Jaskier waved him off nonchalantly.

“I mean it Jaskier,” Geralt glared at him over his shoulder and Jaskier wilted.

“Fine,” a slight pout graced his lips.

“Hm.”

Jaskier inhaled sharply then fell into step behind the Witcher as they continued their trek through the tall grasses.

“So, how does one kill a selkimore?” the Bard asked.

“In a very specific way,” Geralt rumbled.

“Care to elaborate?”

Jaskier crashed into Geralt’s back as the Witcher halted abruptly.

“What? Did you see something?” he peeked out from behind Geralt.

The reeds bled into thick mud littered with rocks which met with the murky water of the lake, stretching out for miles beyond. Thick, dense forest lined the far shore and the mid-morning sun glinted off the water like glass.

“It knows we’re here,” Geralt mumbled, pulling his silver sword from its sheath.

“Ominous as statements go,” Jaskier lilted, keeping that light air about him even though Geralt could tell he was on edge, could sense the coil of tension creeping into his posture, could smell the spike of uncertainty mingling with his usual floral scent.

“Stay here,” he ordered then marched, or rather, squelched his way to the water’s edge.

Jaskier crouched down among the rushes, keeping his blue eyes trained on Geralt as the Witcher stalked slowly along the shoreline. Getting to witness his muse carry out great and heroic deeds in person always made for better ballads than second-hand information, and Geralt was terrible at recounting what happened. Watching from a safe distance suited Jaskier fine. He had no intention of putting himself in danger if he could help it, and he would get to watch his friend in action. A win-win situation.

He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun as Geralt picked up a stone and threw it into the lake. The water shimmered with the ripples and anticipation clawed at Jaskier’s gut.

The lake became still again, and he heard Geralt’s grunt of annoyance. The Witcher scooped up another stone and launched it even further. It broke the waters surface with a ‘plop’ and the ripples chased each other with the impact but still nothing.

Jaskier shuffled slightly in his hiding place. Any other person would assume that either the monster wasn’t there, or try a different spot to bring it forth, but Geralt has sensed it and Jaskier trusted the Witcher to know what he was doing.

Geralt tossed a third stone in the air but before he had the chance to throw it, the lake erupted in front of him and he stumbled back as streams of water and a foul stench washed over him.

Jaskier let out an audible gasp.

The creature that rose from the lake towered a good thirty feet above Geralt. It resembled a large, thick, white skinned worm with rows upon rows of jagged teeth in its gaping maw. It fixed Geralt with small fierce eyes and, sensing malicious intent, it lunged at him, crab-like legs scrabbling at the mud as it hauled itself out of the water. Its piercing screech rang across the lake.

Jaskier’s heart pounded wildly in his chest as he watched Geralt leap out of the way, brandishing his sliver sword and steadying himself. The Bard felt that familiar pang in his gut as he wondered how on earth the Witcher was going to take down something that seemed so impossible and then walk away, or limp away as was often the case.

He’ll be fine, Jaskier assured himself, he always is. He’ll do some cool thing with his sword or his magic signs and – SWEET MOTHER OF MELITELE!

Jaskier’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Bile rose in his throat. Shock blurred his vision.

It-the selkimore-the-the fucking-it had eaten him! Swallowed him whole! And Geralt just…just let it! Didn’t even try to defend himself. What the fuck had just happened?

Panic muddled Jaskier’s brain as he crouched among the reeds trying to process what he had just seen. He was struggling to breathe as the grief crashed into him and tears pricked at his eyes and he didn’t know what to do.

He’d been travelling with Geralt for a few years now and even though the life of a Witcher held many dangers, he had assumed that there would be plenty more years to come. He was building a life for himself, a reputation, he mattered to people. He was building something with Geralt. Trying to be the man’s friend was like pulling teeth, but he was slowly getting there, and he knew that even though the Witcher would never admit it, Geralt enjoyed having him around. But for it all to just suddenly come to and end, and for it to end like…like this?

Jaskier stared at the selkimore as it swayed slightly. A burning hatred towards it scorched through him. The thought to rush out and stab it with the knife tucked into his boot did cross his mind, but he knew that would only accomplish his own death. And then who would remember Geralt? Who would immortalize him in song so that he wouldn’t be forgotten? That was his job now. To sing about the White Wolf until the end of his days. To honour him and his good heart and… Jaskier brushed the tears threatening to spill down his face with the back of his hand.

Oh gods, another thought struck him, how am I going to tell Roach?

The selkimore lifted its blunt-nosed head and seemed to shiver. It blinked up at the sun and made a soft hissing noise. Slowly, it started to slither back into the water but then it stopped. Its whole body seemed to coil and convulse and then, to Jaskier’s horror, it reared up with a bellow of pain as its guts spilled from a gash along its stomach. Organs and blood slopped onto the wet mud and Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. Geralt tumbled to the ground as he hacked his way out of the monster. The selkimore writhed and flailed then crashed back into the water, its last cry gurgling in its throat as it died.

The Witcher stood, gulping in air and trying to wipe the worst of the gore from his face. Jaskier burst from his cover and pelted over to him.

“You’re alive!” he whooped, grinning from ear to ear, giddy relief plastered all over his face, “I thought you were gone! I thought I’d lost you!”

“I told you there was a specific way to kill it,” Geralt gruffed, pulling at face at the rancid smelling muck coating his skin and clothing.

Jaskier’s beaming smile faltered and indignant fury clouded over him.

“You dick. You should have told me. I was worried sick. I thought-“

“Jaskier. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Geralt glanced at him, that annoying confusion tainting his expression, like it always did whenever Jaskier expressed concern for him.

“Well-well-fuck! Bloody hell Geralt! How was I supposed to know you planned on getting yourself eaten! I thought you were dead! I thought –“ his voice broke on the last word and he turned away from Geralt, shaking with the effort to control himself.

Geralt frowned at him, trying to puzzle through the torrent of emotion coming off Jaskier in waves.

“I’m sorry,” he said carefully, “You’re right. I should have told you. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Just…” Jaskier turned to him again and Geralt was taken aback by how very small and hurt he looked, “Just don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I won’t,” Geralt tried for reassuring and sincere but he wasn’t sure the Bard believed him.

“Right. Good,” Jaskier mumbled.

He cast an eye over Geralt then sighed.

“Come on. Back to the tavern. We’ve a hefty coin purse to pick up and you need a bath.”

“Hm.”

“No protesting. If we are sharing a room tonight, I refuse to sleep in the same space as you, stinking like that,” Jaskier sounded a bit more like himself, blue eyes sparking with mirth.

“Fine.”

Jaskier spun on the spot and marched off back in the direction of the village. Geralt followed after him and even though the Bard was babbling on about trying to find words that rhymed with selkimore, the Witcher could tell that this had affected Jaskier more deeply than he was letting on and he promised himself to remember to talk Jaskier though each step of the hunt in the future as to not cause him any more hurt if he could help it.

#the witcher #my writing #answered #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #dandelion #mayastormborn

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notapaladin · 3 years ago

Text

took the words right out of my mouth

Acatl decides to teach Teomitl how to row. Teomitl does indeed learn something new.

Also on AO3!

They were curled together lazily in the shade of Acatl’s courtyard like two lizards, arms around each other despite the heat, when Teomitl had what was in retrospect one of his better ideas.

It started out as a half-drowsy murmur as he nestled further against Acatl’s chest. It was really too hot for a position like that to be comfortable, but he was perfectly willing to bear discomfort if it meant feeling as well as hearing Acatl’s heartbeat in his ear. I might never have had this, he thought, but what actually came out of his mouth before he could sink too deep into introspection was, “You were the best teacher I could ever have had, you know.”

Acatl made a small noise; belatedly, Teomitl wondered if he might have been falling asleep. “Oh?” Then his words must have penetrated the haze, because the arm around Teomitl’s waist tightened as he nuzzled at his hair. “Mm. You give me undue credit.”

Well, now, that couldn’t be borne. “I do not,” he huffed, and twisted around—the angle was awkward and his neck wasn’t happy with him, but if Acatl was going to go about doubting his own obvious excellence in all things, then Teomitl had to kiss him until he saw sense. They’d only been together for a scant matter of days, and sometimes he caught Acatl flushed and staring at him as though it hadn’t sunk in yet. I love you, ridiculous man. Let me show you.

Acatl, it turned out, was very willing to be shown. He slid a hand up into Teomitl’s hair as they kissed, pulling him closer, and hummed in pleasure when Teomitl ventured to coax his mouth open. Pressed together as they were, he thrilled to the feeling of Acatl’s heart beating faster under his fingertips. “Mmm...” It was a barely audible hum, but it was enough to drive Teomitl a little wild; he writhed in Acatl’s arms until he could worm his way onto his lap, tangle his fingers in the rippling fall of his hair, and kiss him until they both had to pull away panting for breath.

His lover was beautiful at all times, but none moreso than now—face flushed, lips red, eyes with that hazy look in them that said he was very much enjoying himself. Teomitl had to suck in a breath before he could manage words, fighting the urge to wriggle pointedly in Acatl’s lap. No matter how much he wanted him, things between them were still so new. Acatl, he suspected, would have to be lured like a skittish deer. “The best of teachers,” he whispered. “The best of men.”

And now Acatl was blushing. It was adorable. “Teomitl,” he murmured, and ducked his head.

“It’s true.” It was. Only the very best of men would have saved the world so many times and accepted no recognition; only the very best of men would have met his eyes on that day and told him there was no need for an apology when Teomitl had been prepared to lay his bleeding heart at his feet.

The memory case a shadow through his mind that must have shown on his face, because Acatl smoothed gentle fingers along his cheekbone and smiled softly at him. “Hm. I wouldn’t say the best of teachers.”

“Why not?” But he thought he knew what Acatl was going to say; there was still that gap in Teomitl’s education they’d never been able to rectify, and he could admit it nagged at him.

Sure enough, he wasn’t disappointed. Acatl’s smile turned teasing as he continued, “I never could teach you to row.”

And that was when it occurred to him, even as he flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not too late.”

Acatl sat back, tilting his head as he considered this. “You want to learn?”

He was the Master of the House of Darts, one day to be Revered Speaker. She of the Jade Skirt was his patron. If he felt like it, he could have a legion of slaves or a herd of ahuitzotls to take him anywhere on the water he wished to go. But in his mind’s eye he saw Acatl rowing, the steady ripple of strong muscles as he propelled a boat through muddy water with ease. It was something any man in Tenochtitlan ought to know how to do, and he’d always been awful at it. But no matter how terrible at it he was, he knew Acatl would never mock his failures. He never had.

Besides, even if he wound up learning nothing at all, it would be pleasant to be out on the water where it was cooler. And where he probably wouldn’t spend all his time pondering the myriad temptations of Acatl’s home, particularly the parts involving a closed entrance curtain and a convenient mat. Or floor. Or wall.

“Yes,” he said, and slid off Acatl’s lap before he could get distracted again.

Of course, they couldn’t simply set out. A boat had to be found and a secluded place to practice had to be arranged; the latter was more difficult than the former, but if Teomitl was going to flail around with an oar he wasn’t going to do it with an audience if he could help it. Fortunately, there were plenty of secluded little spots around the edges of the Floating Gardens if you knew where to look—and with Jade Skirt’s magic, he would always know where to look.

Acatl took them out there, letting him relax for the moment and ensuring they wouldn’t crash the boat before he’d even had a chance at the oar. It really was better on the lake, with a breeze stirring their hair and the spray from the water cooling their skin. Not to mention that Acatl had shed his cloak in deference to the sun’s heat, leaving Teomitl with an excellent view of bare shoulders and a lean, strong back. Acatl was no warrior—his muscles were on the wiry side where they showed at all, unlike Neutemoc who was built like a tree—but that didn’t make him weak. Teomitl allowed himself to imagine standing up, sliding his hands over those shoulders and down his arms, telling Acatl that really, they’d gone far enough—

Then he shook his head, grimacing at himself. No matter how much I want him—no matter how much he loves me—I have better self-control than that. I don’t want to lure him into something he might regret. They’d been together a week. He’d courted Mihmatini for a year. He could wait. At the very least, when he got Acatl onto his mat he wanted there to be a mat.

“Will this suit?”

Teomitl gave a start; he’d stopped paying as close attention to his surroundings, but when he lifted his head he saw they’d reached a place where calm water lapped at the edges of a small island. The water was too clear for tlilcoatls to lurk, and the mud of the bottom wasn’t deep enough for the oar to get stuck too badly if he dropped it. Most importantly, it was utterly deserted. “It should.”

“Good.”

Then Acatl turned, holding out the oar, and flashed Teomitl one of those thin, soft smiles that transformed his face from merely decently attractive into something that took Teomitl’s breath away. “Shall we?”

Here was his first test: standing up in the boat without falling over. He grabbed the edge of the boat and braced himself, ignoring Acatl’s outstretched hand; he could at least manage this unassisted, even if the rocking of the craft under him made his stomach clench until he was steady on his feet again. “Let’s.”

Shortly after they switched positions and he took up the oar—still warm from Acatl’s hands, gods—he realized he’d miscalculated. Badly.

He hadn’t realized Acatl teaching him to row would involve so much of Acatl touching him. Of course, it made sense—he had to ensure he was holding the oar properly, after all—and he wasn’t doing anything forward, but that didn’t seem to matter at all to his libido. Now that he was no longer halfway to melting in the sun, it turned out his body had very strong opinions on the quick, sure way Acatl’s hands brushed along his shoulders or forearms or wrists. He tried to think of unappealing things. The main autopsy rooms of Acatl’s temple. Quenami’s fucking smirk. Tizoc.

It didn’t work. Acatl stood behind him, close enough that he could feel the heat from his skin, and when long fingers came to rest on the backs of his hands he had to bite back a sound that wanted to be a whine. “Nnh.”

“Here, you’re still not holding it right—” The worst part was that Acatl didn’t appear to even notice; he bit his lip lightly in concentration as he adjusted Teomitl’s hold on the oar, but that was all the expression he showed.

Teomitl exhaled. Right. He’s always taken lessons seriously. I’d be a poor student if I couldn’t do the same. Focusing on the smooth wood under his palms and not his lover’s scarred fingers, he shifted his grip and found himself automatically adjusting his stance to keep his balance. “Like this?”

“Mm. Now try pushing off.”

He did. The boat lurched, weaving from side to side like a drunkard, and they both swayed on their feet. Acatl was steadier; the arm he put around Teomitl’s waist to keep him upright didn’t so much as shiver. Teomitl turned automatically to look at him, acutely aware of how they were touching—Acatl’s hand just grazing his stomach, his side against Acatl’s chest. They were nearly close enough to kiss. He saw the way Acatl’s gaze flicked down to his lips and thought, just for a moment, that they might.

Then Acatl released him and stepped back, all business again. “You’re too abrupt. Here—like this.” Hands over his own again, he poled the boat forward. Teomitl tried not to think about how easy it was to let himself relax into that touch. “It’s more important to have your movements smooth. You can worry about speed later.”

Smooth, he thought. He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of the lake. On the edge of his hearing, he could almost catch a faint snatch of chattering song from his ahuitzotls. That’s right. I have Chalchiuhtlicue’s protection. I can do this. Remembering the way Acatl had moved him, he did it again. Their boat hadn’t quite come to a halt yet, but as it drifted forward he felt the water part at the stroke of his oar. He exhaled. “Ah.”

“See?” A smile tugged at the corners of Acatl’s lips. Teomitl wanted to kiss it. “You’re doing well, love.”

His face burned, and he had to drop his gaze to the water. You’re doing well. His heart gave a lurch in his chest. Every time Acatl praised him, whether it was for his magic or his quick thinking or something as simple as rowing a boat, it set a swarm of butterflies rioting through his insides and a pulse of heat through his veins. It was far too easy to imagine that low voice saying the same things against his hair, or with his lips moving against the pulse in his throat—to imagine it rough with need and growling Good boy, Teomitl, you’re so good for me—and gods, for Acatl he’d be perfect. He swallowed hard. “...Praise me when I’ve managed to get this thing moving.”

Acatl’s expression said he’d expected a reaction like that. “Go on, then.” Then he sat down, elbows on his bent knees, to watch how Teomitl did on his own. The pose reminded Teomitl so sharply of his lessons in magic that the morning’s devotional scabs on his earlobes started to itch. “Slow and steady, like I showed you.”

