#grim dock au

[urisk-factor]

Kinda thinking of the grim dock and pixus knight dock aus again.. am I gonna write heartless again soon?

[boldstarks]

Giedi Prime (House Fenrir Dune AU)

word count: 1498 Words pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader warnings: none (yet) summary: you arrive on Giedi Prime for the Na-Baron's birthday celebration, but you have another task ahead of you.

Before you arrived on Giedi Prime, you didn't believe a place could be completely devoid of color, but as you stand on one of your father's heighliners looking over the planet, you have come to believe what they say. You peered at the black and white planet below from the bridge as the ship waited for its permission to land on the surface. House Fenrir was one of the many invited to the celebration for the Na-Baron's twentieth birthday and one-hundredth gladiator fight.

Even from outside the atmosphere, you can see the planet is heavily polluted from the fervent industrialization led by House Harkonnen over the centuries.

A nervousness settled in your stomach when you entered the planet's orbit, and your father's reservations about the match weren't easing the anxiety creeping through your bloodstream. Today was the day that you would begin to seduce the Baron's heir.

"We could always go back home," the archduke said. He has joined you at the window.

"It would not serve our house to make an enemy out of the Harkonnens," you reply in a monotone voice.

They were known for maintaining a cruel and tyrannical grip over their worlds. Violence and war were ingrained in their culture, and you had no doubt they would inflict that bloodshed on your people. If their treatment of the people of Arrakis was any indicator of how they treated those who displeased them, you knew they could do the same to Fenrir.

"Wise words," Lady Aurelia, your father's concubine, said.

Lady Aurelia was the closest thing you had to a mother after your own had died of a mysterious illness during your adolescence. You knew she did not see you the same way, though. Your father openly favored you and your older sister, Maron, over her two sons. To her, you were simply an obstacle in the way of her eldest son inheriting your father's title.

"They could reverse engineer our harvesters or simply kill us and take over production, and the emperor wouldn't bat an eye," you said, turning away from the grim image of the planet that you would soon call home if all went according to the Reverend Mother's plan.

"I hate the thought of leaving you in this place," Vulcan says.

Lady Aurelia sighs. "Y/N can take care of herself; I've seen to it."

"Lady Aurelia is right, father. I am more than capable of completing the task that the sisterhood has given me," you tell him.

Your reassurance only causes the worry lines around his mouth and forehead to deepen.

"Your Grace," a servant said.

The three figures at the window turn, and the servant curtsies quickly in respect.

"We have been given permission to land, Your Grace. We await your command," the servant says and curtsies again.

You watch her nervously scamper off. It seems that Vulcan wasn't the only one on edge today.

The landing was relatively uneventful, and the surface of Giedi Prime was just as bleak as you imagined. There were no natural plants in sight, and the air had a bitter taste to it that coated your tongue, throat, and sinuses. It made you miss Fenrir bitterly, with its vast oceans and thick forests that enveloped the less developed parts of the planet.

In the light of Giedi Prime's black sun, your ice blue dress looks silver. It's form-fitting to your body with a halter neck and leaves your arms bare. The look was completed with teardrop-shaped pearl earrings set in silver hardware.

A female servant is already waiting for you when the ship lands. She is pale and completely devoid of hair. She wears a dark-colored dress of a peculiar cut, and she keeps her eyes on the floor.

She curtsies deeply when you step off the ship with your father and Lady Aurelia into Harkonnen Palace's ship dock.

"I have been ordered by the Baron to show you to your quarters before the spectacle, Your Grace," the servant says in a small, timid voice.

Your father opens his mouth to reply, but the girl turns on her heel quickly and hurries toward another crowd of visitors being led by another woman in an identical dress. She waits to let the guests from a house you didn't recognize pass before continuing her beeline to the door.

You see Vulcan and Aurelia exchange a glance before all three of you follow after her.

The inside of the Harkonnen Palace is just as bleak as the outside. It is made up of identical black and white hallways; one could easily get lost in them. The servant girl expertly navigates these identical hallways without raising her eyes. She's obviously been here for quite a while. You wonder what horrible things she witnessed, or perhaps endured, in her employment here.

The woman is completely silent until she arrives at a nondescript slate gray door with a black panel installed on the wall next to it. "This is your room, Lady Y/N, and your parents are right beside you."

She motions toward an identical door to the left.

Lady Aurelia goes to her and your father's door and presses her hand to the panel. The panel glows, and the door slides open.

"What did it just do?" your father asks, puzzled.

"The doors to your quarters are programmed, so you need your handprint to get into them, Your Grace," the girl responds. "The Baron has found guests feel more secure when they are the only ones who have access to their living space."

Your father nods and presses his hand to the panel. Lady Aurelia walks into their room without another word.

"Just knock if you need anything, darling," Vulcan said, following her inside.

Their door slides shut behind them, leaving you alone with the servant.

"How did I find my way around?" you ask.

The girl makes eye contact with you for the first time.

"I strongly advise you not to walk around without someone to escort you, My Lady," the servant girl said firmly. "This is not a place where one wants to get lost."

This wasn't a request; it was a warning. The girl's eyes darted back toward the ground. You place your hand on your door's panel. It warms slightly when it scans your handprint. The door slides open, and you step inside. The servant girl won't meet your eye again before the door slides shut.

If you were anyone else, you would feel as though you had stepped into the belly of the beast. But you're not just anyone; you're Bene Gesserit. You're exactly where you're meant to be.

---------

You sit on an elevated platform that sits slightly lower than the one occupied by the Baron Harkonnen, the Reverend Mother, and your father, the Archduke, along with an unknown count and his wife. The crowds in the stands below are packed with Giedi Prime citizens. The black sun has once again washed the color out of everything. You were provided a pair of small field glasses to view all the fights through.

You're sitting with six other Bene Gesserit sisters that you have never met before. Despite knowing little about them, having some of your sisters here is a comfort.

In some twisted way, you looked forward to having your way with Feyd-Rautha. The Reverend Mother Helen described him as violent, calculating, and isolated. The Baron and his brother, whom they called the Beast, were neither fit to raise an emotionally intelligent, stable child. That only made your job simpler. It doesn't matter how physically strong Feyd-Rautha is; he's sexually and emotionally vulnerable. And you could mold him into whatever you see fit.

The opening fights are lackluster. It's obvious the opponents have been drugged to ensure the safety of the Harkonnen gladiators. You noted this with distaste and nearly rolled your eyes. The Harkonnens claimed to be the most dominant, well-trained fighters in the galaxy, but they couldn't be bothered to truly fight someone without resorting to petty vices and trickery. Nevertheless, the crowd roars with satisfaction whenever blood is spilled on the sand of the gladiator pit.

Now comes the main event: Feyd-Rautha's one-hundredth kill in the gladiator pit. Was this the measure of a Harkonnen man? Slaughtering drugged prisoners was supposed to be a show of power and strength while wearing a shield.

A horn blows, and the crowd begins to shriek and whoop once again. In the arena, a large set of doors slide open, and the Na-Baron emerges from the darkness beyond the doorway, a knife in each hand. He raises them toward the sun and circles the pit. The light of the black sun glints off the blades. He's hairless, like the other inhabitants of his planet. He's dressed in light black armor and practically preens for the crowd before kneeling. He bows his head in respect to his uncle and dedicates this win to the man.

The Baron is satisfied by this display, and the barbarism begins.

taglist: @ariesmai

[siriusleee]

LIKE BLOOD ON IRON

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, family dynamics, semi-forced marriage mention, implied age gap, future smut, future blood and gore.

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is a three part series that I intend to be pretty long - at least 20,000 words. If you want to be added to the tag list, make sure you comment below. This is a historical fantasy, however, it is not magical. spotify playlist part two

His sword carves a gorge in the dirt, dust swirling in the sunlight left behind him. The sun threatens to fall before he makes it to the center of the village, but it doesn't dare fall before he gets the chance to finish his day's work. 

You watch him from the window of your family's house, lucky enough to be close enough to the center that you can see him coming for ages. Your fingers dig into the windowsill; the wind - salty from the nearby bay- blows gently through, rattling the windows you threw open the moment your sister whispered that he was coming down the road. There are only moments before Mother will storm upstairs, chastising you for trying to watch what's going down below.

"It's not appropriate for a girl your age to see this," she'll say for the hundredth time, slamming the windows shut. The wavy glass will distort his features, and leave you nothing but a hint at his form, but even then Mother won't let you continue looking. She'll pull you downstairs into the kitchen with your two sisters and set you all to work. 

"Your father and uncle will be hungry when they get home; you all pitch in," she'll say, pantomiming joy when just outside a man will lose his head - your father and uncle observing from the crowd. Father will come home grim, and not speak over the dinner that you and your sisters cooked, and will go to bed silent.

In the morning when you go to the market for whatever Mother needs for the day, blood will have stained the stones paving the center of the village. And the executioner will be back in his small cottage situated far away from everyone in town, not to be seen until he was needed again.

But this time, Mother takes longer. You hear her speaking sharply to your youngest sister, about how she needs to be more aware of her surroundings and stop sloshing all that damned water all over the place. Today you get the chance to see him come closer.

He's large and cloaked - you know from the village boys whispering that he has a mask on to cover his face. 

"It's covered in ashes - smeared to look like a skull."

"It's to remind those on his chopping block that he is Death."

No one accompanies him on his journey to the dias that all the buildings spiral away from; every person that will be there is already waiting for him to arrive, breath held in their throats as they hear his approaching footsteps. You watch as each house he passes draws its shutters shut to him as if they could be next if they looked at him. The sea rages down past the docks, far enough away to be just a faint chorus as he approaches your house. 

The tilt of his shoulders enamors you - he's enormous, but walks with a grace you can only wish to have. You don't need to be near him to know that the only sounds are the swish of his cloak against the ground, and the sword drawing against the ground.

You startle when Mother grasps your shoulder, letting out a gasping noise, but you don't turn away from the window. As if he could hear you, the executioner's head snaps towards you. You see just a hint of the white ash smeared across his mask before you're pulled inside. Mother throws you into the room with enough strength to cause you to hit the wall behind you, rattling the porcelain that sits on a nearby shelf. She slams the window hard enough that the glass rattles before slamming the storm shutters and latching them.

"What are you doing?" Mother's voice is venomous as she rounds on you, eyes burning. "You are going to humiliate this family acting the way you do."

"I'm sorry Mother," you appease, pulling at the wrinkles in your skirt and avoiding her eyes. "I was just curious."

"Your job isn't to be curious."

"Yes, Mother."

"How would your suitors think about you hanging out the window to watch something so grim?" 

You close your eyes to hide the sudden anger behind them; your head stays down and you don't answer. Anything you say won't be good enough for her. It's the same every time there's an execution. 

"Come - let's prepare dinner."

You follow, slowly. Inside the kitchen it's warm, and smells of honey and meat. Your mother gestures to a lump of dough that needs kneading and you roll your sleeves up. Your sisters, still eager to get a nice word out of Mother, patter around, stirring and checking on the baking. You know you were given the dough because everything else in the kitchen fails you.

Mother had been attempting to get you some proficiency in the kitchen, giving it her damnedest, curses flying out of her whenever you burnt something. For the past two years, she tried to no avail.

"At least you're a smart girl," she'd say with a sign. "And you can do books - you'll just have to hire someone who can cook."

For three years, your father and mother had been trying to find someone for you to marry.

"Seventeen is when I met your mother, and I courted her for three years to finally get her yes. And you're her elder by three."

The story sickened you. 

You'd had some luck that not many wanted to court you - it wasn't unknown in the village that you argued with your mother and father. Everyone whispered behind your back about the time you tried to smuggle yourself on one of your father's cargo ships, bound for somewhere far away and exotic. They whispered about how you fought the sailor that found you tooth and nail, leaving him a scar down the side of his face as he dragged you to the deck. No one wanted a wife that wouldn't listen. 

But still, some had come knocking.

Nice young men who would wait the years it took you to be ready to marry if you would just say yes. Nice young men who winked at your younger sisters across the dining table, who pressed flowers into Mother's hands, who clapped Father on the back at the end of the night.

Nice, young, boring men who wanted a boring wife to oversee someone else doing the cooking. 

Nice young men who would want their wives on hands and knees cleaning during the day, tongue out at night.

Nice young men you detested. 

You'd rejected each one that came knocking - fits that included screaming loud enough that the neighbors could hear, and a few shattered glasses. Once Mother locked you in your room and threatened to send you to a nunnery if you didn't stop screeching. But your father had called on them, spinning a web that you'd been intrigued by them and to come back for dinner again in a few weeks. 

You'd been threatened with the nunnery and the whip if you misbehaved the next time they came back, so you sat there, unspeaking while the men spoke only to Mother and Father. 

You're broken out of your reverie by your youngest sister, Lily. She presses against your side, tugging your apron to pull you down so that she can whisper in your ear.

"Mother is going to check on you tonight."

You give just a curt nod, eyes trained on Mother and your oldest sister, Maggie. They have their backs turned to you and Lily. Lily who has always hidden your secrets and you have hidden hers. Lily who knows you sneak out at night, climbing carefully out of your window onto the trellis and down where the horse is stabled. Lily who knows you spend all night swimming in the dark ocean, imagining the merfolk and monsters that linger there. 

You press a quick kiss to her temple, a thank you for the heads up, as you begin shaping the dough into two loaves of bread. 

The front door opens and the sound of your father's boots on the wood breaks through the kitchen. Mother wipes her hands on her apron, flour falling onto the dark blue skirt below, and leaves to say hello. Maggie follows closely behind, leaving you and Lily behind to finish dinner. Lily does most of the work, directing you on what to do to keep everything from burning. 

When everything is finished, the two of you cart it to the dining table where Maggie straightens the plates to perfection. You hear the gentle hum of Mother and Father talking, no doubt about your antics in the window. There's an extra plate at the table.

"Who is this for?" You ask Maggie, skewing one of the spoons. 

"Edward. And don't mess everything up." She reaches across to straighten the spoon. 

Edward the apprentice tailor, her two-year suitor who no doubt will agree to marry before the end of the year. You feel relieved that tonight you will be ignored, you and Lily can eat at the end of the table in peace, whispering jokes to each other. 

You leave to wash up in your room, scrubbing at the black dirt that you collected from the windowsill. You wonder if the executioner has made it home; if he drags his sword behind him or does he sheath it. Does it drip blood as he retraces his path?

Lily waits for you at the top of the stairs, and you lace your fingers together as you make your way down the stairs and into the dining hall. You pull faces at each other across the table, and stifle giggles into your napkins - ignoring the dirty looks Maggie sends to the two of you down the table. 

Dinner is tortuously slow - when it's over and you're clearing off the table you can see Edward and Maggie in the hallway, pressed against each other in a way that would make Mother blush if she were to see it. You elbow Lily and point toward them, sticking your tongue out and pretending to puke. She laughs loud enough to catch Maggie's attention and the two of you scurry out of her line of sight. 

After getting ready for bed, you brush out Lily's hair, perched on the bed you share. Her hair shines midnight beneath the brush, long and thick. The most gorgeous in the family.

"Can you braid it in two tonight?" She asks, trying to turn and look at you, but you turn her head forcefully back to the front.

"If you stay still I can. Keep wiggling little mouse, and you're going to have crooked braids."

Her hair slips heavily between your fingers as you cross one strand over another. You're wrapping a tie around the bottom of the first braid when she speaks again, this time in a whisper.

"Do you think being married would be terrible?"

You concentrate on the tie, measuring out each word before saying it.

"Why do you ask, my little mouse?"

"It's just - Maggie seems so eager to marry, and you're the opposite. Mother and Father seem happy."

"Well, Maggie and I are different people. Maggie is wonderful at this house stuff, and she wants that life. I want to explore, to see more. I want to fall in love with someone that isn't a pick of Father - someone…" You trail off, unsure of what you're trying to say. "Anyway, marriage isn't terrible for everyone. And if your marriage was, I would come and rescue you myself. Even if it means killing your husband. I'd sweep you out of that house, and back with me."

Lily giggles at the suggestion.

"You would end up under the executioner's sword then."

Inside, something twists at the idea of lying down, looking up at the broad man staring down at you.

"He doesn't scare me," you tell her, finishing the second braid. "Nothing scares me."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

The two of you settle into bed, Lily tucking herself into your side. Just as she said, in the middle of the night, Mother comes in, candlelight casting long shadows across the room. You keep still, pretending to sleep until she disappears. It's too risky to leave tonight, so you let Lily's warmth and soft snoring lull you to sleep. 

***

The next night, you press your ear to your bedroom door. You can hear Father snoring faintly down the hall; the moon, directly overhead, tells you it's late enough to slip out. You press a kiss on Lily's forehead and slide your legs out of the window, skirts bunched up to keep from getting caught.

The trellis groans under your weight, but you're sure it won't break underneath you. You climb down, familiar with where to put your hands, where the spiders like to build their webs, and the weak spots - you drop the last few feet down to the ground. The horse nickers softly from her spot in the small stall she's in. The village is quiet, the only sound the whisper of the sea. 

You keep to the darkest spots, the shadows even the night fears as you sneak through town. It's too hot for a cloak, but you still keep yours over your head, just in case anyone other than the spiders and bats is awake to see you. The closer you get to the sand, the faster you walk, pausing just once for a drunken sailor to slip past you without noticing you are hidden just feet away from him.

