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dreamsinger-rose · 4 years ago

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Cherry Blossom, from my Picturebook Romance fic

Practicing my drawing skills. This is Leafe Sage’s wife, Cherry Blossom. She’s sort of like a big sister to Branch and gives him some advice about dating Poppy. This pic, counting cleanup in Photoshop, probably took me about 5 hours (!) I’d love to see her in color at some point, but writing takes even more time, lol.

Here’s an excerpt from my fic, where I introduce her, in chapter 8.

________________________________________________

The pink troll followed a winding path through the riotous assembly of wooden booths, cloth tents and open-air exhibits toward Mandy’s pod for a while and then stopped. Wait. One of these displays is probably Mandy’s family’s. They’re craftspeople, after all.

She voiced her question aloud, and several nearby trolls affirmatively answered her. A pretty young female with pale pink hair named Cherry Blossom offered to lead her to Mandy’s tent. Wanting to get back to Branch as soon as possible, she accepted.

As they made their way through the festival, Poppy began to remember what she knew about the troll who walked beside her. Cherry Blossom was the teacher for grade four, the 13-15 age group, which was highest level of general education that most trolls received. Despite being only a few years older than Branch, she was mature, and exceedingly intelligent. Not in an overbearing way, as Branch sometimes was, for in addition to her mental acuity, her emotional intelligence was right up there, and she was as gentle, patient, and understanding as any student could ask for.

She was also highly curious about the world in general; extremely enthusiastic about learning, and she did an excellent job motivating her students to ask questions and seek out answers on their own (and then share their knowledge with her).

Her coloring was striking as well; vivid deep ruby red skin, a pink nose and pale pink hair that was darker pink at the tips. She carried her hair in a graceful style, fanned out into five flowing petals that were reminiscent of the lovely flower for which she’d been named, and her delicately-shaped eyeglasses drew attention to her pretty bright-green eyes.

She wore a scholarly pine-green pleated skirt with a delicate pattern of cherry blossom petals embroidered near the bottom hem and a cream-colored button-up blouse with a matching blossom pattern on the collar. The buttons, Poppy noticed, were actually pink beads in the shape of cherry blossom flowers. She wondered if the twins had designed such a cute outfit just for her, and if Poppy could get them to make her one. The twins could be iffy about such things, not wanting to ‘repeat themselves’.

Much as Poppy had loved her own mentors, she thought a little wistfully that she would enjoy having someone so close to her own age as a teacher. Branch likes to study; maybe for fun we could take some kind of short workshop together sometime?

“Queen Poppy, I’m glad I have this opportunity to speak with you. I’d like to ask you a question, if I may?” Cherry Blossom spoke with a slight accent similar to Biggie’s, her voice soft and refined.

“Of course, Cherry Blossom. Something about school? Anything I can help you with? And please, call me Poppy. We're both teachers, right?”

For she herself was in charge of teaching certain subjects such as troll history, culture, music, and how to get along with others to the first two grades, which covered the 4-6 and 7-9 age ranges. Trollings were always taught in groups that spanned three years, to help them learn to interact with trollings who were both younger and older than they.

“Thank you for the offer, but all my students are doing splendidly,” said Cherry Blossom. “But if it’s not too much of an imposition, may I ask how Branch is doing?”

“What?” Poppy asked, startled. I was just thinking about him. It’s like she read my mind.

The ruby red troll smiled. “You and Branch have been…special friends for a while now, haven’t you?”

“Wh-what makes you say that?” Cheeks heating, the pink troll turned away, staring at the displays she passed without seeing them. Just how perceptive is she? I know it’s common knowledge that we’re friends, but it feels like she’s implying that we’re - Should I admit we’re dating? Is it that obvious that we’re into each other and probably have been since we faced the bergens together?

“Oh, I was on my way to the festival when I happened to see the two of you emerge from your pod this morning.”

“Oh.” Poppy’s eyes popped, and she bit her lip as her panicked brain combed her memory. What did we do this morning? Were we still holding hands when we came out? Oh! We rode together on the slide, didn’t we? And we were cuddling and acting like lov- Oh my gosh!

The pink troll put her hands to her burning cheeks. “Boy, the sun sure is warm today, isn’t it?”

Cherry Blossom covered her mouth with her hand and let out a soft little laugh, her gaze tender and somehow sparkling despite the fact that she was not a glitter troll. “Oh, you are adorable. So sweet. I remember how it was with Leafe and me…” She trailed off with an enchanted look on her face.

Distinctly uncomfortable now, Poppy cleared her throat and Cherry Blossom seemed to catch herself. “Sorry. I just meant that I wanted to convey how glad I am that Branch seems to be doing so well. Happy colors, and all that. So much better than how he was before.”

Poppy caught that. “You sound like you knew him.”

“Just a bit. Before he retreated… I mean, before he went off to create that extraordinary safety bunker. He knew my husband, Leafe, better.” Cherry Blossom gave her a solemn look. “Branch was always very…intense. Very smart, highly focused. He had a lot of deep thoughts that made him a fascinating person to talk to, when you could get him to open up.”

“Tell me about it.” Poppy grinned wryly.

“He’s a good person, though. Wonderful foresight and perseverance. That bunker of his is a marvel.”

“He’s definitely one of a kind. It’s a challenge sometimes, but totally worth it.”

Cherry Blossom smiled back and reached out to touch Poppy’s arm, her forehead wrinkling in concern. “So he’s doing well, then?”

“He is. He’s happy.” Poppy let out a contented sigh, suddenly not minding if her companion did guess the true nature of their relationship. “We’re happy.” Her voice had the slight huskiness that always seemed to emerge whenever she felt deeply about something.

“I see.” Green eyes gazed at her contemplatively, and then the ruby troll was beaming at her warmly. “I’m so glad. For both of you.” She glanced away, then back. “Would it be all right to let Leafe know? They were good friends, once. I know he’d love to hear that Branch is…in a good place now.”

Poppy smiled. “Of course. I’m sure Branch would be glad to know there are trolls who are thinking about him.”

Cherry Blossom gave her a friendly farewell when they reached Mandy’s tent and Poppy stood for a long moment, staring thoughtfully into space before making her way inside.

#Dreamworks' Trolls Picturebook Romance Branch Poppy Broppy Cherry Blossom

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lovelessmako · 4 years ago

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Chapter: Two

Iselin ground her teeth as her flight feathers were clipped by rough, uncaring hands. She should've known she would be caught. Her owner had connections and money, of course he would hire someone. That's strange, when did she start thinking of her foster father as her owner?

"Did you learn your lesson?" He fisted his finger into her feathers as a threat for what would happen should she argue.

"Yes, Master."

He pulled, some feathers coming loose. "Don't call me 'Master' like you're some kind of pet! You call me 'Father'!"

"Yes, Father." She yelped in suprise as a cool piece of metal clamped around her neck. It was tight, too tight. She coughed, trying to breathe around it.

"Don't be so dramatic! That's just some jewelry to help you if you ever get lost again. And there's a tiny bit of motivation to stay close to me."

Pain erupted as lightning danced across her skin causing her to fall over. She lost control of her limbs and twitched for what felt like forever. When it finally stopped she pushed herself up onto wobbly knees and gasped for breath.

Her father knelt down and changed his tone to one filled with worry and dripping in sweetness, "you understand why I can't let you be alone, sweetie? There are bad men out there who would love to get their hands on such a pretty little girl. It's not safe. But I can protect you. I won't ever let anyone take you away from me."

Iselin wanted to puke, both from the pain and from his manipulative behavior. Why did it take her so many years to realize it? Denial. She was passed around so much that she desperately wanted this home to work. Her mother was murdered by her father when she was only a year old. Her older brother had tried to raise her, but a preteen isn't ready for a baby; no matter how much he tried. She would never blame him for bringing her to her god father. She was upset, however, that the man refused to take him in; only her. She spent 10 years with Gabriel, her human god father. Unfortunately, he was called into active duty and couldn't bring her along. He brought her to his older brother whom she had never met. Lucas seemed nice enough. He worked a lot, but he had a big house and she always had the best clothes. But then a strange man showed up on their doorstep. She was introduced to a Golem by the name of Goliander. Tall with a cruel face, he smiled down at her while Lucas explained that she would be staying with him for awhile; just until Gabriel came back from war. If she knew what she knew now, at 25, she would've known that Gabriel wasn't coming back. He had been gone 7 years at that point with no contact. She would've also suspected that Lucas was only keeping her while she was a child, due to the fact that she went to live with Goliander on her 18th birthday.

He sighed in annoyance. "Get up and compose yourself. We have guests coming in an hour." He was...he was leaving her alone out here? "And don't think about running, that necklace has a long range." Of course.

She nodded, choking out an, "understood, father." He nodded, satisfied and went into the house.

Iselin sighed to herself and stood up on shaky legs, using a tree for balance. At least this was better than last time. She thought back to the traumatic memory.

A tall women in a silk red dress and matching heels stood in the doorway, smoking from a slim cigarette holder held between her fingers. Her hair was dark and tied up into a messy bun, an expensive looking pin tucked inside. She spoke with an accent Iselin couldn't place but sounded Asian in orgin.

"If you want freedom so much," Goliander started, shoving Iselin forward, "then last 1 week with Lady Li. She is going to teach you the ropes of her business. During that time you are to obey her completely. Understand?"

Iselin had been so excited by the thought of freedom that she didn't even ask what the business was. She would later learn that the woman was something called a Mistress.

Back in present day, Iselin rubbed at where she knew a particularly bad cigarette burn marked her left breast. It still stung sometimes, but it was mostly the memory. She had went through such torture and then been dumped back onto Golandier's doorstep, bloodied and broken. She was 1 day away from freedom. But she never would've truly been free. Lady Li would've just kept her.

She looked towards the house to see a dress laying on the ground. So he was mad enough to make her change outside, huh? Shouldn't be suprising. How she was expected to keep her clothing spotless when it was in the dirt was beyond her. She removed her current mudded and torn dress and picked up the other one. Her corset was undoubtedly her favorite piece of clothing. She preferred to wear her's stealth, something she was glad she was allowed. It was a simple brown overbust; no need to get something fancy when it would just be hidden under clothing. It had come slightly loose and ruffled throughout the day so she removed it and hit it a few times to dust the fabric off. Slipping it over her head, she began to replace the sides. Her breasts were fairly large but few knew that because of her secret. She pushed them down, as opposed to up, and pulled the strings tightly. It hurt, of course, but it halved her cup size so it was worth it. Why didn't she like her breasts? Other women would try all kinds of tricks to make theirs look larger. She told herself that it was just because they got in the way.

Iselin suddenly grew self-conscious, realizing she was outside in nothing but her underthings so she quickly reached for the dress she had sat down earlier. She hadn't bothered to clean her chemise, hoping it wouldn't be seen. The gown was a simple one, floor length and in a lovely gold. So it seemed Golandier wanted then to look higher class. She could do that. She put on the coif that had been hidden in the grown's fabric as well as a French hood that matched the dress. She hated those; it always seemed like it was going to fall off. Plus, it was difficult to maneuver them around her addax styled without cutting the fabric.

There was a mirror propped up on the side of the house since it was common for her to be forced to change outside. She looked at her baby blue face and bright golden eyes. Iselin had never met another Troll with gold eyes, which drew a lot of attention. Swirls of lighter blue marked her arms and face. Gabriel had mentioned once that the designs have meanings such as bloodline and destiny. He claimed to not know what her's meant.

She stepped inside, forgoing shoes; they couldn't be seen under her gown anyway and it was the little bit of rebellion she was allowed. Inside stood a tall Troll, skin so dark blue that it appeared purple. He had 4 horns equally spaced atop his head that were nearly flat against his skull as they grew backwards, like hair. He stared her down with dark maroon eyes, his own clothing consistenting only of a leather strap across his chest and a tight fitting leather skirt that barely was long enough to cover his unmentionables. The Trolls she saw often wore similar styles of clothing, likely to easier display their markings. He seemed annoyed by her attire since it covered nearly all traces of skin. He let out some frustrated clicks, proving her point. Goliander returned with some clicks of his own in an assuring tone. It was times like these that Iselin wished she had been taught more of the Troll language, other than the words "I am at your service." She nervously pulled at her wings, drawing the Troll's attention to them. Like her eyes, she had never seen another Troll with wings before.

He puffed out his chest and let out an angry sounding stream of clicks. Within a moment, Golendier had grabbed onto the Troll's head and slammed it into the wall. He instantly went limp and slid to the ground, leaving a trail of purple blood. That was the first thing Iselin had learnt about her new home; Golems were very physically powerful. She quickly turned her gaze away, but he caught it. "Room. Now." With a quick nod, she scamped off towards the other end of the house. There had been a lot more visitors as of late. It seems like he was wanting to pass her off onto someone else. She had become too much trouble. Iselin quickly lay on her bed and closed her eyes. There was no telling when she would get another chance to rest and knew to use the time her guardian spent cleaning up his mess to her advantage.

#exophilia #demon oc #monster #may be triggering #trans male #tw death

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years ago

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HS^2 bloggin’ upd8 2020-01-17

Alright, morningblogging yesterday’s 2020-01-17 upd8 to Homestuck^2 let’s go! Spoiler-free again. I kinda don’t want even the next chapter names image-spoiled above the cut anymore so I’m going to have to figure out WHAT to put above the cut in these liveblog posts for visual reinforcement... a unique silly icon? Going back once I’m done with the upd8 and posting something non-spoilery but weird-looking out of context?

Eh, can’t be assed. Just know that after this I’m going to pony up for the Patreon commentary and skim it for anything plot-useful to y’all (in a separate post). Let’s get started.

Okay, what’s next: Any bonuses? Oh, none! Phew. Unless those are coming faster too and just staggered differently, which would mean I gotta overcome my irrational pre-Homestuck-reading anxiety even MORE often. :T

No Homestuck you don’t GET to ask how my-- ah, right. :P

(FYI, HS^2 has been good to my emotions so far, quite a balm for the epilogues, so once I START reading I’m usually fine; but after being hurt so badly how could I possibly convince my lizard brain to trust it until it’s right in front of me? Seriously, just hearing that the upd8 has landed messes me up a bit until I come fix it by reading w/ y’all here.)

Okay, so whose feelings? As much as I’ve been waiting for Jade, I hope this isn’t about Jade.

> ==>

Ah fuck, we’re finally with the Pursuit Crew. Bracing myself. That means we get to see probably sleeping Jade ( :C ), full-swing DaveKat (approving nod), the first canon onscreen look at masculine-mode Roxy (<3), a probably pretty pissed off Kanaya (possibly either the feelings target, the one Saying How Are Your Feelings, or both), and uh... did they drag Callie along? Or leave her back there with her meta freakout? Probably left her back there, but... hm.

Let me turn up the brightness on this screen to sear these next pages into my retinas. (Also, it feels odd to still be using a four-person “==>” for these, although if Jade is still asleep the numbers might fit on both ends... :c )

> ==>

I don’t think Dad is in the spacefaring business, so this is probably one of Jake’s shittier spaceship designs.

> ==>

...well that’s a touch disturbing. Is that a Jade-occupied bed or are those just pillows?

Oh what the fresh fanfic’y heck is this command.

> i enter.

Okay that’s great. I got a kick out of that.

JADE [in calliope red]: the prince’s power grows.

--but that’s not. That explains the narrative command text, it’s alt!callie talking through a still conked-out Jade. Please let her wake up between speak-throughs, please tell me you’ve learned that trick?? I already know you’re gonna pull an “oh she was asleep pretty much all of those THREE YEARS OF TRAVEL” thing on me and that’s hard fucking enough to deal with.

KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST!

He’s actually using the full curse correctly, huh?

...These commands. Guess part of the puzzle is how much alt!Callie is being typically morbid and how much she might actually be wising up enough to get a kick out of this.

> the knight of blood falls.

DAVE: dude can you chill for like even a single fucking second DAVE: also are you ok

Has CallieJade chilled for even a single second this entire trip?? Is he asking just if Karkat’s okay or Jade too???

--yeah I’m overblowing things out of nervousness. Just wait and see a bit, boots.

Alt!Callie has at least learned to be more of a smartass:

> karkat is characteristically appreciative of the alarm call.

Shirt trade Karkat, nice. And uh, Jade’s dress sure is a... dress. Hm.

(Did alt!Callie alchemize adjustments to did she just luck out to have a red-symbol’d Bec belt and accent leggings? I’d prefer the former, because as much as it would be acceptable within Homestuck proper, using the transition between the epilogues and this new-author’d work to just HAPPEN to give her a fitting outfit without an excuse via providence is kind of lazy.)

KARKAT: OH, PARDON THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR OVERREACTING A LITTLE WHEN MY GOOD FRIEND "POSSESSED JADE" BUSTS INTO MY RESPITEBLOCK AT 5 AM! KARKAT: NEXT TIME I’LL JUST PULL THE COVERS BACK AND LET HER CLIMB IN! JADE: i am uninterested in that scenario. KARKAT: GREAT! POSSESSED JADE ISN’T EVEN HORNY! HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT?