He rolled his shoulders, took in another deep lake-scented breath, and started to row. It was easier now than it had been; the boat still lurched and he knew trying to turn too fast would send him over the side, but he was starting to understand why Acatl had told him to move slowly. Mud and water didn’t care if you were in a hurry; it would drag you down all the same. Careful, he thought. Shoulders like this, back like this—no, I’m doing the thing with my hands again, that’s better...

He wouldn’t be winning any races, but the boat was moving forward more or less in a straight line. Eventually he’d have to figure out how to turn without crashing the boat, but he was sure Acatl would be happy to show him that, too. For now, this was...

Well, it was exhilarating, honestly. He was rowing a boat and it was actually obeying him! He wouldn’t need to summon slaves or ahuitzotls to carry him over the water anymore! Elated, he turned back to his lover. “How am I doing, Acatl-tzin?” He hadn’t called Acatl tzin in a while, but the honorific slipped out anyway; something about it seemed instinctual when the man was teaching him something new.

Acatl seemed to have been preoccupied; he twitched when Teomitl addressed him, head coming up to meet his gaze like a startled hound. There was a faint flush across his cheeks that Teomitl was sure he couldn’t blame on the sun. “Ngh.” He swallowed visibly. “You—you’re doing very well. But your feet should be—space them a bit wider apart—“

He nodded, shifting his stance. “Like—”

Oh, no.

There was a split second of vertigo, a terrible awareness that he’d leaned over too far, and then he hit the water and the lake was rushing in his ears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move; it took a heartstopping moment for him to remember how to work his limbs and right himself, realizing that he’d gone to his knees in the muck. When he opened his eyes, the world he saw was made of dark jade. His ears were filled with that foggy not-silence of the water, but the song of the ahuitzotls rang clearer than it ever had.

In Tlalocan...

The water wasn’t so deep here, maybe to his chest if he was standing. His lungs burned. If he stood up, he’d be able to breathe. But he was on his knees and he couldn’t—

It felt like forever, but it had to have only been a few seconds. Even muffled by the water, he could hear Acatl’s cry. “Teo—!”

Then there was a surge of water that could only come from quite a large boat suddenly tipping over, followed by a second, louder splash and a flurry of very energetic cursing. It seemed to unfreeze whatever had taken hold of his muscles, and he shot to his feet with a surge of panic.

Air was a relief. He shook water and his own wet hair out of his eyes, looking around for Acatl through the droplets still clinging to his eyelashes.“Acatl-tzin!”

“Ack—ugh. I’m alright!” Acatl was an arms’ length away from him in water up to the middle of his chest, spitting out wet strands of hair with a grimace, but most importantly, he didn’t look hurt. Teomitl could breathe a little easier.

Not, admittedly, much easier. The last time he’d seen Acatl like this—soaking wet, with the coils of his dark hair plastered to his skin and streaming off into the water like ink—had been when Tlaloc had sent His agent into the Fifth World. Then he’d been freshly filled with Jade Skirt’s power and they’d been fighting for their lives, and there hadn’t been time to admire the view. Now that there was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Acatl’s skin gleamed, water sluicing down the curve of his shoulders and clinging along the ragged lines of old scars. Sunlight turned the sparkling droplets to fire, and Teomitl wanted to catch every one of them on his tongue. When Acatl threw his head back and raked his hair away from his face, he swallowed a whimper. Fuck. Fuck me.

It took real effort for him to remember how words worked. “You’re sure?” He waded closer for a better look. They were close enough to touch now, if he dared.

Acatl huffed, shaking his head. “Never mind me, what about the boat?”

Right. The boat. The boat which was now floating perfectly upside-down on the water a few feet away from them. He eyed it, frowning. Acatl’s strength was in his magic, not in his muscles; he was stronger, but not enough to get their craft flipped upright with only the traction provided by slippery lake mud under his feet. There was only one other option. “...I can call the ahuitzotls to help us right it?”

“...In a moment.” Acatl’s distaste for that idea was clear; Teomitl honestly couldn’t blame him. They were pretty creepy. But then their eyes met, and Acatl’s expression shifted to concern. “What was all that about?”

He swallowed. Acatl’s gaze didn’t seem to know where to settle—it slid from his face down to his collarbone and back up to rest somewhere around his mouth. He was suddenly very, very aware of the way Acatl was looking at his mouth. Without really meaning to, he took a few steps forward. The water between them was suddenly too much. “...You were...” Heat rose in his face. “...Distracting,” he finished lamely.

Acatl made a soft noise, and his hands flexed as though he’d like to reach for him; Teomitl wasn’t expecting him to, and so calloused fingers cupping his cheek made him gasp. A faint smile curved Acatl’s lips at his reaction. “Oh?”

He’d thought he would have to coax Acatl onto his mat like a hunter luring a deer. He’d thought Acatl would be shy. But the way his lover was looking at him now, all heat and hope, made him think again. Emboldened by the light in Acatl’s eyes, Teomitl reached for his waist and pulled him in. Even in the cool water, his lover’s skin was deliciously warm under his hands. “Mmm. Let me show you.”

Their mouths met, hot and wet and perfect. Again Teomitl realized how wrong he’d been; it was impossible to imagine how he could have thought Acatl shy when there was a hand in his hair and another sliding down his back, pressing them together; he stumbled a little in the mud, but Acatl only held him tighter. They broke apart only to kiss again, and when he dug his nails into the meat of Acatl’s back he was rewarded with a hum of pleasure. “Mmm...”

“Acatl,” he panted. He wanted to fix their boat. He wanted to get to that island, wanted to peel off their sodden loincloths and—but he couldn’t say any of that, because when he’d broken the kiss Acatl had moved his attention to his throat, and the feeling of his mouth there drove all the words from his mind except one. “Fuck.” Acatl hummed—gods, he could feel the vibrations of that sound—and did it again, tugging his head back, and Teomitl clawed at his back with a shuddering groan.

And Acatl didn’t stop. He kept going, mouthing a trail up Teomitl’s throat, and when he got to his ear he breathed, “Enjoying yourself?”

He’d never liked rhetorical questions. In lieu of an answer, he pressed closer, stomach to stomach; the heat of Acatl’s skin against his own was intoxicating. There was no room in his head anymore for thoughts of care or circumspection; he rolled his hips in a rough and inexpert grind, and the answering press of very hard flesh against his own made him gasp. “Oh.”

Acatl’s hands slid down to his hips, all but anchoring him in place. His voice was as rough as Teomitl had dreamed as he murmured, “You aren’t the only one who’s been distracted. You don’t know what it’s like, watching you move.”

He licked his lips. “Acatl-tzin.” That got a reaction too; Acatl’s head lifted, eyes locked on his own, and though his lover’s face was flushed all the way to his ears it was so clearly not a blush of shame that it gave him the ability to breathe, “I want...” But he wanted so many things they all clamored to leave his mouth first, and so he was temporarily struck dumb.

“What?” Acatl’s self-control had always been impressive; now, though he didn’t move, his fingers tightened on Teomitl’s hips.

Teomitl’s heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his fingertips. Desperate for something more to hold onto, he sank them into the wet, heavy fall of Acatl’s hair and watched him tremble at the contact. “You.” Just you. In any way you want, any way we can dream of. Their loincloths were entirely too much fabric.

Acatl sucked in a harsh breath. “Let’s set the boat to rights, and then you can have me.” His hips rocked lightly, giving Teomitl absolutely no doubt as to what he had in mind.

“Ngh.” He’d never been harder in his life. He didn’t think he’d even wanted the crown this badly. But his lover had been chaste and devoted only to his god for years, and so something made him pause and mutter, “Acatl-tzin. I thought—”

The way his gaze fell must have told Acatl more than his words could, because he found himself quite effectively shut up by a brief, sizzling kiss. “You’ve been driving me mad for months. Did you think I didn’t want you?”

Months, he says. Months. He breathed in, tasting the lake and the shadow of Acatl’s mouth on his own. “...I thought it was something you’d want to consider first.”

Acatl’s eyes gleamed; the spark in them made him look as young and vibrant as he really was in those moments when the burden of his office fell away, and Teomitl somehow fell even more in love. “I have.” His voice lowered to a near growl. “In great detail.”

Teomitl wasted no time summoning his ahuitzotls after that, only barely remembering to haul up the boat when they reached dry land.

It was, after all, a very secluded little island.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #paladin writes stuff

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moonvalecrossing · 5 years ago

Note

Now here's something I haven't asked you in a long time: a "Fav and Least Fav" ask related to Pokémon. Favorite and least favorite Gym Leaders of each type they specialize in? Kahunas and Trial Captains will count, but if one ends up as your fav/least fav, I'd suggest separating them and the actual Gym Leader that's your fav/least fav of their type. Also, Bede and Marnie's statuses as Gym Leaders will count too, mostly just so Piers can have some competition with his sis. :P

Alrighty. Time to sit down and tackle this!

Normal Type- Least Favorite: Whitney. WHITNEY. That damn Milktank. I’m sure she’s killed many a Nuzlocke team. And yet still has the gall to cry like a baby when she loses. She also comes across as one of those vapid dumb and pretty trend girls. “Everyone was into pokemon so I got into it too!” I really think skill is the only thing they care about when they hand out the title of Gym Leader sometime because this chick really doesn’t seem to be the type who’d normally get this type of authority.

Normal Type- Most Favorite: Cheren. He is adorable baby husband. Though mostly it’s really cool to see another rival become a gym leader like Green did. I just wish they’d kept his glasses instead of for some reason swapping them to Bianca for some reason.

Fighting Type- Least Favorite: Korrina. Her character art bugs me. Is she seriously supposed to be wearing skates and also doing fighting moves? I can’t even stand on four wheel skates without nearly breaking every bone below my waist. And you’re telling me this girl runs around doing axe kicks on roller blades??? No thank you. Also she hoists a Lucario onto you. I like raising my pokemon from their earliest point and you go and make me have to take one because I’d feel bad if I didn’t since it wants to come with me now.

Fighting Type- Most Favorite: Brawly. Mostly because he’s hot. Slightly because his gym is actually a gym with workout equipment in the remake and I find that amazing and hilarious.

Flying Type- Least Favorite: Skyla. Partially because of her anime counterpart. Mostly because I hate her design. Why are her wrists so thick on those gloves? Why is she wearing boots, a cropped jacket, those weird gloves, and what look closer to boxer style panties than shorts underneath a bunch of bondage-y belts? She looks like a generic anime waifu more than a pokemon character. Like a Mega Man OC. Of one of those weird dating games where the women are just objects in female coded human form Skyla’s a humanized seatbelt.

Flying Type- Most Favorite: Falkner. Because Kahili isn’t a gym leader. Congrats, Falkner. You cute little bugger. Also he’s the only notable male flying type trainer.

Poison Type- Least Favorite: Prepare the flame shields. I don’t like Roxie. Small children as Gym Leaders bug the hell out of me. I see Gym Leaders as characters with high authority in the pokemon world. I hate the idea of kids who look like they’re only a few years out from learning the alphabet and basic mathematics having any kind of power in a region. The only exception I have is Galar because the gym leaders feel less important since they’re merely sports celebrities. ...Also I hate Roxie’s Pebbles Flintstone hair. It makes her look even more like a baby to me.

Poison Type- Most Favorite: Koga. Despite the fact I still think that he and Sabrina had their gyms switched, he’s still my favorite. He even became a member of the Elite 4 and left the gym to his daughter. I find that sweet.

Ground Type- Least Favorite: (Actually Hapu, because of reasons stated above for Roxie, except even more because this kid is a freaking KAHUNA. Why is this little mud farm girl chosen to be the KAHUNA of a whole dang island and one of the most important people in Alola? Surely the Tapus could find someone better, but then again the gods must be crazy.) Clay. Because he looks like a Texan Business Tycoon. And I’m a left-leaning American. That should probably explain things well enough. Because boy howdy do I not wanna open that can of worms. Maybe if I ever get to the point of fighting him in Black Version my opinion will change. But like I said. My real answer is Hapu. Clay just has the misfortune of being next at the bottom of the line.

Ground Type- Most Favorite: Giovanni. Because he is my mafia husbando and I am a garbage human. Have you seen a picture of the man in the “How I became a Pokemon Card” manga? Hot damn. And his newer pokemon cards? HOT DAMN.

Rock Type- Least Favorite: Gordie. This Ronaldo Fryman looking fucknugget with accessory tips from Bling Bling Boy on Johnny Test. He looks like one of those smug basement dweller types who’d call me a FEEEEEMALE if I turned him down for a date. Also his official art does the same thing I hate about Diantha’s. His knee faces more inner-forward but his foot’s pointing outward. Unless that picture’s drawn with him in mid dance spin, dude’s ankle is broken. At least he looks kind of cute when he doesn’t have his hair styled back in that douchey style. I feel like he’d yell about feemales again if I told him I thought his mom was hot. Also he’s not wearing socks with dress shoes and that should be a criminal offense.

Rock Type- Most Favorite: Roxanne is super cute. Even if she’s skirting the line of young people in positions of power she actually looks like a mature person who was ahead of her age level in school. However I will object to the idea of her being a teacher in any shape or form like in the anime. This person hasn’t even struggled through the mental ravages of puberty aint no way she should be allowed to be a teacher.

Bug Type- Least Favorite: Burgh, if only because people use him as a stereotype a lot and I hate that. Toxic masculinity is bs. MEN CAN BE FABULOUS WITHOUT BEING GAY. That said, his pants and shoes are a color crime.

Bug Type- Most Favorite: Guzma is the equivalent of a Bug Type trial captain and you will never convince me otherwise. I- what- you’re really gonna fight me on this? Fine. Bugsy. Bugsy is my precious bug-catching child. Precious baby.

Ghost Type- Least Favorite: Acerola. I’ve already stated why I hate kids in power like this. Plus I just. do not like. characters with the bubbly personality and the cat mouth. I instantly know I’m going to dislike a character the moment I see that damn catmouth. I’m not coming up with a non-trial alternative for this one. I am either neutral to or love the other ghost trainers.

Ghost Type- Most Favorite: Morty. Because 1. He’s hot. 2. He’s got a sweet scarf. 3. Agatha’s not a gym leader. :P Morty has a very nice design. After the remakes came out anyways.

Steel Type- Least Favorite: There’s only like two of these. I don’t hate Jasmine at all but she’s the only other actual gym leader of the Steel Type. So we’re gonna use Molayne anyways. Mostly because his stick-ass gangly legs give me the creeps.

Steel Type- Most Favorite: I’ve never met him but Byron looks like a miner hobo and I dig that. Plus he made Roark and Roark’s hot. (Then why isn’t Roark my favorite rock gym leader? Because not all my favorites can be because of my asexual thirst.)

Fire Type- Least Favorite: Blaine always makes me think of my grandfather and I am not that fond of my grandfather. Even though Blaine seems much much nicer and friendlier a grandpa than my actual grandfather.

Fire Type- Most Favorite: Flannery’s design is adorable and I love it. Doesn’t hurt that it’s also the kind of outfit my more pro-fire trainer would wear.

Water Type- Least Favorite: Marlon. Don’t get me wrong. Marlon’s hot. But he gets to be least favorite for lying about being a tan boy. Seriously look at that tan line around his swim suit that pastey white skin does not do his design favors.

Water Type- Most Favorite: Wallace. This one is pure thirst. Pure. Thirst. Wallace is a babe. I love everything about this fabulous bastard. Especially his hat and scarf in the remake. Especially the remake. Babe.

Grass Type- Least Favorite: Milo. I’m starting to feel like the people who design and did the art for some of these newer characters don’t know how bulkier people’s legs work. Because Milo and Gordie’s legs just look really, really wrong. These characters do not have ankles their calves just end at flat feet. Also milo’s leg is doin that broken ankle thing too. Other images don’t make them look as bad, though. Other than that I hate characters who have no whites to their eyes. It’s freaking creepy and Milo’s baby face doesn’t help. And I can not figure out the design of this guy’s eyebrows either. I know he has them but they don’t look like the anything but exist to blend with his bangs.

Grass Type- Most Favorite: Erika. I like her design a lot. I guess some of the weeb in me still exists deep in there.

Electric Type- Least Favorite: Sophocles. I just don’t like his design. At all. Only other arguments I could give are the kid with with Clemont again. That and his jumpsuit.