The port is small - bringing in just one or two ships - nearly all of them laden down with wool your father sells. But this time of year there is only one ship, here to pick up sailors that were on leave. It bobs gently across the water in the small port, the flicker of a candle seen sporadically. From this distance, any soldiers on it look like dolls in the distance. The air is cooler rolling off of the ocean, and the salt in the air sticks to your skin. Your bare feet hit the sand and you race to a spot hidden in a cove that separates the village from the ocean - a hidden spot used by couples in the town when they wanted to get away. But at night it was always empty.

Your toes dip in the water, and the bottom of your cloak gets soaked each time a fresh wave breaks on the sand. The water in the distance is still, reflecting the moon and stars. You let your cloak slip off of your shoulders, beneath you'd laced a dress up loosely, enough that if you were caught, you could feign innocence. It comes undone and pools at your feet. Your skin erupts in gooseflesh when the ocean air rolls over it - your chemise not thick enough to block out the wind.

You wade to your hips- the water is warm and still. Beneath your feet the sand shifts, shells sharp against your skin. You turn, making sure that you're still hidden from anyone who may be walking to the port at night, and when you're sure no one is there looking at you, you dive.

Your eyes burn in the darkness, moonlight filtering down just enough so that you can see your hand in front of your face. You push farther out into the bay, not resurfacing until your lungs burn from lack of air. Breaking the surface, everything is blurry, you fall back so that you're floating on your back until your eyes readjust and the stars come back in sharp focus. You float there, watching the subtle shift.

And all at once you feel it: someone's eyes on you. You flounder until you can get your feet underneath you, eyes straining to see the shore - you're farther out than you thought you were, toes barely able to scrape the sand below. You can see your dress and cloak, still pooled on the shore, but there's no sign of anyone nearby. Slowly, worryingly, you push towards the shore, until it's back to your hips. Your eyes never leave the shore, looking for someone there.

That's when one of the shadows ripples forward. You freeze your heart stuttering in your chest as you watch someone walk towards you - you can't think of what to do. Even if you screamed, no one would be able to hear you. You realize for the first time how foolish the venture is.

When the moonlight fully covers the figure, they stop feet from your clothes. Your hands clamp across your chest, the thin white fabric covering you completely transparent now that it's wet. Neither of you moves, and you realize that if you don't, they probably never will.

Hands still clamped across your chest, you walk to the shore. With each step it becomes clear just how massive the person on shore is - it has to be a man, you've never seen a woman that tall, that broad. You're in ankle-deep water when you catch just a glimpse at them beneath the hood of their cloak: white ash, reflecting in the moonlight.

Your panic increases tenfold, but you think if you move too fast, he'll move faster. Snatch you up. So as if he were a dangerous animal, you reach down and grab your dress from the ground, leaving it over your arm as you pull your cloak around yourself. Your eyes never leave him. He waits until you're completely covered before he turns to look at you - just the barest hint of flesh around his eyes. 

"Don't you think it's dangerous to be out here alone?" His voice is gravel and honey, deeper than you'd expect. You wonder if it's that way because he doesn't get to speak often.

"It depends on who's out here," your voice wavers, but doesn't crack. He seems to like that answer, letting out a short 'hmm'. 

"There's plenty of monsters out here in the darkness." He speaks but still doesn't step toward you. You tighten your cloak around you, wishing for once to be back in bed with Lily. 

"The merfolk and the selkies are the only things I worry about." You take small steps backward as you speak, feet shuffling over the sand.

"I've seen worse lurking in the near forest," he says, suddenly stepping towards you. You trip over your own feet, but before you can crash into the sand, his hand is around your elbow, pulling you up roughly. You don't mean to, but you let out a small squeak at his touch and recoil away; he drops your arm as if it burns him.

"You should go home," he says, nodding his head back towards the village. "It's too late for you to be out."

"I think you and my father would agree on that matter."

You can't tell if it's a trick of the light, but you see the corner of his eye crinkle for just a moment. 

"I'll walk you back up, then you are on your own to get home safely."

He walks ahead of you as he talks as if he expects you just to follow without saying anything. And you do, terror and intrigue mixing inside of you. His scent wafts to you in the wind, woodsmoke, and metal, and something sweet- like rotted wood. It flashes through you, just a second long - to bury your face in his cloak and take a deep breath. Your curiosity is raging inside of you, mingling with the apprehension of being near him - the same man Mother refuses to let you even look at through the window.

You slip on the sand and rocks behind him, his boots leaving footprints that dwarf yours. It takes just moments, but the two of you emerge out of the hidden crag and onto the soft grass that overlooks the ocean. 

You're panting, your heart still beating erratically in fear of him, the executioner, here at night on a dark roadside, and no one to notice the two of you. He pauses, just long enough to throw a look over his shoulder at you - you recognize his silent instructions to hurry home. You take two small sideways steps, eyes trained on him as he walks in the opposite direction, to the small cottage situated between the forest and the sea and far away from where he found you. His exile - where he never ventures out unless called. As soon as he's far enough away, you turn and run. 

When you make it back to your trellis you're out of breath, a stitch cutting your side open. You ready yourself to climb up, trying to catch your breath and remember his scent and the way he towered over you.

You wonder if he'd been there with you before, hidden in the shadows. 

***

"What are you doing? Are you senseless?" Maggie's voice cuts through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Your fingers slip over the apples in your hand as she grabs your wrist, pulling you back towards her.

"You're supposed to stay with me and Lily; not wander off to do god knows what?" 

Her face is pinched, angry - you jerk your wrist out of her touch. 

"I'm sorry Maggie, I just got busy looking at the produce."

She gives you a look that says she knows you're lying, but you fall in step behind her anyway. You had been lost in thoughts of the executioner, of how his eyes shone in the moonlight and his smell. Her hair, lighter than yours and Lily's, is pinned up elaborately; she spent two hours in the mirror this morning doing it. She didn't have to say it, but you know she hopes to run into someone who will run back to Edward and tell him about how gorgeous his future betrothed was today in the market. 

Lily slips her hand into yours, and you two trail behind Maggie - ducklings behind their mother duck. Lily had whispered to you this morning between bites of breakfast that Mother had set Maggie to watch you to make sure you didn't slip off. She couldn't catch you out at night, but she knew you were disappearing somewhere. 

She'd been creeping into the room for the past two weeks, only to find you pretending to sleep beside Lily. You'd close your eyes, and bury your face into the pillow, trying to sleep, but instead filled with thoughts of the executioner. Wondering if he was out there standing in the same spot, the waves soaking the bottom of his cloak, the ash on his mask shining in the moonlight. Wondering if he was thinking about you.

"I'm going to take Lily to the butcher; it's stupid for all three of us to go to the same place," you say, winking down at Lily. Maggie stops and sighs, heavy enough that you can see her shoulders heave. 

"Mother said for us all to go together."

"What trouble can I get into with Lily?"

You elbow Lily just before Maggie turns to level a suspicious look at the both of you. Lily speaks up for the two of you, trying to keep her face serious.

"I can keep an eye on her - no one will get into any trouble when I'm around."

Maggie rolls her eyes at the two of you, you can see her wearing down.

"Besides if we go to the butcher, then that means you can take the long way home. And pass the tailor's shop."

That gets her - Edward will be there, working with his father, and if she doesn't have to cart you and Lily around, the two of them can meet in the alley. 

"Fine. But meet me at the end of the street and don't tell Mother."

"I would never think of it."

You and Lily watch her disappear into the market vendors before the two of you turn in the opposite direction. 

"What do you want to do?" You ask, nudging Lily with your shoulder. "We have at least an hour of freedom."

"Let's go by the bakery; I want something sweet."

"Something sweet? You are the best baker in the house, all you do is eat sweet food."

The wind blows your skirts around as the two of you walk across the village, dodging loose stones and puddles. You're trying to jump from one stone to the other when Lily grabs your arm.

"Look!"

Thirty feet away from the two of you, in the middle of the street, the executioner stands. People shove themselves onto the sides of the buildings, straining to get away from him. He doesn't seem to pay anyone any mind as he walks. Lily pulls on your arm, trying to pull you to the side, away from him. But you're stuck fast to the ground; even from this distance, you can see him looking at you as he walks.

Lily whines your name, pulling harder on your arm. He gets closer, close enough that you can almost make out the wrinkles beside his eyes. His eyes catch yours - you can tell recognition sparks in them. You want to say something to him, but you know if you do, it will get back to your Mother. So you let Lily pull you away from him, closer to one of the buildings, but your eyes never leave him. 

He passes by, nearly silent for such a large man, black boots shining in the sunlight. 

"Why is he out?" Lily hisses in your ear as he passes. You pull your attention from his broad back to her.

"I'm sure he also has errands to run."

"He's so scary."

You watch as he disappears around the corner - wondering what he thought about you, about what he'd say if you stopped and spoke to him, say hello here in public. The thoughts stick with you as you and Lily duck into the bakery. You're stuck thinking about it as she bribes the young boy behind the counter to give her two sweet rolls for free, promising that she'll pay him back next time. The two of you eat them as you walk to the butcher's, honey coating your fingertips.

You watch the butcher wrap meat in brown paper, but your mind is on the executioner: on how he refused to look at you until you were dressed, how he walked you back to the edge of the village. It takes just a short walk to make it back home, Maggie waiting for you at the end of the street so that you can all walk in together. You notice the way one of the pins in her hair is gone, a single lock of hair falling.

Inside it's a commotion - the three of you come through the door to your Mother rushing past with an armful of clothes. 

"You all took your damn good time! Hurry up and go get clean for dinner. We're going to have guests tonight."

You press yourself against the wall as one of the hired girls hustles past, a tablecloth in her hand.

"Who's coming? What is this?" You inquire, as your mother shoves a dress into your arms. You try to peer at her over the royal blue material.

"Your uncle is coming to dinner, and so is Jonathan." Your heart sinks. Jonathan. A suitor hand-picked by Father for you. You've barely digested the information before your mother whirls on you, hair in disarray and fire in her eyes.

"And you will not act like a brat tonight. You are twenty years old - nearly twenty-one. Your sister will be getting married this year and I intend to announce your wedding shortly after. You will dress like a lady and act like one or so help me, I will send you to the nunnery this time. 

And you," she whirls to Lily, her chest heaving. Lily shrinks half behind you, "will behave also young lady. You and your sister will not make a fool of me tonight. Do you understand?"

The two of you nod in unison together, too scared to say anything else. Mother waves the two of you upstairs - you trip over the dress in your arms, slamming your shin into one of the stairs. You emerge at the top, cursing under your breath.

The two of you rush to your room - Lily's dress laid across the bed; you shake the one Mother shoved in your hands out, nose wrinkled. It's one of Maggie's old ones: dark blue and heavy, elaborate embroidery across the bottom. 

"I don't know how she expects me to fit into this," you mutter, throwing it across the bed. Maggie, taller than you by an entire head and more willowy, had never been able to share dresses with you.

"What do you think Uncle is coming for?" Lily asks, emerging from the neck of her dress, turning around in a silent request for you to lace her up.

"Probably to ask Father for money for another stupid business prospect, just like the last time."

You lace her dress, loosely.

"Can you tighten it up?"

"Why do you need your dress tighter? You're thirteen."

"The other girls wear theirs tighter."

Lily pouts at you, and you sigh at her.

"Come here; I'm only doing it a little tighter. When you lace mine, make sure it's loose, if I can even get it on. I'll braid your hair for you."

You re-lace her, just incrementally tighter, and redo the braids you did for her that morning, pinning them up in the back. From below, Mother is yelling to hurry up! You get dressed in a hurry, and to your surprise, the dress slips over you, but you know lacing it up will be difficult.

When your mother comes up the stairs ten minutes later, you have your hands braced against the end of the bed; Lily is pulling with all her might to try to get the back to close.

"Go wash your face, Lily," she says, brushing her away and taking the strings herself.

You know what's coming next; you breathe in, and she jerks the laces tight - you can feel the boning squeeze your ribs.

"Does it have to be this dress?" You ask as your mother pulls the strings again. You press your hands to your stomach, trying to breathe better as Mother ties the back, tucking the strings so they can't be seen.

"Jonathan likes the color blue."

"And that means I have to be packed into this like a sausage?"

Mother sighs, pushing on your shoulders so that you sit on the end of the bed. Her hands are soft in your hair as she pulls it down, and twists it back up, pinning it into place.

"You could do much worse than Jonathan. At this point, he's the only man that will have you."

"Have me? Like I'm a cow."

She sticks another pin in your hair, nearly stabbing your scalp.

"No. Like you're a woman; you can't do everything in this life alone. Besides," she tucks the last piece of hair in, "he travels. You could go with him."

Your hands smooth down the skirt of the dress, picking at a loose thread. 

"I want to travel where I want to go, not where someone is going to show me off."

Your mother's fingers are soft on your shoulders as she turns you so she can look at you.

"We don't always get what we want in life. Sometimes we just have to take what we're given. Come on. Your uncle is waiting downstairs to say hello."

She holds your hand down the stairs; at the bottom, your Uncle Henry stands - taller than your father and thinner but not nearly as imposing. He kisses you on each cheek before moving to Mother. You leave them to talk and take your place at the dining table. It's empty except for the plates already sat down. In the kitchen, you can hear the hired girl banging around. The sound grates at your nerves, and the dress itches at your back where you can't reach.

There's a knock at the door - it sounds like a funeral cannon going off. You try rearranging your face into a smile and push yourself up from your chair. You're sure you look more like you have an upset stomach. In the hallway everyone explodes into a chorus of greetings. A moment later, Jonathan walks into the dining room.

If you're being honest, he's not the worst pick that your mother and father could have chosen. He's never been rude or forward with you, and he's not horrible looking, but as he reaches you and takes your hand, all you can think about is how small they must be compared to the executioner's hands.

"Hello, Jonathan." You try to smile at him as he kisses your hand. 

"Hello, darling."

He turns just in time to miss the grimace on your face - turning to shake your father's hand when your father walks in behind him. You take your seat, waving at Lily to come sit down beside you quickly. 

Dinner passes slowly; you're barely able to eat anything from the rolling in your stomach and the way the dress presses into you. The conversation is flowery and fake - Uncle Henry laughing too loudly, Jonathan smiling to politely across the table. It sets you on edge; Lily can see it because she reaches under the table to pat your knee.

It comes to a boiling point when Uncle Henry begins to describe his new business of shipping items.

"We've got a new ship; smaller and faster than the ones usually used. It can't hold as much cargo, but it can sail routes in half the time. With just two of them we can double how much cargo we're moving out of ports."

Your mother is leaning into the conversation, no doubt to know what she's going to tell Father no to later, Father is enraptured by your uncles conversation, and Jonathan leans across the table, listening in.

"You know," Jonathan says, cutting into the conversation, "I think you'd have more success using them to ferry people. Imagine how much people would pay to get where they're going faster."

Uncle Henry points at him across the table, a grin spreading over his face.

"The boy understands."

"Of course he does," Father says, pausing to take a drink, "he's already got plans to take my daughter on a cross-oceanic trip after the wedding."

Your fingers falter on your glass, it nearly spills, red drops spattering across the table like blood.

"Excuse me?"

Everyone turns to look at you, and you get the feeling that there's a joke you haven't been let in on.

"Well," Father says, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Mother cuts her eyes at him, a look you don't miss. "We were going to discuss this later."

"Discuss what?" You ask, voice rising. "Because it seems as if the decision has been made for me."

Jonathan's gaze swivels between you and your father; you bunch the tablecloth in your hands.

"Calm down dear," Mother says, rising slightly from her seat, "we will talk about this later."

"No!" You yell, slamming your hands to the table and pushing yourself up. "We won't. Because I know how the conversation will go. I will be forced to agree. This is an ambush!"

Your cup spills, staining the table red. Everyone in the room seems to hold a collective breath. Jonathan moves to stand; you turn, knocking your chair over. Across the table, Maggie gives you a look of contempt - it's enough to push you toward the door. 

Everyone calls your name; you can hear your uncle laughing behind you. Someone's hand grabs at your wrist, but you jerk yourself away without looking to see who it is. Outside it's dark; windows are lit up with candle light and fires flickering. In the distance lightning strikes, grey clouds rolling towards you. 

You run, slipping on the grass, towards the cove. You scrape your hands, cutting one of them on a sharp rock as you scramble down. You ignore the sting, and the sound of fabric tearing. You land hard on the sand, scrambling to pull yourself upright. 

Across the cove, you see a flicker of white and a shadow ripple.

[rosedere]

The Antique Pearl (Ghost! Azul Ashengrotto x fem reader)

CW: Soft Yandere, NRC is a university AU, implied sex (later chapters), Mentions of Ghosts

Summary: You find a job along the large network of piers on Sage’s Island, but you didnt know you would catch the attention of a ghost who lives in your small Thrift shop you manage.

Cross posted on AO3 as well! :D

Chapters: 1. Job hunt (you are here), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13,

-

“So (name) found a job yet?”

You scowled in response dropping your perfectly manicured brow in a scrunch before flipping your hand out at Ace across from you at the table.

"Hey, have you found a girlfriend yet?” You sarcastically replied.

“You answer first,” your fiery red-head friend said now smiling before letting his hand rest under his chin.