...please let that mean he’s not used to her being possessed all the time and she wakes up sometimes. PLEASE.

DAVE: but im pretty sure i locked that door JADE: i unlocked it with my mind. DAVE: fuck KARKAT: FANTASTIC. JADE: the prince’s powers are growing, but so are mine.

Dave, I’m pretty sure regular-ass no-Green-Sun Space powers can flip a few lock tumblers too. (--though, I guess from context this was a Jakeship technolock. Confirmation on the ship’s bad taste in design. --I think I’m foggily remembering it said in the Epilogues that they took one of Jake’s ships just like Dirk did, too... man, being depressed so much by the Epilogues sure took a lot out of my ability to recall them decently.)

KARKAT: LIKE YOU DON’T FLOAT AROUND LIKE A CREEPY PIECE OF SHIT ALL DAY AS IT IS?

God DAMN IT she’s been asleep and possessed the whole fucking time.

> sleep is abandoned, coffee sought.

More obligatory DaveKat being cute, somehow only emphasized by the embarrassing glowing-with-power observer who doesn’t really get any of it.

Ah, here we go:

> the rogue is also awake.

Oh huh. Cool!

Hero outfit, understated... her his choice of heart-shades color-coded to stand out from Dave more to avoid further mistaken identity cases. Works well! (Holy shit I only JUST remembered at the end to go back and correctly gender Roxy as him, that was close. I blame the epilogues for a lack of visual reinforcement; I shouldn’t have as much trouble soon enough. Seriously, I don’t remember ANYTHING without visual reinforcement, I think that’s why I remember so much of Homestuck proper so clearly.)

KARKAT: OH SHIT, THERE SHE IS! I DIDN’T EVEN HEAR HER FOLLOW US! ROXY: sometimes a girls just got to get her drift on i guess ROXY: it be like that

ilu roxy.

I missed Roxy so much, you guys. I need more of him remarking on all this crazy shit if I’m gonna stay sane though all this. (And I need more of him and AWAKE JADE kicking ass independently or together if I’m going to continue to believe there’s justice in the world.)

> ==>

We rarely saw Rose drinking anything but the rare coffee in canon, but I think Kanaya would have gotten her plenty into tea, yes. Or at the very least, wanting the aesthetic of drinking tea with Kanaya would have gotten Rose into tea even if it never crossed Kanaya’s mind to try the stuff.

ROXY: well i mean who knows what she drinks now ROXY: dirk probs tossed the coffee machine out the space window right away ROXY: dude doesnt "believe" in "substances" > the prince is contemplated for a moment in silence.

FUCK, Dirk can see the narrative all the way out here??? No wonder alt!Callie’s forced to have possession turned on 24/7. That’s fucking disappointing. How the hell are we going to get any proper Jade time with THAT hanging over our heads? She’d only be able to do anything when Dirk’s knocked out, and maybe not even THEN!

I was virtually promised more of actual non-asleep Jade getting shit done in HS^2. Now there’s an even longer wait on it than I expected. This sucks.

(EDIT: BOY did I misread that link line. Thinking “is contemplated” meant is sitting contemplating, when it meant "is being contemplated by everyone here". That was dumb of me.)

*clicks that next link*

Oh my goodness, Roxy joined the Bird Hair Crew. It makes him look like a fucking asshole but I kind of love it.

KARKAT: IS THERE MILK?

I can’t believe Karkat is okay with drinking milk. --yes, culturally Trolls are more comfortable with animal excretions than we are, but you would’ve thought years of railing against Equius would have purged any tolerance the idea of milk from his psyche.

I guess Dave introduced him to cereal, and it was all over from there.

DAVE: this is more like a castle DAVE: a castle of idk DAVE: twenty something ennui

Sounds like a relatable mood. Especially considering Dirk probably decided to conquer reality out of almost nothing but twenty-something ennui.

Alright. You aren’t going to turn Kanaya into an alcoholic or anything on us are you?

> the knight of time seeks a sylph...

--this is the shittiest shipboard starship aesthetic.

> ...and finds her, momentarily.

WOW that looks fucking depressed. :(

> ==>

...okay you know what? Never mind. That outfit has wrapped straight back around into Trying Too Hard and is now hilarious.

DAVE: you ever feel like our whole lives are eventually gonna end up like this DAVE: just blasting through space on a sweeps long journey to ""somewhere"" chasing after or running from some vague enemy thats sometimes a god modded pet dog and sometimes your dad DAVE: without the faintest fucking idea of whats going to happen when we get there DAVE: thats a little specific but you know what i mean

Why do you think the epilogues upset us so much? We thought we’d won free of that bullshit.

> ==>

Oh jesus christ that’s the most depressingly sad I’ve ever seen Kanaya drawn. :C

--Karkat got you to watch Serendipity? That’s amazing, Dave.

KANAYA: You Arent Reminding Me Of Her As I Rarely Think Of Anything Else KANAYA: I Close My Eyes And I See Her KANAYA: I Keep Them Open And I See Her

Fuck.

Y’know how little showing these two in love and actually HAPPY together we’ve seen in this entire comic and its subworks? Despite them having spent at least a few happy years together we only saw in tiny screenclips? And how Candy alluded super hard that they most likely couldn’t get that in this real timeline where shit’s going down?

Seriously, FUCK. You could at least pretend to give us some hope, here.

Oh no, don’t ask for the nursery story, Dave. Unless it turns out to be a funny one or a Rose twist on an old story or something. Which it probably is, I should stop worrying.

> ==>

KANAYA: Oh Its A Wriggler Story About A Young Prince And The Beloved Flower He Loved And Lost DAVE: flower DAVE: like a plant KANAYA: Its A Fairytale Dave DAVE: right KANAYA: A Singular Wild Rose He Failed To Cherish When He Had Her KANAYA: And His Journey Of Discovering What She Meant To Him All Along KANAYA: Culminating In A New Quest To Find Her And Win Her Back

Dirk you PIECE OF SHIT did you rewrite the narrative of the fucking STORIES SHE TOLD CHILDREN?!?? Does the fact that alt!Callie is only in the present mean he can rewrite ANY past event we didn’t literally SEE??? FUCK you. Seriously fuck all of this.

Please tell me she was kidding just then, or realizes there’s fucking something wrong with what she’s saying and getting angry or.

(EDIT: shoutyourporpoise replied: "Hey, idk If you picked up on this, but the 'nursery story' Rose told to the wigglers is just The Little Prince, which is maybe a BIT early for them to read, but I don't think that's a case of Dirk changing the narrative; its just Rose being Too Adult as usual." Oh, damn, I didn't even CATCH that it was that story. That makes all of this a lot more forgivable, even if pretty unforgivably leaning into the fiction that Dirk used to brainwash and kidnap her. Maybe that's exactly why it worked -- fiction, a story so blazed into the public consciousness? Hm. Thanks, shoutyourporpoise.)

KANAYA: But In A Way I Feel As If It Is the Greater Universe Trying To Tell Me Something

Mother fuck I’m even going to have to see our protagonists warped by Dirk when they’re ostensibly FULLY SHIELDED aren’t I. There’s only so much of that I would be able to take, you know.

KANAYA: It May Simply Stem From My Longing To See Her Again And How Much Is Indicative Of Something More Sinister KANAYA: She Is A Goddess Of Light And The Only Of Her Kind We Know Is Alive After All KANAYA: Maybe Shes Wrested Dominion Of The Entire Concept In All Its Appearances Within This Frame Of Reference

Hm. Well, it being a product of Rose’s ascension instead of Dirk’s is possibly a more charitable take, with Ultimate Rose projecting the delusion enforced on her backward, visible to past Rose’s Sight when she isn’t paying attention and thus paving the way for Dirk to paradoxically exploit that “ideal” as something Lighty and Important and “Perfect”. I still don’t fucking like it though.

> ==>

DAVE: sorry i know you say you got your badass monster powers but kanaya you look tired as hell DAVE: not that im tryna psyche you or whatever but youre waxing poetic in the dark which i guess is maybe on brand but still

Yyyep.

DAVE: unless terezi is lurking in the vents somewhere and now that i bring that up its actually not out of the question so im kind of gonna be thinking about that one for a while

Pffff.

DAVE: youre the only person i know whos still basically the same as when i met you

--Which is kind of going to have to change, right? She’s got some other cosmic purpose ready to change her a little more than she changed pre-human-troll-meetup, you’d think.

> ==>

Cute as hell.

> ==>

KANAYA: How Are Your Feelings

There’s the title drop. I’d think Dave’s doing pretty well, considering? Still fucked over by Dirk betraying and tricking Rose away who he’s been close with all his life, but.

> ==>

DAVE: except sometimes your best friend disappears and your other best friend goes into a ghost coma and your third best friend fucks off to space with your dad DAVE: the dude youve spent the last 7 years convincing yourself isnt an egomaniacal anime villain DAVE: and who isnt actually lying in wait to completely decimate your life and your emotions and shit

Ah... yeah. A little worse than my casual list, huh? Forgot that Jade vanishing into a possession-coma for THREE FUCKING YEARS is going to be hard on people inside the comic too, fuck.

DAVE: maybe it was naive to think that a bunch of twenty something trauma victims could run a society

I was honestly surprised they TRIED to run society at all. Jasp even just highlighted a big reason why not in the bonuses.

DAVE: cool how earth c existed for centuries then we show up and manage to ruin society in seven fucking years

Well, the trolls got THEIR lesson on why they didn’t deserve to rule over their new universe like gods; I guess some of y’all needed that lesson too?

DAVE: every serious conversation i have inevitably falls apart into riffing on a casual acquaintances ass

True.

Dammit, Dave didn’t feel like he could just be Some Guy even on Earth C. :(

> ==>

...don’t think I’ve forgotten that nursery story, though. I don’t want to think that it was something that ACTUALLY past happened, especially not without manipulation. Like maybe past Rose was foreseeing the false purpose that Dirk wrote for her or the like, a cooperative misunderstanding between the two instead of Dirk or Rose literally reaching back in time.

> meanwhile...

KARKAT: WAIT, WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN ASKING? HE’S OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE. KARKAT: ARE ANY OF US? ARE YOU? ROXY: not rly KARKAT: EXACTLY.

--Oh right. I remember that Callie and Roxy were going reasonably steady in Meat even though it was only alluded to, she didn’t freak out and stay awol or what have you. That’s good to remember. But it means Roxy deliberately left her behind to go on this dangerous quest, for years. :C

KARKAT: KANAYA BARELY EVEN TALKS, CALLIOPE WON’T LEAVE THEIR CABIN, JADE JUST FLOATS AROUND LIKE A CREEPY BALLOON THAT’S MOSTLY MADE OF HAIR.

Oh, SHIT. I should have read one line further. They DID bring her. Alt!Callie being here too must really FUCK with her. ...maybe she can actually learn to accept that alternate way her life might’ve played out, though?

KARKAT: THE REALLY FUCKED UP THING IS I MIGHT BE THE MOST OKAY OUT OF ALL OF US, WHICH IS HOW YOU KNOW SHIT HAS REALLY GONE GLOBES UP.

Quite true.

ROXY: ur kinda an intense dude anybody ever tell u that KARKAT: NO.

Pff.

> ==>

KARKAT: AGAINST PRETTY MUCH ALL ODDS, AND DESPITE ME NOT DESERVING ANY OF IT, I ENDED UP GETTING PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING I WANTED. KARKAT: OVER AND OVER AGAIN. KARKAT: SOMETIMES IT ALMOST FEELS LIKE WHATEVER SLATHERING MONSTROSITY OF A COSMIC HELLBEAST THAT PUT ALL THIS SHIT INTO MOTION...ACTUALLY LIKES ME?

Well, if you want to blame Lord English for instance... we never saw Caliborn and Karkat interact much, but the parallels between the two were drawn so severely that Caliborn was basically the idealized, multiverse-threatening Ultimate Kismesis that he’d always dreamed of. And operated against him without him even ever quite realizing it.

If a level of “respect” went from Caliborn to Karkat, too, from his Lord-Englishy vision nigh-omnipresent, then this outcome isn’t very surprising at all.

> ==>

(I don’t quite feel I get why Roxy shifted to this exasperated-Dave expression, but I get logically that he’d been waiting for Karkat to make a breakfast choice... Homestuck proper rarely pulled a “last line said corresponds to next-panel’s expression” without either leaving the conversation blank or having the NEXT lines of the conversation reinforce it, to prevent this inelegant misunderstanding. Andrew was really damned talented in getting his point across visually, in that regard. Just like, that careful visual intent delivery.)

Alright, I guess that’s it for this short upd8! Meeting the pursuit crew was both more and less difficult than I expected. Hopefully I get desensitized a bit as the characters continue to feel semi-almost-sorta-fine.

I have NO idea how this group is gonna work as a proper crew when we get to whatever weird other-players’ session this shit is going down in, though.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #spoiler #spoilers #shoutyourporpoise

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jahaanofmenaphos · 5 years ago

Photo

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 07: DISHONOUR AMONG THIEVES

QUEST SUMMARY:

Due to his status as the World Guardian, Jahaan wound up as part of Zamorak’s heist team. Their task? Steal the Stone of Jas from Sliske and return its power to Zamorak. Jahaan gets to learn more about a god propaganda had always skewed, but will he be on board with Zamorak’s plan in the end…

CHAPTER 3: CHAOS OF CORRUPTION

The first man - well, man-ish - he was introduced to was Jerrod, a dark-skinned unkempt looking fellow from the lands of Canifis. Canifis had only one prominent export, and that was werewolves. Jerrod happened to be one of those. As soon as Jahaan had approached him, Jerrod began sniffing the air, the look of unsated bloodlust dancing in his red eyes.

“Von’t worry. I von’t eat associates,” through his thick accent, this was the most amount of reassurance Jahaan got from the werewolf, and decided to stay on the opposite end of the room to him as much as possible, especially since it was a full moon tonight.

Thankful to see another full-blooded human in the ranks, Jahaan felt most comfortable around the Lord of the Kinshra, Lord…

Oh blast, what was it again? Jahaan cursed his memory. Lord… Nefarious? No, that makes him sound like a pantomime villain. Precarious? No, just as bad…

Jahaan silently prayed someone would say his name in the not too distant future so he could make a better mental note of it.

Lord Whatshisname was the youngest appointed leader of the Kinshra, the ‘Black Knights’ as they had come to be known. They were the force that has tried and failed on many occasions to conquer Falador in the name of Zamorak. Despite the Black Knights not having a very formidable reputation, their leader certainly looked like he could handle his sword. Decked out in striking black armour, trimmed with gold and crimson, with spikes on the shoulders and joints, Lord Whatshisname did not appear to offer fools gladly, a scowl permanently embedded in his scarred face.

“Don’t talk to me, human,” Zemouregal sized Jahaan up as soon as Moia brought him close enough, towering over him by an imposing foot and a half. He was standing beside an irritated looking Enakhra, who rolled her eyes as soon as Zemouregal opened his mouth. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Ah, I see you two have already met,” Moia remarked, smiling exasperatedly to Enakhra with an expression that read, ‘I know, right?’

“Look, we have a common goal, and a common enemy in Sliske,” Jahaan’s teeth were so gritted he felt as if they were going to shatter. “Can we call a truce, for your master’s sake?”

“He’s not my ‘master’,” Zemouregal sneered. “I’m ruled by no-one.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Zemouregal slashed forwards, the armour on his stomach smashing into Jahaan’s chest, knocking the man back a pace, but he quickly recovered ground. “Watch your tone with me, rodent,” he threatened, not even trying to mask the intent behind his words. “Zamorak may have business with you, but not me. You step one foot out of line and I’ll sever that tiny head from your shoulders, peel the skin like a grape and crush your skull in my fist.”

Jahaan did not think it was wise to point out that, after his head was severed, Zemouregal could play kickball with it and he wouldn’t care - he’d be dead, after all - but the angry Mahjarrat had definitely made his point. It’d be foolhardy to pick a fight with him; the room was full of Zamorakians who probably preferred a lukewarm glass of water over Jahaan.

Moia quickly ushered Jahaan away, and Enakhra worked to distract an angry Zemouregal.

The two kept their distance after that.

At least Hazeel seemed friendlier. Well, in comparison, a starving rottweiler is friendlier than Zemouregal. Jahaan had met Khazard at the Ritual of Rejuvenation, and their encounter was still fresh in the minds of both beings. From the glare Khazard was bearing down on him, Jahaan knew it’d be up to him to try and smooth things out.

One Mahjarrat enemy in the ranks was enough.

After nodding in greeting to Hazeel, Jahaan turned to Khazard and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry about your dog.”

“His name was Bouncer,” Khazard stated. He looked a little startled by the apology, but he hid it well under a veil of resentment.

“Yes, I’m sorry about Bouncer,” Jahaan continued. “It all got pretty heated. I just… I love dogs, too. I wish he didn’t have to get hurt.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“Not anymore, but I kinda have a pet troll.”

Khazard seemed amused, his sorrow lifting slightly. “You have a pet troll?”