Electric Type- Most Favorite: Lt. Surge, Volkner, and Elesa are are great. But Elesa wins because Lt. Surge is a paranoid soldier who makes getting to him a chore and Volkner looks like he takes the same brooding pills they fed to Cloud after Final Fantasy Advent Children turned into into the broodlord. Also ‘urgh need actually challenging opponents’ characters bug me, regardless of how attractive they are.

Psychic Type- Least Favorite: Tate and Liza. But this time the main reason ISN’T because they’re babies. No, no. That’s a big reason, but even being psychics can’t save them. They have a BIG problem. The main reason for these two is that their gym team is garbage. Emerald and Black2/White2 not counting in this because of the remake being their current gym team in my eyes its just a damn solrock and lunatone! I love me Lunatone, don’t get me wrong. But damn, kids. How are you actually gym leaders with a team of pokemon that is barely suitable for the gym trainer in the first gym of the region? The only starter that can’t hit you with a super effective move is the fire starter. Being a double battle only means that I can get rid of your pokemon faster because I get to use TWO pokemon moves on my turn.

Psychic Type- Most Favorite: Olympia. Her design is absolutely beautiful. I want her dress. I want her cape. She is the black and silver space queen and she WILL BE RESPECTED IN THIS HOUSE. Even if whoever did her art doesn’t seem to realize dresses don’t slip into the navel or hug into the crotch hole. Surprised whoever drew it didn’t also add the camel-toe since they think fabric works that way. If I were her I’d strangle someone with one of those magical floaty ring bracelets. Space mom aint having non of your objectification shit.

Ice Type- Least Favorite: Candice. You live in a winter town. Your gym is an ice slide hell. Put on some goddamn pants and a coat. I’m not gonna give you any sympathy when you end up with the worst cold ever.

Ice Type- Most Favorite: Melony. She is adorable and has actual weight to her. And she loves her kids. And holy shit look at her she’s actually dressed for cold weather and ice unlike nearly every other goddamn Ice Gym Leader besides Pryce.

Dragon Type- Least Favorite: Claire is an arrogant b-witch who cant accept defeat and is worst that whitney because at least Whitney gave you your earned badge when she stopped crying like a baby. Claire refused until you did some ‘trial’ and still didn’t think she’d have to give you the badge until granddad dragon master told her to stop being a child. Also she gets more least favorite points because she’s what has prevented me from talking about how much I hate Iris here. That’s right, Claire. I dislike you so much you get MORE hate points because you prevent me from hating another character more than you.

Dragon Type- Most Favorite: Raihan is a babe and the most challenging Gym Leader I’ve ever faced. Bonus points because technically I wouldn’t call him a type-based gym leader but a strategy based leader because he focuses on weather more than dragons. Plus his “Leader Challenges You!” post makes him look a little wild.

Dark Type- Least Favorite: Marnie. Because I wanted to see her brother again so I invited him to the Championship thing and Marnie freaking cockblocked me by beating her brother in the first round. LET ME SEE YOUR BROTHER, MARNIE.

Dark Type- Most Favorite: Piers is my husband and Marnie’s just gonna have to deal with it. :P He’s super cute and his worrying over Marnie in the post game was the cutest damn thing. Plus young Piers in his rare league card is so precious and gives me life. It’s gonna take a lot of work for any other dark type trainer to top Piers.

Fairy Type- Least Favorite: Mina. I hate Mina. Lazy/Unfocused/High artist characters piss me off. Alo Mina should have been a normal type trial captain because of smeargle and the fact that Ilima has pink hair and the same huge buggy-like water eyes Valerie has. Mina even dips her damn hair in paint like Smeargle does with its tail. Mina couldn’t be assed to have an actual trial the first time around. Second time around she just made you go collect something from people you already beat.

Fairy Type- Most Favorite: Bede. If you can’t look this beautiful sparkly eye angel of a child in the eyes and find him amazing once he becomes Opal’s apprentice, you have no soul and should probably get that looked at.

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therkalexander · 6 years ago

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The Good Counselor - Chapter 2

Seventy years have passed since Elysion was created, and Persephone’s efforts to conceive a child with Hades have been in vain. But a secret rite on Samothrace might bend the Fates and give them all that they have ever dreamed of, or pave a path of untold suffering.

Chapter 2

Thesprotia was warm, even in the early evening. But that warmth didn’t penetrate the caves near the river. Here the chill of winter still clung to the rocks like moss .

In the palm of one hand, Persephone held an herb rooted in loose soil; her other hand trailed along the cool stones and damp roots of the cave walls. She followed the bend of the cave, the echo of a single drum’s steady tattoo joined by a lone piper's melody. A light flickered from the entrance of a great hall, and the smells of burning pitch and roasted venison wafted from within. Neither scent masked the stink of sex and sour wine. The tittering of dryads and naiads mixed with the braying laughter of satyrs, the pervasive chattering punctuated now and again by loud moans. The court was smaller than it once had been, so many years ago when mortal men and women had made the mistake of trusting its king— when Minthe had made the mistake of trusting her own father.

She reached the door, and the drum stopped, the pipes faltering a moment later, their last notes shrill. Whispers, then silence. Then the shifting and uncoupling of half clothed bodies, and knees dropping to the floor. Persephone didn’t look at the heads bowed to her, her gaze fixed on the dais at the rear of the hall. Her bare feet padded against the tile as she approached. “Kokytos.”

The king descended the dais and bowed low to her before resuming his place on his throne. “Well! An unexpected pleasure, Queen Persephone. When I heard you had been seen about Thesprotia I’d hoped that our paths might cross. Delightful to finally—”

“Leave us.” Persephone said.

With the barest murmur, Kokytos’s court, his musicians, and his servants gathered their instruments, their clothes, and cups. Most shuffled out of the hall; some disappeared in flashes of green— high order nymphs vanishing into the ether— until only the river god and the Queen of the Underworld remained.

Kokytos spied the bright green sprig in her hand. “So it’s true then? What Minthe did?”

“It is. Though not all of what they say.”

“Well, you can’t believe everything that gods and humans say. Gossips, to the last. Everyone worth knowing knows that Aidoneus is faithful to fault. And my sympathies for what befell you and your lord husband at her hand.”

“I was expecting something more akin to an apology. Not sympathy.”

Kokytos scoffed. “I had no part in what Minthe did. She brought her schemes with her, whispered in her ear by your illustrious mother, obviously.”

“Did she?”

“I took her in. That was all.”

“You let the men of your court violate her. They warped her, twisted her mind.”

He held up his hands. “Nothing she didn’t agree to. She knew the price of staying.”

“Your own daughter…”

Kokytos rolled his eyes. “One of many. If she was mine at—”

“She was,” said Persephone. “I know all souls, living and dead, just as my husband does.”

He shifted in his chair.

“You have much to answer for.”

Kokytos threw up his hands. “So I whored my daughter! What of it? Are you going to condemn the father of every hetera in Hellas along with me? Who’s next?”

“No.” Persephone said, with a soft smile. “She is the means by which you and I are unfortunately acquainted, but Minthe is not the reason I am here.”

“Then what?”

“There were human guests in your hall nearly fourscore winters ago…”

Kokytos paled.

“During the Great Famine. Do you remember them?”

“Humans— once, per-perhaps, long ago? H-how could I possibly recall? Decades have passed. And so have they, most likely.”

“Indeed they have. To the last soul.” She took a step forward. “You murdered them. You dined on their flesh. Your servants and guests feasted on them at your behest.”

His voice cracked dry as he choked out a laugh. “What nonsense… who in the world would tell you such a story?”

“The men and women you killed, Kokytos.”

His face fell.

“It took years for me to find them all in Asphodel. Decades, even. At first, there were rumors, nymphs who whispered to other nymphs, until those rumors reached my ears. I, too, doubted their awful tales. But the dead cannot lie.”

“My Queen, please… you know better than anyone that food was dwindling. Those mortals would have died anyway. I would have faced revolt from my men once my stores ran out… My court—” Kokytos coughed, and pulled at his mouth. He withdrew a mint leaf.

“Kokytos, son of Okeanos…”

“I am one of the ageless! Mortals are livestock. Flecks of dust! Only they need live by your father’s petty laws. I am your husband’s vassal! You cannot cond—” He spat out another mint leaf.

Kokytos choked around a sprig of mint clawing at his throat. He yanked it free, then stared at his hands, mint blooming from under his fingernails, the roots twisting through his veins. He stood with a shriek, his throne tipping backwards. Kokytos beat at his arms as though they were aflame, tearing leaves and buds from his skin, but the more he raked from his flesh the more grew in its place.

“Abandon all hope, Kokytos.” He fell and tumbled down the stairs of his dais, his cries choked and muffled, and crashed to the floor of the cavern. Kokytos writhed, flailing as fresh clumps of mint sprung from his mouth, his nostrils, his eyes. “For your part in the murders of your guests and the consumption of mortal flesh you are condemned— not to Tartarus, but to oblivion.” The screams were buried under a wellspring of green along with his twisted features. Mint burst through the fabric of his robes, the still limbs beneath a tangle of roots and soil. Roots wound about his fallen crown. “So say I, Persephone Praxidike Chthonios, Queen of the Underworld, Carrier of Curses cast on those who live, by the dead whom they harmed in life.”

Kokytos’s outline was indistinguishable. Only a sprawling patch of mint remained, pungent leaves overpowering the lingering headiness of the orgy that had raged in the hall only minutes before. Mint crept between the mosaic tiles as Persephone left the chamber, the single sprout still resting in her left hand. Persephone curled the fingers of her right hand into a fist as she walked out the tunnel. Rocks tumbled from the ceiling and dust billowed behind her.

She didn’t travel through the ether. She owed Minthe the walk to the poplar grove where her mother’s tree stood. Mud caked her bare heels. Her green peplos swished in the breeze and she sheltered the mint plant in her hand. The soil in her palm was warm.

“I forgive you,” she whispered to the sprig as she walked. “I hope that you can forgive me, wherever you are.”

The grove loomed ahead, and she slowed her pace, listening to the songbirds and crows. She reached a tree at its center, with great branches towering overhead. This tree had been here far longer than the others, and it didn’t sway in the wind the way the rest did..

“Leuce?” She stared up at the branches. “I come to return your daughter, and to atone.”

Persephone knelt and scooped aside some of the loam near a broad root, and dug into the earth. She gently planted the cupped handful of soil and mint next to the outstretched base of the poplar. The tiny sprig leaned against the tree in a spot of sunlight. As she stood again, she spoke to the outstretched branches above. “Please forgive me. Forgive my husband. Forgive my mother, and Hecate. That’s all I ask.”

Hera sprawled inelegantly on Hestia’s divan, her fingers plaited under her chin. She drew in a long breath, then sighed dramatically. “Why must I entertain that sea witch again?”

Hestia tittered and shook her head, then ladled a boiling cup of water from the cast iron pot sitting on the hearth, carefully weighing and swishing it until it stopped bubbling. “Oh, come now. She isn’t all bad.”

“Isn’t she though? All she talks about is the strumpets that she drags to her marriage bed. If I have to hear her extol their bedsharing one more time—” Hera’s face had grown flushed. “Fates preserve me. She’s worse than that eastern whore who wormed her way into my son’s heart.”

“Than Aphrodite? Surely not,” Hestia laughed. She shook her head, then emptied the ladle over a mix of ambrosia, sideritis, sage, and a bit of hemp flower. “Here. Calm yourself.”

Hera held the clay cup to her face and inhaled deeply. She closed her malachite dusted eyelids and every thought of Amphitrite evaporated. There were only the licking flames of Hestia’s hearth, the shadows dancing on the multitude of carefully arranged alabastron jars on the shelves, and her white-veiled sister tending to the flames. She took a sip of the tisane, and gone was the fury that still brewed over Zeus’s latest conquest, a dark-eyed Theban princess. Here, that harlot didn’t exist. Olympus itself could crumble to its foundations, and she wouldn’t care a whit. “How do you always know the best remedy for my mood?”

“Aeons of practice, dear sister.” Hestia smiled warmly.

Hera sipped. “It doesn’t get dull? Tending to the fire day after day?”

“I prefer it,” Hestia said, pouring herself a cup. “The quiet of the hearth suits me. The mortals offer me the first and last herb and drink of every meal, and I am free to peruse and take what I like. And roam further afield without a man’s permission.” She sipped from her cup, her gaze resting on a jar containing her latest acquisition— a sweet spice from the islands beyond the Valley of the Indus that curled up like a scroll and didn’t resemble any leaf or seed known.

“You could have been a queen, Hestia.”

“I could have. But the intrigue and theatrics of court are not for me. And wedding Poseidon… living at the bottom of the sea would be intolerable. Better he has that sea witch, as you call her, by his side.”

Hera nodded. Her sister had always been drawn to warmth. The ocean would have chilled and rotted everything that made Hestia content. She wondered what life might have been like had she too had decided to take the path of a perpetual virgin. A visit from Zeus, disguised as an injured bird, had ended that possibility…

“Why is Zeus summoning Poseidon to meet in private?” Hestia asked idly.

“He demands another needless report on Ilion’s wall; what else? Fates have mercy, it’s been millennia— aeons— and still my lord husband cannot let bygones be bygones with that man.”

“You know how he loves to stay on top,” Hestia replied. Hera looked over her cup and cocked an eyebrow. Hestia continued without noticing. “Surely he worries that letting them be bygones might precipitate another rebellion.”

“Of course he does.” Hera rolled her eyes. “It feels strange to even say these words, but I wish Zeus and Poseidon could be more like Hades.”

Hestia sputtered, nearly choking on her tea. “What?”

“He stays where he ought, and performs his duties with all the steadfast dullness we’ve come to expect of him. No scheming, no power games… Fates, he never showed his face until he came to claim his bride. He’s been so…” Hera scrunched her face thoughtfully. “Perfectly reasonable.”

“Reasonable? Hera, he plunged the world into famine and darkness over a girl. Courtly intrigues are tiresome, but never so disastrous as that.” She spoke low, as though the words themselves were a grave curse. “This flame nearly went out.”

Hera scoffed. “That was all Demeter’s doing. Had she behaved like a proper mother, not a stalk of wheat would have withered. The Stygian betrothal had been in place since the war. It was her folly not allowing Persephone to marry the husband chosen for her. A king no less…”

“Yes, perhaps if she’d considered what a fine queen her daughter would make. And what a faithful husband Hades would be.” Hestia set down her cup, her eyes sparkling. “You should send a summons.”

“Invite Hades?”

“No, not him… Zeus would feel upstaged. I mean Persephone.”

Hera ground her teeth. “Demeter’s bastard.”

“Did you hear about what she did to that girl who tried to—”

“Yes.” Hera said. “I know. She scared my poor Hephaestus with her theatrics. Nevermind the spectacle she made of herself in Ephyra!”

Hestia winced.

Too sharp, she scolded herself. She set down the cup and stood, brushing her peplos back into place. Hera meandered through the chamber, eyeing the various herb filled pithos as she went, taking in each heady scent. She searched along the wall and found a familiar jar, then glanced at Hestia contritely. She was Queen of Heaven, but this was her sister’s domain.

Hestia nodded and Hera pulled an alabastron of rosewater from the shelf, flecking some into her tea, then rubbing the rest on her wrists.

“Perhaps inviting her would make your afternoon less of a chore.”

“What, tomorrow? To Olympus? She’s not one of us. She’s a byblow—”

“Perhaps not, but neither is Amphitrite an Olympian. Persephone is Queen of the Underworld, and equal in rank to Amphitrite.” Hestia smiled wistfully. “A meeting of queens…”

Hera sighed, but then narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “All I ever heard after the Pomegranate Agreement was Persephone this, Persephone that. Most, if not all of them falsehoods. What do you know of her?”

“Only a little. But you may have more in common with Persephone than you know. You could learn more of her; ask her about this Elysion that she and her lord husband have built. Perhaps you could even strengthen the bonds between the Lands Below and the Heavens.”

Hestia had struck upon something, Hera realized. The rulers of the dead had only grown in influence since their marriage. With Persephone as her friend, the two queens could easily overrule Amphitrite. And if Hera proved her worth in forming a powerful alliance with them, what would Zeus say then?

“If I brought her into my circle, it would only strengthen us. And prove to him once and for all that I can make peace with his baseborn spawn.”