“I’m going to say no for my answer,” you answered, rolling your eyes. “And I’m going to assume it’s a no for you too,” you smirked.

"Oi, I’m just asking because no one’s called me back yet, and I’d rather die than work in the dining hall all semester with Ortho and Grim,” he said, swirling his spoon in his brightly colored sundae.

Ace Trappola was one of your five friends you talked to on a regular basis, mostly because you all attended the same prestigious college on Sage’s island, unintentionally forming the “freshman group” some people nicknamed in lectures, half of you at first werent friends with each other only sitting next to each other in the same classes you shared. 

But then the familiarity in the large university got everyone to begin to talk to one another. You being the oldest out of the group and the only "ma'am,” you practically kept the group knitted together.

You and Ace were the first two of the friends from your group to arrive at your usual hangout spot, a diner tucked away next to the docks and piers, with various boats lining the way.

Epel had said he and Jack were almost there, while Duece wasn’t going to arrive until later, after his interview wrapped up on the other side of the harbor. Sebek wasn’t here yet, but knowing him, he was probably still asleep and would come rushing in 20 minutes later, cursing Silver's name for not waking him up on time who was also most likely asleep against the headboard of their shared dorm.

"Well, it seems like we gotta do another walk around the pier today,” you declared to no one in particular.

Ace looked over at you with the shit-eating grin he always had when he had a remark in mind. Your face immediately forming a frown.

“Maybe they’ll take pity on us if you say you're a single mom,” Ace cheekily said.

“I know you were screwing around, but I think that might be my next sales pitch.” You sighed.

Defeated, you looked out the window, absentmindedly eating a crispy fry from the blue basket in front of the both of you.

However, before you could look out and daydream while watching the same ten seagulls glare at you from outside the rope-lined pier, a blur of green and blue passed your line of sight.

Confused about what you had just seen, you looked out the window towards the entrance of the diner to see on the otherside of the entrance Jack and Epel casually walking in, opposite from where the flash of green was charging at an immense speed.

Then you heard the crash.

Ace finally caught on to what just happened, but you were still trying to figure out how fast Deuce and Sebek were running to knock Jack completely over into a decorated potted plant near the entrance of the diner.

“I WON THAT ONE DEUCE; LOOK, MY FOOT IS OVER THE ENTRANCE THRESHOLD,” your green-haired friend huffed, scrambling to get up.

Deuce, however, was completely flustered, realizing he was sprawled over Epel, who looked at the two of them with a huff.

“Epel, are you okay?” Your beastman friend said aloud, pushing the loud green-haired boy off of him.

“Yeah, let’s just get inside before we have to pay for the damages,” Epel told the three of them, getting up.

The delightful shipyard bell above the door signaled the rest of your group's arrival.

Of course, looking over to Ace, you could tell he was already cooking up a fierce roast to throw at Deuce and Sebek as they quickly took their seats at the circular booth you and Ace were sitting at.

Feeling the violent shift in the red pleather curved booth from the weight of Jack and Sebek taking their seats first before Epel and Duece squeezed into their usual spots at the end of the booth, leaving you and Ace sitting together as usual.

“So what in the otome was up with that?” Ace teased 

“I’m pretty sure there was going to be an overlay of pink cherry blossoms over Epel and Jack, with a dialogue box popping up over that scene outside,” Ace giggled.

“I’d say you should ask those two; we were just walking when we got trampled.” Jack gestured towards Sebek and Deuce.

“He started it! I was just running from the heartslaybul dorm when Sebek started to run after me, charging me,” Duece wined before grabbing a fry from the basket and rubbing his elbows.

“I WAS SIMPLY TRYING TO CATCH UP TO YOU, BUT YOU KEPT RUNNING PAST ME,” Sebek said with his usual booming voice.

For a moment, you all bantered, catching up with each other since you had all been on break after the spring semester ended.

But with the summer semester starting up again, you all reunited last week on the mostly empty campus.

"Oh, right before we get too distracted, did anyone find a job yet?” You asked everyone around the table.

Everyone around the table sighed.

“No”

"Okay, I guess we can safely say what we’re going to do after lunch,” you sighed.

“TO BE FAIR, I HEARD FROM SILVER THAT THERE ARE JOBS OFF CAMPUS,” Sebek once again yelled to you all, causing Epel to cover his ear.

"Yeah, but not at the pier; I don’t want to work on a farm anymore,” Epel said, twirling his hair with a perfectly manicured nail. “Vil would never let me live that one down if he found out,” he sighed.

Just as soon as all of your banter began, it silenced once the waitress came around to get everyone’s order before retreating back to the kitchen.

"Well, I mean, there’s still 14 more days until our deadline; who knows, maybe there might be more jobs today,” you enthusiastically announced, trying to motivate your friends.

They all still remained unmotivated, however, until Duece spoke up.

"Yeah, that is true (name). The summer carnival is coming up soon, around the middle of the month. We can get guaranteed jobs then." Duece then proceeded to reach towards the basket of fries in the middle of the table.

Of course, Ace quickly pushed the basket to the side, leaving poor Deuce to just grab the air where the fry would be.

“H-hey!” Duece exclaimed, staring down at Ace, who was now passing the fries to everyone at the table except for Duece.

You knew today was going to be the start of an eventful summer day with your friends compared to last semester.

-

The walk down the longest pier on the island was becoming more and more familiar to the five of you all.

Ace leading the group, followed by Duece and Sebek, who follow close behind the bright, vermillion-haired boy, with Jack and Epel behind those two in front of you, close to the end of the group.

So far, it seemed there were more for hire signs out today, which you all went to eagerly fill out the applications or took a break from the heat to fill out online applications on your phones.

“Hey Ace haven’t we already been down this way today?” Duece spoke up, looking around at the surrounding colorful stalls.

"Yeah, we have, but you never know, maybe the churro stand might be hiring,” Ace said, looking off towards the horizon.

“She’s not interested, Ace,” Epel replied softly.

Ace abruptly stops almost tripping duece, and Sebek following far too close behind the stunned boy.

“How would you know, Epel?” 

Epel made a sly expression in response.

“Because I banged her last night,” he casually threw out. Everyone giggling around Epel.

"Yeah, and I banged your mom last night, and she wasn’t interested at first,” Ace wiped at his nose.

The laughter and “oh snaps” that erupted from the boys in front of you was blusterous. You could only stand there shaking your head thinking about how Epel had walked into that one; everyone knew saying anything to the fast-thinking Ace was literal suicide unless you beat him to the punch.

As you took the opportunity to take the lead of the group, you were faced with a crossroad you called it on the sprawling pier as you kept walking ahead.

You had all been up and down the straight path of the creaky,hole-ridden path leading to the end of the entertainment district of the pier. 

However, there was a left path of pier leading to the street that had old buildings lined up that you don’t think you’d ever walked towards, or at least never really paid any attention to.

As you walked down the street, you could see the contrast from the weathered wooden scape that was the pier to the rustic, whimsical coastal buildings lined with various boutiques, restaurants, and residential buildings, all in unique shapes but mostly in the same weathered red and sun-faded blue.

But as you strolled along, a building like none other you’ve seen on the street appeared before you.

A two-story building between an abandoned lot and a tourist gift shop seemed to be one of the original buildings that were built here since Sages Island was founded. It had what you’d call a Victorian Seashell aesthetic going on, being a dusty lavender color either from the sun hitting the paint for so many years or just needing a new paint job on the entire outdoor building. 

Your eyes next followed the side of the building, where a big sign was hanging on the side of the window in the shape of a clam shell with a pearl in the middle and neon lights lining the design.

“The Antique Pearl” was what the sign letters read as you got closer to the building on the street.

Remembering your group of friends, you turned to look around for your friends to make sure they were following behind. 

They were a considerable distance from you, seemingly going back to their previous roast session they had started while you were busy looking at the building.

Walking up to the building, briskly closing the distance between the buildings, and passing an ally where a lonesome black-railed staircase led up to the business that was above the shop, you finally reached the storefront window.

You expected to see a display in the window, but instead were greeted with a look into the actual interior of the place.

Racks and racks of various sizes and lengths were littered around the cool blue-toned lighting, and the various clothes were packed tightly together like sardines in a can.

You looked towards the wall, which was a circular rack. The clothes seemed to catch your eye, but suddenly the back of a man was seen blocking the particular patch of clothes you were about to examine. 

Normally you wouldn’t think much about it, but the way this particular man looked and dressed was definitely different.

He wore a pristine, crisp white dress shirt with black and purple suspenders holding his dark dress pants. His hair was as silver as a full moon, giving him an ethereal look. It was styled in a neatly trimmed undercut, from what you could tell.

To you, he was incredibly handsome; despite just seeing the backside of him, you could tell his face was probably as defined as his back looked. 

A chill arose from your back, causing you to shake. It was very out of place since it had to be at least 33 degrees Celsius outside under the June sun.

Looking around to see if you were maybe in the shade to verify why the sudden drop in temperature was only met with no rational answer.

You thought to yourself that it might be anemia, looking back at the man you assumed was an employee.

He was now standing still, stopping his task of presumably hanging clothes. Ever so hesitantly, his head turned towards the window you were staring in from.

Crap you must have been checking him out for too long, worriedly thought.

As much as you wanted to back away and run back to the pier where your friends were probably looking for you, a force was the best way you could describe it; it kept you firmly planted in place in front of the window you were peeking through.

Maybe fear? Maybe curiosity kept you there to see the handsome strangers full face.

Distinctly, the first thing you noticed was his very beautiful side profile, a very boxy-like jawline giving him a very masculine, mature look, making you assume he had to be in his twenties if not older than you, a pair of glasses framing his face, and his unmistakable aquamarine eyes highlighting his recessive features.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there staring at this poor random employee, but he didn’t look annoyed at you staring at him. In the moment, you couldn’t place exactly what the expression was, but it felt like he was trying to figure out if you were staring at him or not. Just as gradual of a time he took to turn around, he twinkled a grin across his pretty lips, revealing what you think was a beauty mark placed on the left side of his chin.

Trying to contain the wildfire of blush running wild on your cheeks, you gave him a polite smile back.

Yeah, I'm so getting the cops called on me.

Unfortunately, before you could soak the image of the man into your memory, a sudden hand was placed on your bare shoulders.

Gasping quickly, you were greeted by someone who wasn’t your friend but strangely looked familiar to you.

He was tall with teal hair, and one strand of black hair lazily sat over his right eye, which was strangely a piercing yellow color while his other eye was a darker color. It also didn’t help that he also had a few lip and face piercings, giving him a distinctive look about the young man. Wearing a suit with a dusky lavender shade as the shop was, you couldn’t help but stare at how tall he was compared to you as he smiled down on you in a cool smile.

“I noticed you were staring very intently at the sign." The mysterious man gestured in front of him.

You didn’t even notice, but in front of you, slightly higher than your forehead, was a sign. 

“Now hiring immediate spot open.”

“Oh—I uh was,” you said, clearing your throat.

-

You found out his name is Jade.

He also attends the university you and your friends go to, along with his brother.Jade tells you this as he takes you into the vast building. 

Jade interviews you in front of the cash register over a glass case where the jewelry that was sort of valuable stayed in.

“So just curious, but why hasn’t anyone applied for store manager yet, if I may ask Jade?” You casually said leaning against the case,

“Because of where the shop currently resides, not a lot of locals come this way, leaving only tourists and the few that do know about our store,” Jade replied. Initially, when you found out that it was a thrift shop, you were surprised, mainly by the fact that you’d never heard of it before in the year you’ve been studying here for school.

“That does make sense—I guess,” being satisfied with the answer you received.

“So (name), what day would you like to start? I’ll unfortunately won’t be able to get your lodging accommodations ready immediately, but—“ 

“Hang on to lodging accommodations?” Your eyes almost bugged out. You were aware you’d pretty much have owner responsibilities, but having a free place to live was an instant success in your book.

“I thought I told you after the questions." Jade tilted his head in curiosity. 

“Here, I can actually show you,” he said, leaning over the glass counter across from you, making a beeline through the cramped space next to the register of vintage clothes.

The floorboards creaked and groaned under the weight of you both walking on them, feeling the vibrations as you eventually reached an employee entrance tucked behind a couple of rooms that you couldn’t quite look into as you passed by. The dark oak stairs were slightly dusty, seeming like no one had been through here in years as you went up the thick wooden stairs behind Jade.

The stairs weren’t well lit, but the beautiful vintage light fixtures seemed to be in need of new lightbulbs.

Jade stopped at the top of what looked like a sturdy house door with intricate wooden engravings of shells on the outside and a golden mail slot that had a scratched off name plate and electrical box on the right side of the crème walls wrapping around the landing.

After a few moments of him fiddling with the rusted, dark ebony key, the door finally opened, kicking up the stagnant air that had presumably been trapped there for years as he held the door open for you to enter.

Now, you weren’t at all one of those ghost and superstition kinds of people, but immediately upon entering the space, it felt creepy.

It was probably how dark the space was to assume there probably hadn’t been running electricity in this particular area in years hell, even decades from the faint piles of dust you could see between the thick boards above what you assumed was the window. 

“One moment (name)” Jade quickly went towards the breaker in the hallway.

A few flickers and the sound of electricity filled the room until they flickered on, revealing what was hidden in the darkness.

The floor beneath you is a deep cherrywood color, with a few coats of dust gracing the antique floorboards leading all the way into what was a very spacious kitchen that seemed mostly untouched, besides a few vintage knick-knacks and cooking books laying on the counters. 

A small hallway with three dark oak doors with old shaggy carpet started past the end of the kitchen, leading to where the room you'd be staying in was. 

Jade definitely wasn't kidding about how much dissaray the loft was in, but to you, if it was just a perk for working here, why complain anyway?

“So this whole loft is where I'll be staying, or just the room?” You questioned Jade, turning towards him and standing beside the entrance door.

“Everything here will be yours." Jade answered, “My brother and I live on campus at the Octavinelle dorm after all.”

Figures you thought of hearing the mention of the prestigious dorm name.

You took a moment to excitedly think about where you were going to place the few things you owned in the deserted loft.

Since you came later in the semester, you were put in a last-minute dorm that was in an old building called the Ramshackle Building. It certainly wasn’t as spacious as this place was, with only a small twin bed and wardrobe to your name in your room, and a very small mini fridge was all you had in your dorm compared to your friends, who had a literal bathroom and private suite to themselves.

This was a blessing to have a whole place free for exchange to work and take care of a beautiful vintage thrift store.

“So does the job seem enticing enough (name)? We'd hope you can accept our offer; we’ve been in dire need for the position to be filled after all." Jade smiled, putting a hand to his heart.

Without even thinking, you instantly agreed. 

“I can start as soon as you need me,” you said with no hesitation.

Jade gave you a reassuring smile before reaching for your hand in a professional handshake.

Following him out of the loft, however, another sudden chill ran up your spine, forcing you to look around once more before you 

-

Surprised couldn’t even be the right word to describe how you felt when you went downstairs and saw your group of friends in front of the counter joking with... well

Jade?

He wore the exact same work uniform as Jade, the same colored hair, and the same exact black streak over their different colored eyes.

Ace seemed to be joking around with him while Duece and Epel were looking at the sports equipment leaning on a wall next to a bunch of tall displays with mannequins in colorful outfits. Jack and Sebek were talking next to a couple of book shelves near where Duece and Epel were seemingly discussing something about a book on the shelf Jack was looking at while Sebek seemingly was giving his opinion about, well, something you couldn’t hear from that far.

As soon as you got a few footfalls away from the glass counter where you had conducted your interview, Ace immediately perked up at the sight of you.

“(Name)! Thank God Duece wasn’t lying; we thought you went missing,” Ace said, waving at you.

The Jade look alike looked in your direction.

Looking at him closer, you could tell he was definitely not Jade at all but a lookalike; his eye shape was more droopier than Jade's upturned eye shape, giving him a bit more of an exaggerated appearance; he also did not have the lip piercings or the distinct piercings on his eyebrows like Jade had.

Walking over to Ace, you quickly grabbed his shoulder, pulling his ear close to you.

"Ace, who is that?”

You subtly gestured to Discount Jade in front of the two of you.

Ace was about to speak when Jade came around from the back of the employee area, giving you the paperwork for you as a new hire he promised once you went down the stairs.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you about my brother?” he asked innocently.

You only stared at Jade in bewilderment now, staring at the two of them side by side.

Discount Jade starts to laugh a wheezy, creaky laugh, definitely sounding the complete opposite of the brother you met.

“So this is our new storekeeper? What a cute little thing.” 

“Hey! (Name) isn’t cute, they're ugly." Ace spoke up, puffing his cheek.

You only slapped his shoulder with all your might, causing him to wince in return, causing the discount Jade and Jade to laugh in unison.

“I’m going to make a wild guess and assume you two are identical twins,” you remarked.

Discount Jade only smiled at you while Jade laid out the paperwork in front of where you were standing.

"Hey, wait a minute, you got a job (name)?” Ace blurted it out.

"No, fair. I want to work with (name) and Floyd." He pouted

"Unfortunately, we only had one position to fill. If we see (name) bring more business to the shop, however, we will keep you in mind." Jade simply smiled.

Contently, you signed the paperwork Jade gave you, filling out your information as best as you could, while Ace and Floyd continued talking to each other besides you.