“Yeah, a baby troll. His name’s Coal,” relieved to find some common ground, Jahaan felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “I helped rescue him from Burthorpe.”

Khazard appeared to smile back. It was a strange sight to see. “What’s your name?”

Extending a hand to shake, Jahaan replied, “Jahaan. I know who both of you are. Your reputation precedes you.”

After having his dominant hand nearly crushed into pieces by the Mahjarrat grip, Jahaan regretted the act of courtesy. To Hazeel, he asked, “How did you get out of your coma?”

“Coma?” Hazeel fumbled the foreign word on his tongue. “If you mean the state of sleep those cowards put me in, I have Zamorak himself to thank for my liberation. He awoke me upon his return. After all, I am like a brother to him.”

“You missed a few Rituals though,” Jahaan winced, his eyes boring into the hollow sockets of Hazeel’s skull. “How do you feel?”

“I… am weakened, it is true,” Hazeel regretfully informed. “My life force is critical. I shall not be able to accompany you on whatever mission Zamorak has planned for us today. Once the next Ritual of Rejuvenation is complete, finally I will retake what is rightfully mine.”

“Ardougne?” Jahaan hazarded a guess.

“Precisely. I will reclaim that which was taken from me, just as Zamorak intends to reclaim the Stone of Jas.”

Khazard put a gloved hand on Hazeel’s thin shoulder. “There was a time when between us we controlled all of southern Kandarin. Our reign was glorious. With the combined might of our forces, we will crush them like ants under foot.”

Smiling with an empty jaw, Hazeel replied, “It has been too long, Khazard.”

“You taught me how to conquer. Now it is my turn to help you.”

Despite feeling like he’d awkwardly stumbled into a nice little bonding moment between the two Mahjarrat, Jahaan tried his luck with the Zaros question once again. Thankfully, Hazeel’s response was much more measured.

“Zaros was unfit to rule,” Hazeel declared. “We never spoke with him, or saw him in public. He only ever conferred with that pious Azzanadra. Zamorak spoke the truth, that the Empire was stagnating, the priesthood - headed by Azzanadra - was corrupt, and that we had to take back control.”

“And you, Khazard?” Jahaan inquired.

“I was born into the Zamorakian forces,” Khazard replied. “I am the youngest of my brothers, born on Gielinor during the God Wars. My mother, Palkeera, died during the Battle of Uzer, shortly after my birth.”

“And your father?”

Shrugging, Khazard attempted to look nonchalant, but his eyes darkened slightly. “No doubt he perished too.”

The last person Jahaan was ‘reintroduced’ to was Nomad, a Soul Mage that Jahaan had the pleasure of encountering once before, and it was NOT a pleasant experience. He was undying, a man that had cheated Death numerous times and had somehow grown in power after every defeat. Nomad was known to be an apprentice of the late Lucien, before obtaining enough power and battle prowess to challenge his former master.

Nomad’s large bald head had blue veins appearing through the thin skin, drawing patterns like a trail map. His stance was perplexing, too; he was crouched down like he was about to break into a sprint any second, with an arm bent to guard his scarf-covered mouth. His jagged staff was held behind him, traces of blue energy emitting from the point. He was quite a bulky gentleman, with armour blending in among his robes, the combination providing decent magical and melee protection.

Though Nomad was still technically a human, his obsession with souls and magic had corrupted him over the years, making him something more and, simultaneously, something less than a mere man.

Oddly, Jahaan found himself sympathising, if only somewhat. After the power Guthix had bestowed upon him, making him the World Guardian, Jahaan no longer felt like a mere mortal anymore. Perhaps it was narcissism? Perhaps it was naivety? Whatever it was, it was a feeling Jahaan couldn’t shift…

It wasn’t long before Zamorak graced the chamber with his presence, teleporting in just in front of the throne; the Mahjarrat only bowed their heads in respect, while the others took to their knees. Jahaan remained standing.

“Arise, my disciples of chaos,” Zamorak began, motioning for them to stand. He stepped forward from the throne and settled between Moia and Bilrach. “Good to see you all again. Now, I’ll get right to it. If you don’t already know, we’re going to steal the Stone of Jas from Sliske. I’m not playing his stupid games any longer - just like I taught you, we’re going to take what is ours through strength and chaos!”

The cheers were interrupted by Moia who declared, “My lord, apologies for the disruption, but Viggora has returned. I can sense him.”

Smirking, Zamorak replied, “Perfect timing. Khazard, I need you to enter the Shadow Realm and get Viggora.”

“As you command,” Khazard nodded, stepping forward to gain some ground. He concentrated hard, his eyes closed and fists clenching, but… nothing. Bafflement turned into panic as he failed once more to disappear into the shadows. Darting his eyes towards Hazeel, he exclaimed, “I can’t enter the Shadow Realm!”

Puzzled, Hazeel calmly stepped beside him and tried the same motions, but to no avail. Gravely, he turned to Zamorak and declared, “My lord, I fear Sliske has been meddling with our ability to enter the Shadow Realm. I had sensed something afoul. I believe he has corrupted the boundary. I do not know how this is possible, but it is the only explanation.”

Sighing, Zamorak said, “It’s okay. Only that bastard Zarosian is a better manipulator of the shadows than you two. The failure is not on your shoulders - it’s just another reason to strip his power away. Can you at least create a window into the Shadow realm so that we can see Viggora, even if you can’t enter yourself?”

“I’ll try, my lord,” Khazard responded. With a few motions of his hand, and a slight strain on his part, a large enough window into the darkened mists of the Shadow Realm was created and a figure emerged on the other side. He was bald, but sported a radical two-pronged beard and a bulky suit of steel armour, trimmed in black. There was also the small matter of him being translucent.

When he saw Zamorak, he knelt. “WoOoooooOOoo.”

Crinkling his brow, Jahaan looked around him in bafflement, wondering, Did… did anyone else hear that?

“So it’s true,” Zemouregal stepped forward, a slash of a grin on his face. “Viggora, I’d heard you lost your mind, doomed to wander the Shadow Realm for all eternity.”

Moia quickly realised that Jahaan did not speak ‘ghost’, and lacking a spare ghostspeak amulet that the other non-Mahjarrat had thought to bring with them, acted as his translator.

“Zamorak's return broke the curse that was laid upon me,” Viggora stated. “I may be confined to this realm, but my mind is my own, at last.”

Zamorak had warmth in his expression that Jahaan had only witnessed fleetingly before. “I think back to that night on which we marched upon Zaros. It was beyond living memory that this many of us stood together. Rise, Viggora. What information do you bring?”

“My search took me deep into the swamps of Morytania, to the Barrows where Sliske's undead servants rest. There I discovered his lair, my lord. A stones throw to the south.”

“More. What more did you find?”

“I passed deeper into the lair, past tricks and contraptions. It was at the heart that I found it.”

“The Stone is there?” Zamorak’s eyes grew hungry.

Viggora confirmed, “Yes, Legatus Maximus Zamorak. In a cavernous vault behind a bolstered door. In the Shadow Realm he hides it.”

“You’re one of my most exalted followers, Viggora,” Zamorak commended, “If I could give you back your life, I would.”

Bowing slightly, Viggora stated, “It is my duty. I am forever in your service.”

Enakhra asked, “What else can you tell us about the defences?”

“On your way to the vault you will find several rooms, trapped and guarded,” Viggora explained, “The door preventing entry to the vault will be particularly problematic - an intricate system of rune locks and trickery. Inside, I could see the Stone of Jas. That is all I know.”

Nodding to his ally, Zamorak said, “Thank you, Viggora. That will be all.”

“Good luck to you all. Through chaos, victory is in your hands.”

With that, Viggora disappeared, and Khazard let the window to the Shadow Realm drop, visibly relieved at being allowed to relax his hold.

Zemouregal stepped into the centre of the circle that had formed, barking, “Let us strike now! We have the Stone's location - we must storm Sliske's lair by force!”

“Predictable,” Enakhra muttered. “No, we must plan. This opportunity cannot be squandered.”

“Enakhra is right,” Zamorak agreed. “Sliske will be able to teleport the Stone away. He must not be alerted.”

Lord… something or other… added, “If I may speak, it would seem our best option is a stealthy approach.”

“Leave it to me,” Nomad boasted, “The guards will pose no threat. I'll be back with the Stone before sundown.”

“Ha! A likely story,” Zemouregal snapped back. “No, I’m best suited for this mission. Sliske won’t even know what-”

“Quiet!” Zamorak cut in abruptly. “You will ALL be needed for this mission. Here’s what’s gonna happen: the World Guardian is resistant to divine power, so if that smug bastard really has become a god, he can’t hurt Jahaan. Jerrod’s an agile guy, he can stealthily take out the guards in the outer chambers. Moia’s got a unique memory infiltrating ability; they won’t be able to defend against something like that. Daquarius, you’re a smart guy, you’ll be good at breaking the rune locks on the vault door. Enakhra and Nomad, your mastery of magic is going to be our tank power against whatever Sliske throws at you. Khazard, despite Sliske having handicapped your ability to enter the Shadow Realm, you can still open windows, which is damn important - that’s where he’s got the Stone, after all. Zemouregal, you’re a necromancer even more capable than Sliske, so show his undead hordes no mercy. And Bilrach, you’re gonna lead this group.”

“It would be my honour,” Bilrach bowed lowly, ignoring the side-eye Zemouregal was giving him.

“I will remain with Zamorak,” Hazeel stated. “In my weakened state, I will be more of a hindrance than a help. Once you reach the Stone, Khazard has a communication device that will be able to alert me, and I will inform Lord Zamorak who will be able to retrieve the Stone from the Shadow Realm.”

“But if Khazard can’t get into the Shadow Realm, what makes you think you’ll be able to?” Jahaan asked Zamorak.

However, the reply instead came from Zemouregal who barked, “You dare question our lord’s power?!”

Holding an easing hand out to Zemouregal, Zamorak broke into a sinister sneer and assured, “If we can’t get the Stone out ourselves, we’ll just have to make Sliske get it out for us. You understand?”

Gulping, Jahaan did.

Bilrach added, “I must remind you all, do not underestimate Sliske. I have sensed his power growing rapidly for some time now. He seems to flit in and out of my reach. In and out of focus. He knows I can sense him. Curious, yes. The Shadow Realm, perhaps.”

Resting his hands on the hilts of his swords, Jahaan cautioned, “I've dealt with Sliske before. Despite his demeanour, he’s not to be taken lightly.”

“Wise words. Another reason why you were chosen,” Zamorak replied. “The snake has taken a vested interest in you. Though if everything goes to plan, the filthy Zarosian won’t have time to react.”

General Khazard hesitantly ventured, “What… what if the plan goes wrong?”

Zamorak’s confidence helped to assuage his doubts. “Then it will be chaos, and you will be in your element. Embrace it and realise your true potential. Now, move out. Head to Morytania and meet up at Sliske’s hideout. Let’s stick it to that daft bastard once and for all.”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

Previous chapter / Next chapter

#runescape #zamorak #zemouregal #enakhra #moia #nomad #khazard #hazeel

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novantinuum · 6 years ago

Text

Death and All That Follows (Ch. 2)

A03

Fandom: Trollhunters

Rating: K

Words: 4000~

Summary: When Merlin's elixir began to work its magic, it cleaved the then-human trollhunter's soul in two. One half lived on in a hybrid's body. You know how this portion of the tale goes, of course.

But what of the other half? What happens to him?

Well... this is his side of the story.

Chapter One

Note: Unfortunately, fic circulation online is getting harder and harder as the months pass. Please, if you read to the end and enjoy, consider helping me out by reblogging this post, or even commenting/giving kudos over on AO3. Thanks! :D

Chapter 2

His soul eclipsed with sheer happiness and relief, he practically threw himself at his once-thought-lost friend. For a split second he feared it was all grief and smoke and mirrors, that he’d merely phase right through the troll’s blue tinted spectral form, even though grabbing Kanjigar’s hand earlier surely proved this world had some degree of solidity. But blessedly, this was not so. Draal stumbled one step backwards as Jim wrapped his arms as far around him as he could, dropping his head against his chest.

“You’re alive,” he gasped in relief.

“Not alive, regrettably. Not really. This is the Void, remember? I’m nothing but a ghost, same as all the others.”

“I don’t care! I watched you die,” he said, barely able to croak out that last word in his hoarse state. “You took that knife for me, and then you fell and you turned to stone and died, a- and the cavern collapsed, and I couldn’t even stop, couldn’t mourn, o- or-“

“Jim,” Draal reminded in an almost uncharacteristically gentle manner. “My death is not your burden to bear. It is my life and my honor to serve the trollhunter. To… to watch over my friends. And I can rest easy knowing that at least that part of my duty has been fulfilled.”

“But you’re my friend too,” he said, peering up to meet his green and gold rimmed eyes. “I should’ve protected you, should’ve saved you! I was so close, and then…”

Instinctively, he lifted his hand to dab away tears with his palm, before finally realizing with shock that he hadn’t actually been crying at all. He didn’t notice until now but he never had been here, at least not in any physical sense. His heart wept, and he felt like his eyes were puffy and wet, but they somehow… weren’t. Why weren’t-? Oh. Oh, of course. He was a spectral being now. His body was nothing more than an outline of hard light, woven together by the might of ancient magic. And much like the Void’s window to reality, this instinct to feel the tangible effects his emotions summoned was merely an afterimage of the human life he’d left behind. Unneeded habit. Distantly, he wondered how long it’d take for habits like these to fade away, but at recalling the centuries many of his predecessors had spent in this place he quickly shoved this distressing notion into the back closet of his mind. He’d address that elephant in the room later. Much… later.

One day, just one day without a double dose of existential crisis, that’s all he wanted. Wow, it’s almost depressing how low the bar was.

Draal moved Jim’s small hands off his stone skin, breaking their embrace. His expression shone with genuine affection, but also a lingering sense of duty.

“Nevertheless, it in the past. Now is not the time to mourn what could have been, not when there’s still a battle to be fought.”

“He’s right,” Deya spoke up from behind them. “Deep beneath Arcadia’s streets, while the trollhunter trains under moonlight, the dark magic grow stronger with each minute that passes. We can sense it.”

“Morgana,” spoke a distant, stray soul in a mournful baritone, flitting about around them in a flickering azure haze.

“Morgana!”

“Morgana is free.”

“The Pale Lady!”

He swallowed hard. The reminder of the eldritch witch who’d tormented his friends only served to heighten his anxiety, festering like an incurable itch in his overactive mind. Another soul moved in haste right past his ear. He bit back a yelp as he flinched, dodging it. Its whispers were fervent, in rhyme, teetering on the edge of madness:

“She returns in haste and fury, Clad in emerald without light! Crystal’s flame will burn no longer, Snuffed out by Eternal Night-“

Deya lifted a hand towards this restless spirit. “Peace, Heliosa, peace. I promise, our hour of glory will soon come.”

Heliosa’s cryptic whispers abated at her words. Her spectral form grew still, hovering in the space between Draal and Jim. It seemed she didn’t plan on manifesting fully like the others, however. Odd. He scoured his mind as he gawked at the spherical light, trying to test if his knowledge could place a face to her name, but he came up blank. History lessons in Blinky’s library felt so achingly distant now. All those lazy evenings between missions spent in the warmth and familiarity of Trollmarket… the nights Aaarrrgghh let Claire and him lean against his back as he rested, and how his mane of hair always engulfed them… Toby, twisting the amulet’s antiquated translations of A Brief Recapitulation into endless puns… the in-joke he shared with Blinky once upon a time, with their running tally of the (rare) occasions they caught Vendel smiling…

His features softened at the rush of fond memories.

“-may recall from Blinkous’ many, many lectures, is one of the most spiritually attuned trollhunters, and-“

Hold on, when exactly did Kanjigar start talking again?

“Wait, wait, wait,” he spluttered, holding up a hand. The elder trollhunter paused, peering at him with pursed lips. “Sorry, what? I, uh- I kinda blanked out there a bit. Sorry,” he repeated, desperately ignoring the slight embarrassed crack in his voice.

Draal titled closer to whisper in his ear, or at least as close to a whisper his bombastic friend could manage. “My father was introducing you to Heliosa the Harbinger.” He gestured towards the soul still hovering between them, its inner light pulsing at a heartbeat’s pace.

“Oh!” Distantly wondering if there was any way to save this conversation, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. God, he might as hell have stuffed them in his mouth. “Uh- hello. I’m… Jim. Jim Lake Junior. Although you probably all know that already, so-“

Deya bestowed him a thin, pitying smile. “Be aware, she’s become a troll of few words within the past decade or so. Today is quite the rarity.”

“Hence why we’re introducing her,” his immediate predecessor nodded. “She only speaks in verse. You’ll soon grow used to it.”

Heliosa, still manifesting as a burst of spherical energy, began to dance in unpredictable corkscrews around the small gathering. The display left him mesmerized, gaze obediently following the faint trail of her glow like a cat’s paw to a pen light. Once more she spoke, her willowy voice laced with an unquestionable arcane authority:

“I foresaw the choice of Merlin, Knew the Lake of fate’s design, Centuries prior, time predicted Hunter born of humankind. Born of flesh, remade forthright Daylight’s child chained by night By wizard’s magic forged anew To eclipse Darkness with their might.”