“You remember how he welcomed you back after… that ill-gotten plot with Apollo and Poseidon? It was a very long time before he strayed again”

“Sixscore years.” Hera allowed herself a smile of grim satisfaction. “The longest he’d been faithful since we were newly wed.”

“Less time you have to spend chasing a wandering husband, then.” Hestia ladled another cup of water over her herbs. “Another thing I don’t mind missing out on.”

“Ha! I should be so lucky,” Hera said. “If all goes accordingly, that would mean Hades would be Zeus’s closest example of proper marriage.”

“And we do know how he likes to be on top.” This time, Hestia smirked.

“I know him. He’d try instead to best his brother at the game of fidelity… He’d lose, of course, at first, but that would make him far less brazen about his exploits. Cowed, even. And who knows? Perhaps chasing flesh would lose its lustre one day.” The Queen of Heaven set down her cup and stared at the flames. She laughed softly to herself as the solutions to Amphitrite, that Theban harlot, and any whores that would follow fell into her lap.

Hestia shrugged. “I leave the marital intrigue to you, dear sister. It will be a royal event. The first meeting of the Queens of all three realms.”

“My lord won’t like being upstaged.”

“Oh, don’t hold it in the symposium. Invite them to your villa. If Zeus protests, just remind him that your hospitality is long overdue.” Hestia’s serene face cracked into a sly smile. “And remember, your home is your domain. You would have the last word.”

“I’d hardly have to get his permission. In his mind, nothing would humiliate Poseidon more than coming second to a meeting of goddess queens.” Hera wrinkled her brow and grew solemn. “What if Persephone is more trouble than Amphitrite?”

“I shouldn’t think so. They say she is closer to your temperament. She’s a quiet but strong ruler. I’m sure she has just as low an opinion of Demeter as you, given their circumstances. And she’s practically a paragon of wifely virtue.”

“So I win her over, and the feared Praxidike becomes my loyal pet. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Perish the thought. Finish your tea, and then send her an invitation.”

#the good counselor #hades and persephone #hades x persephone #receiver of many #rachel alexander

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chille-tid-universe · 5 years ago

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Errands in the City and Flowers in Her Hair

The party awoke the following day well-rested and optimistic. Partially healed bruises served as reminders of the scuffle the previous night, and the group descended to the ground floor grinning and chatting about the monsters they had fought. As they stepped off the stairs, they noticed the plaque holding a row of smashed vials had two additional chiseled tallies, and Durnan was in deep conversation with a man by the bar. The man kept a hand on a large trunk laying on the bartop, and it was clear the two were haggling.

As the party pulled chairs up to a low table Nissa had chosen and placed orders with a passing waiter (like last night, just about everything was on the menu), the two men shook hands. Gold was exchanged, and the stranger took out a dozen flasks of acid from the trunk. Chilled smoke poured from the top as the flasks were lined up on the counter, and a minute later the man was tipping his hat and walking through the front door.

As Durnan walked by their table, bundle of bubbling vials in his arms, Ravain waved him over. “I was wondering if you had an idea of whom we could approach about a magical scroll,” the ranger asked as he cut through his hydra sausage.

Durnan placed the vials down on the table and stroked his mustache. “Sure, I can think of several people who’d be capable, but I’m not certain you’d be afforded an audience.” He glanced around the table apologetically. “You’re not exactly the prim and proper sort.”

Brienne shrugged. “Nevertheless, Waterdeep is likely to be the last real center of civilization we pass through for a while, and we’d rather try while we’re here.”

Durnan nodded and counted on his fingers, “There’s the Black Staff and Halaster, but I wouldn’t recommend either one. There’s also Mordenkainen, but I’m not sure if he’d make himself useful for you.” The barkeep tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It’s possible the Black Staff has an apprentice, she’s always taking on new students as she loses them. There’s also Volothamp, but I don’t really know if he’s around at the moment. Elminster might decide to help you, and I think he’s moved back to Waterdeep recently.”

Brienne smiled at Durnan. “My thanks. Anyone else you can think of?”

Durnan screwed up his face as he sifted through his thoughts. “None at the moment, milady. I’d start your search at the Hall of the Masked Lords, you should be able to find a representative from the Black Staff’s office there.”

Ravain clapped Durnan on the shoulder as he bent to pick up his vials. “This is plenty to keep us occupied. Thank you, friend.”

Durnan returned a smile. “My pleasure. Don’t be strangers!” As the barkeep walked away, swaddling the acid tenderly in a cloth, the party returned to their meal and prepared for the day. Melpomene decided to continue catching up with the gaggle of adventurers who had come down from their rooms, and so Ravain, Ciri, Brienne, Pock, and Nissa headed out.

Before the group began searching for mages, they decided to unload the last of Explictica Defilus’s hoard. They had been able to sell the majority of the loot they had carried out of the subterranean depths of the Snake God’s lair, and were left now with a bundle of oddments - a silvered mirror, an intricate locket with portrait inside, a set of candlesticks, among other things.

After a few minutes’ search and a couple of questioned locals, they arrived at a curio shop. Inside, they were greeted with a wide smile by a well dressed human. He wrung his hands over the pile of items as they were laid out on his countertop, and consulted an abacus as he tallied values. He offered a hundred gold pieces, even. The group knew this was a quarter too stingy, but Brienne was eager to be rid of the bloody treasure, and so accepted the offer. “Thank you for your generosity,” Pock mumbled. The shopkeeper turned his wide smile on the gnome, either unable to detect the sarcasm or choosing to ignore it.

As Brienne stashed the coins into the bag of holding, Nissa turned to the man. “Would you happen to know a jeweler nearby?”

“If you have an interest in gems, I suggest you look here.” The man swept a hand over a nearby glass case. Within, a meager collection of gems sparkled. Nissa cast a skeptical glance over the stones.

“I’m not certain you’ll be able to, eh, find room for my gems,” Nissa said, feeling in her bag the gems that were easily twice the size of the largest rock in the case.

The shopkeeper bristled. “Is my establishment not good enough for you?” he asked haughtily, smoothing back his greased hair.

Nissa backed away from the counter as the others prepared to leave. “Tell you what. I’ll take a look around town, and if I can’t find anything, I’ll be back in a few hours.” As the door swung shut behind her, she snorted. “As if.”

The streets of Waterdeep were filled with diversity. Vendors, passersby, even the uniformed guards all hailed from multiple races, and myriad dialects could be heard as they passed through the crowds. High above, the group could see several of the gigantic statues that kept watch over the various districts of the city. Between and above them, chunks of land and buildings floated in the air on magical energies, the pent houses and playgrounds of the obscenely rich, content to recline as high above the rabble as they could afford.

Many cultures were present, as well; sizzling smells suffused in the air drifted out from a hundred different pots along the sides of alleyways; garb was as varied as Waterdeep’s population, from multicolored shawls to muted robes to intricate dresses and tight suits; temples and shrines were scattered among the districts as if a giant had tossed them out on a whim, with acolytes and temple scriers calling out the glories of their deities and denouncing blasphemers. It was at one of these altars that Wun Way lingered, causing the rest of the group to double back for her. There, a pretty woman in crimson robes was handing out roses to passersby.

Wun Way grinned as she said, “Blessings of Sune upon you.” The acolyte’s smile turned into a beam, and she returned the greeting. “Is there a temple near here?” she asked, accepting the proffered rose. The acolyte nodded and pointed down a nearby crossroads, giving the half-elf directions down a couple blocks. When she had finished, Wun Way turned to the rest of the group. “I need to go. Sune helped us escape from those monsters, and this is the first chance I’ve had to properly thank her.”

Ravain began to object to splitting the party, but Brienne cut him off. “I understand. We’ll be at the Hall for a while, but just meet us back at the Yawning Portal if you stay longer.” Wun Way nodded and skipped off down the road.

Not long after, the group arrived at the Hall of the Masked Lords. Within, they inquired after a representative of the Black Staff, and, after a doubtful glance by the page, were told to wait in the entrance hall. The room was tall and long, with a seemingly endless stream of people, going from door to door or entering and leaving from the street entrance. Brienne picked up a pamphlet and idly passed her eyes over it while Ravain stared down each courier who passed too close. Pock picked up a pamphlet from the same table and nodded at it studiously, and Ciri struck up a conversation with the halfling sitting next to her, who was awaiting an audience with some secretary of a dignitary of one of the lesser councils.

Nissa, however, was not content to wait. After fidgeting in her cushioned seat for half an hour, she told her friends that she was going to get some air and darted through the front doors. Outside, the crowded street felt more relaxing than the muted hallway had. The gnome took a deep breath and began to weave her way through the masses of pedestrians easily, keeping a sharp eye out.

Minutes later, she found what she was looking for. Approaching from a busy side street was a tall elf with fairly symmetrical and pointed features. He wore extravagant robes of reds and purples, and strands of blue were dyed into his long hair. His nose was upturned, even on this cleaner street, and his lips were pulled back in a perpetual sneer. His pace was a mixture of leisurely and rushed, as if he had somewhere important to be, but he would do so as luxuriously as possible.

As soon as Nissa spotted the elf, she practically began salivating at the thought of the riches he must be carrying. She sized up the road between them and plotted a deliberate path. A few seconds later, she stepped out from behind a large dragonborn and walked right into the elf’s legs. The elf gave a shrill screech as he tumbled over his coat into a pile of mud by the side of the road. Nissa was at his elbow immediately, reaching to help him up and feeling surreptitiously for his purse.

“Get your hands off me,” the elf cried loudly, pushing Nissa’s arms away as he gingerly extracted himself from the pile of detritus. “Damned drow gnome, tripping your superiors, can’t watch where you’re going…”

As he stood, Nissa appeared frozen. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m a svirfneblin. The drow are elves. You wouldn’t-”

“I don’t care,” the elf sniffed, straightening up and inspecting his robes. “You’re all the same to me. Now get out of my way. I have somewhere to be.”

Nissa felt the blood pounding in her ears, but her voice was cool as she spat, “I hope the mud doesn’t come out of your disgusting clothes.” The elf pretended not to hear her, and continued wiping mud off his cloak until she shouldered into his side as she passed, mumbling “Oops” as he toppled back into the mud.

Several hours later, a mousy gnome stepped out of a door in the entrance hallway and peered down at a slip of paper. “Brienne of Tarth?” he called out hesitantly, squinting as he looked around the sitting individuals. As Brienne stood with Ravain, Pock, and Ciri following close behind, the gnome retreated further into his frilled finery. “Yes, yes, that’s close enough.” He coughed daintily into a handkerchief and referred to the paper again. “You have a request for the Black Staff herself?”

“Or her apprentice, or anyone who can help, really,” Brienne clarified, looking dubiously down at the clerk. It was obvious he had never held a weapon in his life. “We have a magic scroll we need read.”

The gnome snorted, somehow sounding like a scrap of parchment being torn. “Yes, the uninitiated always need something cast by those with real power. What is it, an identify spell? A scroll of magic missile, perhaps?”

Ravain stepped forward, glaring down at the gnome, whose laughter died in his throat. “A little bit more than a magic missile. We need someone to remove a curse.”

The gnome took a step back, both from surprise and from Ravain’s proximity. “Ah. Well, yes, that would be a tricky bit of magic.” An eyebrow rose as his gaze darted between the party members. “You have a cursed item, I presume?”

Brienne glanced around the hallway, but no one appeared to be paying them any extra attention. “Yes,” she replied, placing a hand over her chest. “This is a set of armor of vulnerability.”

The gnome nodded appreciatively, eyeing the group with a new perspective. “Well. Certainly something to have looked at.” He shook his hands as Brienne’s face brightened. “By someone else, that is. I’m afraid the office of the Black Staff is terribly busy, what with the security of Waterdeep to ensure and all. However,” he continued, cowering under Ravain’s glare, “there’s sure to be a wizard or two who can help you. I’d recommend Elminster, this should be right up his alley.” The gnome then proceeded to recite directions. After the first minute, Pock scrambled for a quill and scrap of paper from his pack, but after another minute of furious scribbling he gave up. Brienne’s eyes widened as the gnome continued to drone on, but as he finished she nodded her thanks and led the others back to the street.

Several blocks away, Wun Way was marveling at the intricate decorations within the shrine to Sune. Elaborate tapestries hung from the ceiling depicting the many quests and feats their goddess had accomplished, as well as the most famous of her followers. Vine-like filigree crept along marble columns, and the large central chamber was surrounded by alcoves where polished silver discs hung between burning incense, windows to inner beauty before which Sune’s followers could meditate.

There were more communal activities, as well. A handful of clusters moved slowly along the tiled floors, traveling from a relic along one wall to a particular tapestry hanging by the center of the room to a fount described as “Sune’s tears.” As one of the groups began to dissipate, Wun Way stepped up to the guide who had been leading the prayer. She was a female human of middling height with hair that shone from yellow to gold to blonde, and she wore the crimson robes of an acolyte of Sune. As Wun Way approached her, a brilliant smile lit up her face.

“Welcome,” the woman began, spreading her arms to encompass the whole temple. “I noticed you as the prayer group was traversing the halls. You’ve been in prayer for a while.”

Wun Way shrugged with a wry smile. “I was thanking Sune for all she’s done for me recently.”

The woman nodded sagely, clasping her hands together. “I know exactly what you mean. I have been quite blessed in my social circles. Everyone says how jealous they are of my looks, and I’ve even met a nice young man.” Wun Way had to cough to disguise the rolling of her eyes. “And how did you find our goddess?”

“Quite the tale, actually,” Wun Way responded, reaching for her pan flute and blowing a few muted tones. She then launched into a ballad she had been piecing together since Orlane, telling of the kidnapping of the prince Nicodemus and the efforts of his lover, Phileus the hound keeper, to save him, of the epic showdown in the basement of an abandoned church for the fate of the prince, and the vanquishing of the orcish kidnappers. She described the hidden shrine to Sune in the church, and how a ghostly Knight of the Ruby Rose had charged her to uphold the ideals of beauty and love.

By the end of her tale, Wun Way had gathered a small crowd, who were clapping politely. The acolyte was wiping a tear from her eye. “Ah, young love,” she sighed. As the crowd went back to their personal worship, Wun Way stored her pan flute away.

“You know, I did have another reason for coming here today,” Wun Way confided. “I’ve been happy to work for the glory of Sune, but I want to make my membership in the Order of the Ruby Rose official.”

The acolyte’s countenance changed immediately. She glanced around the room, as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard. Other petitioners, worshippers, and acolytes milled about the room, so she put on a hesitant smile. With a wary final glance at a passing group of acolytes, she finally spoke. “To join the Order is quite the… commitment.”

Wun Way appeared not to have noticed the change. “I’m willing to do anything for Sune,” she replied readily.

The acolyte sighed gently. “Very well. We do have a chapter here in Waterdeep, but it isn’t located at this shrine.” She then described a straightforward path to the barracks of the Order of the Ruby Rose, less than two blocks from the shrine. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Wun Way grinned, but shook her head. “Then the blessings of Sune be upon you.”

The gnome’s directions were not particularly complicated, but they were confounding. The group began their trek with a series of left turns that led them back to the entrance of the Hall of the Masked Lords. Ciri stopped at the gilded double doors and peered around at the familiar street, but the other three continued, and so she ran to catch up.

The series of instructions lead them gradually away from the hall, with many switchbacks and U-turns. After their third time crossing the same bridge, they began to draw some odd looks, but eventually they stopped at a townhouse with “Elminster’s” etched in shimmering golden letters above the door. Ciri glanced down the street, an odd feeling in her gut, and saw the Hall of the Masked Lords halfway down the block. Her stream of expletives was cut short by Brienne knocking on the door. Above, the chimney of the house had been replaced by a teetering wizard’s tower, easily recognizable by the way it tilted too far to one side but remained standing.

As Brienne knocked, the door swung open slowly. Within, a pleasant looking foyer awaited, dim after the midday sun outside. There was no one in sight. “Hello?” Brienne called, her voice echoing oddly in the entry room. When no one responded, Brienne began to move forward. Ravain reached out to grip her shoulder, shaking his head slightly, but Brienne shrugged and stepped across the threshold.

There was a flapping sound, followed by a blur of movement swooping past Brienne’s head. She ducked, reaching for the hilt of her warhammer, but the pseudodragon simply flew up the nearby stairs, calling down, “Good-bye” in a voice indistinguishable from Brienne’s. A moment later, a tall, elderly man came rushing down those same stairs, waving about a curved pipe still gently smoking.