You had to check something you had on your phone, prompting you to pull your phone up from your shorts back pocket and fish it out.

Usually, as most of the time you would do this routine, on the ebony screen, you’d catch a glimpse of your face, a random reflection from the ceiling above, or even your unflattering double chin looking down towards you before you’d power it on and see your screensaver and passcode screen.

This time wasn’t like the last few times.

Looking at your phone's dark screen reflection caused you to audibly gasp, turning around quickly. This abrupt reaction made Floyd, Ace, and Jade look at you in curiosity.

Although you completely expected to see the well-dressed man behind you, there was no one there behind you that matched the handsome stranger's appearance.

You knew you saw his face behind your shoulder peeking over at you; those eyes were so unmistakable, you knew it had to be that man.

“Are you okay, (name)?" Jade furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, it happens when you have a face like that and look at your reflection." Ace mimicked your voice before Floyd and Ace erupted into laughter, immediately melting the tension you felt and replacing it with rage as you slapped his thin arm again, leaving a red sting on his flesh.

After finishing the paperwork without further incident, you were officially hired. Your group of friends was overall supportive as you told them all the details about your first day being Monday, giving you all the weekend to hang out before you had to attend your first gig.

The rest of the evening, you all walked the entire boardwalk as the sun set for the evening, prompting you all to go home for the night.

But you, however, are too excited to immediately go home to your dorm.

Remembering the directions you took to get to your new job and future home, you’d approached the dimly lit building. It looked different at night; the streetlights illuminated the inside of the sprawling thrift store.

You stopped walking to admire the building in its entirety, as you did when you first ran into it.

The top floor where the loft was that you’d walk into was completely dark, which made sense since, because of how boarded up the windows were, they were not allowing any moonlight in nor streetlights.

Staring at the window in the middle that you assumed was the living room window you’d observed when you walked in viewing the lonely loft.

However, the longer you looked, the more you swore you heard something.

Bringing your attention to the street to make sure you weren’t in the way you looked around you.

Tap tap tap 

The sound was soft but enough to drive you crazy—was someone walking from the opposite direction or was something on the verge of diving out of your purse you had wrapped around your shoulder?

That damned chill ran up your spine for the third time today, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself. You’d have to remember to bring a jacket when you came to work on Monday since it seemed like it was a cold spot in town. Most likely due to being close to the waterfront, you thought.

Abruptly, you paused when you heard humming.

A soft humming of a tune that sounded very melodious, very vintage

The tapping sound was accompanying the cold hum, but you finally realized where the sound was coming from.

Inside the dark store, the stranger from before was walking towards you, emerging from the shadowy ultramarine hues and the lack of lighting cast on the worn wooden boards.

His striking azure eyes were all you saw as he emerged from the back of the store. His polished, well-taken-care-of dress shoes made a tapping sound as he walked towards you at a crawling pace, humming the tune as he took an agonizingly slow step forward.

He still looked very attractive now that you could see his flawless features up close...

The trance you were in was immediately broken as soon as you realized he was walking to the front door.

Where you currently were standing.

In a panic, you wasted no time finally moving your legs out of the way of the door before he’d open it and ask you what you were doing there, most likely.

As you bolted down the road, you didn’t turn around once, afraid of, god knows what, him running behind you. Getting in trouble for trespassing since you were just standing around.

You never got randomly anxious like that before.

collapsing outside your delapidaed dorm, you stumbled inside the dark doorway bolting to your room upstairs.

not glancing once as you slammed the door to your dorm entry.

-

A new customer came by, and being so young and full of life, they stared at me for what felt like forever.

I need to know more about her. It seems Jade recognized my curiosity towards her as well.

Hopefully, I will meet her tomorrow.

-

[dixenjackal]

Are your feral au Grim and Gnarly based off any specific breeds? I'm looking at them and thinking "oh thats a Kurilian Bobtail and an Oriental Shorthair!" But I can't tell for sure. It makes a lot of sense to me (especially the Kurilian Bobtail, since they're a natural cat breed found in the wild who would be pretty dependent on their claws for hunting purposes), but I also didn't want to just jump to conclusions about your designs!

Which are absolutely adorable, btw. I would offer them catnip if I could.

They sort of are!! Gnarly is for sure based on an Oriental Shorthair and I often use those cats as references for him. As for Grim, he didnt really have any specific breed, just the average fat house cat with a docked tail. Buttttttttt, I googled what you thought he was based off of and that definitely fits a lot better!

Also take this doodle of them as kittens for no reason at all

[lets-try-some-writing]

Action! Chapter 1

Having just graduated from Iacon's acting academy, Orion Pax is beyond excited to begin hunting for his first big role. And after vorns of doing nothing but play extras, a position has finally opened to play a part in not just any media, but his favorite novel of all things. No, he's going to play the role of Optimus Prime! A tyrannical ruler in a fantasy novel that he lived and breathed during his studies.

Unbeknownst to Orion Pax, he isn't going to be part of a high quality production. Instead, everything he is going to experience will be one hundred percent real.

(Yet another Au for yall. This one I have been sitting on thinking about endlessly for MONTHS.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Orion didn't like to come off as ungrateful, but he had expected acting to be a more… open field of work.

He had at one point considered taking on an archival role, but that went flying out the window the moment he saw the stars work on screen for the first time. Part of him regretted walking away from the Archives that cycle, but Ratchet, a notorious old school actor, was his original inspiration. He had been lucky enough to go to one of the elder mech’s interviews and heard all about how Ratchet walked to Iacon and dragged himself to stardome. It was inspiring to hear of the tales of struggle and strife, the corruption behind the sets, and ultimately the satisfaction of a job well done and a character perfectly played. 

One thing led to another, and before long, what really got him interested in the career path was when he began meeting other stars in person. That interview had him tumbling down a rabbit hole, and from there he used his meager paycheck working at the docks to get close enough to the big names to ask them a few questions, or at least observe from a distance. Starscream broke any and all stereotypes with his unusual tendency to play both femmes and mechs in film. The advice Orion received when he asked how to become a great actor was simple.

“Kid, if you want to get big, be DRAMATIC! No one wants to spend hard earned shanix to watch a mech look bored.”

It was sound advice, and that day, Orion made the decision to understand the craft of acting. He got a chance to attend several meet and greets for other big stars such as Megatronus, a world renown actor applauded for both his heroic and villainous roles. The elder mech had smiled kindly when Orion held up his datapad for a signature and asked how to become an actor. His advice was promptly engraved into Orion’s mind alongside Starscream’s.

“Don’t just pretend when you are playing a character. You need to become the character in mind, body, and spark as much as possible. The audience knows when a performance is forced.”

Shortly afterwards, he was lucky enough to run into Arcee and Cliffjumper, a stunt double duo whose advice amounted to a simple statement. Arcee, had touched him on the arm with a knowing smile and chuckled.

“Be authentic! Do your own moves as much as you can. You want to sell the scene no matter what, even if it gets you a few cuts and dents.”

Clffjumper on the other servo had patted Orion on the shoulder with a lopsided grin and given far more… eccentric advice.

“If you can jump off a cliff, JUMP OFF THAT CLIFF!” 

Orion wasn’t totally sure if it was meant to be a joke or not. 

Whatever the case, he added their wisdom to his long term memory files and continued his hunt for further inspiration, a goal forming in his spark. He spoke with Soundwave, a famous actor known for his monster roles. The mech was known to be of the type to never speak on set, and his advice was grim, but undoubtedly rational.

“To act, you must know every facet of the being you are to depict. You must feel their pain, know their burdens. Only then can the weariness of their sparks show clearly in your optics through the screen.”

Ultra Magnus, a fantastic director, offered him a nugget of wisdom as well when he managed to harass the office the mech worked at enough to get his email responded to.

“Look, acting isn’t just using your vocalizer and manipulating body language. You need skills, actual abilities to compensate for anything you end up missing. The audience is far more forgiving toward an actor who gives it their all.” 

Bulkhead and Wheeljack, special effects masters at the top of their field, had not so subtly given him a datapad on the production of explosives and other such materials before flicking his audial and offering their advice. Bulkhead was the most rational. 

“The acting is only half the battle kiddo. You need to make a statement, preferably with explosives and a dramatic stride out of a burning building.”

Wheeljack suggested arson, and honestly upon seeing a video of some of the special effects master’s work, Orion couldn’t help but find himself pretty much sold on the concept. Wheeljack’s words were cause for concern, but they were undeniably correct when the results were in front of his optics.

“If you need to blow it up to make it look good, then by all means BLOW IT UP!”

Knockout, a makeup artist hired on every big set for his miraculous transformations, had been the most difficult to get a meeting with. But through pestering Starscream, one of Knockout’ usual clients, and through a few underhanded online transactions, Orion got the chance to ask the artist his usual question. Knockout’s advice was… interesting to say the least. Interesting, but much like all the other nuggets of wisdom, it happened to be fully applicable in light of the results.

“Darling, you have already proven to be as determined as the press. You don’t need to worry about becoming a fabulous actor. What you should worry about is getting a camera! Gigs don’t come easy, and looking as stunning as possible is the best way to get attention!” 

Breakdown thankfully was not nearly as hard to track down as his partner. After having harassed Knockout, Breakdown seemed to almost sense his arrival at his next meet and greet. It wasn’t often a behind the scenes mechanic got recognized enough to have fans, but Knockout never shut up about how well Breakdown handled the lights during filming. Fans were inevitable, and Orion abused that fact to get into the rather niche interest group and meet the mech. His wisdom was much like his partner’s in rationality. 

“A lot of people overlook the lighting on screen, but lighting is essential to a good production. Lighting sets the mood and adds subtle emotion to the scene. Too much, too dark, or the wrong color destroys the atmosphere. If you are ever in doubt, keep it simple and do a classic overhead light.” 

With his shanix running low, Orion was unable to get in with any more big names. However, by pure chance, he won a raffle and managed to get a question in with two famous sparkling actors turned drama T.V specialists. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were beloved by audiences across Cybertron, and the former’s advice was quickly burned into Orion’s mind.

“It doesn’t matter who you are playing. Give that character justice through their connections. You must feel the bonds your character has as if they were your own. I know I cried more than once when co-stars who played a parental role in different films had to leave for another set.”

Smokescreen’s wisdom received similar treatment as he smiled widely and promptly forced himself to cry with such gusto that Orion was genuinely scared until the actor laughed it off as a joke.

“Don’t just feel it buddy! SHOW it! Every connection your character has should be plain to see on your face through their emotions! If they have any that is. Just, keep in character. Oh, and a little tip, learn to cry on the spot. It will save you so much trouble with the special effects team.”

Orion hoarded everything he learned like a drake, and despite being dirt poor by the time he sold half his spark to get in to meet a mech going by the working title of “Predaking”, he was excited to hear what the master puppeteer and monster designer had to say. He never expected to get close, but Predaking saw him amidst the crowd and called him over gleefully.

“Here’s a little secret of the trade. I am not joking when I say that accent and presence matter, even in monsters. If you are working with a character, you should know how to pronounce and announce yourself like them. If you are a beast, growl. If you are a King, dominate.”

Finally, bankrupt and with only a feeble dream, Orion held his poor financial decisions wearily in his spark and sat out on the streets, unable to pay his rent after so long chasing idols. His obsession had gone too far and he was paying the price for it. But it seemed Primus had taken pity, perhaps due to his stupidity. And on that grim cycle an umbrella had been held over his helm as he huddled, trying to escape the acid rain.

Ratchet, the mech who originally sent him spiraling down his path of poor life decisions, stood over him with a raised optical ridge. Orion had been too tired to be fully awed at the time, but when Ratchet had offered him some shanix and a hotel room for a week, Orion had listened closely to the advice the elder mech had to offer.

“Kid, your dedication is impressive, but you need to always have a backup plan. Throwing everything into your goals is admirable, but by the Allspark, make sure there is always a little something left over for you, for your survival. On set, on the streets. It doesn’t matter. You are a living being and your life comes first.”

It had been a harsh wakeup call, but it had been what Orion needed. He stopped chasing stars for a while and instead moved on to saving up, one shanix at a time to get into the most reputable acting academy he could feasibly afford. He’d learned all he could from watching with starstruck optics, and he wasn’t going to test Primus’s patience more than he already had.

And so began his journey. It was rough. He did what he could to prepare for a rainy cycle, and Ratchet’s advice did indeed save him from going without fuel more than a few times, but there were still instances where he had to cut corners. Many long cycles were spent living off cheap rations worse than the stuff given to military personnel. He had to turn off the electricity in his small apartment several times in order to avoid the bill, and he still almost cried every time he remembered the prices for the textbooks he needed once he finally got into the academy. 

But vorns of hard work later, he got in and graduated in one piece. Now a certified and newly graduated actor, he was over the moon and more than ready to hunt for his first big gig. Things had been tight for a very long time, but in his mind, he was finally free of those constraints.

He found out that assumption was wrong very quickly. 

Knockout hadn’t been kidding when he said getting a camera would be the hardest part of his career. Why did no sets accept graduates? Even when he applied as an extra, he usually found himself rejected because he was ‘too bright’ or ‘too distracting’. By the Primes all he’d done for one audition was lift some datapads but that had apparently been too much. They said he was too energetic for his place, too… 

Enthusiastic. 

He got odd jobs, worked a few small sets as a minute background character, an extra passing in the hall more often than not. But he kept up a smile, just waiting for the big gig that would shoot him into stardom just like all the actors and specialists he looked up to. He never forgot the cycle when he finally got his wish.

It had been an inconspicuous thing at first. A small advertisement online for a film production based on a fantasy series that was neither particularly popular nor necessarily unknown. Orion had read his fair share of novels over the course of his life, and while he wasn’t exactly proud to admit it, he’d gone down the rabbit hole of poorly written or otherwise unknown works of fiction to make his life more bearable when things got tough. As such, while it took him a moment, he quickly recognized the series being turned into film.

It was a simple fantasy series set in an alternate version of Cybertron, one where the Primes of old still reigned. It was a historical piece in a sense, in large part due to the inclusion of actual practices and traditions from the past ages of Cybertron, before the Quintessons arrived and were promptly driven back. The main character of the series wasn’t exactly static, often jumping between the sons of the Prime, Smokescreen and Bumblebee, and the Lord High Protector, Megatron of Kaon. Looking back it was rather odd that they were named after the actors, or the actors after them. But Orion didn’t linger on that fact.

The series was a dramatic revolution. Optimus Prime, the last reigning Prime, was a tyrant who ruled with cruel disregard for the lives of others. His inner circle planned to assassinate and ultimately did kill him later on in the novel after a series of puzzles, political schemes, and secrets being brought to light. It was a fascinating book, one that Orion was rather fond of and would even consider his favorite. So while it was certainly odd for a film company to turn such a series into anything meant for the holoscreen considering its lack of popularity, Orion said a quiet prayer and sent in an application to the studio.

He almost spit out his energon when exactly a cycle later, he got a confirmation message from the studio letting him know he had not only gotten a role in the film, but that he had been given one of the most influential roles in the entire production. He wasn’t going to be the Lord High Protector, nor was he to be either of the Prime’s sons. No, he was to be Optimus Prime himself.

He may or may not have run around his apartment giggling gleefully and giving thanks to Primus while clutching his cracked datapad like his life depended on it. He checked his device again and again, not believing what he was reading until he received a second message from the studio asking him to come in for pre-shoot training and preparation for his role. Orion did not hesitate to gather up his small stash of belongings that he thought he would require and hop onto the nearest train heading west toward the ruins of Crystal City.

Sure, it was really strange that filming preparation was being done in the abandoned Crystal City, but he didn’t feel like judging when he finally had his big gig. Nope, he wasn’t going to question it. Not when he was going to be playing Optimus Prime. The biggest villain of the series. What could be a better debut than that?

“Welcome Orion. I am the director of this set. We already have everything set up so we can begin your preliminary training immediately.”

“Oh! Of course. But may I have your designation Sir?”

“I am Alpha Trion. It is a pleasure to be working with you. Please head over to the tent over there so that you can receive your schedule for the next few stellar cycles.”

It felt rather rushed, being brought onto set and then immediately kicked into an intensive training program. But once again, Orion didn’t want to doubt. Alpha Trion was a nice enough director and took great care to ensure Orion knew all the rules of the set and how filming was going to happen. 

His Co-stars were apparently already on set filming the prologue and backstory sequences. Orion was a late hire since the last mech who signed on as Optimus Prime had apparently been in a bad accident and was no longer able to perform. He was not going to be able to have any behind the scenes meetings with his Co-stars since filming was already in progress. He would need to get to know them on set and while in character. Orion was also explicitly told that filming was going to be done differently than what was typically normal.

Filming would run almost like a reality T.V show. There would be cameras everywhere hidden throughout the set in all public areas. Essentially, Orion would be in character all the time except for when he was in his assigned quarters and perhaps the washracks if there weren’t any extra scenes planned. He didn’t remember there being anything incriminating or… suggestive in the series, but directors were known to adapt novels to their liking. He would have to be careful either way. 

The only other serious thing he was told was somewhat unnerving. He would have no direct contact with the crew, access to stunt doubles, or the ability to speak to the director once he was on set. The reasoning behind it was that they wanted everything to be as realistic and immersive as possible. It seemed a lot like hogwash to Orion, but once they began his preliminary training, he decided to lodge those concerns away and focus on his studies. He wanted to play his role well. If he flopped here, no studio would ever hire him.