The three trolls standing beside him gawked— Deya and Kanjigar in noticeable awe— clearly not expecting such a vocal presence from this trollhunter of old today. However, where their reaction brought pleasant surprise, all he felt was… well, the only way he could think to describe it was as a sort of reverse dread. His brow creased, her prophetic truth leaving him hollow. It stripped him bare, like a pumpkin with all its guts scooped out. With a spoon. He found the mere idea that destiny wove the threads of everything he’d experienced— that despite his many gambles and unpredictable strategies she’d led him by the hand to this very moment unhindered by chance— deeply uncomfortable. If fate really was his master, then… then he must be nothing. A minuscule, predestined knot in life’s tapestry. A mere pawn, his choices be damned.

Not that he ever had one to begin with.

He felt his spectral form collapse into a dense pinprick of light, perhaps to match how tiny he truly felt.

“I- sorry, excuse me,” he breathed, genuinely not knowing if he’d said these words aloud or if they merely existed as an echo within his mind.

Everything revealed since he awoke here suddenly becoming too much for Jim to process at once, he pulled himself away, immediately taking to floating as if second nature. The presence of Draal and all the others grew smaller and smaller as he sank further into the shadows of their metaphysical forge.

Betrayed, by destiny…

Confused.

Alone.

So, so alone.

I have to finish the fight! Alone...

If you walk out that door, you will die!

What choice do I have?

Oh there’s always a choice. Run away, save your skin!

My amulet does not make mistakes…

Despite whatever doubts you may have, it is now bonded to you. This is a mantle you cannot refuse.

I thought you said I had a choice!

I care, I do! I just see the bigger picture...

Your humanity is not enough, you are not enough!

In order for Merlin’s magic to work, something had to be left behind.

...

So what am I, then?

“Jim.”

Ambient noise emanating from the dull thrum of the forge became all but absent at the call. Impossibly stubborn and not desiring visitors in his current state of distress, he shifted his presence further into the shadow.

He was being stupid, he knew. The voice calling was clearly Draal’s. Why the hell was he hiding from Draal? And after all they’d experienced together...

As he tried to evade him, he bumped directly into a solid, warm surface instead. Living stone, life energy pulsing beneath. He felt a hand swipe towards him and he dodged. At this point he genuinely didn’t know if it was out of reflex or because he actually wanted to avoid his friend.

“Jim,” he repeated, stressing his name. “Look at me.”

Even if the only stimuli he could truly intake right now in this form was sound and touch, he swore he sensed the moment he himself pulsed with light, matching the wave of annoyance cresting within his mind.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I kinda can't do that right now,” he shot back.

“I do not mean-“ Draal sighed, the rough sound betraying his otherwise calm facade and revealing his concern. “Look with your soul, not your eyes.”

Despite his current cynicism towards everything in the universe, he gathered his wits and began to focus in on himself. Soul, not eyes. Soul, not eyes. Puzzling, and infuriating. He had no physical form, how on earth was he supposed to—

Oh. Oh. That’s new, he thought, feeling the slight pricking of another consciousness against his own. The consciousness’ shape intrinsically matched with what he knew of Draal, like how one might recognize someone by scent or the timbre of a voice.

“Ah, so you’ve found it. As you can sense now, we exhibit a different kind of sight here.”

“What… is this?”

“We’re the souls of the dead. How else would souls communicate, without the form granted by the amulet’s binding magic?”

“So. Let me get this straight. Basically, you’re saying the physical Void as I know it only exists through Merlin’s magic?”

He gently hovered beside his presence as Draal paused to consider his next words.

“As far as I’m aware, yes? Do remember,” he said, before Jim could probe for information he apparently didn’t have, “I arrived here mere nights ago. Father has only explained so much.”

“Okay, and about that.”

“About-?”

“You. I- I thought the Void was, y’know. Just for trollhunters. How did you…?”

“It was my father’s doing,” he explained. “At his request the elder trollhunters made an exception for me, against the normal rules. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m glad they did,” Jim said softly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that some rules are worth breaking.”

“Some, yes.”

The troll’s presence pulsed with genuine warmth against his soul’s own. He wondered, if he had capacity for sight right now, if he’d see his friend smiling.

“Now tell me, flesh bag. What distresses you at this hour?”

His heart skipped a beat. Well, if he still had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat. (Language technicality was going to be the death of him here.) In lieu of working organs, he was pretty sure his soul did about the equivalent.

“I’m fine now, really,” he hastily attempted to cover up.

Draal was absolutely not having it.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Wh- what is?”

“Your strange definition of ‘fine.’ You ran away, and then hid in the shadow for twenty minutes.”

“Uh- okay, okay. Fine. Or, or,” he stuttered, “not fine, I mean. Just…. there’s a lot to unpack. That’s all.”

“Are you planning to elaborate, or leaving me to ponder forever?”

Jim lapsed into momentary silence again as he considered. Draal was only wanting to help. He knew this. Also, where once his worry was vulnerability, now he literally had nothing left to lose.

“Well for one,” he eventually began, biting sarcasm coating his words, “I’m dead. I killed myself, and now I’m stuck here with a bunch of- of moody former trollhunters for all of eternity. And then. And then! Apparently, it sounds like every day of my life was bound by some divine destiny, or whatever. And I was fine with that, at first, with the idea of destiny. Because I thought-“ the emotion he’d been stifling began cracking through his level headed facade- “I don’t know! I thought it was something I could control. I thought that the amulet chose me for who I was. For being... special, as stupid and selfish as that sounds. But all of this was prophecy, Draal! It was always meant to happen! So what’s the point in it specifically picking me if I was just a pawn to fate all along? And not only that, but one of my predecessors literally knew Merlin was gonna blindside me with all this half-troll business and do they ever consider giving me, you know, a little heads-up? No!”

“It was only a prophecy.”

“Yeah, well it was a prophecy about me! I would’ve wanted to know. Maybe if I had more time, i-if I had the foreknowledge, could actually think on it before just- God, this was all such a mistake!” he cried. He could sense his spectral form growing cold and dim, only suspended by a single thread.

Draal’s consciousness brushed against his in what might have been his attempt at a metaphysical pat on the back.

“You miss your friends,” he observed.

Jim considered levying him a snarky ‘no duh’ in response, but his soul was too weary for sarcasm right now. Instead, with a little focus and a shimmer of daylight, he manifested himself physically once more and wrapped his arms around the one true friend he had left. He pressed his forehead against his chest.

Draal lowly huffed through his nostrils, slowly returning the embrace. While the fierce troll would never admit it, Jim knew from the hours spent fighting by his side that he cared far more than one might assume. Most of the ‘tough guy’ act he exuded was precisely that: a facade. Draal was actually fairly sentimental, and more soft-hearted than a lot of other trolls he knew. (He’d kept a few knick knacks gifted to him by his father in the basement.) If Jim ever brought it up he’d probably throw him in a headlock, though. Some things never change.

“They won’t ever- they don’t know I’m dead,” he said, words sticking in his throat. “They’ll never know, ‘cause to them I’m not-! I-I… can never see them, ever again.”

“I understand.”

He stood there leaning against his friend in relative silence for a time, his breath shaky as he allowed the rest of the emotion coursing through him like an avalanche to gradually dissipate. Draal didn’t budge an inch, still resolute in his duty to support the trollhunter. The smallest of smiles broke through his anguish at this thought, curving across his face. He was so grateful for that.

“Blinky,” he began, small and hesitant, as he pulled away from their hug. “He always said that destiny… that it’s a gift. Thing is, it really doesn’t feel like one right now.”

“Would you like my input, Trollhunter?”

He met Draal’s eyes, the troll peering into his in such a knowing way that it almost made him squirm. “S-sure. Go wild. I’d take anything at this point.”

“You’ve chosen to define the sum of your life as the destination every action leads you towards. But have you considered that perhaps… what matters isn’t where, but how?”

“I’m not following, sorry.”

“Destiny may guide you, act as a beacon for days to come. But in the moment, you decide how you react to the challenges life throws at you. That choice is yours, and yours alone.”

“Oh, great,” Jim muttered, a sour cynicism corroding his tone. “Helpful. So life may suck, but hey! At least I can approach it with a smile!”

“No. That is not what I mean. What happens in the moment has far more impact than you realize, Jim. Consider me, for instance,” he explained, jabbing a finger solidly against his chest. “You chose to spare my life in our duel. A single life. Do you really think the elders’ vague prophecy could’ve ever predicted a young human having the courage to break entirely from tradition, to forge his own path? I wouldn’t be here right now without your intervention. Your camaraderie, and your friendship. Every action— even the smallest— creates ripples, Trollhunter. Do not be so quick to forget that.”

At this reminder, the hollowing of his chest receded, his anxieties ceasing to eat away at him so quickly. Draal was absolutely right. Even moving through the patterns of fate, he still exhibited a great deal of agency. Even within the framework of a game he didn’t create, he possessed the capacity for free will. His grim assumptions earlier were wrong. He wasn’t somebody’s pawn, he was the hand strategically moving the pawn.

Nevertheless, a pang of melancholy ran cold like a shiver through his bones. At the edge of war, he sure hoped his living counterpart realized this too.

“So… what do we do now?” he said. “Not like, about the battle,” he clarified hastily, “but. Just in general? It’s way too quiet here. I could do with some sparring, or something.”

Mischief glinted in his friend’s eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Blue clashed against blue in a myriad of sparks, the magic that held together their physical forms flickering like television static each time they struck a hit. Jim Lake Jr. grinned as he leapt clear of the latest attack. Draal, compressed into a dense ball and unable to slow himself down, continued rolling up the side of the practice ring and clear into the rafters. Somewhere far above, the troll condensed himself to light and all but dissapeared.

“Hah, missed me!” Jim shouted in triumph, backing a few steps up as he scoped the area. His fingers wrapped ever tighter around the hilt of his sword. “Still one hit ahead of you. Y'know, my offer to play easy is still on the- Whoa!"

He manifested his shield in one hand just as his friend, chuckling boisterously, appeared from thin air and swung a playful punch at him. Even in the Void, the contact shot dull vibrations all the way up his arm.

"Not a chance, novice! Tied!" Draal countered, and immediately tucked himself into a ball again. The rumbles of his movement across the stone reverberated powerfully throughout the vast halls.

“What in the name of-!“

Uh-oh.

Jim almost regressed back into his spectral state himself right then and there, the surprise of the elder trollhunter's voice merely the cherry on top after Draal's sneak attack. His form flickered as he returned Daylight to its mount on his back.

“Oh, Kanjigar!” he said, plastering an innocent smile on his face. Draal rolled to a stop in between them, looking equally as sheepish. “Are you here to, uh- to spar too?”

The elder trollhunter pressed his palm against the ridge of his forehead. “Am I here to- no! No, of course I am not! We do not wage battle in the harmony of the Void! And Draal, you too?” he exclaimed, widely gesturing at his son. “Must both of you make a mockery of this sacred space?”

Without so much as a second thought, Draal pointed at Jim. “It was his idea.”

“Hey, excuse me!” he hissed at him under his breath, embarrassment growing evident in his posture. That rat! He bailed him out, and in front of one of the greatest trollhunters to live, no less. Still, Kanjigar was his father, (and Jim couldn’t imagine ever lying to Blinky, himself), so he supposed he’d have to excuse the betrayal. He sighed deeply, and leveled his gaze towards the great troll with a demeanor of assured confidence only a fellow trollhunter would ever dare summon. “With respect, I’ve only been here for like, barely an hour, if that, and I’m already dying of boredom.”

Kanjigar blinked, utterly failing to capture the deeper meaning of his words. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. By all measures you’ve already died, Jim.

“I know that I’m-“ he groaned, carding his fingers through his hair. “Never mind, it’s- it’s just a figure of speech. My point is, I’m not gonna just float about the ether and armchair quarterback every single little fight my other self has like you, okay? I- I need something to do. Something that won’t be stressful as hell."

"What, like sparring? Sparring is not customary here."

"Why?"

Draal huffed in annoyance, and began to hollowly recite words his father had likely imparted when he first arrived. "Because the Void is a peaceful domain wherein trollhunters should seek the calming pursuits they never had opportunity to give thought to in life. Supposedly."

"We do not wage battle because our lives were a battle, young trollhunter," Kanjigar stated simply.

"But that's not fair, it's calming for me!"

He pondered on this fact as the words passed his lips, upon reflection surprised at how accurate they were. He'd actually grown to look forward to his training sessions with Blinky or Draal, back before the loss of Trollmarket. They were routine, ever-evolving, and functioned as wonderful stress relief. Many a day he'd spent letting his frustrations out on the forge machinery after a bad Spanish or algebra exam.

“Wow," he said under his breath, mostly to himself. "That's actually true, it really is. Huh. Crazy how much can change in a few months. But!" He lifts a finger for emphasis, talking directly to the others once more. "As I was saying."

"Yes, do continue," Kanjigar said, peering between him and Draal with narrowed eyes. He crossed his arms, thoroughly unimpressed.

Jim's hand moved to cover the amulet, hanging directly over the space his heart once occupied. He glossed his thumb across its rim. "I guess... the crux of the matter is, certain customs of the troll world had to change when the amulet picked a human. And now, with part of me dead, it’s the Void’s turn. I'll keep my distance from everyone else while sparring for courtesy's sake, but for the record, it makes me happy. I don't aim to stop."

And with that bold statement, he let his armor fade into light. The expression of dumfounded shock that crossed that old troll's stony face in response was almost enough to make him audibly bark in laughter for the first time today. He pocketed the amulet, and walked past his elder.

"You coming?" he said, gesturing to Draal. "I thought I'd explore around a bit more."

"Count me in."

“I heard you shouting in the distance. Tell me- what did I miss?” Deya asked as Kanjigar returned to the others.

“Nothing important,” he groused. “Only Lake and my son desecrating every rule they happen to lay their eyes on.”

She tilt her head at him, in a matter-of-fact sort of way. The knowing smile she presented— top row of sharpened, squarish teeth showing between her lips— whisked him back to the time when he the foolish youth called by the amulet, and she was one of his elders. Long, long ago.

“They’re sparring, aren’t they?”

“Exactly! And as dictated, the Void is a place of eternal peace. A peace that currently, they’re uprooting by way of their irresponsible foolishness!”

Deya’s laugh rang out as clear as a bell. “Oh, lighten up, you old misery,” she teased, swinging a punch at Kanjigar’s shoulder. “To hell with the rules. It's perfectly harmless, sparing here. Let the youth have their fun.”

#trollhunters #jim lake jr #draal #kanjigar #trollhunters fanfiction #deya the deliverer #my writing stuff

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lilacmoon83 · 6 years ago

Text

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 167: Weapons in the Form of Words

Cassidy groaned in pain and put a hand to his head, finding blood there from a cut at his hairline.

"Damn...what the hell…" he uttered, as it slowly came back to him. Clayton's other guards surrounding him...his cover was obviously blown. Which mean he was in deep shit. He noticed he was in some kind of cell, like the kind where the museum kept any detainees until the police came to pick them up.

"Cassidy Gold…" Clayton said and then chuckled.

"If only you could understand the irony in your name," he mentioned, which confused Cassidy greatly.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want you to tell me what you've reported to your boss," Clayton replied.

"What does it matter? You're going to kill me either way," Cassidy retorted. The Collector smirked.

"You're smarter than you look," Clayton said.

"What do you want us to do with him, boss?" Clayton's head of security, a man that Cassidy only new as Garvy, asked.

"You know what to do…" Clayton responded. Garvy smirked.

"And I assume you'd like the body to never be found," Garvy added, as he cracked his knuckles.

"I know a nice little spot in the bay we can weigh the body down. Current will take it before they even know he's missing," the man said, as Cassidy swallowed thickly.

"Actually no...I want this body found. I want you to take him out to the Fremont Troll Bridge and once you take care of him, you'll leave him there. I want him found, very publicly, and more importantly, by Weaver himself," Clayton stated.

"Uh Boss...that's a pretty public place. We'll have to wait until the middle of the night to do it," Garvy stated.

"Then tie him up and wait," Clayton snapped, as he glared at Cassidy.

"I want to Weaver to find him there and know that I am the one that did this, without the proof, of course. I want him to see that he, for all his power, that he was not able to best me. That I was able to take away one of the most important things in the world to him," Clayton stated, causing great confusion for Cassidy. Why would this man think that Cassidy was important to Weaver? He barely knew the man.

"I got the satisfaction of watching his idiot detective Nolan and his wife crumble under the weight of knowing I had a hand in the demise of their daughter. And now it's Weaver's turn to lose," he said with a smirk. Garvy himself even looked a little confused, but he wasn't paid to ask questions.

"We'll get it done, boss...let's go. Looks like you get a few more hours to live, before we put a bullet in your skull. Too bad you're going to spend them in a trunk," Garvy said, as they pulled Cassidy along, while the other guards shared a laugh.