“So sorry to keep you waiting,” he exclaimed, peering down a hawk-like nose at the visitors. He reached an arm into thin air, and pulled a piping kettle along with a stack of porcelain cups. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.” As he began to pour the tea, the cups floated into the falling stream, filling before drifting over to the party. “Is there something I can do for you?” As the last cup halted before Pock, who eagerly grabbed it and began drinking, the wizard let go of the pot, causing it to disappear with a slight pop, and began puffing on his pipe.

Ciri began drinking from her cup, as well, despite Ravain’s stern glance. Brienne politely took a sip before addressing the wizard. “We were told we could find a wizard here; Elminster.”

The wizard nodded and waved his hand through the growing cloud of purple smoke. “At your service.”

“We have a scroll we need some assistance utilizing,” Brienne began, pulling the tightly wound length of paper from the bag of holding. “A scroll of destroy curse.” At this, Elminster seemed to perk up, rubbing his hands together as he peered at the scroll with sharp eyes. His pipe continued to smoke, suspended in the air a foot away from his face where he had left it.

“Ah, lovely, a cursed item! Where is it? Where did you find it?”

Brienne lightly tapped her breastplate. “Armor of vulnerability. We recovered it from the lair of a would-be snake god, outside of the village of Orlane.”

Elminster’s bushy eyebrows pulled together like magnetic caterpillars. “Orlane, you say? In Faerun? That can’t be right… could have sworn it was in Greyhawk…” Suddenly, the wizard smiled and swept his arms aside, dispelling the smoke. “Ah well, it can be hard to keep up with everything. Do you have everything you need?”

Ravain groaned, and Brienne glanced down at the scroll, unease filling her. “We have the scroll…”

Elminster smiled, not unkindly, and extended a hand for the scroll. As Brienne placed it in his upturned palm, he spoke. “The scroll provides the structure for the spell, yes, but you’ll need a little something to activate it. It’ll need to be something to compensate for the curse, to nullify it, one might say. The spell does not exactly ‘destroy’ the curse,” he chuckled, peering at the scroll as if he could read what was written inside. “Whatever penalty the curse provides, I’d suggest using a component from a being to counteract it.”

Brienne frowned as she absently traced the intricate dwarvish runes lining the collarpiece. She felt the curse looming beneath the surface of the ensorcelled steel, could almost hear it begging to be invoked. “Something resistant to bludgeoning and slashing attacks, then…” she mumbled, almost to herself. She glanced up. “Would a stone golem work?”

Elminster seemed pleasantly surprised. “It would need to be from something naturally occuring, but you have the right idea.” His eyes darted to the diadem perched on Brienne’s brow. Gesturing towards it, he asked, “Do you mind if I…?” and a moment later, he tapped a finger to the silver metal. A string of indecipherable symbols trailed from the finger as he pulled it away, at which he stared and muttered imperiously. “Impressive…”

Slightly perturbed, Brienne froze until the wizard had retreated. Ravain filled the silence, asking, “Is there anything you know of in Waterdeep which would do the trick?”

“Hm?” Elminster glanced up from the few lingering runes on his finger, and they dissipated into the air. “Ah. Well, no, not so much. You’ll need to find somewhere else to track down your quarry. I imagine you’d be able to find a creature of the suitable qualities up north, in the Spine.” Brienne and Ravain shared a worried look - the Spine wasn’t exactly in the opposite direction of their final goal, but it was plenty out of the way. “Get a component from there, and then you’ll just need to wait for the right time.”

Ravain raised an eyebrow. “Wait for what now?”

Elminster gave an apologetic smile. “Ah, yes, last bit. This scroll is powerful, but it needs to be incanted during a time of significance for the item in question. Could be the date it was created, possibly the first time it was activated. Those are usually good bets.”

“And how -” Ciri began to ask, but Elminster was already pulling a small book from his sleeve. He held up a finger to interrupt the girl while he flipped through the wafer thin pages.

Satisfied, he nodded to himself and closed the book with a sharp snap, stowing it away in his sleeve before turning to Brienne. “May I?” he asked, motioning to the armor. As Brienne opened her mouth, Elminster was already beginning his spell. He muttered under his breath, gesturing at the armor as his eyes closed. Pock’s ears perked up as he made out a few key phrases from a Legend Lore spell.

Elminster’s eyes glazed over and his voice deepened as he spoke:

“Deep within a mountain spine

Where fire and stone become entwined

Dwelled a skilled but vengeful smith

Who made armor to mete justice with.

And for that act, who must atone?

The Hidden Forge, left all alone.

Find Xanderos and search his lair.

Your journey will begin there.”

Wun Way stopped outside a strange building. It seemed most like a fortified hotel, with a flowering garden visible through the front gate, beyond which was a courtyard filled with many statues of armored women. Inside the courtyard, half a dozen men and women sparred with shining poles and gilded training axes. At the gate, two guards stood watch, barring her entrance. “Why do you wish to enter the barracks of the Ruby Rose?” the older guard asked, yawning behind a silvered gauntlet.

“I’ve come to officially join the Order,” Wun Way declared, smiling at her soon-to-be fellow knights.

The first guard snorted and rolled his eyes at his partner. “We take applications every fortnight.”

Wun Way blinked. “But I’m already a Knight of the Ruby Rose, I’m just here to, you know, get the paperwork done.”

The guard nodded at the half-elf. “Alright then, just tell me the chapter you belong to, your rank, and the name of your superior officer.”

Wun Way cleared her throat. “Listen, I was inducted by an ancient ghost in a rundown temple. He didn’t quite mention all those details.”

The younger guard grunted. “Well, haven’t heard that one before, I’ll give you that much.” As the other guard chuckled, Wun Way felt a rush of hot anger flushing her face. She had dealt with disdain and dismissal years before, in her youth, and had gotten used to the adoration and appreciation she usually enjoyed. She was not ready to suffer this kind of treatment again.

She whipped her pan flute from her belt and blew the opening notes for the ballad she had performed less than an hour ago. She felt a familiar lightening in her chest, and inspiration from Sune flooded her mind. She deviated from her previous ballad, creating a shorter song filled with details and phrases she somehow knew were crucial to the Order.

As she finished, both guards’ mouths hung open. She smiled pleasantly and asked, “Could I speak with your manager?” Venom dripped from her tongue, and the guards exchanged worried glances as they hastily unlocked the gate.

Nissa stepped into the fourth jeweler's shop. She had had little success at any of the first three stores, and she had decided to blame her earlier altercation with the blasted blue-haired elf. Each doorway she entered, shopkeepers seemed to peer suspiciously at her, and they never offered sufficient prices for her perfectly good (not necessarily legally obtained) gems.

This latest jeweler was an elf in a fancy coat that seemed hardly practical. His wares were more plentiful than any shop she had visited yet, which made sense, as she had been traveling steadily into the more wealthy parts of Waterdeep. He was speaking with a client as Nissa entered the shop, but he glanced over as the bell above the door frame tinkled. Nissa saw his eyes narrow, and her heart sank. She weighed whether it was worth getting offered another pittance, but her stubbornness won out.

She pretended to browse a selection of sparkling rings, careful not to let her fingers get too close to the merchandise. She wasn’t particularly tempted to pinch something (anymore than usual, at least) but she didn’t want to give the elf another reason to slight her. Finally, the affluent dwarf he had been helping exited with a case full of coin, and the jeweler practically glided over the polished floor to hover over Nissa’s shoulder. “May we help you?” he intoned, glancing down a pointed nose upon which tiny spectacles perched.

Nissa suppressed a shiver. When she turned, a wide smile split her face. “Why, yes! I’ve a lovely collection of gems I know you’d be interested in.”

The elf made no effort to hide the sweeping glance he cast over her diminutive form, and his lips sneered as if he had caught the scent of something unsightly. “We’ll be the judge of that,” he breathed, motioning with a graceful wave to the counter.

A minute later, Nissa had neatly laid out the dozen or so gems from her pack. She waited patiently while the elf delicately lifted each jewel and peered deep into each facet. Finally, he put down the last one and sighed. “Five hundred gold pieces for the lot,” he said, voice totally devoid of emotion. Nissa fought down a surge of anger. That barely broke half of what these gems were worth! Seeming to sense her frustration, the shadow of a smirk touched the elf’s mouth. “Take it or leave it.”

Nissa composed her face before responding. “Seven hundred.”

The elf swept the gems into her pouch in a clean motion. “Sounds like you’re leaving.”

Wun Way was escorted to an antechamber directly, and asked to await the arrival of the Knight Commander. The room was beautifully furnished, with a low cushioned seat set before a gently bubbling fountain. A mirror hung on the wall behind the fountain, and a narrow shelf below held an assortment of perfumes and ointments. Wun Way took the opportunity to adjust her flower crown, sampling a few of the scents and finding a pleasant blend which she spritzed around her head like a halo.

Suddenly, the door to the hallway burst open, causing the half-elf to gasp and inhale a lungful of perfume. She coughed, eyes watering, and she could just make out a tall elven woman with long brown hair barge through the antechamber into the office beyond. She was clad in magnificent armor etched with gilded roses and trimmed with crimson velvet.

Wun Way had just recomposed herself when the door to the office opened again, and the elf’s head stuck out. Wun Way immediately appreciated the delicate angles in her face, and the way her green eyes glittered like forest pools in sunlight. “Can I help you?”

Wun Way stood, hand drifting to her pan flute. “I was directed to you by the guards.”

The woman looked Wun Way up and down, though she gave a sense of curiosity rather than judgment. “Well, then come in.”

The elf closed the door as Wun Way stepped into the office and offered her one of the two chairs in the room. It was cushioned with leather and sat before a bureau laden with half unfurled scrolls and endless parchment. “I am Vladriel, Knight Commander of the Waterdeep chapter of the Knights of the Ruby Rose.” She gave Wun Way a sturdy handshake.

“I am known as Wun Way, though my father named me Qinerri Tivelzo Virris,” she responded, returning the handshake.

Vladriel pulled out her seat, and Wun Way sat. “I heard about your altercation,” the commander began as she circled her desk. Wun Way winced. “Members of our order are usually immune to charms.” She graced the half-elf with a faint smile. “So, if I understand this correctly, you underwent the rites with a ghost ... in an underground temple?”

Wun Way shifted in her chair. “Some parts were above ground.”

Vladriel pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t happen to have any substantive evidence?”

Wun Way reached up and touched the pendant that hung on a chain around her neck. The blood-red strands of Sune’s hair caught the lamplight. The commander reached a hand out, too far away to touch it but obviously sensing the pendant. “Hmm. A powerful talisman, and certainly attuned to Sune.” She frowned slightly, seemingly lost in thought. At once she glanced up to look Wun Way in the eye. “Alright. You’ve had a makeshift, battlefield induction. Let’s make it official.”

As she reached for a stack of papers, there was a faint slamming sound, and then the distinct clicking of heeled boots on tile. The door to the office swung open, and an elvish man stood in the doorway, azure streaks through his blond hair and sporting rumpled and dirtied clothes. He shot a hesitant glance at Wun Way, then directed his attention to Vladriel. “I assumed you would be alone.”

Vladriel seemed to accept this interruption. She motioned to the seated half-elf. “This is Wun Way. She’ll be joining us.”

The intruder rounded on Wun Way, still addressing Vladriel. “Outside of the recruitment phase? Has she done the rites? Paid the requisite membership fees?”

Vladriel shifted her weight from foot to foot, glancing at the paperwork and quill in her hand. “There were rites… of a sort, with a ghostly knight…”

The elf turned to frown at the Knight Commander. “She must, at the very least, be put through the initiation with the proper witnesses and paperwork.” Vladriel gestured weakly at the sheafs of paper in her hand.

Wun Way was done being talked around, however. She stood. “Is Sune not witness enough for you?”

The elf sneered, “We cannot just allow any…” He glanced down at her road-dusted cloak. “...street rat to come in and profess their love for Sune, expecting us to house and arm them.”

Anger flared in Wun Way’s heart. “And how much must you profess your love to come to work dressed so improperly?” She stared pointedly at the dried mud he had dragged onto the rug.

The elf’s eyes narrowed, and his sneer became a grimace. “Mind your tongue, insect.” His voice seemed layered with powerful incantations, just outside Wun Way’s range of hearing. All at once, the elf seemed to get larger. Then, she realized the rest of the room was expanding, as well, and that she had six legs. She discovered her “sight” was more an amalgam of smell and tactile stimuli, and that a deep thrumming passed through the floor all around her.

Minutes or hours might have passed, but eventually Wun Way blinked and the myriad parallel facets of her vision converged to one. She was standing once more in the Knight Commander’s office. Vladriel was seated behind her desk, and looked up as Wun Way regained her normal size.

“Welcome back,” she muttered, scribbling a signature on a lengthy missive. “Sorry about Aelar, you really shouldn’t have challenged him. We haven’t had a better enchanter in generations, and his temper is infamous. If you truly wish to join us, tolerance is sorely necessary.” She sighed as she pushed herself back from the pile of papers. “Unfortunately, Aelar did raise some valid points. Our bylaws do require you to complete initiation.” Wun Way began to object, but Vladriel held up a hand. “We are bound by Sune’s law. In truth, you will likely find the rites quite simple. I have even called for emergency rites to be held this evening. It will just be an all night vigil, ending with Sune’s blessing.” She lifted her quill once more. “Return ere sundown.”

Wun Way decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in the barracks’ shrine, praising Sune and asking for her assistance with the coming tribulations. As the sun began to set, she exited the shrine and found her way back to the courtyard in the center of the compound. There, Vladriel waited for her, dressed in a set of armor even nicer than the one she had been wearing before. Without a word, she led the inductee deep into the barracks.

They arrived after a few minutes at a large mirror which swung out to reveal a dimly lit stairway leading down. Below, a large chamber opened, a gilded altar at its heart and clever slats in the ceiling allowing the occasional moonbeam to add light to the muted lamps. A raised walkway looked down upon the main floor, and two witnesses in crimson regalia waited by the entrance. With a start, Wun Way realized this room was almost identical to the chamber in which they had fought for Nicodemus’s fate, what seemed a lifetime ago.

Her next surprise came as she glanced between the witnesses. One wore a familiar sneer - it was Aelar, blue-streaked hair flowing from his rose-bud helm. He looked like he had something nasty to say, but he glanced at the Knight Commander and thought better of it.

Vladriel led Wun Way to the altar below and motioned for her to stand watch. Wun Way nodded and took a deep breath. The altar held a single vase with a single rose, and petals were scattered across the floor. The witnesses took their places along the walkway above, and the Knight Commander retreated to the stairs.

Wun Way began her vigil.

Much of the night passed without comment. After midnight, the clouds must have cleared from the skies, as moonlight fell in broken shafts throughout the chamber, bringing with it a light breeze which set the countless petals dancing.

A little while later, the wind died down. Wun Way had just finished her thousandth circuit around the altar when something struck her twice in the gut. She had been fighting off exhaustion, but now her eyes snapped open as she searched for the assailant. Struggling to catch her breath, she was unable to see anything - then she noticed an area of the floor where the petals twirled agitatedly.

The half-elf staggered back and threw a hand out, gasping an incantation and summoning a series of hypnotic sigils which flashed around the disturbed air. The petals slowed, and Wun Way focused on keeping whatever had attacked her entranced while she summoned another spell. She spoke a word of power and unleashed the pent up incantation, shattering above the ground, right at the center of the pattern (careful not to damage the chamber floor).

The air within the shatter spell shimmered, emitting a low, achy, whistling wind. Shaken from the enchantment, it began to circle around the bard. Wun Way was able to follow its approach by the petals it disturbed. As it drew near, she struck out with her Rapier of Elemental Slaying. The thing was apparently some sort of elemental, as it shrieked at the blade’s touch, a sound like a hurricane wind blowing through a crevice. Wun Way breathed a healing spell, feeling it crawl through her system and lessen the bruises which were already forming.

Rose petals began to swirl around Wun Way, and she felt a buffeting of air, like a whirlwind trying to wrap itself around her. She struggled to push out her arms and managed to swipe with her rapier, earning a moment’s respite in which she pulled back and stabbed again. She exclaimed in triumph as the winds began to die down, but then they whipped up again, and she was lifted bodily and thrown against the chamber wall. Wun Way sprang to her feet and aimed another shatter spell where she had last seen the twirling air, but this time there was no shimmer in the affected area, and then the being was upon her, colliding into her side and wrapping wispy tendrils around her.