Sword training, dueling etiquette, anything relating to politics, royal manners, proper resource management, strategy, warfare, language, literature, history, arts, economy, geography, survival training, public speaking, and so much more were on his todo list. He lost track of the classes and cycles bled into one another. It felt rather silly learning the twenty seven made up languages used in the novels and the similarly intensive made up history of the fantasy world. But he endured it all diligently. It was kind of fun having to memorize the fantasy maps and learn how to sing elegantly so that ancient rites seen in the novel could be replicated.

It was tiring work, and he was fairly certain that a few million shanix had to have gone into the replication of models and teachers that were hired to educate him. The studio must have had high hopes for their film to put so much into him. The director himself didn't seem concerned in the slightest about profits the whole time.  He never even talked to Orion outside of that first instance until he had spent roughly eight stellar cycles studying.

“I believe you are ready to head to the set and meet the makeup team. Do not be alarmed at any frame augmentations. They are all perfectly natural. A chip will be inserted into your processors to feed you information on set, largely so that you need never break character.” 

Alpha Trion looked like he would rather be chewing on rocks as he spat out the information. Orion was rightfully suspicious in his opinion. But after almost a full vorn of dedicating his very spark to learning everything under Luna 1 and 2 needed to play the role of Optimus Prime, he would be slagged before he backed out now. Besides, he enjoyed feeling tested and trained cables strain beneath his armor, a side effect of never ending sword training. 

“Thank you Sir! I will be sure to play my part perfectly!” 

Orion assured as he was led to a space bridge and ushered through. He smiled as he passed to the other side, meeting the gazes of over a dozen rather malicious looking mecha who grabbed him and laid him down on a medical berth before he could wheeze out a greeting. Next thing he knew, he was injected with a sedative of some sort and promptly awoke aching absolutely everywhere in a berth that was not his own.

He sat up, rubbing his helm and feeling the definitive change in structure. He frowned and stood up on wobbly pedes, gawking at his newfound height as he shakily made his way toward the only mirror in the room. He gasped when he saw his reflection. The mech in front of him was, by all definitions, gorgeous. Strong and quite clearly made for war, a stunning set of armor adorned him. Gold highlights graced his plating and strong shoulders now guarded him. Blue hips swayed with every step and long strong legs shone in the light, covered in small glyphs he couldn’t even properly read from how well they blended in. His arm guards were equally ornamented, and he hardly had time to process his wide yet sharp optics before the door to his room burst open and a terrified looking servant crashed to the ground.

“Forgive me my Lord!” The servant wept, curling up on the ground as they hurriedly tried to gather up what looked to be a cube of energon. Instinct told Orion to help, but before he could act, a message flashed across his vision.

[[You are on set now. Play your part Orion Pax. From this cycle forward, you are Optimus Prime.]]

Was it highly unorthodox and probably breaking at least a few labor laws? Absolutely. Was Orion backing out now? Not to save his life. 

He took a deep vent, feeling a new weight pulse in his spark chamber. When he refocused, he cleared his mind of distractions and settled himself on one designation. Over and over he repeated it. 

‘I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Cybertronian Empire, and I am a tyrant worthy of death.’ 

He repeated to himself internally as he scowled at the servant, a pleasant frown adorning his seemingly untarnishable face. 

“What is your designation?” He questioned sharply. The servant shook in renewed terror at his words which flowed so smoothly from his glossa that Orion, or rather Optimus, almost choked. The language of the novel came easily to him now, more so than he was otherwise sure it was meant to. But he did not question as he grabbed the servant by the back of their neck guard and threw them out of the door, doing his best to use his training to ensure that his fellow actor wasn’t actually damaged. 

The servant skidded across the ground, slamming into the wall of the hallway with a groan. Orion- Optimus cringed internally. He had limited practical experience. He would need to do better in the future to ensure his fellow actors weren’t damaged. As much as he loved a dramatic role, he didn’t want to make any actual enemies. He would need to find out the actor’s name and give them a gift basket or something when he had a free moment.

But for now, he had a part to play and a landscape to very hastily memorize. 

“How dare you. Insolent whelp. Have you no experience using the frame Primus granted you?” Optimus stalked forward, his voice deep and resonating, yet also surprisingly smooth. Even when portraying anger, his voice still flowed like a perfectly calm stream. Whatever mods the makeup team gave him, he desperately wanted to keep once he finished with this role. 

“Forgive me my Lord! It was an accident! Y-Your presence startled me! You’ve been in stasis for almost a vorn!” Oh? So that was how the director was playing off his absence. Optimus couldn’t help but find it odd that he had been told his co-stars were filming other scenes while apparently the main story was still progressing, but perhaps there were details he was missing. He would have to talk to his co-stars.

“A vorn.” He practically growled, his perfectly modeled frame not even instinctually turning to flared plating to get his point across. By the pits the makeup team had done him up nicely. 

“I’m sorry!” The servant wailed, clutching at their chassis to protect themselves from a potential attack. Optimus internally wanted to praise their acting. It was honestly phenomenal how well they could force their tears and the sheer terror in their optics. He would need to ask for lessons off set sometime. 

“Enough. Cease your pathetic whimpering. I require an immediate update of all that has come to pass during my absence.” The servant scurried to their pedes, weeping even as they shakily bowed and gestured for Optimus to follow. He obliged without question, taking care to stride forward with elegance that had practically been beaten into him during training. He felt stupid walking with a gentle sway of his hips while his shoulders were held back in his old frame. But with these augments, it felt right.

He was going to have so much fun making scenes as the notorious tyrant the people of the novel feared.

“Your office my Lord. W-Would you like me to summon your Council?” He had a Council? Optimus wracked his mind for who the mecha in question could be as he stared at the gaudy doors before him. 

“Who would that entail?” He questioned with authority lacing his tone. The servant shook even harder and again Optimus applauded their acting abilities. True skill from a mere background character. The director had not spared a single detail it seemed. 

“Currently they are scattered, according to your will prior to your fall into stasis. T-The Lord High Protector, the Young Lords, and of course your personal physician can be summoned if you desire. We can also begin summoning your spymaster and anyone else-” Optimus raised a servo, silencing the servant as he opened the office doors and stepped into a room all but drowning in paperwork. He wanted to cry as soon as he witnessed the pile of work to be done. Did the director really have to make things this detailed? It felt overkill really. 

“Summon all of my Council, everyone of importance. I refuse to be left in the dark.” He ordered as he strode forward, calmly and regally taking a seat at his desk. His expression remained perfectly composed as he sifted through the datapads before him, seeing incredibly detailed documents that looked real enough to pass into law if Optimus didn’t know they had to be forged for realism’s sake. 

“By your will Lord Prime.” The servant hurried away, closing the door behind them and leaving Optimus to his monstrous pile of datapads. The director had said there would be cameras in all public areas. Considering this area was not exactly private, Optimus elected to keep in character. This was a good chance to put his training to good use anyway. 

“Primus protect me.” He muttered in the old tongue used in the novel. It felt right strangely enough, but he chalked it up to the thrill of being on set as he picked up the nearest datapad and promptly dug through every conceivable loophole in the document in order to get the best deal. Sure, he was playing the role of tyrant, but these documents were all for show. If he simply took the time to actually make it seem as though he were dutifully working on them, then his task would be complete.

He would rather not sit around being bored for groons on end. So he might as well actually try and make something of the documents for the benefit of the Empire. Would they actually come into law? No. This was all a set after all. But was it rather fun putting together the perfect little documents to improve efficiency as if he were playing a real time strategy game?

Absolutely. 

“My reign shall endure, regardless of the price.” He smiled, taking care to gaze off into the distance in what probably seemed like a really stupid way to an outsider but was sure to appear amazing to any camera. Then, maintaining his new persona, Optimus allowed himself to drift into his work. No use wasting energy until his co-stars arrived. The director had mentioned that the set was rather large and that it was taking place on a whole new colony world to add to the realism. 

He couldn’t wait to see who was playing the roles of the other characters in the novel.

[lily-alphonse]

what if... shane and mr. qi

Bro what 😭 I know absolutely nothing about Mr. Qi. BUT I have like 2 or 3 more asks with him in it so it looks like Im gonna have to build a characterization for him real quick lol. I love him though. Love a weird little cryptid man and the fanart is so good.

What interest would he have in Shane I wonder? Maybe it's an AU where Shane is the one to take over the farm and everything so he's secretly special. OR... Mr. Qi just enjoys watching a dumpsterfire. There's no TLC in Stardew Valley so what better reality TV content than to watch the town drunk? Maybe even make things a little worse for him sometimes just for funsies.

You know how in the Sims, if you have an unlucky Sim they can cheat death because Grim either pities or is amused by their shenanigans? That's the dynamic I think. Shane is so unlucky that Qi finds him endearing over time.

Qi would start to leave notes for him, trying to send him on adventures or test him. Shane would have none of it, crumbling the weird notes and suspecting someone was playing some kind of prank on him. Qi gets annoyed about it. Enough to even reveal himself, but he picks (what may or may not be) the best time because Shane is so drunk he doesn't even care.

Mr. Qi almost blends into the darkness by the dock, except his cape shimmers with moonlight and catches Shane's eye. He approaches him when he's discovered.

"Shane," he says in greeting.

It makes Shane wonder if he knows him. Then he wonders if he should be worried about this random shady character approaching him. But he also looks kinda silly, a wide hat and sunglasses obscuring his face, and the most obvious answer is that he’s finally snapped.

Shane narrows his eyes at him, trying to decide what to name this odd figment of his imagination. "Mr..." he starts, and Mr. Qi is almost ready to be impressed until Shane settles on "Hat."

Qi isn't sure whether to laugh or disappear in a rage.

A sort of scoff comes out instead and he sits next to him on the dock. 

"Where did you come from?" Shane asks.

"I come from everywhere." 

"Figures," Shane mumbles into his beer can. He downs another drink. "You're not gonna be some kind of like... conscious that talks in riddles or something are you?"

It feels appropriate, almost making them equals, for Shane to see him as an imaginary friend. It makes up for the way Qi had started to see him as a pet. 

"Not a conscious, though I might speak in riddles occasionally."

“Dammit. Tracks I guess. Can never make sense of any of the shit up here,” he mumbles, gesturing to his head.

Qi had been planning to ask him about the notes, maybe even scare him a little. But here he was being handed the golden opportunity to see into Shane’s mind, and that was even better.

Actually, being an unknown, an enigma, had always been the goal. Short of that,he was forced to keep a carefully curated reputation of mystery, which was not at all the same. Meeting in this way turned out to be a blessing.

“Why do you think you’ve summoned me here?”

“I'm drunk.”

“I can see that.”

“I dunno, I'm pathetically lonely," he says with an exasperated sigh, "Obviously.”

Qi feels a twinge of something unnameable at that, though it's still pretty amusing. He likes the blunt way Shane speaks, especially when he puts himself down, its pure dark-comedy gold. It feels different when directed at him personally though. Like some long-dormant human urge within him makes his heart ache to match Shane’s.

“Are you?” he asks simply.

"D'you have eyes under there?" Shane slurs, looking at him more closely.

"Would you have made me without eyes?"

"Good point. The fuck are we talking about? Who are you?"

"Mr. Hat, apparently."

"Right."

Anyway, they continue to meet like this, with Mr. Qi as his supposed imaginary friend, and Mr. Qi begins to genuinely enjoy the connection they have because no one has ever treated him like this. Everyone he meets is intimidated by him, afraid of him, or looking to screw him over. And beyond that, when he was younger and more human, it was always people wanting to know him. Always so many questions.

His goal was always to be unknown.

He gets that with Shane, under the pretext that he does not exist. It’s freeing, and paradoxically allows him to open up. Any perceived oddity about him only gets turned into a reflection on the darkness in Shane’s mind. In this way, Shane might know him in a deeper sense than anyone else has in a long time. Plus, Qi doesn’t laugh this much with anyone else.  

Shane wants to be unknown too, in his own way. But he starts to hate himself a little less, after these late night talks to ‘himself’. Weirdly he starts drinking less and the hallucination stays. 

I think there would be quite a dramatic falling out when he finds out the truth, but in a way, Shane would also be relieved that this was a real person he could potentially be with.

This ask is a part of the (now closed) SDV Rarepair Challenge! Check out the other answers here, and make sure to boost your favorite so it can appear in the final fic poll! More info on that here.

[fightabear]

okay here's a backstory dump for this fatui!kaveh... fucked up au idea. i've got like... an animatic planned because i'm in desperate need of refreshing those skills, but there won't be like a linear ongoing comic like my other projects.

'potentially a fanfiction? maybe? but 'potentially a fanfiction? maybe? but there will probably be like. drawings of key moments.

TL;DR

everything is the same up until the night they meet at the bar, kaveh does not go with alhaitham. either alhaitham bungles the proposal, or kaveh is simply too proud to accept the help being offered and views it as an admission that he should be living selfishly.

instead, after a dream conversation with nahida, he becomes involved in the very early stages of planning for the sabzeruz festival.... and is killed, both as a warning to alhaitham to learn his place, and as a lesson to those of sumeru who wish to worship lesser lord kusanali so openly.

ill dottore revives him as part of his experiments with the akasha terminals. this is a success, and kaveh retains little to no memory of his life in sumeru. he is given a new name and a new purpose - yahya of the fatui, sworn to serve the tsaritsa and her goals. he re-enters the story at the same point, after the crisis in sumeru has ended. he remains behind as the eyes and ears of the doctor and one of the only holders of a functioning akasha terminal.

LONG VERSION OF HISTORY AND BACKSTORY:

that night at the bar, at his very lowest, kaveh refuses the invitation to stay in alhaitham's home. it feels too much like giving up. too much like accepting that he was wrong, that his beliefs are wrong - not the way he went about enacting them. to accept the invitation feels like co-signing onto alhaitham's view of the world as he understands it, and that is so grim and bleak he declares he would rather die than live in a world where people live only for themselves.

he has no idea how prophetic the words are to be.

that night, camping in the wilderness, lesser lord kusanali meets kaveh in his dreams. he does not recall most of the dream, only that she is a warm and comforting presence. everything he believes knowledge should be. a light in the dark, the tools to give the suffering some sense of peace. the people of sumeru are lost, he declares, and the akasha terminals have ruined their capacity to think for themselves. to see the world beyond puzzles that must be solved, and people are hurdles rather than assets.

and when he wakes, he no longer feels as aimless. there is a path forward that he sees all too clearly, and all he grown tired of in sumeru is the akademiya and it's overreach.

the efforts to revive the sabzeruz festival gain much more traction when the light of kshahrewar himself joins in. the actual festival is months away, but the fact that it being planned - that a famous scholar has joined in on the efforts - immediately gets traction.

people who hadn't previously seen kaveh's vision now see it at his hip, and rumors start to spread. he has been chosen by lesser lord kusanali to bring them into a new age of wisdom. kaveh had never minded the whispers of others much, as the only expectations he had ever worried about failing were his own and his client's - but if he'd heeded those warnings, he may have been better prepared for what happened.

when word came from the akademiya that his proposal had been approved, he has confused. what proposal? he had been funding this work on his own and with the aid of the desert folk - who were more eager to assist an endeavor for kusanali if her people were kinder than that of rukkadevata. still, he goes to the meeting place that the head of his darshan asks. they have a pleasant dinner, a few drinks - the taste of which is off - and kaveh grows concerned that questions about his supposed proposal are dodged.

they walk the docks of port ormos afterwards, though kaveh insists that he is not feeling well after that meal and wants to go home. thjat kind nature is taken advantage of, as the man says he wishes to discuss something important. he has been carrying a heavy weight and wishes to share it.

they stop short and stare at the water, and the man laments that kaveh has thrown away a bright future in pursuit of fruitless dreams. he was always a dreamer, that's what made his work stand out, but he does not care for or respect the spirit of knowledge. it brings him no joy to do this to the most promising alumni in centuries.

what he says is truly upsetting is that in the end, kaveh hadn't even earned this through his own merits. it had been his friendship with the scribe that sealed his fate. he would be a message to all.

there's no room for elaboration. kaveh can't even process what he's being told, uncertain if alhaitham ordered this or - if this is meant ot harm him.

regardless, there in the docks on a dark summer night, kaveh meets his end.

he flings mehrak as far from himself as he can once it takes too much damage to pull his sword free. they deliver death unto him brutally, and staged to look like angry debt collectors. and as he lay dying, the doctor steps from the shadows and asks if they have any further use for him once the message has been sent.

he's found in the morning, laying haphazardly on the shores. a dumped body that resurfaced. those lovely hands smashed and broken.

the details of the architect's ruined financials filter out, that he was less a light and more a bringer of ruin. it looks cut and dry. a debt collector had come to collect.

rumors of non-existent fundraisers slip into the conversation, leaving people to assume him nothing more than a charlatan and a fraud. destroying the budding reputation that the festival had.

before an autopsy can be performed, the body goes missing. those dedicated to recreating the sabzeru festival do not give up, and they are determined to see it through. not believing for a second that kaveh was taking them for a ride, and determined to not let his death be in vain.

elsewhere, the doctor carries on with his work.