~*~

The uniformed officers went about putting crime scene tape up around Baron Samdi's residence and the entire block was a bustle with activity. David had called in the suicide, though he hated that he couldn't call it what it really was. And Baron Samdi was only making things worse. He was already in front of the news cameras, lamenting about the death of his son and how troubled Franklin was. He was positively boiling in his own skin, as the other man touted Franklin's troubles and his attempts to try and help the troubled man. Unfortunately, David couldn't know that it was about to get worse. As the scene seemingly began to calm down and the body was removed, he finally felt okay in bringing Snow and Regina out of the house and escorted them to the car. But that's when they were instantly swarmed by the media.

"Detective Nolan...is the story that was just released by Franklin Samdi's attorney true?" one reporter asked. David looked at the woman and had no idea what she was talking about. But then Franklin's threat echoed in his mind and he saw Baron suddenly wasn't enjoying the media attention any longer, as they shouted questions at him. He got a weary feeling in his stomach when they started practically shoving their microphones in Snow's face.

"Is it true, Miss Blanchard...that you're really Margaret Nolan?" one reporter shouted.

"Did Baron Samdi orchestrate your captivity to boost his son's career?" another shouted.

"Please Detective Nolan...a statement!" another shouted.

"Detective...is this woman really your wife? And if so, why have you kept that fact hidden?" another called, as they started pawing at Mary. With that, he ushered her and Regina into the car.

"What the hell are they talking about?" he wondered, as Regina took her phone out and started scrolling the local news sites. Her eyes widened.

"Guess Dr. Facilier junior wanted to make sure none of us could ever keep a low profile again. But we can deal with this later. We need to get to Lucy," Regina said, as she continued to read the articles. David agreed and put the car in gear, as he headed for the hospital, but not without reaching over and clutching Snow's hand.

~*~

"Dr. Aeson?" a voice asked and Jenna looked up, only to find a handsome Asian man standing there.

"Yes?" she asked, managing to find her voice. He smiled.

"I'm Dr. Narita," he introduced himself and he his hand out. She smiled and shook it.

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Narita...it's a pleasure to meet you," she responded.

"The pleasure is mine, Dr. Aeson. I've been following your work for quite some time now," he said. Her eyes widened.

"My work?" she asked in surprise.

"You're a very gifted surgeon, especially for someone so young. I wasn't even finished with medical school yet at your age. You're something of a prodigy," he mentioned. She felt her cheeks color in response.

"I guess I've always know I wanted to help people heal...and that's why this case is so baffling. For all my skills, I can't find a reason this little girl is in a coma," Jenna said, as she handed him the file.

"It is a puzzling case...have you spoken to the family recently?" he asked, as he looked over the file.

"A bit earlier and I'm afraid I didn't have much to offer them in the ways of comfort," she replied.

"Let's talk to them. It may not be needed, but family history never hurts. I'd like to take blood and genetic samples from the parents. It may not do any good, but at this point, we shouldn't rule out anything," he mentioned. She nodded.

"I agree...they're in the waiting room," she replied, as she led him there. Jacinda and Nick stood up, as they came out, while Henry and Luke hung back behind them.

"Anything?" Jacinda asked desperately.

"I'm afraid there is no change, but this Dr. Anthony Narita. Since this case is a bit baffling, I called in a specialist," Jenna said.

"Since nothing is coming up on any tests, I'd like to begin a series of neurological tests. I'd also like blood samples from her parents to test your genetic material," he said.

"Of course," Nick said, as he offered his arm.

"We'll take you both back to get your samples," Dr. Narita said, as he led them back to an exam room.

"Dr. Aeson...a moment," Weaver called and she walked over to the Police captain.

"What can I do for you, Detective Weaver?" she asked.

"I want you to test Henry and Luke as well against Lucy," he said quietly. She looked at him strangely.

"But they're not biologically related to the girl," she reminded.

"So it would seem...but I think you need to trust me and do those tests. I think you'll find the results incredibly enlightening," he stated.

"But what do I tell them?" she asked.

"Tell them it may help Lucy in case she does need blood. It would help if you had more than one source," he replied.

"Detective...this is highly unethical. I don't know what you're playing at, but I could lose my license for taking blood under false pretenses," she hissed.

"And I can promise you that there is more at stake here than just Lucy and that man that just went with Jacinda is not what he seems. If you care about this little girl...you'll test their blood," he responded. She sighed and then walked over to the two young men.

"Would either of you be willing to have your blood tested? Sometimes in cases like these, we've found that it's best to have more than one blood source, if possible," she said.

"Sure...if it helps Lucy, I'll gladly get tested," Henry said eagerly.

"Me too," Luke agreed, as she led them back to be tested.

~*~

The Enchanted Forest 2

The palace of Rose Red and Fandral

Storybrooke Year - 2023

Fandral led them through the corridors of the palace with Carina beside him.

"How old are you now, Carina?" Emma asked curiously. The blonde smiled.

"I just turned sixteen," she replied.

"Has Summer been cursed too?" the girl asked.

"I'm afraid so...but we're going to find her," Emma assured, as Fandral squeezed her shoulder. They arrived in the library and all except Carina and Fandral were blown away by the truly massiveness of it.

"My Gods...I've never seen anything close to this before," Belle mentioned, as she marveled at it.

"Yes...it is quite spectacular," Fandral agreed.

"There must be...millions of books!" Robin exclaimed.

"Probably closer to trillions," Fandral corrected.

"Rose?" he called.

"Over here, my love!" he heard her call and though it was hard for any of them to tell where her voice was coming from, Fandral seemed to have no difficulty in finding her. They followed and saw her on a tall shelf ladder putting a book away. She looked down and gasped.

"Emma...is that you?" she asked, as she started to climb down. Unfortunately, she mis-stepped and fell. But she wasn't alarmed, because Fandral easily caught her.

"My darling...you must be more careful. You could have been hurt if I wasn't here to catch you," he chided, clearly worried about her. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Oh, you'll always be here to catch me, my love," she responded, drawing a smile from him and another kiss. Carina rolled her eyes.

"So yours are like this too," Emma teased her with a nudge.

"It is constant...they're so embarrassing," she complained. Emma chuckled.

"Trust me, I know...believe I know," the older blonde agreed. Fandral finally put Rose on her feet and she greeted Emma and Belle with hugs.

"It's so good to see all of you...are Snow and David with you?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not, my darling...that's the problem. There has been another curse," Fandral responded, causing Rose to frown.

"He's right...and we don't know where this one took them. That's why we're here...Aphrodite said that your library has recordings for all the realms. If there's a book that knows where they are...then it's here," Belle interjected.

"Of course...come. The east wing is where all the storybooks for all the realms are stored. I don't believe I have met any of you though," Rose mentioned, as she noticed the newcomers with them.

"Oh, of course...this is Queen Elsa of Arendelle, Princess Anna of Arendelle, and her husband, Prince consort, Kristoff," Emma said, introducing them.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you...Snow has told me about you," Rose said, as she surprised Elsa by taking her hands.

"We will find Leo...I promise," she offered. Elsa looked surprised.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Oh, she and my mother gossip at least twice a week through a magic mirror, or at least, they usually do," Emma explained.

"Yes...magical Skype, I believe Snow calls it. This explains why it's been a while since I've heard from her though," Rose said, as she and Fandral led them to the east wing.

"This place is truly incredible," Belle marveled, as she held Gideon's hand while they followed their hosts.

"Yes...my family has been guardians of this library for centuries. It fell into a bit of disarray when my parents died and my Uncle took over. He did not take the responsibility of maintaining it seriously," Rose explained.

"Hermes was quite unhappy with him, but fortunately, she no longer has to worry about stories that have been written not being properly stored," Fandral added.

"Sounds like that comes with some extra perks like my parents have with the chalice," Emma mentioned. They smiled.

"Quite right...as you may have been able to tell, we have not aged much either. Asgardians age much slower, as you know," Fandral said.

"Yes and because the library fell into such ruin under my Uncle's tyrannical rule, Hermes has ensured that will not happen and granted me an Asgardian lifespan," Rose explained.

"I am eternally grateful to her for that, because I could not imagine living without my darling Rose," Fandral said, smiling fondly at her, as they arrived in the east wing. There was a massive wall filled with Once Upon a Time books, all neatly shelved.

"This is massive. Do we have to search through all of these? Because...I'm not sure we have that kind of time," Emma said, as she groaned and then took a sip of the elixir Aphrodite had made for her.

"Emma...are you okay?" Rose asked in alarm.

"That's kind of the other part of the story. When the curse was cast, Mother Gothel wanted to make sure I couldn't interfere," Emma replied.

"She poisoned my heart and made sure I was left behind. For all intents and purposes, I should be dead, but I survived long enough for Elsa and the others to find me," she continued.

"And your parents...they don't think…" Fandral asked, but trailed off. She nodded sadly.

"Yes...even when they get their memories back, they're going to think I'm dead," she confirmed.

"I can't even imagine…" Rose uttered, as she turned back to the books.

"Normally, this would be a most daunting task, but fortunately for us, your parents will be easy to find, because of who they are," Rose said, as selected a book. It was just like the original book and Emma looked at her in surprise.

"How did you know right where it was?" she questioned, as she opened it, finding the pages filled with her parent's complete story.

"Your parents story is quite enthralling and our little ones love hearing about their adventures as much as any. Their journey to Camelot is an especially popular one at bedtime," Fandral mentioned.

"Little ones? Have you been holding out on us?" Belle asked.

"Mama! Papa!" they heard two voices, as two children around Gideon's age scampered into the east wing. Fandral caught the blonde boy and dark haired girl in his arms.

"Ah yes...I forget the rest of you haven't met them. Snow and David know, thanks to our regular communication, but I forget it's been quite a time since we've seen the rest of you," Rose said.

"Yes, these are our twins. Our son Benjamin, or Ben for short," he stated, before gesturing to the little girl.

"And our daughter Arianna, or Ari for short," Fandral replied.

"Children...this is Emma," he said, as they looked up at their father and then at the blonde.

"From the story, papa?" Arianna asked and he nodded.

"Yes...and these are her friends. We are going to help them find Emma's parents," he explained. Emma smiled and leafed through the book, reliving their adventures, like when they fell through the portal to the Enchanted Forest, then Neverland and the whole Atlantis debacle. Then Zelena's arrival in Storybrooke, followed by Elsa's and the Queens of Darkness. She paged through their journey to Camelot and then their intrepid adventure to the Underworld to save her father. That had brought about the melding of Storybrooke with residents from the Land of Untold stories and she still shuddered at the memory of Dr. Jekyll. Ultimately, that had culminated in the Final Battle with the Black Fairy, which had been followed by a period of relative peace. Henry had decided to leave to explore the realms a few years later, which subsequently brought Alice to Storybrooke looking for their help. They had thwarted Clayton, Facilier, and the Tremaines for a time, allowing Henry to go on to marry Ella. Lucy had been born then and they celebrated each birthday with her...until her eighth when Gothel had finally slithered out of hiding to tear them all apart.

"Here is it...Lucy's eighth birthday party," Emma said, as she read the words.

"And despite all they had done to stay together, a curse would once again separate Snow White and Prince Charming. And this time, the Collector assured them that reuniting would be more difficult, for they were being taken to a large city within the Land Without Magic. But thanks to the magic of true love, young Summer was able to encase her brother fully in a bubble and herself partially in one, ensuring that they would end up with at least one of their parents. And so the curse was wrought and tore asunder the Charming family, leaving Emma behind. But despite what Gothel and the Collector promised, all was not lost. The bubble allowed young Bobby to retain his memories and with that, he was determined to find his father so he could help him save his mother. Upon arriving in Hyperion Heights, the Facilier's evil grandson locked Snow White up in his mental hospital to ensure that she could not seek out her true love…" Emma read.

"Oh Gods...he put my mother in a mental hospital again," Emma lamented.

"Not to mention I don't believe I have ever heard of a city called Hyperion Heights," Robin mentioned.

"It could be a suburb. We should return to Storybrooke and then we can use the Internet to search for it," Belle suggested. But as Emma turned to the next page, she realized they would not have to. The page illustrated her baby brother venturing into a large city to find their father and in the background was a very distinct landmark.

"We don't have to," Emma said, as she turned the book to show them. Belle gasped.

"The Space Needle!" she exclaimed.

"What does that mean?" Anna questioned.

"It means we know where they are," Emma answered, as she shared a hopeful look with Belle.

"Seattle," Belle stated.

"Can we portal to there?" Elsa asked. Emma shook her head.

"No...there's no magic. We'll need to portal to Storybrooke and then get on a plane. Which still takes time," she replied.

"Perhaps I can offer the bi-frost as an alternative?" Fandral questioned. Emma smiled.

"That would be great," she responded. He smiled.

"It is only a two hour journey to the edge of realms and then we'll be in this Hyperion Heights before sundown," he stated.

"We?" Belle asked curiously. Rose smiled.

"Our friends are in trouble and it sounds like there is another coming battle. We will definitely be coming as reinforcements," Rose stated, as they prepared to leave for the edge of realms, where they would summon the bi-frost and cross into the Land Without Magic…

~*~

Detective Rogers was actually surprised when the elevator didn't stop on the 84th floor and kept ascending to the 85th. It appeared so far that Ivy Belfry was not lying and now he was very curious as to what might be uncovered here. As he stepped off the elevator, he heard a noise and drew his firearm. He cautiously moved through the darkened corridors and saw the shadow of a fan spinning slowly. He determined the noise was coming from there and he moved sharply around the corner, leveling his weapon. But he quickly lowered it, as he saw a girl on the floor, curled up against the wall. Her clothes were in tatters and her hair was dirty and matted. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes and he put his weapon away. Rogers observed the chains around her ankles and put his hand out.

"It's okay...I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help," he assured, as he showed her his badge.

"Do you know who did this to you?" he asked.

"There...is a woman that comes to check on me. She put me here...I don't know here name," the girl responded.

"If I were to show you a photo, would that help?" he asked. She shrugged and he pulled out his phone, as he found a picture of Victoria Belfry from a recent article. He showed her the phone and her eyes widened.

"That's her!" the girl confirmed.

"Okay...we're going to get you out of here. Can you tell me your name?" he asked.

"Eloise," she answered and his face went ashen.

"Eloise Gardener,"

~*~

Jacinda rolled her sleeve down, as Dr. Narita finished taking a blood sample.

"Do you really think this will help?" she asked nervously.

"I'm not sure...but it never hurts to have blood on hand," he replied, as he readied the sample for the lab.

"I know it's not much consolation, but we're doing everything we can. And I won't stop until I have some answers for you, whatever they may be," he assured, as he stepped out. Ella sighed and exited the exam room, finding Henry doing the same.

"Hey...you gave blood too?" she asked curiously.

"Uh yeah...I know I'm not related, but they said it couldn't hurt if I was willing to give a sample," he replied. She smiled gently.

"Thank you," she said gratefully and he cautiously took her hand.

"She's gonna be okay...we just have to have hope," he told her. She smiled thinly.

"That sounds like what the characters in your book would say. Have hope and faith," she recalled. His eyes widened in surprise.

"You read my book?" he asked. She grinned.

"Of course I did...it's Lucy's favorite and I can see why. You are a gifted writer...your characters are so vivid. I've never read fairy tales quite like these though," she replied. He shrugged.

"I guess everyone has their take on the classics," he said.

"I like your take. The women are total bad asses!" she said with a laugh and he chuckled.

"Yeah...I suppose they are," he agreed, as they returned to the waiting room, just as Snow, David, and Regina entered the hospital again.

"Hey...I thought you guys went home?" Jacinda asked.

"Uh no...there was just something we had to take care of. No change?" Snow asked. Jacinda shook her head.

"No...but a Dr. Narita is now consulting on Lucy's case. He took blood samples from us and Nick's boyfriend Luke. Dr. Aeson must be taking Nick's now, because he's not back yet," she replied.

"Nick is alone with Dr. Aeson?" David asked. Jacinda shrugged.

"I guess so," she replied, as a bad feeling settled in the pit of David's stomach.

"David…" Snow uttered and he gave her a look before rushing back there. He flashed his badge and none of the orderlies tried to stop him, as Weaver approached.

"I take it you were successful?" he asked quietly.

"We got it...but we almost didn't," Snow responded.

"Yes...the headlines are already out there. Franklin Samdi committing suicide is trending," he mentioned.

"Except I'm almost positive that Baron is behind it. He's a master at hypnotism. I think he used a trigger word. On his own grandson," Regina said quietly. Weaver shrugged.

"A grandson that was born from a son he either abandoned, didn't know or care about. Power is like a drug for him and he'll do anything for it. Believe me...I know," Weaver replied.

"The lure of the dagger is one thing for him...but the Chalice is even more appealing, because it does not come with the ties that the dagger does...and…" Weaver continued, as he shifted uncomfortably.

"And?" Regina asked.

"I have reason to believe that it can possibly kill me too," he revealed.

"But I thought that was impossible. Only the dagger can kill you," Snow refuted.

"In the state it is now...but if its power were to be turned dark, then it could theoretically destroy the dagger," he stated.

"Theoretically?" Regina questioned.