Although Wun Way felt the air being drawn from her lungs and was becoming woozy, she finally knew where the creature was. Instead of breaking the grapple, she began slashing constantly at it, willing herself to remain conscious as she felt the writhing of the insubstantial body against her own. A half minute later, the being pulled back, its odd limbs weakly withdrawing as it sought respite. Wun Way gulped down a breath and leapt in the direction of the retreating wind, feeling the barest hint of resistance as she found purchase.

There was no reaction, no sound or suddenly appearing body, but the wind stopped, and rose petals settled onto the floor, pushed about in the wake of the fight. The moonlight grew brighter, and an errant beam reflected upon Wun Way’s pendant. A ruby beam shone from the pendant, and an illusory rose bounced around the room.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Vladriel said, stepping out from the shadows along the walkway. Panting, Wun Way glanced about the room. The Knight Commander stood at attention by the stairs, while the two witnesses were leaning over the handrails of the walkway. Aelar appeared visibly frustrated. “Welcome to the Knights of the Ruby Rose. We defend beauty in all lifeforms, and vow to destroy evil beings of all kinds, especially those who commit ugly and heinous crimes.”

Wun Way took a deep breath and repeated the words as she was instructed, and then followed Vladriel as she brought her to the armory. Along the way, the Knight Commander explained that any of Sune’s places of worship would accept her, and that she could call upon available members of the Order in times of need. Finally, she opened the door to the armory and helped her select an appropriate set of leather armor, studded with metal rose buds and resembling an upside-down rose. Vladriel clasped her arm and smiled warmly, welcoming her once more into the fold.

The sun was an hour from rising as Wun Way walked numbly into the Yawning Portal’s main room. Brienne and Ravain were leaning over the bar and discussing something with Durnan, voices low, when they noticed the bard approaching them. Ravain’s worried face melted into a weary smile. “You’re back,” he called, shoulders visibly relaxing. “We were trying to formulate a plan to find you.”

“Sorry,” Wun Way mumbled, rubbing her arm, “time sort of got away from me.” She then explained how she had found the Knights of the Ruby Rose, and how she had made her membership official. As she finished describing the eventful vigil, Ravain shook his head.

“Sounds like an invisible stalker to me. Looks like we aren’t as welcome in Waterdeep as we thought.” He shot a glance to Durnan, who looked worried.

“That,” Brienne muttered, “or someone else has caught up with us.”

#dnd stories

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we-all-fall-underground-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Inadequate friendship

On one of the many free days the duo got, Pacifica and Kaipo decided to join a small marathon that was taking place in a nearby natural park. They suited up slightly for warmth, seeing as how the weather predicted for a fairly cloudy day. But no matter how it turned out, they both agreed to push through it (otherwise the first to drop out would have to pay for the other's take out for a whole week). As they reached the starting area with the other participants, Pacifica tugged at Kaipo's sweater. "Does it really have to be a competition between us? I didn't really get that much sleep last night, so really I'm at an unfair disadvantage already."

"No no no, you aren't talking me out of something this time!" Kaipo chuckled. "A promise is a promise!"

"But Kaiiiipoooo!" She whined. "Please? It's already super cold, and I swear I felt a raindrop earlier." To prove her point further, she held out her hand in the air and waited for the non existent rain to pour.

And sure, it was cold. Kaipo believed that. Looking around, they noticed how better suited other people were, as they were doing stretches and trying to keep warm before the race started. Plus... Pacifica was too god damn adorable sometimes to ignore. "Fine! Okay, I give! We won't race race. But you better be able to keep pace with me!" They said. "And! You automatically pay for my meal for today. Just today."

"Alright alright, I can deal with that," she smiled, then took to stretching herself. When the race finally started, the two waited for the crowd to clear and began jogging at a slow pace thanks to Pacifica.

It was quiet for the majority of it, the two admiring the nature. Pacifica continued commenting about how she swore she felt rain, but since Kaipo had already put up their hood, they didn't really notice. Another several minutes and yards later, Pacifica broke the silence.

"So, you've been kinda distant lately. I mean, not to call you out or anything, but I'm also definitely very much calling you out on it," she started. "Like, you didn't really have much to say about living with all these other teens and kids along with our little group. You just okay with it? Now that I think about it..." She flinched momentarily, actually getting a raindrop on her, "when was the last time we actually went out to do something together? Just the two of us?"

Kaipo sighed, keeping ahead of her just slightly. Their stomach had been twirled in a knot this whole morning, expecting some sort of confrontation about this very situation. "Now that's a lot to unpack that we don't really have time for-"

"Uh, we're literally going super slow for this very reason," she pointed out.

"Okay-" Kaipo huffed, stopping in place. Pacifica stopped next to them and scrunched her brows. "Let's just walk. And maybe reapproach exactly what you're trying to ask."

"Oh, okay." Pacifica led the way now, thinking to herself. What first? "Okay then. Why're you so distant. Start there."

"I don't think I'm being distant-" Kaipo looked up at a bird flying away. Huh, super cloudy. "I've kinda just been... chill. Calm. I don't always have to be super sunshiny all the time."

Pacifica stared at them. "Yeah well duh, but I mean you've started to get like this since even before we found out we were being put in this... group home."

Kaipo tried to think back to what she was mentioning: the announcement of the 'group house'. It had gotten harder on Kaipo's aunt and uncle to care for them when their restaurant was booming in business. Kaipo wanted nothing more but to continue helping them out, but when this rich old couple came by with the offer of a lifetime, Kaipo saw it as a sign to start living for themself and not burden their aunt and uncle much more.

Apparently, they were going around and doing a community service for helping teens and kids alike become independent, no matter what their homing situation was like. In Kaipo's mind, they were on the good home end of the spectrum of kids, and saw that this was a really generous way to help out others, so why not join? Yet deep down they felt like maybe the couple got the wrong impression about how Kaipo was living. Sure, the house being used was grand and lavish and had Kaipo's dream kitchen, and their son Edgar was pretty cool, but they couldn't help but feel like the couple was looking down on them as though they were a poor poverished puppy. And that was no way to start off growing their independence, or their confidence in that matter.

And they acted this way to all the other kids as well: Pacifica- which they found out was already living there shortly after- Orabella and her brother Everard, Dante, Verity was a surprising one, and the new kids they haven't gotten to quite meet yet. It left a very bad taste in Kaipo's mind, but yet again, it was still such a good service. How could they speak against it?

"Kaipo?" Pacifica waved her hand. "You see, this is exactly what I mean!"

Kaipo blinked a few times then looked over at her. "Oh right. Sorry. But no, being spacey is different from being distant."

"Fucking-" she stomped forward, already wanting to give up on this conversation.

But Kaipo kept pace, upset. "What- hey! You can't get mad because I'm right you know! You said you were going to try to listen to me more before, remember?"

"Whatever. You're like totally avoiding my question, but whatever," she grumbled, shaking it off. Yes, of course she remembered the promise she made to her best friend. "Okay, fine. Next question then. Why don't you hang out with me as much anymore? You're my fucking best friend; I thought I was gonna have you through this whole new move and everything, but it seems like when you found out I was already living at the group house, you wanted nothing to do with me! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?"

Kaipo frowned, looking away. Okay... she had a point. It wasn't fair to her that they did completely detach themself from her when they moved in. "Well maybe i wanted to be my own person and not be pegged as Pacifica's friend," they thought. But it's not like they would say that out loud. She's already hurting clearly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"So why did you? Because, again, you've grown distant!" As she spoke, a few very obvious raindrops splashed down on them, and soon a shower began to cover them. Pacifica pulled up her hood.

Kaipo looked away again, and from her view, she realized they were going into another blank state and she was growing impatient. Her own best friend was keeping things from her, and she couldn't figure out why or what to do. Was it the move? Was it anxiety? Did something happen to Kaipo's family? She hardly felt like she knew them any more and no mater how many times she tried to do things with them while the others were around, they kinda began to ignore her. Kaipo was her fucking friend first! Seeing the new group of kids take a liking to Kaipo and not her was making her furious. And now here they were again, with Pacifica being ignored. She grunted, and started to jog away from them.

"Pacifica!" Kaipo snapped out of it, and rushed to keep up. But as soon as Kaipo tried to slow her down to talk, Pacifica pushed forward and gave them the cold shoulder. She was done- she was just done with being ignored. If Kaipo wouldn't speak to her, she thought to just give each other space again. But Kaipo wasn't letting up. "C'mon! How are you supposed to hear me out if you're gonna keep running away from me! How am I supposed to talk to you?"

"How am I supposed to talk to you Kaipo?!" She shouted back, then began running. It seemed that was all she had to say.

Kaipo felt their face heat up, and an invisible weight was slowly pushing down on their chest. Was this... what it felt to be angry, Kaipo wondered. Because yes, Pacifica was finally pissing them off. But God, it was such an ugly feeling. They didn't want to be mad at their best friend, but she wasn't listening to them! Trying to push through this conversation was hurting them! Their eyes started to water up, but it blended in with the rain streaking down their face so it didn't really matter. Kaipo used a burst of energy to catch up to Pacifica... but she was already so much ahead.

"Pacifica!!!" They called out to her. She ignored them. The ground began to get soft and Kaipo may have splashed into forming puddles, getting mud all over their legs. "Please! Just talk to me!!!"

She turned a corner, so they turned that corner. She ducked a branch, they ran around the tree. A person was passed up, Pacifica having bumped into them and Kaipo apologizing to them on her behalf, then the chase continued.

The whole time, Pacifica was holding that grudge, trying to run faster to get away each time she heard them call out for her. It hurt, but if they were just going to keep secrets, then splitting off was probably the better solution.

But Kaipo was getting desperate. They started looking for small shortcuts to keep up with her: cutting the grass, hopping a bench, slinging themself off of trees. "PACI-" They shouted again as she came into view, but suddenly Kaipo stepped incorrectly on some slippery rocks and came crashing down into the mud. They were instantly covered, and instantly in pain; their chin and knees were practically on fire. Kaipo cried out, gently touching their chin. It burned. It hurt so much. Everything hurt so much! And worst of all, they were alone. Their breathing quicken, and they sniffled, but eventually just let go and bawled their eyes out.

They were alone. They were wet. They were in pain, both physically and emotionally. What was wrong with them. "I'm sorry!" They sobbed to themself, "I'm so sorry-" as though to console themself.

A few people passed by, some scared to stop. Eventually, one woman did stop and ask what was wrong, if they needed help. Kaipo sniffled, trying to assure her they were fine. The woman helped them up and walked them over to a bench to rest, gently giving them kind words and reassurance. And it actually helped a little, Kaipo thanking them, until they saw a worried Pacifica making her way back, running towards them.

"Are you two together?" The woman asked as Pacifica approached.

She leaned on her knees, holding up a finger to the woman as she caught her breath. "Yeah... scram."

The woman scoffed, but did just that. Of course, only after waving good bye to Kaipo. They gave a small smile and waved back, but it disappeared when they looked back at Pacifica's worried expression. "..."

"What the hell Kaipo! I thought you were still behind me!" She spoke after a moment. "The fuck happened! Did you get lost?!"

... unbelievable. Did she not see their disheveled state? Kaipo pulled down their hood to reveal their very red chin. "What does it matter. You just kept running."

She gasped. Pacifica definitely didn't realize how fucked up they looked. She sat down and her hands hovered over their face, careful not to hurt them. "Fucking hell..." She whispered. "Kaipo I..." A sigh, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you fell. I would have stopped if I knew-"

"No you wouldn't have."

She froze. "What?"

There were the tears again, swelling up in Kaipo's face. She heard them sniffle as they wiped at their eyes. "You wouldn't have cared. You could have kept running. You would've stayed mad at me. I didn't..." they sniffled again, "I don't matter anyways. I would have held you back. I always do."

"Kaipo..." Hearing those words, it was like the image of her friend had completely shattered. She couldn't quite process what was dropped, but slowly and surely the picture became clear:

Her own best friend felt inadequate. "I... I care Kaipo," she said. "You don't. You don't hold me back. And I wasn't-" she was going to say mad, but in reality she was mad; upset because she didn't know what was wrong. "I wouldn't have stayed mad. You're my best friend; you always matter."

Kaipo began shaking their head, tears pouring. It was so hard to finally admit this. "No, I'm not anyone important. I stick to you like a codependent animal. Or like, how I'm a burden to my aunt and uncle. I can't do things for myself, so I always need someone. I'm hardly my own person, Pacifica. I'm nothing!" They sobbed.

Immediately, Pacifica pulled them into her arms and hugged them tight. "Stop," her voice wavered. "Stop. You matter. You matter Kaipo- I'm... I'm so fucking sorry." A fresh wave of sobs hit Kaipo and they cried into her shoulder. Pacifica tried hard to fight back her own tears.

How could she have been so oblivious. Why didn't she try harder. Or maybe, maybe she was doing it wrong? Her friend was hurting and here she was getting mad at them! What more was she supposed to do! "I'm so sorry..." She whispered into their shoulder. Their shoulders bounced lightly, and they spent the next few minutes like this, letting Kaipo cry until their breathing calmed and all the tears stopped pouring. The two were still soaked in the rain, but it didn't matter to them, nor did they notice when it finally stopped.

When Kaipo pulled back, they gently stroked their chin again and kept their eyes down, not sure of what to say.

Yet neither did Pacifica. They sat in silence for another moment until the sogginess became unbearable. Pacifica looked up over at the path of where the race was supposed to be- no runner in sight now- then looked back to Kaipo and said, "Do you wanna go back home?"

Kaipo didn't move. "...yeah," they whispered.

Without another word, Pacifica stood up and carefully helped Kaipo up, being support for them as the two walked back in the direction of the starting line. She called for Verity to ask if she could come get them, and they stayed in silence for the whole time. And Kaipo was just so tired; their eyes were tired. The two sat together in the back and they fell asleep on Pacifica, as she gently stroked them. "You aren't nothing..." she thought to herself. "You're everything."

#my writing #oc chat #pacifica vazquez #kaipo makana #this is the fandomless version of them #i'll tell you what meme #oc art

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amora-recs · 6 years ago

Text

god save our queen┊bae joohyun┊pt. 2

des: deep inside the Black Forest lies a secret. I fell for this secret. I died for this secret. (warning: lots of teenage angst)

word count: 4.0k

parts: i. iii.

An uneasy feeling took over all of my body in a matter of seconds, the trembling of my lips all too obvious to the girl in front of me. My fists clenched the mud underneath me, supporting myself on my knees. Ever since I knew how to walk, I've been told about how scary people can be, so I knew not to talk with any stranger that comes my way. So I didn't talk to her. I just looked at her for a very long and awkward amount of time. God, she was glowing with glee! Though her last words lingered in the very corner of my mind, creeping me out little by little. I was contradicting myself over and over again until my back felt cold... And wet. I turned around only to find myself face to face with a green rock. I couldn't help but mock myself as I became aware of just how scared I actually was. I winced as I saw the sadness clouding her features. Did I offend her? Now I was more terrified than ever. "I didn't mean to scare you, y'know..." she mumbled as her warm brown eyes fixated on me. Her pupils were huge, full of stardust probably. "It was only a joke –"

"A bad one." I was quick to reply, the corners of those same starry eyes all crinkled in a grin. Even I, a still hyperactive enough kid, felt uncomfortable with the pace her mood tended to change.

"So you can talk,"

"Of course I can," I whispered all of a sudden. "But I don't think I'm supposed to talk with you." I continued as if papa could hear me from miles away. For a moment, she looked puzzled, grasping and processing everything I just said. "How old are you?"

"How old are you?"

"Definitely older than you,"

I couldn't help but scoff at her reply. "It sure doesn't seem like it." was soon followed.

As her sugary chuckle echoed around the rocks, gravel fell on my thigh, just a few inches away from my face. Her laughing stopped and her face went blank. Maybe the new paleness gave her such a stare. A muscle on her jaw twitched as she got up, holding a hand out, supposedly for me to hold onto. Although a little hesitant, I grabbed it, walking away from the rocks while dusting myself off. I had enough dirt and grass on already. Even though her mood swings were indeed odd, the sudden new look worried my little heart all too much. I wanted to ask her what's wrong, I really did, but the tight, sweaty and overall stressful hold of her hand made me chew on my lower lip instead, watching silently as her breathing became hectic. In a few minutes, after several deep breaths, whatever bothered her soon was a distant memory as her cheeks flushed, letting go of my hand. It felt a little too cold all of a sudden. "Sorry about that..." she cleared her throat. "I think it's time for you to go home." it was my turn to blush.