a broken bird of paradise awakens in his laboratory. the glittering green vision resting atop his chest no longer gives off a glow, but the light at his temple does. this akashic terminal glows with the blue of cryo. all the information that could possibly exist within it has been downloaded into his mind, most of it partitioned away so it doe snot overwhelm him. this process, and the modifications to the terminal itself, makes up for the parts of his brain too damaged to continue to function on their own. the terminal regulates the processes his body should know how to do, allowing him to breathe, his heart to beat, his body to move when he wants it.

the drug slipped into his drink done a decent job of keeping him in a death-like state without actually crossing that threshold into death, but the damage was extensive. recovery, too, would be a nightmare. impossible were it not for this little gift.

when the bird is finally well enough to take wing, Il Dottore bestows upon it a new name, yahya and the codename uccello del paradiso. and with this name, a new mission - to serve the tsaritsa and burn away the world.

yahya does not know what happened to him, only that the cruelty of the existing world is what caused his suffering. he knows that he would have died, were it not for Il Dottore intervention. he is grateful to have been saved, though he remembers so little about his life before he feels he may as well be a new being.

his hands are strong enough to hold a sword, but the fine motor control necessary to write or paint has been lost due to a mixture of the damage to his mind and hands. he is still deceptively strong despite that willowy frame. even more so than before, as the modifications to his body and brain allow him to use more strength than what a normal person should be capable of without harming themselves.

his mind is sharp as ever, and the modifications to the akashic terminal allow him to more directly interface with ancient technology. most of his work has been in the investigation of king deshret's ruins and the so-called 'forbidden knowledge'.

he is most often seen in a modified version of a fatui agent's outfit, though the colors mirror that of ill dottore's harbinger uniform. he is also most often seen with a mask, meant to cover up the altered color of his akashic terminal and to hide his face from any who would recognize it in these lands. though there is light scarring across his face, he still looks like himself... though his eyes have changed. they're flat and lifeless.

the most concerning feature of his new existence is that at any point, his eyes can be looked through. his ears lsistened through. his voice used to say another's words. his autonomy hijacked and used used for the fatui's goal's. and he won't remember anything about it.

i'm still working out where this goes from here.

alhaitham and fatui!kaveh (yahya from here on out) have some encounters where they come to blows. yahya just seems to have it out for him and alhaitham has no earthly idea who this could be, but he pisses so many people off in the run of a day he doesn't pay much mind to it.

alhaitham definitely gets mehrak working in the aftermath of everything and hears the conversation with the doctor because mehrak recorded it, so he knows that the man has kaveh's body. but he assumes its just the body and he's disgusted at the idea that kaveh's corpse is being used for cruel experiments, and he just wants to get it back to give kaveh peace.

it isn't until he speaks with wanderer that he finds out that the experiments were a success and kaveh is alive.

WHAT IS FATUI!KAVEH LIKE?

yahya is still kind at heart, though no longer the sort of person who burns himself alive just to warm others for a second. he is still compassionate to the deserving, but far more willing to lash out at those who throw their weight around to punish the unworthy. in many ways, he is the version of himself alhaitham wanted him to be. he priortizes himself and his safety above all others, though that leaves a coldness to him that is difficult to ignore and hard to witness to those who knew him before.

he is far more quick to violence. pacifism obviously did him no good in the past. and what good is doing good if the evil are still there to reap it's benefits? there is a greedier, hungier edge to him - all to fill the void of loneliness and grief for a life that was robbed of him. yahya can't remember anything about who or what he was. he was told that he was killed for debts owed, and that he should blame the gods for it. as if the god he so loved had helped him, this could have been avoided. thanks to the modifications to the akasha terminal keeping him alive, nahida can't even enter his mind to set the record straight.

he can't pursue the softer things that brought him joy due to the damage he sustained before his death and revival. he collects mora as some holdover of the stress he used to have around it, though he has little to spend it on. nothing really sparks that joy and passion beyond the idea of creating, and he finds his new limitations too frustrating to deal with to pursue that.

while he is far from hostile to most people, he holds little love for sumeru. what he can recall - the phantoms of memories, nothing concrete - does not speak of a life filled with joy. but of loneliness, abandonment, and an untimely end at the hands of people he had trusted. he doesn't think he was much mourned, and doesn't realize that his death set both alhaitham and cyno on a path that ultimately lead to the changes in sumeru he had long desired.

DOES FATUI!KAVEH HAVE A VISION?

sort of. his vision expended most of its power keeping him alive, and is still kind of doing that. he wears it around his neck now, but it looks like the dead visions that we saw during the vision decree. it does start to glow when he starts to remember who he was and the convictions he used to hold.

DOES FATUI!KAVEH HAS A DELUSION?

yes! and he can use one without the negative effects because he's already basically dead. i'm torn as to whether i want it to be pyro or hydro.

WILL HE AND ALHAITHAM KISS?

probably yes.

the core idea here is that alhaitham always fucking knew that kaveh was going to give too much and get himself killed, and alhaitham is grappling with guilt.

kaveh is also feeling a lot of guilt, though he can never place the emotion or figure out why. the fight in the akademiya and the conversation at the bar are recurring moments for both of them.

but the tl;dr is that kaveh eventually realizes that despite how much of a dick he can be, alhaitham wasn't telling him not to ever help people. because alhaitham himself does help people when he can spare the bandwidth, he just... believes people need to also be willing to stand up and help him help them. and that he has to care for himself first so he's not dragged down and drowned.

he was trying to tell kaveh that he needs to take care of himself too. and that he can't drive himself into the ground over the guilt he feels for his father's death. because that wasn't his fault. that was kaveh trying to take responsibility for a situation he didn't create, which is ultimately what he does every time he rushes to save someone. he's trying to take control of an uncontrollable universe, to give all people an equal footing in the world without noticing that he himself is falling off the fucking cliff.

so yes there is probably a big climactic speech and then kaveh's vision flares back to life because he remembers why he lived the live the way he did and all the good he got out of it. and how inspiring it was. and how even if he mcfuckingdied, so many people cared enough to get justice for him. his actions had impact, had weight, and the ripples they caused made sumeru better for everyone.

and then the kiss.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 15: Stuck

Pairing: Mer Sinker x Reader

Summary: There is something unexpected in your fish trap.

Author’s Note: This man fought me the entire time I was writing him,

Warnings: Cursing.

Word Count: 721

Prompt: Character A lives by the sea, and while pulling in their nets/traps one day, they find a bedraggled, angry Character B caught in them. Character B is a merperson that was trying to steal some easy fish from Character A’s traps, but got stuck.

Prompt “Caught Up AU” by auideas

“About fucking time.” You stop halfway through pulling your fish trap out of the water to see a once in a lifetime sight. There is a merman with both arms stuck in your trap. His silver hair gleams in the setting sun as he glares at you.

You find yourself bursting out laughing even as the Mer bares his sharp teeth at you in warning. Once you calm down, you finish bringing the trap onto the dock. He watches, looking up at you expectantly as you analyze his predicament more.

“You tried to steal some of my catch huh?” You knew the answer already, but it was without a shadow of a doubt when he looks away from you.

“Maybe.” He grumbles, scanning the wood planks of the dock.

“Maybe I shouldn’t waste credits on breaking my trap to let you out?” You only half joke as he glares at you again.

“Yes, okay. It’s been a long day and I was hungry. Please let me out.” He forces out with a huff. You nod victoriously before slowly beginning to cut the wood around his arms.

“What possessed you to stick both hands in there at once?” You tease, unable to help yourself.

“I was trying to be fast and take as many as I could in one go. I’m so sick of republic rations and I’m too exhausted to hunt.” He goes quiet for a second.

“And apparently you thought I was easy prey.” You prod sarcastically. He sighs defeated, but gives you a half smile.

“And I was obviously wrong.” He answers sarcastically even as his brown eyes dance with mischief. Finally, you finish cutting a hole big enough to take out his arms. You both check them for wounds and are happy to find they are only a little raw from the Mer trying to forcefully pull them out.

“Thank you.” He says quietly and turns to go.

“Wait.” You extend a fish out to him. “Here.”

His eyes go wide. His face turns grim after a moment.

“What’s the catch?” He arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms.

“No catch.” You say with a shake of your head.

“I tried to steal from you. You can’t…” He gives you a look of awe mixed with complete confusion.

“Yes, I can.” You insist, starting to get annoyed when he doesn’t move. “Take the damn fish…” You let your voice trail off with the realization you don’t know his name.

“Sinker.” He swipes the fish. “It’s Sinker.”

He lives up to his name as he sinks down into the water before you can get out another word.

From then on, you occasionally find a trinket in the trap. You never see him, but are touched and thankful nonetheless.

Then when the war ended, there was nothing for a long time. A part of you mourns the loss of your Mer friend, but you try not to think about it too much. Until one morning, he’s just standing there on your dock in human form like he always belonged there.

“Sinker.” You run up to him with a relieved sigh. You give him a quick hug he obviously wasn’t expecting before wacking him upside the head.

“What was that for!?” He yells offended.

“I was worried sick when you stopped showing up! Are you okay!?” You rest your hands on his shoulders as you look him over. You can faintly see the darkening blush.

“I’m fine. A lot has happened.” Sinker gently pushes you away while carefully avoiding your eyes.

“No kidding. Why’d you come back? Isn’t the empire going to be pissed off you're gone?” He snorts in response.

“I got phased out. They can go fuck themselves.” You burst out laughing at that and Sinker smiles.

“Also, I’m here to repay you.” Your laughter slowly dies as you look at him confused.

“So that’s what all those gifts were for. Then I’m practically in debt to you now.” You feel a bit embarrassed that was all he meant by it. Perhaps you were reading too much into it before.

“Oh really? How about…” He smirks as he lets the anticipation rise. “You let me take you out tonight in return?”

You blink in shock. Sinker looks like he’s about to take it back before you grin.

“I’d like that.”

[nymphilily]

Miscellaneous Fun Facts About The TWST Pokemon Conquest AU Because I'm Dragging My Feet On It And Some People Are Actually Interested, Apparently

I'm not going to explain the plot of Pokemon Conquest to you. I am however going to tell you to play the game, it's really good and probably one of, if not THE best Pokemon Spin-Off and Collaboration games of all time. Also go play Samurai Warriors. Believe me it has more to do with this post than you think

Ace, Deuce and Epel are the mandatory Starter Typing Trio, filling in being Warriors for the Fire, Water and Grass-Type respectively. They would all have the Paldea Starters as their Perfect Links if I didn't decide that Epel's Perfect Link should be the Aplin Line upon conception

Edit: I'm A Fool I'm An Idiot I just remembered Yukimura's Starter Pokemon is Tepig but his Perfect Link is Charizard. Epel can, indeed, have a Sprigatito

They're all also fugitives, it's how they meet Yuu. They found them knocked out on a beach on the edge of the Region while trying to flee

Unlike the Hero/Heroine, Yuu isn't a Warlord. They are instead the head strategist of their little ragtag army. Grim is considered to be a very fucked-up looking Meowth, and not allowed to battle since he doesn't really listen anyways

It's not made clear (ie I haven't decided yet) if Yuu is even from the Pokemon World or comes from a world like our own. They don't have their memories from before waking up on the beach, which is why they want to unify the Region and call up God to figure out what's going on

The very first actual, real Warlord the gang have to fight is Riddle, the resident Fairy-Type Warlord, who ends up mirroring the very last Warlord they have to fight, the Dragon-Type Warlord Malleus. We call that symbolism or foreshadowing I think

Malleus is still considered to be a Dragon Fae, although it's in that "descended from dragons" sort of matter. He doesn't have the ability to turn into a dragon

Cater is a lot like Okuni where he considers Bug-Type Pokemon to be very cute. If the internet existed during The Sengoku Period, A Time Of Chaos And Bloodshed™, his page would be filled of pics of all the Bug-Types he's encountered and raised as a Warrior

Both Lilia and Ruggie are Dark-Type Warriors, meaning they are the de facto Ninja's of this AU! Have fun with that knowledge because I'm certainly not going to expand upon it

What are you going to do to stop me from telling you that Vil's Starting Pokemon is Trubbish? What will you do?

Not necessarily a fun fact in the traditional sense, but Trey is the one and only Normal-Type Warrior that isn't an NPC, so he absolutely could have a Perfect Link with Arceus if I didn't have a very strict "No Legendary or Mythical Perfect Links" rule

If I had a nickel for every time I made a character's Perfect Link the spirit of a dead relative, I would have two nickels. Which is not a lot, but it's very on brand of me to do it more than once I love the Dead Relative Troupe

Idia would have absolutely handed over his army to Yuu's cause if Ortho didn't insist they at least try to defend themselves. Yuu's Army ends up getting creamed the first time btw

The Kingdom Sebek rules over sits on the very edge of the Region and has a dock that no longer see's any activity. Sebek spends a lot of his free-time in the lighthouse near said dock and is often confused for it's caretaker. Yes his Starting Pokemon is an Ampharos why do you ask?

Don't ask what happened to Crowley. We Don't Talk About What Happened To Crowley

[allwaswell16]

—Fics by allwaswell16—

[ 40k + ]

Ace of Spades (series) [E, 90k, pirates, fic post]

Part One: Ace of Spades [E, 78k, fic post] Living as a sheltered omega in a farming village has not prepared Harry for life aboard the most notorious pirate ship to sail the Atlantic. Or Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are. Part Two: St. Elena [NR, 1k, fic post] When Harry’s illness worsened, the crew of the Ace of Spades sailed to the island home of Captain Grim. An Ace of Spades timestamp from Zayn’s point of view Part Three: Ace of Hearts [E, 10k, fic post] Louis Tomlinson, the alpha Duke of Yorkshire, had returned to England to stay now that he’d married and mated. But since his husband was also the omega he’d once held captive aboard his half-brother’s pirate ship, he held back from pushing Harry into parenthood. With the Ace of Spades now docked in London, Harry spent time with his friends from the crew and remained a bit oblivious to his alpha’s deepest desires. What he was aware of was his best friend’s hurt and his mother-in-law’s wish for more than friendship with her oldest friend.

Consequences [E, 78k, amnesia, fic post]

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

Until (series) [E, 62k, cowboys, fic post]

Part One: Until [E, 38k, fic post] Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle��s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star. Part Two: Need [Niall/Shawn Mendes] see Rare Pairs post Part Three: Still [NR, 2k, fic post] Louis has settled into his life in Colorado with Harry, their horses, and of course, Lacey the goat. And now the day has arrived to finally marry the man who makes this place feel like home. A wedding time stamp for the Until universe

Looking Through You (series) [E, 49k, famous/not famous, fic post]

Part One: Looking Through You [E, 42k, fic post] Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. Four years later, just as Harry is set to embark on his next world tour, a drunken confession causes a rift between once inseparable friends. As Harry tries to make sense of his feelings for Louis, he begins writing his next album to express them as it may be the only way to break through the walls that Louis has built between them. Part Two: We Know Where We Belong [E, 7k, fic post] After four years of friendship, pop star Harry Styles and his songwriter/producer Louis Tomlinson realise their feelings for each other go far beyond friendship and probably always did. Their path to falling for each other wasn't an easy one, but now they're together and in love. As Harry embarks on his next tour, some of their old issues arise again.

Just Hear This (series) [E, 46k, Pride & Prejudice, fic post]

Part One: Just Hear This and Then I'll Go [E, 44k, fic post] Former boy band member Louis Tomlinson can’t stand pompous indie artist Harry Styles, but with a new record label to launch he is going to have to endure his pretensions to snag up and coming new artist Liam Payne, who happens to be Harry’s oldest friend. Luckily, Liam seems to be very interested in 78 Records and maybe a little more than interested in Louis’ best friend. Too bad Harry won’t be making this easy on any of them. Or a modern day Pride and Prejudice--Louis is Elizabeth, Harry is Mr. Darcy, Zayn is Jane, and Liam is Mr. Bingley. Oh, and Niall is Mrs. Bennett. Obviously. Part Two: Don't Need Permission [M, 2k, fic post] Indie artist Harry Styles has become captivated by former pop star Louis Tomlinson after their paths begin crossing because Louis hopes to sign Harry's friend to his record label. They haven't always seen eye to eye, but Harry is confident that his feelings for Louis must be mutual. (He's wrong.) Or a time stamp from 'Just Hear This and Then I'll Go'. The 'Dangerous Woman' karaoke scene, but this time from Harry's point of view.

[Back to masterpost]

[missmouse43]

Ooh I have a prompt!

https://www.tumblr.com/the-magnificunt/757852726321381376

This but JJ says it

Jiara Ficlet #6

Prompt: “Dude, why did that siren take on my image to try and seduce you? Is there something you wanna tell me?” (Read on AO3)

I guess I’m taking prompts now??? 🥴 This is unexpected but I’m going to ride this momentum for as long as possible.

AU, monster hunters, siren shenanigans, friends to lovers

570 Words (I’ve been trying to keep them under 500 but I went a little over on this one.)

Hope you like it anon 💖

-

“Dude, why did that siren take on my image to try and seduce you? Is there something you wanna tell me?”

Kiara knew this conversation would be coming at some point; she just wished it could have been when JJ was a lot less pissed at her and she was a lot less sober.

As fate would have it, this week it was JJ’s turn to save her ass on a hunt, and she’d probably be thanking him right about now if the circumstances weren’t so humiliating.