"Obviously, it's never been done. The chalice's power has always remained pure and in the hands of the truest loves. The Dark One dagger has never been challenged, because the object that could challenge is made of pure light. The chalice and the dagger are opposites. But if they were suddenly objects of alike darkness…" he explained.

"Then one could probably nullify the other," Regina surmised.

"Only someone well versed in magic could pull something like that off, but both Facilier and Gothel qualify," he said.

"Well, they're not getting their hands on it," Snow assured, as she looked toward the door that led back to the exam rooms.

"Don't worry...David will stop him if he's dared to go after Eva," Regina assured. This entire night had been a nightmare, but if David could catch Nick, then that would be a definite victory in their column. The sooner he was locked up, the sooner he was away from their son and wasn't able to hurt anyone else.

"Uh...did you and David really just witness a suicide?" Henry asked, as he was looking at his phone. She sighed.

"Unfortunately yes," she answered.

"Wait...there's another story here that's saying you're not really Mary Blanchard, but the thought to be deceased Margaret Nolan?" he asked. She sighed. Media attention was the last thing they needed and probably Franklin's last ditch effort at revenge. She looked at her phone and rolled her eyes at the headline.

"Henry...it's a really long story and I promise we'll explain," she said tiredly.

"Suffice to say that I had amnesia and Baron Samdi took advantage of me after that accident with the crazy professor. He kept me from David and let him think I was dead. That's the short version," she said.

"Yeah, it says here that he threatened his son to keep you locked up or he'd ruin his practice," Henry said.

"This is going to ruin his reputation for sure. I guess that's a bright spot...bad press won't be good for him," Regina mentioned.

"Yes...and we'll find a way to use it to our advantage, because we're about to have more problems," Weaver said, as he returned.

"What now?" she asked, as they saw Rogers walking into the waiting room and watched him approach Victoria Belfry.

"Victoria Belfry," he stated.

"Yes, what it is?" she asked in a bored tone.

"You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Eloise Gardener," he announced, as he cuffed her and led her out, while Henry and Jacinda gaped in surprise.

"Eloise Gardener?" Snow asked and Regina shot a look of dread toward her old mentor.

"No…" she stammered.

"I'm afraid so...the witch is free," he stated gravely. Snow sighed and gripped the chalice from inside her bag.

"I need to find David and we need to wake Lucy now," she said, as she hurried toward her room.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #Roni #Weaver #Rogers #Gothel #romance #family #adventure #season 7 AU #Snowing centric season 7 #finding you always #the epic continues

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crystellinestar-blog · 6 years ago

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A Chosen Promise Chapter 1 (Read on Ao3) Rating: E (eventually) Summary: To Princess Allura of Altea, keeping the people of her planet safe from the Galran empire is her number one priority. Even if the only way to do so is by giving her own hand in marriage to the Galran prince.

full fic under the cut

Her hair was as white as stars shimmering in the sky. Against her tan skin, it stuck out, glistening even in the artificial lighting of the ship. Her eyes were the color of tropical water, bright and blue; he could swim in them, drown in them if he wasn't careful.

The Altean princess was stunning, and already he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He was staring, awkwardly, but it was mostly due to his utter shock about her appearance. Knowing his parents, he had fully expected to have been gifted a complete troll of a woman, and yet before him stood a goddess. Perhaps they were unaware of her beauty when they had chosen this woman to be his betrothed.

She frowned upon seeing him, however. The man standing next to her held his ground, clinging to her bags; her attendant, he assumed. Lotor couldn't exactly blame her for being frustrated, or perhaps skeptical. She didn't know anything about him, nor did he expect her to want to.

"Princess Allura-"

"I am she," she said, cutting him off. "I would like to be shown to our rooms. My attendant and I both need to settle before I am to meet my husband-to-be."

Pushy. He smirked, it seemed she was unaware of who he was.

Next to him, Acxa snorted. "Ridiculous woman. Do you not realize-" But Lotor placed a hand in front of her to silence her.

"Acxa, hush. I can introduce myself," Lotor chuckled.

Stepping forward, he watched her eyes widen as he slipped his fingers over her own. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. "Pleased to meet you, my princess,"

Her brow furrowed and she attempted to yank her hand back, but he held his grip. "I am not your princess," she growled. Really, he admired her tenacity; in enemy territory, and she was so quick to fight.

"My mistake," he purred, releasing her hand. "But you see, you are, in a way, mine."

She tilted her head, her eyes looking him up and down intensely. "I do not belong to the Galra," she spat. "Though I have given my hand in marriage, I don't consider myself property to be owned."

Only after a small interaction, Lotor could easily understand why she had chosen to give herself to him. She could hold her own, even surrounded by people who would gladly see her and her home planet completely destroyed.

"I never thought such a thing, Princess," he explained. "However, you seem to be confused, for I am your betrothed, Prince Lotor of the Galran empire."

She froze, her eyes blinking as she stared at him. "Y-You..." she said, her words clearly trapped in her throat. It was... adorable actually; she was so incredibly flabbergasted, and obviously she hadn't expected herself to falter so quickly.

"Shocking, isn't it?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "A half-breed prince. The last thing you expected of the great Galran empire, I suppose."

"I... I don't know what I expected," she admitted softly. "But I certainly didn't expect for the Prince to greet me himself." Her cheeks flushed, as she shut her eyes, turning away from him.

"Yes, you'll find I'm full of surprises," he purred.

"W-Well," she began, clearing her throat. She turned her gaze back to him, her round blue eyes staring up at his own. She was looking at him so intensely, something many Galran never did. "It is very nice to meet you," she said.

He didn't believe her words. Not for a moment. If she could've turned around and ran back to Altea, she would've in a heartbeat. But no, she was stuck with him, just as much as he was stuck with her.

"Shall I escort you to your chamber?" he said, offering her his arm.

She blinked again, looking at his outstretched limb. She glanced to her advisor, who simply nodded. "Alright," she said, a hint of hesitation in her tone.

"Perhaps you were under the impression the Galra were more barbaric?" he asked, leading her into the elevator. "I can assure you, we're quite civilized."

"No..." she whispered, removing her hand from his arm as she clasped her hands together in front of her. She glanced down to the floor. "I can only imagine that an empire as big as this would be civilized..."

"Then perhaps you expected me to be a brute," he said.

"No," she muttered. "I told you, I had... very little expectations for anything."

He couldn't help but smile. Another lie, and she wasn't very good at them. In fact, the Altean princess seemed far too genuine for her own good. She wouldn't do well among the Galra if she couldn't learn how to at least lie properly.

The elevator ride up was quiet. Both the princess and her advisor had no words to say, and Acxa kept her arms folded across her chest. She wasn't happy about this, Lotor was well aware. Her responses had made it quite clear. He supposed Acxa had expected something else to come of their relationship. Admittedly, Lotor himself had never expected his parents to marry him off. They'd never shown any interest in him inheriting the throne, being the half-breed he was. And yet, now they had him marrying an Altean... it seemed odd they would wish for him to continue their bloodline with an Altean...

He had to discover what they were planning, and soon. It didn't bode well for his own plans, which he knew would have to be address later, and he could imagine they wouldn’t be too happy about a sudden marriage, but it wasn't as if Lotor had known.

Splitting off with Acxa, He lead the two Alteans down the hallway in silence. Allura was to sleep in his room, and her advisor would have a separate room just a little ways down the hall. He stopped in front of his own bedroom door. "You will be joining me in my chambers," he said.

"What?" Her advisor's loud tone cut through the hall. "She will not! Our princess should have her own space."

Lotor blinked, pressing his thumb on the lock to open the door. "And she will. As you can see my chambers are quite spacious. There is additional closet space, and plenty of room on my bed," he said, gesturing to the open door. Admittedly, he had argued for them to have their own space, but his mother had insisted they share a room per Galran tradition.

To court her, he would eventually be required to sleep with her.

"Absolutely not-" the orange-haired man demanded, but Allura cut him off, gently pressing a hand to his chest.

"Coran... it will be fine."

About to argue, he stared into her eyes and eventually deflated. He made his way into the room, carrying her bags. "Where do you want your bags, Princess?"

"On the bed for now," she explained, her voice much softer now. "I will unpack in a moment, if Prince Lotor will allow me the alone time."

"Of course," he said, bowing to her. "I will leave you to it, and show Coran to his room," he said.

"Are you sure you do not need assistance, Princess?" he asked.

She smiled gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. Though he was an advisor, it was easy to see they were close, friends even. "I'll be fine Coran, you don't have to worry so much," she said.

"I will return shortly to check on you, Princess," Lotor said. "If you need help deciding where things should go, I will be glad to assist."

"Thank you," she whispered, her slender finger running over one of her bags.

Coran reluctantly pulled away, and followed Lotor down the hall to his own space. "I apologize, it is not as spacious as our room, but you will be close to her, as I'm sure you wish to be."

"Indeed," he said, pressing his thumb against the lock. Stepping inside of the room, he turned around, blocking Lotor from the entrance. "You may put on a nice face, but I do not trust you for a moment. If you do anything to hurt the princess..." he threatened, eyes narrow.

"Please, Coran, was it?" Lotor asked, bowing his head. "I can assure you, I do not intend to hurt her in anyway. This union was as much of a surprise to me as it was to her. I will do my best to make certain she is comfortable."

"Good," he hissed, and leaned forward, gesturing to his own eyes. "I will be watching you."

"Of course," Lotor said, trying not to grit his teeth as the door swished shut in front of his face. Winning the Princess' affections would be one thing, but winning her advisor over would be another task, far harder than he anticipated.

The room was dark, far darker than pleased Allura. She already missed her window, as she peered out the large one to the left of the bed. It looked out into the vast realm of space, the stars twinkling, but the room was illuminated by luminescent lights, nothing like her natural lighting she was quite used to on Altea.

Her heart already ached for her home town. Altea... it had barely been a few varga and already she had no idea how she was to survive without it.

With a sigh, she allowed herself to flop down onto the large bed. It was a tall, large, canopy bed, with dark purple curtains trailing down to the floor. It was soft, cushioning her as she landed on it with a brief bounce. Though the bed was quite comfortable, she had no idea if she would actually be able to sleep in it. Not when she was so far from home, not with... that man sleeping next to her.

Prince Lotor...

He really was nothing like she had expected, and she'd been completely taken off guard. Puffing out her cheeks, she wondered silently if she had looked like a fool. Probably... the way she had stammered in front of him, completely shocked.

He was a half-breed. Half Galran... half... well, he hadn't exactly said what his other half was. It was probably rude to ask... or maybe not? She was certain she would find out eventually, especially since she would be meeting the Emperor and Empress at some point. She had always assumed both of them were Galran... unless Lotor was a bastard? Would Zarkon really allow for his bastard son to assume the throne?

All origin aside however, he was... shockingly... polite and... attractive. She blushed, thinking about his long silver hair and striking yellow eyes. He really was... something, though she didn't quite know how to describe him. He was far nicer than she had anticipated. She'd stepped onto the ship completely ready for a fight, most likely with a hostile attendant, but instead he had greeted her himself, and offered her his hand, as though he were a true gentleman.

He had called her out for making such blatant assumptions about him, but given all her information about the Emperor and Empress, what was she to expect? He was the heir to the Galran throne... Galra... who had destroyed planets and conquered entire worlds, was it really so farfetched to assume the prince would be intense?

Maybe it was all a ruse... to get her to fall for him so she'd be completely under his control, along with Altea. She wasn't an idiot. Even if he was nice, she had to be... cautious.

She pushed herself up and huffed out a large breath of air. Lotor had gestured to an entirely empty closet. For now, she could unpack in there.

"I wish I had brought a few more outfits," she sighed, hanging up dresses in the empty space. "I suppose it won't be an issue to buy things elsewhere," she murmured to herself. But they wouldn't be Altean...

She bit down on her lip and willed herself not to cry. She was stronger than tears. She had chosen this, and even if Lotor was playing nice... at least he was doing that instead of being intense and violent with her.

She had to be strong, stay on her guard... for her own sake, for Altea's sake, and for Coran's sake. She did hope he was okay... so far he'd seemed nothing but distressed, especially when Lotor had led him out of the room.

There was a slight knock on the door and she gasped as she jumped back to look at the entryway. The door swished open fast, revealing the prince.

"Sorry, Princess. I do hope I didn't startle you."

He had, but she shrugged it off quickly. "No," she lied.

"I see," he muttered, and walked towards the bed. "Are you... getting settled? Coran is right down the hall if you need him."

She placed her last dress on a hanger and turned around, walking towards him. "Why are you... being so nice to me?" she asked softly. "We're behind closed doors now, you do not have to act... this way."

"Ah," he glanced down, slowly sinking to sit on the edge of the bed. "I see. So you did believe me to be putting on airs."

"Of course," she hissed. "You're the Galran prince. I came here to stop your parents from destroying my planet."

"I... am aware..." he muttered, looking up at her. "Trust me, of all people, I am very used to how my... parents are." He spat out the words as if they were poison.

"You... are?" she asked. "I suppose that would make sense, seeing as you grew up with them."

"Indeed," he chuckled. "I've witnessed their atrocities first hand." There was a sadness which crossed his eyes, a genuine sadness. Allura was drawn in by it, curious as to why he seemed so reluctant to speak of them. How had the prince grown to be so kind if he was surrounded by cruelty? Perhaps the Emperor and Empress had treated their son equally as bad as they had treated the entire universe... perhaps even worse... She felt her heart tug against her chest. They both had been unprepared for this... and maybe, he was just as terrified as she was.

He moved towards her and took her hand. "Allura... you are to be my bride and I wish to work withyou-" He began to speak but was interrupted by a large knock on the door.

"Open," he called out, the door moving to the side as the woman from earlier stood at the entrance. She hadn't seemed to care for Allura much, probably because she was about to marry the prince... someone this woman obviously cared for. She spoke coldly, her eyes glaring at their hands. "The Emperor and Empress are requesting you both join them for dinner. Immediately."

Nerves ran down Allura's spine and she swallowed as Lotor's grip tightened around her hand. She was, at the very least, thankful she wouldn't have to face the two alone.

#Lotura #lotor #allura #VLD #voltron: legendary defender #arranged marriage AU #Voltron Fanfic

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aornff · 6 years ago

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All or Nothing Chapter Twenty Eight

All or Nothing

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Note: I have a lot of weddings to attend and a lot of jobs to do this season so my updates may go back to being sporadic for a bit. Hopefully I'll be back to normal by the end of July.

Also, a reader noticed that the timeframe of this story has taken a leap forward, and I'd like to take a moment to explain that this is very deliberate. While Elsa and Merida were in close proximity time was slowed down to appreciate their relationship, but as they are separated now it's a bigger picture and history is being made in broad strokes. I'm in this ship for the long haul.

…..

An invitation to visit Dunbroch arrived almost as soon as Merida gave birth to the heir to Dunbroch's throne, but it took nearly a year to work out the semantics of Elsa actually leaving the country in order to visit. By then, the Arendelle heirs were just about old enough for Anna to take over the throne duties long enough to let Elsa leave safely.

Magnus and Lennart were eighteen months old, and although Magnus was walking he was a decidedly quiet child, but required his own nurse to watch him at all times because he climbed on anything that could be climbed on. Lennart, on the other hand, was a babbler just like Anna had been as a child but showed no signs of being ready to walk. He was the twin Elsa was happy to have sit in her office with her; even with the amount of noise he made, he was unlikely to hurt himself or break anything as Magnus inevitably did.

“Keep an eye on him,” Elsa warned Anna as she handed over the keys of her office. “If he rips anything important I have more work when I get home.”

“Fine, fine,” Anna said, waving her away. “Don't worry, just have fun. Give Merida my love.”

The sea voyage was quick, as sea voyages went. They were there within just three weeks, ushered into what passed for a port in Dunbroch. A group of warriors, including the Macguffin clan leader and his son that she had met in Arendelle, were waiting to escort her to the castle.

What struck her from the moment she left the ship was how green Dunbroch was. The air was damp and heavy, so crisp it almost hurt her lungs, and although the cold certainly didn't affect her the rain-suffused atmosphere was so unlike Arendelle it was like stepping onto a different planet. Even though the rode her horse walked along was clearly well-used, she was surrounded on all sides by thick forest, the branches of the trees so close together they were practically a barricade. No wonder it had been so difficult to invade and keep this place.

The castle was at the top of a hill, and all around it life bloomed. Homesteads, newly planted farms and rows and rows of tents to temporarily house the foreign factions dotted the hill and the surrounding lands. Every person she saw bid her an almost casual greeting and then went about their business. It was so different to Arendelle she couldn't help laughing.

The laughter died when she saw Merida, though her heart swelled with joy.

Merida's son sat on her knee. His complexion was swarthy, dark as his father, but his hair was as red as his mother's. He was a big strong boy, intelligence glimmered in his eyes. Exactly the kind of son Elsa imagined Merida would have.

Motherhood suited Merida, clearly. She looked healthy, not as thin or pale as when Elsa had last seen her. Her hair was longer, braided into a long thick rope, and a small gold circlet perched on her head. Her face lit up when she saw Elsa, and Elsa was sure her own face did the same.