"Where is home exactly...?" it seemed like I waited for an eternity to hear her laugh again. "I'll show you the way – If you can trust me that is."

"Tell me your name first."

"Irene." a pretty name for a pretty girl.

I had no choice but to follow Irene around the forest. After all, I didn't plan my grand adventure all too well. Nonetheless, I didn't regret it. I don't know if it was because of her, or because the sun was setting, but everything seemed so much... More. I don't know if it was because of the bits of star carried in her veins, or because of the lunar mist surrounding us, but everything seemed so much more magical. For many nights I looked outside the round window of my room wondering what was out there. Now that I finally saw it, I loved it. I laughed, danced, got lost a few times, but I still loved it. I hope Irene loved it too. The first summer I spend with her was really precious. For one night, I forgot the tragedy also known as my life. I forgot about my dad, my mother, everything, "Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?" for a moment, I died. Was she talking to me – no she already did. Was she complimenting me? As if she could read my mind, Irene laughed, pointing earthwards, at the bunny in front of her. Even though she didn't compliment me, I cherished those moments, deep in my heart, wondering if I could stay by her side in the soon to come winter.

"I think this is it," Irene spoke, touching my shoulder gently, pausing my daydreaming just like that. I took one, two steps in front of her, confirming myself that this is it. I was home. I hated it. I hated coming back from my dreamland. I hated coming back to see Patricia's face, keeping my dad preoccupied, and all to herself. I sighed, studying the not so little cabin with distaste. Looks like today is finally over.

"Hey, Irene –" there was no Irene. When did she leave? How come I didn't hear her? I was too tired to think. Drowsiness invaded my mind and body, making me drag myself inside, ready for a well-deserved bath.

Lethargic. That's a new word. I wasn't sure why or what caused it, but I became lethargic. Maybe the daily forest walks caused it. Maybe my never-ending fantasizing caused it, waiting again for a next time. The next time I'd meet Irene. The next time I'd look around and smile. The next time I'd awe and flush. The next time I'd encounter magic and sparkles! Those God damned sparkles. I missed them. I missed them so much. I waited all over again for that next time... But just like before, it never came. I became tired of waiting. I hated waiting.

In the end, I waited so much I had to leave. But I didn't want to leave! I wanted to stay. Although I hated it, I wanted to wait. I didn't want to leave and forget all those things. I made sure not to. As autumn came by, I never forgot. As winter came by, I never forgot. Even in spring, I still remembered that day. I remembered it so well I came back every summer, searching for that moment, searching for Irene. I searched for her four summers. And with the end of every summer, came a new feeling. Sadness. Disappointment. Anxiety. Depression. It all hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was sixteen when saw her again, back in the Black Forest, right beside the small waterfall at the end of the glade. It was around mid July. It was pretty hot outside. Yet she was as beautiful as I remembered her to be. A real-life fairy tale princess. I took everything in: the visuals, the sounds, the smells. Nothing changed. It was as if the forest itself waited for Irene. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. After all, I did the same thing. Just like last time, I unintentionally stepped on a twig, drawing her attention with ease. I held my breath. Will she recognise me? I’ve grown a little bit since I was twelve after all. While fidgeting timidly with my fingers, I felt the need to look down. She was watching me so attentively I almost fainted. Almost, “Oh, it’s you!” she finally said, placing beside her what looked like a flower crown. This time, she wasn’t wearing a cloak, her white dress in full display as she tried her best to not trip over herself. Her hair was also different. Now it was neatly braided on the side, showing more of her rosy cheeks and radiant smile. My face already hurt from all the grinning, but it was worth it as long as she smiled along.

“Hi there,” I managed to mumble out, waving weakly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I sounded so lousy in front of her, only one thought went through my mind. ‘Heck, heck, heck, heck, heck’. I blinked and she was in front of me, far enough to not feel uncomfortable, but close enough to sense the daisy perfume lingering in between us.

“It sure has been – ugh…”

“Heck.”

My hand went over my mouth, feeling my ears burning hotter as soon as I heard Irene’s laugh. 'Is it going to become a tradition to embarrass myself in front of her?' Not that I minded. "That's quite the unique name you have," she winked, making my heart beat just a tad faster. Everything from the atmosphere to the lack of sounds felt nice. It felt pretty. I missed pretty.

"I know, right? Most people prefer to call me ___, unfortunately."

"Heck suits you so much better though..." Irene insisted with her arms crossed, a pout taking over her features. Even her pout was lovely. Never in my life, I have ever seen someone so beautiful. I felt so overwhelmed, yet so happy. It was an odd sensation I couldn’t get tired of. For just a few moments, things were silent. That I didn’t like. I felt pressured by her presence. Like I needed to say something all the time. “Flower crowns, huh?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “Is that why you hang out around here?”

Her face dropped. It was obvious I touched a nerve, “…Yeah, sure.” she replied as she walked away from me, back to the flower crown, proceeding to sit down. All I did was follow. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“Recreation! I really like,” I looked down. “Daisies!”

“Judging from our previous encounter, I can clearly tell that.” oh God, that last time. Her smirk didn’t help my situation as I felt my ears burning. After a nervous laugh and clearing my throat, everything was silent again. She wasn’t much of a talker, huh? I wouldn’t call her boring – I knew the personality was there – maybe I was the one boring. Wouldn’t surprise me, I would be annoyed too if a kid suddenly decided to get all friendly with me. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t going to give up. “Where are you from?” her shoulders seemed oddly relaxed. Was she not bothered by that question.

“South Korea,” she responded oddly fast.

“That’s cool! So, are you here on a holiday or –”

“More like a school trip. With less school and more friends.” soon our conversation became an interrogation. I would ask the questions, she would answer. I couldn’t tell whether or not she was lying, her empty expression failed to give anything away. I soon found out she was nineteen years old, herbalism major and that she had two cats: Buttercup and Poppy. It was around late afternoon when I lost count of the questions. I knew so many things about her, some random some more important, yet all she did was play with those flowers. I wasn’t too sure she was enjoying herself. And it broke my heart. No one could keep their cool for that long. Irene was no exception as her eyes narrowed and knuckles whitened at her firm grasp of the delicate flowers.

“Ok, one last question,” I sighed, twirling a daisy in between my fingers. I felt bad for those little guys. “You said you’re on a trip with some friends, right?”

“Yes.” she exhaled, her nostrils flaring.

“Why would they leave you here, then?” I studied her as her brows knitted. “They don’t sound all that nice if I’m being honest. Isn’t it lonely staying around here –” I stopped myself. Way to go me! Insulting your crush's friends right in front of her! Too preoccupied with my mental breakdown, I failed to notice Irene talking.

“… Dead.” that’s the only word I was able to hear through her whispering, though I didn’t fail to notice the crack in her sudden petite voice. She seemed to pick that up, so with glossy eyes and scarlet cheeks, she repeated herself. “I am dead. They left me here because I am dead.”

I laughed. That was it. All I did was laugh. I knew – I was one hundred percent sure – there was no way she was serious. As soon as I looked at her, I couldn’t help but bite my tongue. She was crying. Her pretty brown eyes were flooded with tears, and she was uncontrollably sniffling. My chest hurt all of a sudden. “H-hey… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” I was devastated. I wanted to slap myself. I felt like I had to. Why was she crying? Did I say something wrong? Did I insult her? I panicked. Without thinking, I put my arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. I could feel warm tears staining my clothes, but I didn’t care. In return, I stained her shoulder as well. We stayed like that for an eternity. Just hugging each other, crying. I didn’t even feel her hugging me anymore, it became part of me. “Please forgive me,” I mouthed in a hoarse voice. “Whatever I said that upset you, please forgive me…” with red eyes, I looked up. The sun was setting, orange puffy clouds taking over the sky. Irene wasn’t saying anything. It worried me beyond relief. Only after a few more sobs, she ended our hug.

“It’s not your fault.” she laughed at herself, wiping a few tears away from her face gently. “I don’t know what got into me all of a sudden. I should be the one apologizing.” I must have done something oddly horrible in my previous life to deserve seeing this.

“Don’t say that. I shouldn’t have laughed at you.” a sudden thought crossed my mind. Was she serious about the whole dead thing? Was she a –

“I would have laughed too if someone came up and told me they’re a ghost.”

“If you really are a ghost,” I stood up, still sceptical. Irene didn’t sound like such a nice person all of a sudden. “How come I can touch you? And do I need some sort of board game to talk with you now?”

“Look, horror movies and whatever ghost documentaries are out there on the internet aren’t exactly right,” she groaned, standing up as well. I just saw how dirty her dress became. “Just because I’m dead that doesn’t mean I don’t have a body… I think.”

“You think?”

“I died four years ago! Not even ghosts understand how these things work! All I know is waking up here, in this dress…” I didn’t know whether or not I should take her seriously. I thought this was all a joke. I thought my feelings for her were a joke.

“How did you die?” shortly after my question, Irene disappeared. As in she wasn’t there anymore.

What was there, though, was a sudden cold chill. It went all the way down my spine. I felt sickening. I felt scared. My heart was thumping and my gut was telling me to run. So that’s what I did. I ran and I couldn’t stop. Everything around me was a green blur as I ran so much my feet hurt. It didn’t matter which direction I went, I just ran. If it weren’t for the rock I tripped over, I would have much longer. I could feel my muscles pulsating, exhausted and soon to be sore. Once again, I was laying on the ground. I didn’t want to get up, I was too tired. I was so tired I could have fallen asleep right there. A sudden neigh was what made me rose up panting. I looked up only to see a… Horse? It was more like a draft. He, apparently, wasn’t very big, one or two inches shorter than me, with a chestnut coat and flaxen mane. Nonetheless, his stare made me feel uncomfortable. What was he doing here? I didn’t have enough time to continue my never-ending monologue as he soon reared, standing up on his hind legs. I felt my left shoulder pop as I tried to avoid getting squashed. The sound his hooves made as they hit the ground made my stomach turn. That could have been me. The sensation I felt earlier in the glade returned. They say most animals are more scared of you than you are of them. But this one – He sure wasn’t scared of me or anything surrounding the meadow as he went for it one more time. I was petrified, eyes closed, curled up in a ball, waiting for him to crush me. All of a sudden, the neighing stopped. I stood up in a sitting position, opening one of my eyes. He was still there, that’s for sure, but to his left, petting his tame softly was Irene, studying and observing me with a hollow stare. I could finally breathe.

“Thank you,” I said absentmindedly, feeling my eyes tearing up for the second time that day. A frown took over my features as I looked at Irene, searching for any sort of reaction. She smiled as I cried.

I couldn’t stand it. This house was so dull. I was unable to stop my mind from lingering, thinking, even speculating, about my meeting with Irene and her little secret. I was unable to stop my heart from throbbing. I almost died. I was saved by a ghost of all people. What a sappy story I would never tell anyone. Who would have thought those damned YouTubers were right? Were there any other ghosts around? If so, where were they? Why was I able to see Irene only? There were so many questions that needed answers. It all felt too unbelievable, too unreal. Could this possibly happen to someone so miserable like me? What kind of messed up story is this? As I held tighter onto the flower crown Irene made me, I looked outside. I was back at square one. I was back at looking through the window, musing. I was still musing on my way downstairs, ignoring the side eye Patricia gave me. It became part of my daily routine. Before I knew, I was already seated, laughing along whatever bad joke my dad made. For once, it felt good to be so mundane. Unfortunately, my moment of bliss wasn’t long-lived, as I sensed a retort was about to come from the other side of the table. “So where have you been all day?” Patricia asked, twirling around her glass. I didn’t like her tone. Most of the time, she wasn’t too concerned about my being. I would be surprised if she even knew my name. So why was she so interested in me all of a sudden?

“Where else could I have possibly been? I was outside.” I squinted at her. “I went for a walk, exploring.”

“Really now?” her smile wasn’t a good sign. She brushed few of her blonde bangs away from her eyes. “Looks like your exploring went pretty well,” she looked at the bruise on my exposed shoulder while taking a sip of wine, making me immediately pull the collar of my loose t-shirt up. How could I possibly forget about that?! I wasn’t going to let Patricia of all people have the last word.

“If you’re insinuating what I think you are – Shocking. I am truly stunned by the display of idiocy. If you know what that word even means.” and that was the beginning of what one would call an utter disaster.

So, there I was, passive-aggressively washing the dishes, muttering every curse word I could think off. Poor dishes, they didn’t deserve that kind of abuse. “She loves you, y’know?” my father’s sudden entrance scared me, making me drop a glass in the sink. I didn’t say anything, I just waited for him to continue defending her. Just like he always did. “In her own peculiar way, she loves you.” I turned around, an exasperated sigh leaving my lips.

“It’s been four years, dad,” I grumbled, sitting down beside him at the dinner table, holding his arm gently. “Four years and all she has done was yell and make assumptions about me.” I could feel my voice cracking. I had enough of her insanity and obnoxious personality. The way she teased – even tried to make fun of me in front of him was the last drop. It may have come out of nowhere, but after what I went through that day. “I am tired…” I was able to tell my dad was mad. The way a vein popped out in his neck, the way he clenched his fists. It was too obvious. It was obvious he loved her more than me.

“Sweetie –”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, dad. That’s all you’ve been doing these past years!” I stood up, feeling my cheeks get wet. I wasn’t going to cry in front of him. “I know you love her, I really do, but just because you love her that doesn’t mean I do too.”

I didn’t stand around too much after that. I grabbed a hoodie and went outside. Just because I was depressed that didn’t necessarily mean I also wanted hypothermia. It was pretty chilly outside after all. Soon after, I was sitting on the bench of our little wooden gazebo, just outside the forest, crying my eyes out for what seemed like hours for the third time that day. I knew, as soon as I touched my under eyes, I looked like a mess. Ignoring the fact that I almost died, I just had to go out of my way and ruin the whole day. I felt disgustingly miserable. The whole point of this trip was to stop feeling this way, yet there I was, bawling my eyes out.

“God, you are such a cry baby.” a flush crept up my face as I became aware of Irene’s presence. “You’re way too loud. Just for how long exactly do you plan on crying?” she whined, blowing away the few strands that landed on her face.

I winced. “Sorry my suffering is bothering you so much…” I whispered as I continued to sniffle. Irene was the last person I wanted to get mad. Who knew what kind of other freaky powers she had?

“You are either way too naive either trolling me,” I could already see her adorable smile, even without lifting my head. “And guessing from the way your face lit up, I can assume it’s the latter.” she continued, pinching one of my cheeks. My smile soon faded as I grabbed her hand and placed it in her lap as soon as she sat beside me. I took my time while observing her. Her white dress was still dirty with grass, mud and flower petals. Instead of ruining the dress, it added to it. It was as if the dress was made for that exact reason, while her hair wasn’t any better as it was a complete mess. A beautiful mess. Irene’s blush took both of us by surprise. Her coffee-coloured eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever as the fairy lights surrounding us turned on, illuminating the dewy honeysuckles and jasmine attached to them. Everything about that moment was too ethereal in my mind. From the sparkly little stars shining up in the sky to that damned gazebo, it all felt perfect. It was so serene, so beautiful. It was the moment I waited so long for. In which I could forget about all of my worries. In which I felt happy.

“Do you ever just…” I sighed as a hand went through my hair. “Do you ever just cry because life sucks and everything is falling apart, but you know things are going to be fine eventually, but right now it’s horrible and you don’t want to –”

“Slow down.” her voice was soft. When I said soft, I meant soft. It rang in my ears so flawlessly I stopped talking immediately just so I could enjoy it more. It was so silent I could hear my heartbeat. It was slow and calm. Just like our moment. “What happened?” she asked and I answered. I told her everything. From my parents’ divorce to my recent fight with Patricia. All she did was listen.

#red velvet #bae joohyun #irene #kpopworksnet #thekpopnetwork #female reader #ghost #forest

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lord-dusk · 6 years ago

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Jurassic Emblem-Chapter 10

Scales are quite tricky to draw. Anyhow, there’s the second boss of the game!