It was pathetic, actually, not being able to tell the difference between someone she’s known practically her entire life and the very thing they set out to kill. She’s not even sure when the switch occurred, but she’s sure of the way her stomach flipped when the siren wearing her best friend’s face reached for her hand and asked her to follow him down the dock.

He persuaded her under the ruse of having something important to discuss about their relationship.

Kiara had fallen for those bright eyes and charming smile hook, line, and sinker. She was tricked into believing her most selfish and hidden feelings were actually reciprocated. Now she had to face the consequences.

“No. That wasn’t—” Kiara stops herself short and begrudgingly accepts that there’s no point in denying what they both know he saw. “It’s not what you think,” she tries instead.

JJ tilts his head and gives her a look that makes her feel like an even bigger idiot for trying to lie to the person who knows her best. He isn’t stupid. He knows why it happened. He just wants to make her say it. At this point, Kiara would have preferred taking her chances with the siren. But deflection would have to do.

“Can we just go already? The siren is dead. Why get hung up on the details? It’s not a big deal.”

“Feels like a pretty big fuckin’ deal to me, Kie.” JJ takes a step closer to her, his expression grim. “You almost died. And it looked like you were about to—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

She turns her back to him and makes a beeline towards the van, unable to hear the end of that sentence without her cheeks bursting into flames. How could she be so foolish as to believe JJ could ever love her back? She should have seen the signs. She should have known it wasn’t real.

JJ quickly trails behind her, that godforsaken mouth of his still moving for some reason. “I kinda feel like we need to,” he insists, and Kiara knows he’s right. They can’t just ignore what happened today. But she can’t stop. Her feet won’t listen.

“Kiara.”

JJ grabs her wrist, bringing their impromptu game of cat and mouse to an abrupt end. And Kiara can feel the difference immediately. It’s in the way he holds her, in the comfort and safety his touch brings. Something only the real JJ could invoke within her.

When she looks at him, his imploring blue eyes are all she can see.

“Just tell me why. Please.”

His desperation is palpable, and Kiara’s heart races at the implications. She prays her face isn’t as flushed as it feels when she softly admits, “You know why.”

And then he’s kissing her, bold and sweet, and it’s the most real thing she’s ever felt.

[thatonelesbianfander]

The Ghost and the Reaper Chapter 6

Fandom// Sanders Sides

TW// Death mention, Suicide mention, Crying, Yelling, Punching, Swearing, Fire, Screaming,

Word count// 2730

Description// Janus is one of the many grim reapers whose job it is to reap the souls of the dead and help them ascend to the afterlife. After one assignment, the spirit they reaped, a 23-year-old nonbinary person named Remus, refused to ascend. Now, Janus is stuck with them following it around wherever they go.

Characters// Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, Janus Sanders

Pairings// None

AUs// Found/chosen family Creativitwins & C!Thomas, human!sides, they/them Remus, it/they Janus, he/she Roman

Masterpost // Previous // Next

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

Remus woke up on the couch, rubbing the tears that had formed in their eye away. Janus stood in front of them, a concerned expression on its face.

”Remus!” Janus said, Remus sitting up, “Are you okay? You were crying in your sleep when I came to check on you.”

”Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a dream about my death,” Remus said, rubbing their hands against their face.

”Well, do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?” Janus asked, “You were really upset when you came home.”

”It’s nothing… It was just my sibling… I don’t really wanna talk about it…” Remus said.

”Okay, I won’t push it then,” Janus said. Remus smiled.

”Well, what’s on the dock for today?” Remus asked.

”Well, I have a few spirits to reap, and I’m also going to need to make a pit stop at the graveyard today since some spirits are having trouble ascending again,” Janus replied.

”Well, let’s go do the reaping first, and get that out of the way, then,” Remus suggested.

”Alright, then,” Janus said, grabbing their scythe off the table. Remus frowned, sitting back down on the couch. Janus looked over to Remus, confused.

”Remus?” Janus asked, Remus looking over to Janus, “Aren’t you coming along?”

”You want me to come along?” Remus asked.

”Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Janus asked.

”I thought you wouldn’t since I would only annoy you and slow you down…” Remus said, looking down.

”Well, yeah, you are kind of annoying, but that’s what makes the job fun. Without you, it’s kind of just boring,” Janus replied. Remus smiled.

”Now, come on. Let’s get this over with so we can get back here and relax,” Janus said. Remus jumped over the back of the couch, walking over to Janus. The two faded out of view, reappearing in a hospital room. Two people laid on beds on opposite sides of the room, both being treated by doctors. Janus wiped its scythe at the first person, the spirit sitting up from their body. Janus then swiped his scythe at the other person, the spirit also sitting up. The two spirits locked eyes, getting up and running to each other.

”George!” the one spirit said.

”Mary!” the other replied.

”Okay you two, break it up real quick,” Janus said. The two spirits turned towards Janus, George standing in a defensive stance in front of Mary.

”Who are you?” George asked.

”My name’s Janus. I’ll be your grim reaper for your ascension to the afterlife. Now, do you mind telling me your names,” Janus said, pulling up a screen.

”Oh, umm. George and Mary Stanford,” Mary said.

”Stanford… Ah, here you are! It looks like you two don’t have any ongoing tasks, so if you’ll just stand still, I’ll-” Janus started before being cut off.

”Who’s that?” George asked, pointing towards Remus.

”Oh, that’s Remus,” Janus said, smiling at Remus. Remus smiled back.

”They look weird. Why do they look like that? Fucking freak-” George started before being cut off by Janus socking him in the face. George stumbled back, Janus glaring at him.

”Don’t ever say that about them ever again,” Janus said, glaring at George. Remus hid their face in their hands, their face a little red with blush.

”Why you-” George started before being cut off by Janus swiping their scythe at him. George burst into flames, screaming in pain as he burned away.

”George!” Mary exclaimed. She turned to Janus, angry.

”You bring him back now, you fucking bastard!” Mary said, running at Janus. She threw a punch at Janus but missed as Janus side stepped away. They swiped their scythe at Mary, Mary bursting into flames and screaming as well.

”Woah, you didn’t have to do that!” Remus said.

”They were going to hell anyway. They were abusive parents and rude to everyone they met,” Janus replied.

”No, I mean… You didn’t have to punch that guy in the face for insulting me,” Remus responded.

”Hey, you’d probably do it for me. It’s only fair that I do it for you,” Janus said, retracting their scythe. All of a sudden Janus got a call on their screen. Remus floated over to Janus, looking over Janus’s shoulder as Janus answered the call.

”Who is it?” Remus asked.

”My manager. He wants to meet me,” Janus said.

”Ughhhhhhh,” Remus replied.

”You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Janus said.

”Nah, I’d be bored waiting for you. Let’s go,” Remus replied. Janus nodded, swiping its screen away. The two faded out of view together, going to the manager’s office.

They reappeared in the manager’s office, Remus going over to the corner and grabbing a notepad and pencil. Janus sat down in front of the manager’s desk.

”Sir?” Janus asked. The manager turned around in his chair, seeing Janus in front of him.

”Oh! Janus!” the manager said.

”You called me?” Janus asked.

”Yes, yes. I need to talk with you real quick, but first, tea or coffee?” Manager asked.

”Oh, um, I guess I’ll just take some green tea today,” Janus replied.

”Alright, then,” Manager replied, pouring some tea into a mug. He gave the mug to Janus.

”Sorry, I only have mugs right now,” Manager said.

”That’s alright,” Janus replied, “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

”Well, it’s nothing about how your doing your job right now, you are right on quota,” Manager replied, sitting down in his chair, “It’s actually about the Antichrist.”

”The Antichrist? I thought that was just a myth,” Janus responded, confused.

”So did I, but the radar is saying that they are close to emerging and that they’re going to emerge in your district, so you can see how that’s a problem,” Manager said.

”Yeah… I mean, isn’t the Antichrist the only one who’s able to kill us?” Janus replied.

”Exactly, and if they emerge it could spell disaster for us,” Manager said.

”So, what do we do now?” Janus asked.

”Well, first of all. I need you to keep up the rules in your district. For example, I know you’ve been letting your little friend visit their family,” Manager replied.

”Oh, yeah, cool. Just talk about me like I’m not here,” Remus said sarcastically.

”Shut the fuck up,” Manager said, glaring at Remus.

”Okay, in my defense, they snuck out without me knowing the first few times,” Janus replied.

”Okay, just throw me under the fucking bus,” Remus said, Janus glaring at them as well.

”Okay, but anyway. The last time you let your friend visit their family, they interrupted a death,” Manager said.

”You what?!” Janus said, turning to Remus.

”What?” Remus replied.

”You see, your friend here interrupted their sibling’s death. That day their father was supposed to go out on a date and their sibling was supposed to call their father, leave a voicemail that would go unanswered, and stab himself while he was away. But instead of that happening, your friend here decided it would be a good idea to make it so that their father would see the voicemail and get back to the house to stop him,” Manager said.

”So?” Janus asked.

”So, because of the timeline crack, the Antichrist is able to rise. There have already been many other timeline cracks in the past, but I guess this one pushed it off the edge. So, to combat this, I need you to enforce the rules in your district more. That means no more family visits for your friend, no interacting with the living, and no interacting with things in the surrounding area. Got it?” Manager replied.

”Got it,” Janus said.

”Good. We cannot have this Antichrist rising. One more crack, it’s over. You’re free to go now,” Manager said. Janus nodded, standing up. It walked over to Remus, Remus ripping their drawings out of the notepad.

”Let’s go now,” Janus said.

”Can we go back to the apartment real quick… I need to talk to you about something…” Remus whispered to Janus. Janus nodded. The two faded out of view, Manager going back to his work.

Remus and Janus reappeared in the apartment, Remus floating over to the couch. They patted the seat next to them, Janus nodding and walking over to the couch. They sat down next to Remus.

”So, what’s up?” Janus asked.

”Nothing, it’s just…” Remus said.

”Yeah?” Janus replied.

”You don’t think I’m evil right?” Remus asked.

”No? Where’s this coming from?” Janus asked, confused.

”Well, during my childhood I was always hated for my ideas. People thought they were morbid and weird and they called me the Antichrist because of it,” Remus said.

”Remus. I doubt you’re the Antichrist,” Janus said.

”I know, I’m just…” Remus said, before trailing off.

”Yeah?” Janus asked. Remus took a deep breath.

”Ever since my childhood I was scared of proving them right… It was my biggest fear at the time… Being the Antichrist… It’s one of the reasons why me and Roman had that fight the day I died… He was getting fed up of me constantly being next to him and being clingy, since he was the only person in my childhood I could really talk about my ideas with without the fear of being judged…” Remus said.

”Hm…” Janus replied.

”Janus… What if all those people years ago were right? What if I’m actually the Antichrist? I mean, your manager said so himself, the Antichrist is on the rise and they’re the only one who can kill reapers like you… What if I’m actually the Antichrist, and I end up hurting you, or worse…” Remus asked, their breathing picking up.

”Hey, calm down. I doubt you’re the Antichrist. I mean, sure, you did make a timeline crack, and sure that’s bad, but I doubt you would be the Antichrist,” Janus replied.

”It’s possible though… I mean, there were a lot of weird things in my life that didn’t really make logical sense… Like for example, I was able to barely survive driving myself off a cliff, and it took longer for me to die… What if-” Remus started.

”Alright, you’re reading into that too much. There’s probably some other reason for you not dying on impact then. Calm down, deep breaths,” Janus said. Remus took a few deep breaths, looking over to Janus.

”Better?” Janus asked. Remus nodded.

”Okay, good. Now, do you want to explain why you interrupted your sibling’s death?” Janus asked.

”I mean, she’s my sibling… Did you really expect me to stand around and let him kill himself?” Remus asked.

”How did you even do it?” Janus asked.

”Oh, I knocked over this guy’s drink, guy called for a waiter, waiter rushed out, and I got the waiter to take a certain path that would go past my father’s table and get the waiter to knock his phone off the table. From there, the waiter gives him his phone back, he sees the notification for the voicemail and listens to it, and then he rushes back home,” Remus said.

”Didn’t I tell you not to mess with anything in their surrounding area?” Janus asked, smiling.

”In my defense, I technically didn’t interact with it. The guy had the drink on the edge of the table already, I just gave it a small nudge,” Remus said. Janus laughed, Remus smiling at them.

”Alright, then. Well, let’s get to the graveyard. I need to help those spirits ascend,” Janus said, standing up. It lent a hand out to Remus, Remus grabbing it and standing up. The two faded out of view together, talking and laughing.

The two reappeared in the graveyard, laughing with each other.

”Alright, alright, you win,” Janus said.

”Hah! I’m the best!” Remus replied.

”Oh, shut it. Anyways, I’m going to go meet with these spirits. Do you want to come or are you just going to hang back?” Janus asked.

”I’ll just hang back for now. You go do your job,” Remus replied. Janus nodded, walking off. Janus looked around the graveyard, seeing a few spirits hanging around a group of graves. Janus walked over to the spirits, the spirits talking amongst themselves.

”So, what should be the first thing we do once we get to the afterlife?” the one spirit asked.

”Hm… I don’t know. I was thinking of reuniting with my family. What about you, Grace?” the other spirit asked.

”I was thinking about picking up a hobby like art, or something,” Grace replied.

”Well, I was probably going to join a band, and create music,” the first spirit responded.

”Hey, you three are the spirits who called me here, right?” Janus interrupted.

”Oh, reaper guy! Yeah! My name’s Grace and that’s my friend Issac and my brother Danny,” Grace replied.

”Last names?” Janus asked, pulling up its screen.

”Oh, me and Danny’s last name is Richards, and Issac’s is Spencer,” Grace replied.

”Richards…” Janus said, scrolling through the list of names, “Ah, here! And what seems to be the problem?”

”Well, we all have this same task but no matter how many times we perform it, it won’t go away,” Issac responded.

”And what is this task?” Janus asked.

”Um, it’s the ‘visit a place on your bucket list’ task. We all went to the Eiffel Tower together since that was a big dream of ours, but it won’t go away on our lists,” Danny said.

”Oh, yeah. That task is weird, and won’t complete. I’m pretty sure it’s a glitch in the system. We’ve tried to get it fixed before but to no avail,” Janus explained.

”So, what do we do now?” Grace asked.

”Oh, I can just force an ascension,” Janus replied. It took out its scythe, swiping their screen away.

”Everyone stand together,” Janus said. The three stood hand in hand, facing Janus.

”Now, you’ll just feel a slight tickle, but nothing major. Have a nice time in the afterlife,” Janus said. The three nodded, Janus swiping their scythe at the three. The three disappeared, Janus retracing its scythe. Meanwhile, over with Remus, Remus hovered around their grave, watching as their sibling played a game on her phone.

”Almost! Yes! I won! Did you see that, Remus?” Roman said, looking over to Remus’s grave, smiling. Remus smiled at their sibling. Roman sighed.

”I wish you were here right now… Life’s been so difficult without you…” Roman said, frowning. Remus frowned, standing next to Roman. Tears started to form in Roman’s eyes, Roman looking down.

”I miss you so much… I honestly wish I killed myself yesterday… It hurts so much being without you… I miss your daily visits… I miss when you would talk to me about your ideas, without a care in the world… I’m so sorry I said I hated it… I need it more than ever now… Isn’t that crazy… How one can forget how much something means to them until it’s too late…” Roman said, tears falling down his face. Remus crouched down to Roman’s level, frowning while looking at their sibling. Roman took a deep breath.

”If you’re here right now… I just want to say… I love you… I’m sorry for not being a better sibling…” Roman said, tears falling down her face. Remus frowned, reaching their hand out before pulling it back. Remus closed their eyes, debating whether or not to do it.

”FUCK IT!” Remus shouted, putting their hand on Roman’s shoulder. Roman’s eyes widened as he looked over to Remus. Remus took a deep breath.

”I love you too, Roman… I’m sorry for having to leave you and Pa like this… I regret it every day… Just promise to stay strong for me please…” Remus said.

”Remus…?” Roman asked. Remus opened their eyes, seeing Roman staring directly at them.

Masterpost // Previous // Next

[wolfiafuntime]

Event: 🧋Shakes Shop🧋

 Hello! I'm Wolf. I like writing fanfic, and I used to write some X Reader's about a year or so ago, but I fell out of the scene due to mental health problems. I've recently come back to it, but I'm super insecure now, and I get really stressed about writing for others (I tried doing a request thing on Quotev but I kept making myself too sick to actually do it). I also have creativity problems.

 My solution to all of this? Easy:

 The 'Shakes Shop' Event!

Featuring: Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All X (Aged Up!) Disney Twisted-Wonderland X (Modern AU!) Genshin Impact X Gn! Ice Cream Bartender! Reader

Imagine This: You've always loved cruises. Everything from the beautiful sights to even the smell of the air. And for a while now, you've been wanting to work on a cruise ship. So, you started looking. And pretty quickly, you found a new position opening for your favorite cruise line: The Crux! The position? Working as a bartender for a shop that only serves ice cream! Instantly, you made a resume for it and put it in. And a few days later, the Manager contacted you, and offered you a four-month contract that would get you $7,200. That's $1,800 per month. Which is $450 a day. Meaning you make $90 an hour!

Damn, why didn't you try to get a job like this sooner?!