It almost distracted Elsa from noticing that her stomach was swollen with life. Almost.

…..

“He didn't waste much time,” was what Merida said when they were alone, stroking her belly.

“Did you have any say in the matter?” Elsa asked cautiously.

“Of course,” Merida shrugged. “It made sense. Especially while we're still at war.”

“Where is your husband now?”

“He is in the east,” Merida answered. “He has gone to collect more of his men. Angols are preparing to invade some time in the next year.”

She didn't sound worried.

“I'm not.”

Elsa blinked. She hadn't realized she'd said that out loud.

“Angols' king is worried about losing face to all the other nations they've invaded. That's the only reason they're trying to invade us. They still consider us to be little better than savages, so they consistently underestimate us.”

“Diplomacy isn't an option, I'm assuming,” Elsa said.

“Not right now,” Merida said.

There was a knock on the door, and in sauntered Nadiya, the granddaughter of Sultana Jasmine. She wore the thin silk garments she had worn in Agrabah but she was also draped in a roll of woolen tartan and a thick fur-lined cloak. Merida introduced them, although she had to know that Elsa had seen her through the book.

“You are here to find a husband, so I've heard,” Elsa inquired, to Nadiya's tinkling laughter.

“I am here for blood, my queen,” she answered, stroking the tartan. “I want my future children to be strong.”

“The men are fighting for her hand,” Merida drawled. “I hated it, but she seems to thrive on it.”

“And why not? The strongest of them will make the strongest children,” Nadiya shrugged.

“Mirrikh is bringing more of Nadiya's friends with him on the way back,” Merida said. “Any Agrabah woman that wants a Dunbroch husband. The men are delighted, as I'm sure you can imagine.”

“How do the Dunbroch women feel about it?” Elsa asked.

“A good number of them have soldier husbands now, they seem happy enough.”

Merida's son (Fiachra, his name was) yawned and babbled something that could have been Gaelic or gibberish. Merida handed him off to a passing servant woman with some quiet instructions.

…..

Dunbroch's castle was a considerably less guarded place than Arendelle's palace, which made sneaking into Merida's room unnecessary as Merida brought her right up, without even a second glance from the few people still around to see.

Pregnancy had changed her body. She tasted different, not in an unpleasant way. Elsa was careful around her bump, and around her breasts which now had a habit of 'leaking' if she pressed too hard. Still, their lovemaking was as passionate as it had ever been. It felt good to be together after so long.

Right up until Merida's belly twitched, and she clenched around the fingers Elsa had inside her, and a startled Elsa shot out a tiny flurry of ice in the worst possible place to have ice.

“Oh my God,” Elsa spluttered. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Oh God...!”

Merida muttered something Gaelic and probably very rude into the pillow, pressing the blankets in between her legs and rolling around.

“We need to get a doctor,” Elsa panicked. “How are we going to explain....never mind, does it hurt? Is there blood? Oh my God, I didn't mean to, it just...”

“Elsa,” Merida groaned. “Stop panicking.”

“All right,” Elsa agreed, but she was no less worried. “Are you...?”

“It doesn't hurt, it's just really cold,” Merida grumbled. “Really, really cold.”

“We need the trolls,” Elsa muttered. Memories of Anna's comatose state after being shot with her ice flooded her mind. “They'll know what to do...”

“Elsa, it's fine,” Merida told her. She had rolled onto her back now, and although one hand was still pressing the blankets between her legs the other was resting on her bump. “The swimmer is still moving. It's okay.”

“How do you know?”

“I'd know if something was wrong,” she said.

“Okay. If you're sure,” Elsa said, relaxing a little and getting up. Merida reached out to grab her arm.

“We're not stopping, are we?”

“Do you....want to keep going?” Elsa asked incredulously. “I could have killed you!”

“No, you couldn't,” Merida sighed. “You just shot a load of ice up my jacksy, it's not going to kill me. Come here and warm me up.”

Well, how could she refuse?

…..

Elsa was back in Arendelle much sooner than she would have liked, but there was only so long she could realistically stay away from her throne. Anna had filled in well as the interim queen but she was glad to leave the work to Elsa and go back to playing with her rapidly growing sons.

Word reached her later on that Merida's second child was a healthy girl.

Time became a nebulous thing, between missives from Dunbroch and the work that went into maintaining Arendelle's shifting trade agreements there was nothing much to occupy her. Elsa's nephews continued to grow, Lennart finally began to walk and then run, and Magnus learned how to talk at least enough to demand more food and complain about being sent to bed.

Dunbroch's rapidly expanding army made a bold move; after defeating another invasion attempt, Mirrikh lead his forces into a land mass that had once been a small nation taken over by Angols, ripped away the Angols leaders occupying it and restored what was left of its exiled royal family to the throne. It was a ready-made ally with no real manpower to add to Dunbroch's army, but with rich fertile land to feed the people and make excellent trade prospects.

Three more times, Angols tried to take over Dunbroch. Three more times, they failed.

Dunbroch's list of allies grew larger. Along with Agrabah's trade agreements making the country rich enough to attract swathes of mercenaries, other nations that were defending their borders from Angols were lending their strength to Dunbroch's.

By the time Merida was pregnant with her third child, her war machine had rolled entirely over Angols and captured their king. He was executed, along with the men that stood with him, the men who had put the idea in Warrick's head to try for Dunbroch's princess as a wife. She showed mercy to the queen mother of the nation, however, and to the king's young wife, also pregnant and so sure she was going to die that she entered negotiations sobbing and trembling. She allowed them to keep their seats on the throne as rulers in name only, with the promise that the heir born would never try to impose Angols on any other nation ever again.

It seemed, to Elsa's eyes, that her nephews had grown more every time she saw them. She spent so much time locked in her office, and stuck in negotiations with her advisers, that she hardly saw them unless Anna insisted.

“You're too thin, Elsa,” Anna warned one day, putting a large slice of cake in front of her to go with her coffee.

Elsa took a bite, but sweet food seemed dry and ashy, and savory made little impact on her tastebuds. She had never been a big eater, but these days even the simple act of ingesting food seemed pointless. She could take no joy in it.

“The boys hardly know who you are,” Anna said, tugging at Lennart's hand as he reluctantly inched forward into the office. “You're their aunt, you should at least try to interact with them.”

“I know,” Elsa answered. “I'm sorry.”

And yet, they turned five years old before she knew it. Now that she could see them as people instead of the somewhat formless children they had been, she looked forward more to the day when she could hand her throne over to one of them (most likely Magnus, even as the older child he seemed more sensible) so she could lead her own life.

More and more, she thought about the future. One day Arendelle would have no need of her, and she would have no need of Arendelle. Anna had her husband, and one of her sons would make an excellent ruler. She could help him choose the best bride to sit on the throne beside him, and her work would be done.

Merida's oldest was a good strong boy, and one day Dunbroch would have no need of her either. Her husband already spent more time sailing across the world than he did by her side, returning only to give her another child. She would not miss him.

How easy would it be to make a life together? They would be older, but who was to say they would love each other any less?

#all or nothing #elsa/merida #elsida #elsaxmerida #disney femmeslash

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whiskey-bluerose · 2 years ago

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heyyyyy i updated dreamstuck :33

#dsmp #dream smp #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #i am very close to introducing the trolls it's just a few chapters away

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fortress-of-iserlohn · 7 years ago

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so like. i got into logh fandom and my otp by haunting chn fics (eng ones are so RARE like what guys i’m so sad) and i swear i started out in the reinhard/yang camp but somewhere along the lines i accidentally tripped and fell into reuenthal/yang and NOW I CAN’T GET OUT - don’t help me i’m happily gone.

(but no pls come talk to me i’m so lonely why is no one else i know in this fandom SCREM ;A;)

mind you, all i have canon knowledge of is like. 47 chapters of the fujisaki manga + 3 episodes of DNT & 50 pages of the first translated novel. so uh. i apologise very sincerely to everyone else in this fandom. (but i friggen love DNT yang with his not-so-subtle shade and school boy pout, lemme love you sweetheart. also reuenthal in the manga is A+++++++++ FINE. and mittermeyer is a giant puppy and their hysterical interactions GIVE ME LIFE. i’m all over that like cats on expensive kibble man)

anyway, so there’s me. and my tiny one person raft and i wished so hard that i could draw because like. ARTISTS ARE AMAZING. but i can’t so here have some dodgy ass writing.

i have like. 9k of backstory but i got tired of writing it ??????? slice of life aint my thing bro.

spoilers for the original series below but you probably don’t care LMAO so in reality i’m just cutting it to save your dash.

basic premise is that it’s brain ship AU fic (i’m trash leave me to my can pls) where some of the empire cast (well just reuenthal + mittermeyer ok, the TWIN PILLARS AW YIS) live approx 200 years after the alliance cast did (yang and reinhard still got into their super epic fights as per original time line etc). but as per canon when the THING happens and them creepy earthy church people try to assassinate yang, schonkoff (I HATE SPELLING THEIR NAMES OKAY) finds him in time and tries to rush him to the hospital. but however, because the alliance superiors are dickwads, instead of trying to y’know, save his life, they decided to take the opportunity to upload yang’s consciousness into his ship so that he can continue to fight the war (INDEFINITELY NOW) and then when it WORKS like a motherfreaking miracle, yang wakes up, is silent for about 5 minutes taking everything in and then is kinda like ‘yeah nah’ and promptly runs away into space to chug through history files and drink virtual tea until like. 200 years later, when reunethal picks him up randomly (on the side of a space highway LOL) when yang’s taking whatever a brainship’s equivalent of a nap is but reuenthal obvs doesn’t know that the hyperion is a brainship so \o/ (yang, also a giant troll, decides to let him do whatever. it’s been a long 200 years ok).

it was going to be a long 20k epic where they play chess, overthrow the empire in favour of some form of XXcracy and ~fall in love~ along the way, all that GOOD shit. but i have zero patience and probably am never going to finish it so.

this is literally the first thing i’ve written in about 1.5 years (since i saw star wars oh my god) because my attention span for fandoms and everything else in general TBH is about zero ohoho.

It was late, but Oskar couldn’t sleep, something restless buzzing at the back of his mind. Whether it was from a combination of the uneasy atmosphere from the crew currently on board, or his irritation at their willingness to jump at a mere ghost story, he wasn’t clear. His chronometer told him that he was due on bridge in about four hours, which was when he decided to give up on sleep entirely and perhaps take a quick walk around the still unfamiliar vessel.

He pushed his arms through his overcoat and exited his temporary quarters. He assumed it had belonged to the long dead fleet admiral of this craft, but there was a scarcity of personal effects that implied that he either hadn’t much down time at all, or wasn’t the type to care much about his decor.

Beyond the physical chess set carved from what looked like real ivory and the few volumes of rare paper books scattered about, there was not much to do in there at any given time.

He strode down the hallway, boot heels clicking gently against the metal floor. He wandered without much of a real purpose, distracted by random bits and pieces and by organising his thoughts from the day, so he could probably be forgiven for finally looking up when he arrived at a dead end and having absolutely no idea where he was.

To call it a dead end wasn’t actually completely true. There was a glimmer of light beneath the wall just to his right, a little bit of feeling about put his hand on a metal door, exactly the same colour and built to close at exactly the same depth as the wall.

The rebels sure were weird in some aspects, Oskar thought, tapping at the side of the wall where he expected the control panel to be. He wasn’t disappointed when the door hissed open quietly to allow him entry.

He only managed a couple of steps forwards before his feet just stopped. This room was nothing but a giant observatory, monitors bigger than any he had ever seen on a ship that did nothing but reflect outside back in. The galaxy and stars spun in a kaleidoscope of colours, whirling around him as the massive flagship flew through space, cutting through the darkness with ease.

He stared, lifting his gaze up, just to watch the splendor of space. It was completely different to his favourite spot on the Tristan, and definitely, the view from there couldn’t hold a light to this. He doubted any ship’s could.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” an unfamiliar voice said from somewhere to his left.

Oskar’s hand instinctively went to his hip, where his firearm would usually sit. However, having thrown his clothes on absently in the middle of the night, he had forgotten to slide it into its holster before heading out.

He braced himself grimly. He knew every single person who was currently on this ship, and this voice was not one he recognised at all. He cursed himself for being too distracted by a pretty view instead of securing the room first.

Oskar let his cool gaze sweep the room in a casual sort of manner for a second before he finally spotted the figure standing right up against a massive screen to his left hand side.

The person, a man from his voice and figure, was turned towards him, hands held up as if surrendering. “Sorry, sorry. It’s been so long since -” He cut himself off and slowly walked towards Oskar, hands tucked in his pockets. “Anyway, I don’t mean you any harm, Rear Admiral Reuenthal.”

Oskar kept his weight balanced on the balls of his feet in case of a sudden fight. “You know who I am,” he commented, keeping his voice calm and disinterested.

The man was close enough for Oskar to pick out some details now - tousled dark hair, a double breasted blue coat. His eyes caught on the gleaming gold pin on the man’s lapel, lit for one brilliant moment by a passing star, showing the clear detail of a single line bisecting the pin from left to right, and a solitary gold pentagram sitting proudly in the middle.

An uncomfortable prickle slowly crawled up Oskar’s spine as he remembered his crew whispering about disembodied footsteps and glimpses of shadows turning in hallways.

“Well,” the Rebel Fleet Admiral said, taking a hand out from his left pocket to slide through his already messy hair. “I do tend to make it a habit to know who’s on my ship.”

He seemed to notice Oskar’s unease and stopped, still several steps away. Oskar could tell now that the other man was a head or so shorter and his bearing was very clearly not military, even if his uniform and rank insignia said otherwise.

“Oh,” he seemed to realise something, rubbing the back of his head in a sheepish manner. “Sorry, that’s very rude of me. Julian used to always go on about how I should make it a habit to introduce myself first.”

He smiled then, a warm curve of his lips, and his dark eyes lit up, glittering with stars just like the galaxy behind him. “My name is Yang Wenli. Welcome aboard my ship, the Hyperion.”

#logh dnt #legend of galactic heroes #my writing #yang wenli #oskar von reuenthal #logh #forgive me for i have sinned #i'm hyped af about the new episode coming out this week #i'm pro-yang 5eva #reuyang

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sparda3g · 7 years ago

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Tokyo Ghoul:re Chapter 163 Review

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Don’t you love that feeling when everything is going well despite the chaos since it only reassures that good thing comes for those who wait? You may have to wait for a long time to completely feel that way. This was a heartwarming comfy chapter with Kaneki recovered from his sleep and a tender reunion to kick off. Sadly, the outbreak is far from over; it just never stops.

It starts off pretty good as it capitalizing not just the destruction that Kaneki technically caused since he was a vessel to Dragon, but the trip of accepting his guilt of action. His expression says words that this is not the old him that would feel deep depressing. It’s not to say he doesn’t care about it. The surrounding has him feeling uneasy but moving ahead as he intends to adjust his new way of living.

The flashback begins with a reunion and while it was tough to squeeze in all of the reactions like everyone must get a spotlight, Ishida did a really good job to squeeze as many as he can without stretching it. It was cut a bit short since the bigger news is to get his body check and continue to deal with Dragon, which is for the best. Besides, it’s obvious that everyone would react heavily, just done off-screen.

When it comes to on-screen, the reactions are touching and each of the characters has their way of expressing it. It was adorable for Saiko to hug Maman after so long. It’s like watching a daughter at long last reunite with her beloved father. Nishiki is very like him, with his angry expression yet his words and follow-up shows his actual feelings. It amazes me on how all of these characters have real convincing connections with Kaneki, so I am compelled by their reaction. Touka’s scene was short and sweet. A hug from his wife is all he needs to know how relieved she is; happy wife, happy life.

The question behind Rize’s newborn self remains unanswered, yet I feel more clues towards her state of being are contributed by Kaneki. Granted, she may not have the same effect as him, but if it does, then we could grasp an idea. Kimi doesn’t know much of him still, though he states that his eyes are perfect now and his headaches are all gone. If I recall Nishiki’s theory, he said that perhaps Kaneki will look young again by going cannibal. Perhaps consuming so many cells as Dragon changed his body significantly; almost like the perfect body. Not only that, he also looks younger than before or at least had the best sleep ever and he is as polished as ever. Hmm…

What makes up for the lost time of reunion was how everyone had their input to tell Kaneki the current situation. Kimi told him that Touka and Saiko are in one room because they formed a pact to stand against a threat. I don’t know why but seeing Touka and Saiko together in that panel makes me think Kaneki already has a wonderful family with a daughter. Who said he’s not the father already? Anyway, Nishiki reconfirmed that Human and Ghoul are temporarily united, though it might become much more than that.

Amon stepped in to tell Kaneki that it was all because of Hide that got them together to save him. Kaneki’s reactions in those three panels show how stunned yet maybe confused that Hide is alive. The hype for their reunion continues to rise and it’s a damn shame that Hide is away from the area. The timing of departure seriously needs work. Kaneki has to settle with Hide after that questionable last moment that left him believing he has killed his best friend. This is still a mystery on how he was able to live and who helped him.