Nifl was a cold, desolate land of snow,bones,ice,and blood. Frozen blood. It wasn’t quite the Kirby-esque happy place you’d thought it would be, after the Nifl-Muspell incident where Askran forces killed off warped versions of video-game protagonists and The elder Nifl princess Guunthra being roasted alive like some yummy Barbie-Cute pork. And the situation got particularly better when the sun-dragon Helios was frozen solid, condemning the whole area into everlasting night.

At least the stars and moon looked very charming and exquisite, white stellar bodies illuminating the aqua-blue sky.

Blue and Lucina were marching through the snow, huddling each other for thermal radiation. Blue, having grown up on a tropical island for much of her life, had borrowed Lucina’s scarf and cape for extra warmth(don’t get into that frappucino debate on feathers please). Lucina, having grown up in a desert country with enough rainfall to sustain a 15m-tall scythe-wielding flesh golem, found it rather uncomfortable trekking through the snow. Ryukami the mosasaurus had stayed behind at the ice-floes to catch up on some Nisioisin novels.

The raptors were marching onwards to the north of Nifl, sometimes passing by some shrubs and frost-covered rocks. Just when Lucina thought things were getting rather monotonous, she saw something rustle out of the bushes. Blue took notice as well and saw what appeared to be a penguin-like bird with white spots on its face waddling in a panicked manner before a fox-squirrel thing pounced on it and tore apart its head from its socket, crimson blood and pieces of esophagus and vocal cord spilling out unto the snow and dying it red. Blue and Lucina were eyeing the fox-squirrel as it dug heavy mitten-like foreclaws into the bird’s torso and stringy pink intestines splooged out. Lucina decided to look away and went on her way. Blue paid no attention to the carnage after that as well.

“That was a Repenomamus devouring a Great Auk,” Blue explained. “The world where I from, InGen didn’t simply revived dinosaurs, they brought back Paleozoic and Cenozoic fauna as well. Although if I were you, I wouldn’t dare pet a reppy.”

“Why? Are they dangerous?” Lucina asked. Blue can easily tell right off the bat that humans like Lucina had a profound desire to prod and hold small,furry mammals.

“Oh yes. Reppies are one mammal you do NOT want to pet; despite looking like a Pomeranian with mole-claws, they WILL try to eviscerate you; for a mammal from the Mesozoic they are quite big enough to eat small dinosaurs.”

“Hmm? I assumed mammals evolved after the demise of the giant lizards.”

“Actually, they co-existed with the dinosaurs, though they were bit characters in a world dominated by reptiles bursting with presence and charisma. Repenomamus was the biggest furry during its time, but most of its kin were barely any bigger than an Amiibo figure.”

“And that penguin-looking bird?”

“Uh-huh. That great auk was NOT a penguin-it’s actually more closely related to puffins than to the famous diving birds south of the Equator. Although, it was the the only auk that converted its flight power to swimming power completely, and those damn humans wiped its existence off the face of the Earth.”

“You know quite a lot about animals before the dawn of man, don’t you?” Lucina commented.

“I’m a creature from before man myself, though I wouldn’t be too surprised if InGen resurrected species routed by humanity, like the dodo and the gastric mouth-brooding frog.” Blue replied.

“Come to think of it, isn’t it harder to clone a mammal than say, a reptile or a fish?”

“Yes, Henry Wu of InGen has cloned mammals occasionally, but found it quite tedious because mammalian red cells do not have nuclei, where the DNA are located. You would need to find white cells, which are much less common than their red counterparts in a ratio of 2 to 12.”

“Reptiles and birds, on the other hand, have nuclei within their red blood cells, and Henry Wu is a genius when it comes to manipulating DNA.” Blue explained, frowning.

“Who is this Henry Wu that you speak of ?”

“Why, as a human being, Dr.Henry Wu is a tacky SOB who creates red-eyed, mangled-toothed fatherfuckers and is considered a most dangerous man with the most dangerous technology in the sad history of humanity. He attempted to use my blood to create a line of Indoraptors to sell off for military purposes.”

Seems Wu sounds a LOT like that sperm-slurper Validar, Lucina grimly thought.

The two of them chatted like this for the entirely of their walk until they reached Nifl Castle.

*********

Blue and Lucina had arrived at the castle of Nifl, but they were no guards to greet them. Well they were guards present-but they were frozen solid, and clusters of repenomamuses were busily gnawing away at the frozen body cavities.

I guess a species changes its behavior accordingly to the environment, Blue though as she and her partner pushed the gates open. They went inside the interior and up the stairs.

“Something tells me the weather outside isn’t the reason those soldiers were icicles,” Lucina said, walking behind Blue.”Would it be a bad idea to go into the kitchen wing and grab some potions for the upcoming boss fight?”

The charcoal velociraptor sniffed the solid,icy air. It stinged her nose. “I don’t see why not,” she answered. “though if you see some ANY creature, reppy or not, attacking you, don’t hesitate to knock their heads off.”

Blue waited at the second floor while Lucina brisky walked to the the kitchen downstairs. A few minutes later, she was back.

“Are you ready for certain? During the boss-fight there will be no pee-pee breaks, and no daddy in white shining armor with a shotgun and a motorbike crashing through the windows to save either of us. Understood?” Blue interviewed.

“No need for any of that,” Lucina replied. “Let’s get this over with. I feel as though my body is becoming a gelato cone.”

“Good. If my nose knows, she is just around the corner. Follow me.” the raptors headed to the corridor on the right and came across a door that read “Hrid’s Room: Out for Lunch”. They entered.

“Ugh. That was the fifth time someone has stepped in without my consent,” an icy voice hissed. “Do any of you thin-telligent organisms register the concept of knocking?”

A woman was lounging on an oblong bed spotted with various books. But not a regular woman. Her lower half was that of a boa’s, turquoise-green with purple stripes, and covered with icicles.Her hair-piece were icicles as well, and her Victorian-style corset colored electric blue and black made the entire “cool” effect perfect,considering her expressions suggested otherwise.

“What do you bipeds want?” The snake woman demanded. “Did you interrupt my inspirational reading just so you can become like those popsicles outside?”

“We just want to talk,” Lucina answered.

The snake snorted. “Don’t be honest with me, be honest with you. What you really came here for is my bloody limp body that you can use to nail onto this country’s gates like a crooked Christmas decoration. Is that it, O Exalted Princess?

“Why did you freeze the sun-god? Do you recognize the biblical effects the entire world will face?” Blue questioned, her face contorting in defense for her friend.

“Let me tell you this,” the Victorian boa began. “I am the future best-selling novelist Basilice, and I sincerely have no desire to kill you. But my mistress Sha’Rad Yuwi denied my request and forced to to sacrifice my writing skills for combative means. My writing may be on hold, but my mind is certainly not. Exalted Princess, have you ever actually considered the misery of your foes that killed them because you desired to make “everyone happy”?”

“.....You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs,” Lucina replied.

“ ‘I want everyone to be happy,’ ‘let’s end all suffering in the world,’ those are lines that make me want to vomit out the Niflites I ate yesterday. Those are the shallow,one-dimensional philosophies of idiotic eukaryotes who do not face reality.” Basilice sputtered out. “The light is full of lies, lies! People willingly bask in the glory of light so they never again have to experience the truth of the darkness below! Light is harmful, harmful! And not just the fact that overdosing on UV light promotes cancer on light skin. Do any of you bipeds know anything at all about plants other than the vascular system in high-school?”

“When plants grow, they break down soil to suit their roots for sufficient nutrient intake,” Blue raised her hand in reply.

“Precisely! Around 400 million years ago, during the Devonian period, mosses and ferns were starting to grow onto rocks near the coastlines, and inevitably, these early pioneers of the new world crumbled the rock into fine soil which washed out into the sea over thousand of years, and do you know what happened? Vertebrates started choking! Fishes here and there had no idea how to cope with this influx of mud particles from the land, their gills clogged with minerals. This, combined with volcanic eruptions, consumed all the available oxygen in the water and there were massive, massive, casualties everywhere! Because fishes and run-off from terrestrial photosynthesis do not go well together! This catastrophe makes your petty carnage across Jurassic Park and Fire Emblem look like a squabble between toddlers in comparison. And you little humans use the opportunity to view more serious issues as a excuse to lounge in your chairs eating chicken nuggets.”

“So I killed him! I killed that sick son of a bitch Helios because he’s a major liar, and I’m going to teach everyone that people deserve bad endings, everyone!” Basilice took out her Dragonstone. “And if you girls are truly good character down to the nRNA sequence, you might be spared and see everyone in the world smothered in the darkness that is free of any lies! No more pain, no more sadness!”

Blue and Lucina prepared their weapons. “Let’s fight!”

#jurassic emblem #fire emblem heroes #jurassic world #blucina #blue(jurassic world)#lucina #basilice #fire emblem #fanfiction #nifl #and you thought plants were the good guys during AP biology in high school

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unholyhelbig · 6 years ago

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Prompt; when Emily doesn’t know what she’s being for Halloween yet and Aubrey doesn’t have a partner for what’s considered a “couples costume” (u can choose what costume)

SEND ME CUTE HALLOWEEN PROMPTS HERE

The second her bedroom door slammed shut behind her, Aubrey Posen reached for an embroidered pillow and let out a muffled scream into the fabric. A stupid little saying had been written into it’s muted brown color. Something about bears- she had never paid much mind to the decretive piece, and she wasn’t going to start tonight. It was nothing but a silencer.

A stark white wedding dress laid easily among a meticulously made bed. The plaid design of it all was lined up perfectly with the dresser. The room still mostly dark; a propped open window let in cool October air as moonlight washed over a vacuumed floor. The dress had been through a wringer, stained in mud and deviled by long scrapes of Spanish moss that fell from the very trees past their front door.

Things hadn’t gone Aubrey’s way tonight. She had stayed late on a lecture to give her physic’s teacher a piece of her mind, nearly missed the bus back to her lowly apartment. She had just caught it, but not before large tires sloshed murky ice water into her clothes. And now this? Her coworker deciding, he wanted to suck face with the cashier at a ready-mart instead of attending a Halloween party with her.

At least he had been polite about the decline in plans, having left the perfectly trimmed suit in front of her door with a little post-it note that was scrawled with the word sorry. Yeah, Aubrey was close to punching his stupid face. She was dateless and fuming and he probably got a discount on slim Jim’s and artificially flavored nachos.

The knock at the door didn’t help much either. It was soft and timid- and god, why hadn’t Chloe pulled herself from the clutches of her room and answered it already?

Aubrey threw the pillow aside, nervily avoiding a lamp that had a flickering bulb in the first place. Her whole body ached, and her lips tasted like mud. Her clothes had just begun to dry but she swallowed back the chills that plagued her. The apartment was quiet. Maybe Chloe wasn’t even home, having gone to the Halloween party herself dawning a pair of flawless feathered wings and cherry red lip stain.

She pulled open the door. A near stranger blinking dangerously at her. Aubrey quirked a brow at her upstairs neighbor, a small woman that looked too young to even be renting an apartment on this side of the city. The artificial lights hung by maintenance shaded her face, and more importantly the innocent beauty about it.

“Oh… Hi,” She blinked like she wasn’t expecting an answer. She raked pools of honey over Aubrey’s stained appearance. The obvious chill that rocked through her was from the cold, she told herself. She looked and smelled like a wet rat.

“I just- well, I found this suit in front of your door, and it looks like a nice suit. But not that I say it, I’m sure you know it’s here. It looks like it’s about to rain, but I’m not Al Roker, so I’m probably wrong and” The stranger clenched her eyes shut, taking a steadying breath “I thought’ I’d let you know.”

Aubrey parted her lips and breathed out deeply, the door creaking as she moved it open a little bit more. This woman was rocking back and forth on her heels like a child awaiting approval. She held the clothing in her grasp, nervously running her thumb over the stinted fabric. She smiled, cheeks heating as Aubrey scanned the woman’s appearance. “How tall are you?”

“What?” It was a breathless mess of a word, the stranger letting tension fall from her shoulders. Relaxed, maybe.

“I mean, you must be 5’6 at least.”

“5’8 but I don’t see-“

“What are you doing tonight?”

Aubrey’s mind was in overdrive. This woman was certainly tall enough to fit the length and stature of the very suit that she was holding, her perfect eyebrow quirked as she clenched her jaw. She was dressed in oversized sweatpants that had Braden written across the side. An even larger sweatshirt pulled over her arms.

“Nothing, really.” Her cheeks heated “I bought a bunch of candy but not many kids come around here so I’ll just sulk and drown my sorrows in chocolate- and you didn’t need to know that.”

No, she didn’t’. But it was quite charming, the way this woman stumbled over her words when she tried to talk. She nervously tucked a strand of brown hair behind a slowly reddening ear. Again, rocking back and forth on her toes.

“How would you feel about being the Victor to my Corpse’s bride? My date kind of bailed last minute and a zombie bride is pretty lame when there’s no suiter by her side.”

“I mean,” Emily swallowed loudly, looking down at the suit “What do I have to lose?”

“That’s the spirit.”

Aubrey stepped further to the right, allowing the woman inside of her tiny little apartment that smelled overwhelmingly like pumpkin spice (courtesy of a bubbly roommate that had a monthly subscription to white barn.). She closed the door, leading the way to her bedroom like it was second nature to bring a stranger into its cool clutches. She followed nervously.

She gasped when she saw the torn wedding dress, it almost made Aubrey’s heart swell. She had worked hard to make it look just distressed enough to pass as dead. Had even invested in paint in a sickly blue and grey shade that would really complete the look that Tim Burton had originally sculpted.

“Whoa, this is so cool-“ She glanced at her, eyebrows knit.

“Aubrey,”

“Emily.”

“Well, thank you, Emily. Halloween is kind of my thing.”

She nodded, taking in a gulp of air as she set down as she glanced around the small room. It was homey, if not a bit chilly from the window that was left propped open. Aubrey could almost smell the incoming of rain that Emily had mentioned so feverishly in her opening statement. Aubrey smiled at the woman’s awkward nature before she grasped the wedding dress. “You can change in here if you’d like. I’ll take the bathroom.”

“Okay,” She agreed, scratching the back of her neck as a few stray edges of hair fell from the bun on top of her head, framing her face as she managed a nervous smile.

Aubrey bowed out, pulling the wedding dress that she had found at a thrift store on ninth over herself, wiggling into it with enough gusto to break a sweat. She had taken more than enough time to squeeze the beaded top closer to her grasp, trying not to let it slip as she knocked back on her bedroom door, the unreachable zipper cold against her skin.

She got a weak response, pushing the door open as she got a good look at Emily. Her neighbor upstairs had folded the sweatpants and jacket easily against the corner of the dresser. She had let her hair down, the suit fitting her as smugly as Aubrey hoped it would. A bit of silver peaked from a vest and a back puffed ascot lay untied against the white shirt.

Aubrey’s color drained and the base of her stomach heated unexpectedly. She steadied herself against the doorframe, struggling to keep her dress up as Emily adjusted the collar of the blazer. A lopsided grin graced her lips. “This look okay? I need some help with this tie, though, I don’t really know how to fasten one. I only went to one girl scouts meeting and, yeah, didn’t’ pay much attention.”

“You look perfect,” Aubrey beamed, “Could you um, zip me up?”

Emily stared for a moment, almost mesmerized herself before letting out a squawk and propelling herself across the room where she moved the zipper easily up her back, fingers cold, but not nearly as frigid as the ruined clothes Aubrey peeled from herself earlier. She turned Emily’s touch not entirely dropping as she reached up and grasped the black ascot.

“How come I don’t see you around much?” Aubrey’s asked, trying to ignore the fact that Emily shivered under her touch, breath hot on her cheek.

“Oh, I’m what they call in introvert.” Emily chuckled, chest rumbling at her own joke. “Like I said, my plans were pretty much drowning my sorrows in snickers and turning out my porch light.”

Aubrey laughed, looping the fabric around as she secured it. Emily really did look like Victor, pale composure and all, her touch lingering, but never enough to warrant discomfort. The two of them standing there in innate silence.

“You know, Aubrey, usually I ask a girl on a first date before getting her into a wedding dress.”

“Is that so?” She asked, masking a smirk.

“Oh yeah, I’m a real Casanova too.” She beamed “Next time I’ll even bring my dog, his name is scraps. Though, he is a little boney.”

#Aubrey Posen #Emily Junk #Junksen #Fanfiction #request

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