Upon getting the job, your boss sent you a description of your uniform, their shop's menu, and a plane ticket to the Crux's next wet dock location. Which wouldn't be happening for another month... Which gave you enough time to quit your current job, sell all of your non-important and non-sentimental items, and spend some much-needed time with your loved ones before your departure!

You also had more than enough time to buy clothes for your uniform: A sleeveless white button-up, a pink vest, and pale white shorts. And, of course, you also had time to learn the menu- which was more customizable than you thought-:

Sizes: Small Cup (125-word range) | Medium Cup (250-word range) | Large Cup (500-word range)

Flavors: Vanilla (fluff) | Chocolate (reverse comfort) | Strawberry (romance (Adults only!)) | Blueberry (platonic) | Banana (crack) | Mint (dark)

Mix-Ins: Reeses Pieces Chunks (1st meeting) | Cookie Dough (reunion) | Oreo Bits (rivalry) | MnMs (yandere) | Mini-Marshmallows (day off/break) | Chocolate Chips (cold/injury) | Peanuts (bad weather) | Caramel (karma)

Toppings: Chocolate Syrup | Strawberry Syrup | Caramel Syrup | Blueberry Syrup | Whipped Cream | Chocolate Cream | Rainbow Sprinkles | Peanuts | Chocolate Chips | Cherries | Banana Slices | Oreos | Chocolate Chip Cookies

Note: Customers can only choose one size, flavor, and mix-in; but they can choose 3 of the 13 toppings (5 if one is a non-pourable!)!

Some Additional Rules/Explanations:

I couldn't decide what I was gonna do with the toppings, so I'm making them wild cards. Most of the toppings are related to something previously stated on the list (ex. strawberry syrup has a romance element while Oreos have a rivalry), but some (whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles) are for me to decide. Also, having 3 of one topping doesn't do anything.

You can only choose up to three different characters for your fic! They can be from any one of the fandoms; so you can have a 'Mammon X Grim X Aether X Reader' fic if you want to!

I can refuse/change part of a order/request if I want to. But I'll only do so if I've already written a similar version of the order/request!

Finally oders/requests for the event close on July 16th at Midnight EDT!

[kagedbird]

TESSDE AU (+ Taliesin) Continuation from this

Taliesin learns very small details of Allora's whereabouts; most people having not seen anything other than some shadows passing by too quickly to see. His outwardly facial frustrations scare a lot of the locals as Kaidan comes back from the docks, looking equally grim.

Kaidan: No sign of her. Taliesin: These useless idiots have nothing either. Where in the world could she have gone? Kaidan: I have only one guess. The Thieves Guild must've taken an interest in her for some reason. Taliesin: *clenches his hands into fists as he thinks, trying to figure out any way they could save her* Kaidan: *looks at him before placing a heavy hand on his shoulder* Look. We'll find her, aright? Use that anger as fuel in getting her back. I'll let you have first dibs on teachin' them a lesson. Taliesin: *gives him a confused glance* ...You're being awfully charitable. Should I question if they also stole the real Kaidan as well? Kaidan: *snorts and pulls his hand away* No, arsehole. Now let's get a move on. We've got some people to flay. Taliesin: *hums, following after him* Perhaps we can rid this town of it's supposed plague once and for all. How heroic. Kaidan: *chuckles darkly alongside him as they head towards the lower levels of Riften* Aye. 'Heroic' indeed.

[Next one here]

[goldeneyedgirl]

Year of the OTP - February Prompt (Truth Pollen): Know Your Guilt

Ah yes, posting a February prompt in late March. How on brand. I absolutely fell flat on my ass in March, health and mental-health wise but I'm back and doing a lot of writing these last two weeks. Not promising anything because everything goes wrong when I do.

Anyway, another short space-verse ficlet; one, I'm in a world-building mood at the moment, and two, there's an anthology I'm planning on submitting to later in the year and I'm using space fic as a bit of a warm-up for that. However, March's piece is half done and I promise, it's a Canon AU.

When the call came in from Jovan, no one was thrilled to go. A small planet that prized its wild forests, the biggest settlement was little more than a village with a population that was deeply cautious around off-worlders. In recent years, small resistance groups calling for complete isolation had started protesting off-worlders and it was just… annoying. Annoying to have things thrown at them, supplies stolen, the ship vandalised. No one seemed particularly grateful for thousands of credits of medical supplies they desperately needed; or willing to offer food and water in return. There were only two reasons they went: the first was how solemnly Carlisle took his vow of helping without judgement, and the fact that the Federation paid them more than fairly for the trouble. 

Alice was up and working again, shutting herself in the analyst office for hours every day with Edward. She was quiet and pale, and still visiting the med bay for oxygen and supplements regularly. Her new augmentations were fitted, but she was still limping as they settled, most of the muscle from her calf and thigh cut away. Jovan wasn’t an ideal job for someone so fragile, and Jasper honestly wished Carlisle had taken any other of the jobs on offer. 

“It’ll be fine,” Emmett says, after Alice leaves breakfast having eaten only a minuscule portion, and chased it with a blue med-patch on her temple. “It’s boring, but we’ll get some decent fruit and some of that wine that fucks everyone up, and then Carlisle wants to dock with the Denali because Eleazer needs some bro time.”

It’ll be fine. 

Famous last words.

—

So the protestors have become terrorists. No one was expecting that; the same way that no one was expecting Esme - of all people - to have grabbed a pistol from the gun-lock. 

It’s a pretty routine visit. A lot of nodding regarding the supplies, a line up of worried looking women and children who need medical attention beyond the shaman and midwives the culture insists upon. The older men refuse all care with a silent mood of disdain and disinterest; the younger ones are curious but will not be witnessed to seek out Carlisle and Rose. 

It’s dullest for him and Emmett, who are on security for the whole day; Rosalie is often a target of violence because of her former people’s beliefs, and people mistake Esme’s gentleness for weakness. And no matter how ‘peaceful’, a community is, there are always thieves. 

Alice is seated in the corner with a tablet, logging supplies and patients quietly - few of the population will offer their real names or ages, so the records are nigh on useless for keeping track of the people, but the Federation demands them. 

It all goes wrong when Rosalie inspects the cut on a leg of a boy just at puberty - all and wiry and very ill. Rose looks grim as she begins treatment (cutting the wound open to drain, medication and packing, wrapping, and antibiotics). The boy is weeping as she works, Esme talking quietly to him, and Jasper is sympathetic because the shiny black substance beneath the infection of the wound is bone. And whatever grass-scented poultice the shamans have used on him has inspired an angry, weeping allergic reaction. The kid is a mess. 

It surprises everyone when the explosion - if it can be called that - happens. The bang in the village centre, just outside of the guest hut they use, sounds more like a cheap party cracker than a serious weapon. But Esme hands him the pistol and he and Emmett go out, and he can’t understand spoken Jovan well enough but Emmett certainly can and he looks horrified. People are moving away, vanishing into the words, into homes and businesses, as a group of very, very angry men begin yelling a message out. 

“We’re leaving right now.” Emmett is closing off the gate to the hut, and no one complains that they haven’t attended to everyone. 

Carlisle is complaining, and Rosalie is trying to work faster, and Esme is packing the things when the next explosion happens just outside the wall and half of the building crumples - made out of wood beams and huge leaves coated with some kind of amber-venom-resin substance, there is little resistance. 

Alice is already dialling into the ship, to alert Edward to what is happening, to pull up the GPS location of the ship and their trackers on the big screen. 

“Yeah, they just called for our deaths for invading their sacred space, we need to go,” Emmett snaps, and Emmett getting snappy is what makes them all get their shit together. 

Except three more bombs are thrown as they emerge, and everyone scatters away from the path - supplies are dropped, Alice’s tablet is crushed underfoot, and they all dart into the forest; Jasper follows Rose’s blonde braid into the underbrush and when he turns around, the damn terrorists are following them. 

He can’t see Alice, and the wheeze of Carlisle’s hydraulics has faded. 

They run for a short time - away from the ship, which annoys the shit out of him - before they burst into a clearing, all from different angles. 

The tree reminds him of an Earth Willow, with long drifting branches that he and Rose have to push through, throwing clouds of green-yellow pollen into the air. He’s relieved to see Emmett dragging Alice along, her gait lopsided and awkward. Both of them are filthy, with abrasions on their faces. Somehow, the faint dusting of pollen on Alice’s hair and face are beautiful, the way it clings to her eye lashes and hair. 

“I love you.”

The words are husky and rough, and the thing that alarms him the most are the fact that they are said by him. Rosalie is looking at him incredulously, but in a way that implies something much bigger is happening, her hair sticking to her face. 

Her short hair. Rose has long hair. 

His mouth is so dry, and Carlisle is wheezing, and suddenly Rosalie is scratching at her face and letting out this terrible noise, and Esme drops to the ground and begins to sob and Alice just stands there and starts saying things, these things that he worries about late at night, and he can’t stop saying that he loves her and he’s sorry and he hates what he did. 

Emmett is talking but everything is a blur of noise so he can’t understand it, but what he does finally understand, as Rose’s spine elongates and Emmett throws his stained jacket over her as a cloak, is that something is terribly, terribly wrong. 

Carlisle is gasping through words and Alice is calm, even if she is rocking as she talks, staring off into the distance.

And Jasper just dreads the moment when everything stops and he has to hear, really hear, every ugly little truth that’s been thrown into the air.

—

It takes another hour to find their way back to the ship. Rosalie is crying, but it’s an angry, rage-filled cry that sounds rasping and harsh; he cannot see her face from underneath the hood of Emmett’s jacket, but he doesn’t try very hard. 

Edward is pacing as they climb the ramp, Emmett scowling at the message scrawled crudely across the hull. 

“Know your guilt,” he mutters. “I’m not fucking coming back here, Carlisle.”

Jasper agrees. 

—

The pollen sticks to them, green-yellow dust that stains the skin if they try to brush it away. The decontamination shower takes far too long to strip it from their skin, and it’s late as they take their places around the dining table. Esme has piled the table with odds and ends from their supplies, no one interested in preparing a fresh meal. 

The seaweed noodles are particularly slimy and salty as leftovers, but reassuring in a silly way - like a favourite meal from childhood. How many times did Carlisle prepared seaweed noodles when she first joined the ship? It was the first meal he taught her to cook from scratch successfully. 

She can’t look at anyone as she eats, the words still hovering in the air, the way they forced themselves out of her like she had been holding her breath and gasping for air.

You weren’t supposed to save me. I was supposed to die. Why didn’t you let me go?

Emmett’s putting the left over fritters on Rose’s plate, not making eye contact. Rose is icy and not really eating, her hair scraped so tightly into a bun that Alice’s own scalp pinches at the thought of it. Rose got it the worst, much worse than those words forcing themselves from her mouth - the pollen had stripped away her face, stripped her right back down to a Faceless. Seeing Rose hunched and curled over on herself, making a rasping noise that Alice likened to hysterical shrieks of rage.

(She’d never seen Emmett move so fast, peeling off his jacket as he rambled about cheating on an engineering test to get on his first ship, about reversing charges to afford to get all his siblings into the right classes, about being the one that killed Esme’s dansi plant. He’d draped it over Rose’s back and head, letting her cloak herself in fabric.)

Esme’s eyes are still red, and Carlisle looks a hundred years older.

Jasper she cannot look at. She’s been avoiding it since they got onto the ship, since Carlisle forced the masks on them all, pushing oxygen laced with inhalant painkiller, allowed them to clear the pollen from their lungs and tissue.

(“I love you, I always loved you and always will, and that why I hated you so much.”)

(“You didn’t love me enough not to hurt me, and that scared me more than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’ve been in the ugliest places, I’ve starved and been hunted like an animal, and your rage was what broke me.”)

Emmett had grabbed her by the arm after she dropped the tablet, half dragged her away. He’d been on Jovan before, during the last generation of extremists, back on his first or second ship. The way they executed anyone who came too close to the off-worlders - men, women, children. The ship had lost five people - two had been murdered falling behind during evacuation; one had disappeared, and two had been taken hostage and integrated into the community as some kind of warning or living sacrifice. 

“I didn’t really speak much Jovan back then,” Emmett admitted, hoisting her over a fallen tree with one arm, still running. “Did a few trips out here, got to see the before and the after. Hoped the after would stick.”

The Federation had intervened back then, dealt with the extremists and put in place a strict agreement for Jovan. Then it had been a relatively chill place to visit - free fruit and booze, and a hefty Federation pay check. That was the Jovan Emmett had aggressively tried to remember. 

“Religion fucks everything up,” Emmett had told her before they had both fallen down the side of a hill and she didn’t get a chance to agree. 

(The pollen tasted sharp, and she’s not surprised that her mouth is bloody when she gets back to the ship, that something that could force out their darkest truths did so by burrowing into the soft flesh of their mouths and gums and noses. It’s the taste of the blood that lingers.)

—

She curls up on the bed in the guest suite, the oxygen mask tight over her mouth. Her lungs were still giving her trouble, something that Carlisle was keeping a careful eye on, and over the last few weeks, the feeling of the mask moulded flush over her face has become reassuring, the cool feeling of the oxygen. 

There’s nothing that can take back all those things that she said, or the things Jasper said, staring at her desperately. Love and hate and regret and trauma was all twisted up into a mess; when she closes her eyes, she can see his desperate look, his eyes soft, and it’s like the old him is there - the one that made plans with her, that laughed often, and asked her to marry him with a fruit-flavoured kiss, and helped her save the flowers from her hair after the ceremony. 

He’s right there, he’s so close, and he might as well be gone forever. And she deserved it. She knew the lie, she lived the lie, and she pretended that whatever they had was worth tucking it away and hiding it, that it was cruel to tell him - as if it wasn’t crueller and sneakier to hide it.

She might fear the rage, the violence that came with the truth, but she deserved it, earned it well. Whatever the others think, she didn’t leave because he scared her or hurt her or anything. She left to punish herself, to make sure he had the safe space. It was always her fuck up that ruined them. 

(Sometimes, she dreams of that last night. Of his hand so tight in her hair that he pulled it out, threatening her in a dark voice. She cut her hair off after that, to her chin. Too short to hold her tight and frozen, to tangle around his hands. She’s blocked out everything else from that night, but not that. That memory sticks to her, along with the animal fear she felt, dangling off a precipice of something terrible about to happen.)

The idea that everyone knows everything, all the thoughts in her head that she tucks down and doesn’t talk about makes her feel sick and she wonders where she could go and hide. Call Carlisle’s bluff and get him to send her to a mental health spa. Or even go stay at Masen House for a while, use her health as an excuse. There’s still a few staff at Masen House, so it’s not like Carlisle would be paying for her upkeep specially. 

(It wasn’t a death wish, really. She knew the doctors she sought out were, at best, shitty scam-artists who knew that she had no choice but to pay up and accepted whatever standard of care they gave her. And that she was sick again. She was tired, worn out, and done with everything. She didn’t plan to be dead, she just expected it. It’s why she didn’t have any food or water in her bag; seemed like a waste of money. And Jasper… he had the paperwork to prove he was her next of kin, if there was any debate. Her savings could have paid off his fines, a final apology for lying to him. It seemed very, very neat right up until Rose found her semi-conscious and decided to save her and ignored her when she tried to protest.)

Her lens beeps at her - someone wanting to come in - and she expects Carlisle when she absently accepts and the door unlocks. 

But it’s Jasper. 

She feels very vulnerable as he slips into the room, carrying a drink and a dish with something pink on it. 

“Esme found some old dessert in the freeze,” he says awkwardly, setting the drink and plate down. “We thought you might need some.”

She nods. It’s always like this; her tiny and curled up in the big guest bed in flimsy ship-issue sleepwear because she hasn’t gotten around to digging out her old boxes from storage, with an oxy-mask strapped to her face; and Jasper looms over her in clean clothes, his hair tied off his face, looking exactly as he always does. 

They haven’t talked since she woke up in med bay with him sitting beside her. Nothing beyond pleasantries, really. 

“Thank you.” Her voice is muffled and raspy. He nods. 

“…Do you want some company?”

He’s staring at the floor when he says that, and everything in her clenches up in a confusing mess of delight and hope and fear. 

There are a million different things that ‘company’ could mean, and she’s just still so tired, she’s not sure she can manage any of them. 

She looks at the sweets that Esme sent to her - a little pink sponge-square, with seeds pressed into the top. Sweet, like some kind of fruit-flower hybrid. Made by Esme, humming to herself in the kitchen. It’s a child’s sweet - offered to children from vendors in the parks of most cities - and something about that makes her sad. 

“No,” she replies softly and she feels like a monster when Jasper flinches and nods, moving to leave.

“Not yet,” she manages, and that makes him turn back to look at her with desperate, naked hope in his eyes. 

“Not yet?” He repeats and she nods. “You… you let me know when, okay?”

She nods, and he leaves, and she closes her eyes and pretends that the idea of ‘when’ isn’t terrifying and thrilling all at the same time. 

(“You’re it for me. I love you. And that scares and angers and delights me, and I don’t know if it can ever happen again because of everything we did to each other. I think I ruined the one good thing that I ever had, and that makes me wonder why I even bother.”

The words taste bloody and tears of frustration roll down her face and the dry, angry sounds of Rosalie losing control feel right - raw and real and painful.)