I have to admit, I got excited when I saw Urie and insisted that he should give Kaneki a tour outside. If anything, this was among the top 3 most hyped up reunion to wait. This is easily my favorite part and it was a pleasant treat to the memory lane. In fact, I meant that in a literal sense since they actually gone back to the early days and recollect that it was a road that they have drove through. It’s nice that Kaneki have a conversation with his human friends after he was avoiding them for what he believed good intention. It’s definitely a new him with reconciling his connections. That said it is clear that he still working on it.

The best part is how Urie talks to him like a normal close friend, rather than an arrogant prick he once was. Development is an amazing feature. I like his presence displays it as a matured, professional leader as he reports the crisis and how they managed to lessen the damage. Saiko stood overnight to evacuate the civilians and she’s like, “Yup, it’s what I do.” That small detail of Urie looking proud at her accomplishment hits the sweet spot.

The best part of that part (if that makes any sense) is Urie let him know that if anything is bothering him, it’s best to express it with his words, not with his face. The line about pondering things alone got me all teary. Seriously, how could you not love this guy? That was wonderfully addressed that not only Kaneki gets more comfy but it perfectly described Urie’s character development with one simple line. He knows that feeling all too well and he won’t let anyone to go through that negative road. That’s inspiring right there. A simple line can hold a deeper meaning.

It speaks volume that Kaneki is more willing to let his friends to help him out and allow them to approach him like he’s your friendly neighbor. Saiko, as charming angel she is, would like to visit him to talk about many things like the good old days. Saiko is seriously too good for this series and no, I’m not even bashing it. It’s just a great compliment to her and her upmost adorable nature. Kaneki replies with a yes and a smile that must be protected. He is truly reborn as a better man.

Of course, Ishida doesn’t think we need a happy place, so things go dark once a random Ghoul starts eating flesh. I would admit, it would have been hilarious if Urie somehow regressed his character to the very beginning and starts killing Ghoul for a promotion, but this isn’t a gag series, so I am perfectly fine. It’s his job to hunt down Ghoul that is killing Human, so he has to act now. At least he was reasonable about it, so his character remains undamaged.

The woman was all apologetic and that’s when things are becoming very strange. Kaneki remembers her back in CCG and knows that she is a human. Well, more like she was and that’s how they are introduced to the concept of human turning into ghoul in a blink of an eye. Everything is about to get worse.

Okay, so this part with the woman eating a person stunned me, because a fan remembers her. She actually was from chapter 20 of the original series and after looking it up, I was stunned. It’s not that she’s relevant that shocked me; it’s the fact Ishida has everyone in his book and use them for later moments, including Hajime. Basically, every character will get something. She was the one that belittled Ghoul as nothing but a scrub during the interview with Kaneki, so Ishida decided to get a laugh by making her into a Ghoul. Karma is indeed a bitch.

What’s also funny yet alarming is that we got breaking news live on the big screen. It tells me a few things. The chaos is far from over as the Fourth Ward is under attack with Dragon’s little monsters. Peace? What’s that? That’s an eye opener for everyone, especially Kaneki; the destruction doesn’t need him to go on. Lastly, we have ourselves the boldest reporter of all time: Furuta. News media really can’t catch a break anymore, can they? At least we will get an interview from one of those monsters. Looking forward to it.

It was a relaxing and kind chapter that we solely needed before the cliffhanger. The reactions to his awakening were short yet pretty sweet. The mystery of Kaneki’s new body continues to intrigue. The reunion with the old Qs Squad, minus Mutsuki, is delighting and good feel moment. The cliffhanger flares up that we are far from over from this problem and I believe we may get a better insight of Furuta’s agenda in the next chapter. I think it’s now a good time to give some answers. Then again, we have been trolled before, so we shall see…

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul:re #tokyo ghoul re #tokyo ghoul :re #chapter 163 #review

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were-cheetah-stiles · 7 years ago

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The Recruit (Chapter 13) - Mitch Rapp

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “Day 75, Part I”

Characters: Mitch Rapp, Stan Hurley, Rob Russells, Julian Casablancas, Peter Collins & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Slow burn, some touchin’, some dirty talking, fluff, kissing, cursing, i assumeeeee..

A.N.: I’ve written three chapters of Mitch and Y/N on their first day in New York, while on break, so far and they are literally my favorite things in the world. I hope you enjoy them too.

Summary: The recruits get released for a weeklong Spring break. Mitch and Y/n go to New York.

Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen

"Alright, Y/n, what do you have?" Stan asked, standing in the front of their classroom. You had done this three years in a row now and already knew that your cover story worked. "I am going to go up to Manhattan to see my friends from Columbia and just like the past two years, my cover is that I work for the State Department and work overseas a lot and that's why I am never all that accessible and cannot talk about my work in detail."

"And as always, that works for me.. Enjoy your break." Stan said, as you sat down and folded your arms, waiting for the next person to share their cover story. "Remember, the cover story needs to be good enough that it could be real but won't elicit too many unanswerable questions from even your nosiest family member. It's for your protection, their protection and the protection of the Agency... Who's next? Julian?"

Julian stood. "I am also going up to Westchester in New York to see my parents, and they think I am coming back from a Syrian relief mission to see them for five days... Then I leave to go back."

"Have you been to Syria?" Stan asked.

"No, sir."

"Then how are you going to answer questions that they have about what you've seen over there?" Stan pushed, trying to find the ways in which Julian's cover could be blown.

"I was going to read the New York Times on the train up, sir. My parents aren't naturally inquisitive people. If I embellish what I've read in the papers, that will be enough to upset my mother and force my father to drop the subject altogether. Plus, now that I can speak some Arabic, I think they'll be convinced."

"And if they want to see pictures?"

"I'm not over their to take pictures, sir. They can google what Aleppo looks like these days themselves." Julian spoke dryly and mouthed off all the time. Stan wasn't fond of him, but you always thought he was funny. You chuckled in your seat as Julian answered all of Stan's questions in a monotone voice

Stan shook his head. "Fine, you can go. Sit down." He scanned the room. "Clemens."

"I am going home to Wisconsin to see my family. I was an attorney in Madison before I came here, so I'll tell them that I have been trying to pass the Bar here in Virginia so that I can become a Supreme Court lawyer. They'd understand why I haven't spoken to them if I was studying."

"You'd have a better chance of me letting you go to Mexico and hire prostitutes than you going home with that shit excuse for a cover story. Sit down. Think of something better and you can leave, but until then: no Wisconsin for you." Clemens raised his hands in the air in front of him, gesturing like he didn't know what was wrong with that story. Stan pointed to Rob, and Clemens sat back down. Rob explained how he wasn't leaving town because his parents were on vacation so he was planning on trolling D.C. bars for girls. Stan reminded him that he still needed a cover story, and made Rob sit down. "Mitch."

Mitch stood, folding his arms in front of him. You tried to hide your excitement over the way that his hands, when folded under, made his biceps look even bigger. You blinked a few times, unable to keep the grin off of your face, and quietly put your head in your arms on the table in front of you. "You good, Y/n?" Julian leaned over and whispered.

"Mhmm. Just tired." You mumbled without raising your head.

"I'm going up to see my brother and he thinks that I have been traveling for the past year and a half, but before I actually did that, I got a job at the State Department, so I was going to use that as my cover too."

"Alright, very good. You can go." Stan said, then moved on to the last two trainees. Mitch sat back down and looked at you, head still buried in your arms, and chuckled to himself. "The shuttle leaves in a half hour and it will bring you to downtown D.C. You can get to the train station or airports or car rental places from there, and we'll see you back here in a week. For those of you who did not get permission, I leave tonight, I will drive you downtown if you can come up with a better cover before 1900 hours. You're dismissed."

Everyone began to disperse, and Mitch watched as Stan walked up to you and Julian.

"Have a good break, Julian. Y/n can I have a word?"

You nodded and stopped. "What's up?"

"Are you sure that you don't want to come down with us? I know Meredith and the boys would love to see you."

"Yea, I haven't seen my friends in so long, I just wanted to hang out."

"Are you going to see Beth when you're up there?" Stan asked about his daughter.

"Oh, Beth isn't going to be in North Carolina with you guys?" You lied. You knew Beth was going to be in New York because you were introducing Beth to Mitch this weekend.

"She was supposed to but couldn't get out of work.... if I can't convince you to come to the Outer Banks, can I at least convince you to take your car up? You don't have to take the train."

"I wanna take the train, Stan. It's fine." You told him, not divulging that you wanted to take the train because Mitch was taking the train.

"Alright, kiddo. I'll see you in a week then."

"Say hi to Aunt Mere and everyone else for me." You smiled.

You spotted Mitch, Julian and a few other trainees in the large ticket window area of D.C.'s Union Station. You looked up at the board and saw that the Amtrak train to New York City's Penn Station was finally boarding. You picked up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, and handed the ticket agent your boarding pass. You glanced to a parallel boarding line and saw Mitch. You bashfully smiled and took your ticket back. You sat down in a two-seater against the window and placed your bag on the seat next to you.

"I love that you pick the one that doesn't have any seats behind it."

You looked up and grinned. "I like to know what's going on around me. It's not like I can just take the spy hat off.." You fake whispered and then watched as Mitch stuffed both of your bags in the overhead compartments, his shirt and jacket lifting just enough to tease you with his abs and happy trail. Just enough to turn you on. You bit your lip and ran your hand up your leg as Mitch sat back down. He saw the desire in your eyes.

"Oh... someone's in a mood." Mitch said with a grin as he rested his left hand on your knee.

"I'm just excited to be with you and you look so good, and I.." You couldn't even finish your sentence without attacking him with a kiss. You pressed your body against his, feeling his hand run up your leg and just under the hem of your short navy blue leather skirt. You felt his right hand hook it's fingers into your hair as he pulled you harder against his lips. His tongue pushed in between your lips as you slipped your fingers through the neck of his button-embellished gray thermal shirt and dug your fingers into his shoulder. Mitch stopped to catch his breath, and pressed his forehead against yours.

"Oh god." He whispered between huffs. "Don't bite your lip at me like that. This outfit is killing me enough as is." Mitch grinned and shook his head at you. You were wearing a short and tight navy blue leather skirt, a loose and semi-sheer marled gray t-shirt, gray knee-high socks, black booties and a black lace bra that you could see through your shirt; your favorite bomber jacket was hanging on a hook next to the window.

You grinned from ear to ear as you rubbed his thigh over his khaki pants, purposefully trying to still turn him on. "But I'm just so excited about our week away. I want to get started now." You pouted and fake whined.

"Y/n, trust me, if it wasn't the middle of the morning and this train wasn't packed with people, you'd be in my lap with your tight little pussy riding my cock right now."

"Promise?" You bit your lip since you couldn't be biting his.

"Promise." Mitch pulled you in for a peck on the cheeks and then leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes and holding your hand in your lap so that you couldn't rub up on him anymore. He needed to calm down or else he probably would find a way to fuck you right then.

"Shit..."

Mitch opened his eyes and felt you yank your hand out of his. "What?" He looked at you and you were staring out the window.

"Of all the cars on this train, he had to get on this one? Are you kidding?" You whispered, while pointing in the direction of the aisle in the middle of the car, but not looking away from the window. Mitch saw Julian placing his bag in the compartment above his seat. Mitch nodded at Julian and Julian nodded back, then sat down on the opposite end of the train car.

"All aboard. The 9:13AM train from Union Station, District of Columbia to Montreal, Quebec, making stops in Baltimore, Dover, Philadelphia, Trenton, New York City, Albany, Buffalo, and finally Montreal. We will be departing the station in approximately three minutes. All aboard. Conductors, please check your signals." The announcement broke over the speakers.

"Is it weird that we're sitting together or do you think he saw anything?" You asked, worry spreading across your face.

Mitch shook his head. "I think it's fine... and Julian is your friend, right?"

"I mean, yea, but you never know what people will do."

"It'll be fine." Mitch gave you a quick smile. Then stood back up. "You want your book?"

You shook your head. "I'm going to catch up with the news on my phone." You watched as Mitch reached back up into the compartment, his shirt lifting again, and dropped Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo on the seat, the latest book that you had given him to read. "You are seriously going to have to sit down. I'm gonna maul you, and now I really can't since Julian is sitting right over there." Mitch grinned, closed the compartment and took off his jacket. "Oh, seriously?! You're doing this on purpose." You huffed and sat back in your seat, feeling the train jolt forward as it started on its journey.

Mitch tried to rest his coat on top of your silky bomber, but both ended up falling off the hook and onto the floor with a thud. "Sorry, babe. Do you want your phone?" Mitch asked as he bent over and picked up your jackets.

"Yes please." You said as you watched him hang his coat on the hook first.

He fished in your pockets and pulled out your phone and keys. "Why do you have so many keys?" Mitch asked, confusion spreading on his face as he saw you take them out of his hand. He hung your jacket on top of his and sat back down next to you.

"Well, this is to the garage." You began flipping through the keys, about a dozen in total. "These are the keys to Stan's office and then the master key to all of the buildings at The Barn. This is to Beth's house, and this is to the Hurley's house in Virginia, where I lived. This is the key to my safety deposit box and my P.O. Box. This is the key to my Dad's hangar, and this is the one to the safe that holds all the car keys, and this is the one for the LES apartment." You tucked the keys back into your pocket after listing them off.

"What?"

You laughed. "What can I say? I'm welcome a lot of places."

"Your Dad's hangar and what Lower East Side apartment?" Mitch looked confused.

You inhaled and then looked at Mitch. "So you saw the BMW the other night. It was my Dad's. He collected vintage cars and cars he thought were cool. I inherited all of them, and Stan picked out the BMW from the lot and gave it to me when I got my driver's license in high school, and it's just the one I use the most often. I was actually thinking that if you and Steven wanted, I would bring you to the hangar tomorrow, let you see the cars... maybe take one of them out and we could drive it the rest of the week?"

Mitch smirked. "Steve would lose his shit if you did that." You smiled and nodded. "What’s the apartment though?"

You pursed your lips and pulled at your socks. Mitch took your hand in his when he saw you fidgeting. You smiled up at him again. "I still own the apartment that I grew up in."

"Really?"

You nodded. "It's this big two story penthouse in this tall, old building downtown and my Mom grew up there, and when her Dad died, she got the deed, and when my Mom died, I got the deed.... I literally haven't been there in years though. It's fully furnished and everything, I just can't bring myself to sell it."

Mitch half frowned. "Did you live there in college?"

"No, I rented a place in South Harlem, closer to campus. The only people who have been there since I was in high school are the cleaning crew that I hired to come in once a month and dust and kill the spiders, whatever."

"Do you ever plan on moving in there?"

"Maybe one day. It's a beautiful building and a nice area. We can drive by it if you want."

Mitch shrugged, not wanting to make you do anything you were uncomfortable with. "It's up to you... What do you want to do while we're up here?"

A smile spread back across your face, and you let out an excited moan. "Ugh, everything. Well, I want to hang out with Steven, I want to see 1984 on Broadway, I wouldn’t mind taking a drive out to either the Hudson Valley or Long Island, and I promised I'd hang out with one of my girlfriends from college, so you can spend the day with Steven that day. I want pizza from John's on Bleeker, oh my god, just like a donut from Dunkin Donuts, meatballs from The Meatball Shop, cake from Herb in Chelsea, vietnamese food from Jimmy's downtown, Shake Shack... oh my god, I read that there is a Shake Shack in Penn Station now, if we could make that our first stop, I'd love you forever." You didn't even realize what you said as you rambled on about all that you wanted to do while you were home.

Mitch smiled, but didn't say anything. He wanted to kiss you but could feel Julian watching from a distance. "So basically, you want to eat?"

You pressed your lips together tightly, furrowed your brow and nodded. "I am so sick of the food at The Barn."

Mitch laughed and went to kiss you, but stopped half way through, realizing what he was doing. Instead, he leaned past you and pulled the curtain closed. He hoped that was subtle enough, and that Julian hadn't caught his near slip. He licked his lips and leaned back in the seat, reclining the chair back. "We can definitely do all of that."

"I also would like to have a lot of sex." You looked at him seriously.

"Steve's going to love that." Mitch laughed.

"Yea, we may have to get a hotel room.." You said, as you reached for your phone and began scrolling through The Associated Press' news app.

The next chapter is literally one of my favorite chapters I will ever write. Day 75 is the literal best. Also, now I’m hungry. :(

@chivesoup @confidentrose @alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @kalista-rankins @parislight @cleverassbutt @damndaphneoh @mgpizza2001 @chionophilic-nefelibata @ninja-stiles @sarcasticallystilinski @teenage-dirtbagbaby @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @alizaobrien @twsmuts @rrrennerrr @sorrynotsorrylovesome @lovelydob @iknowisoundcrazy @5secsxofamnesia @vogue-sweetie @dylrider @ivette29 @therealmrshale @twentyone-souls @sunshineystilinski @snicketyssnake @xsnak-3x @eccentricxem @inkedaztec @awkwarddly @lightbreaksthrough @maddie110201 @hattyohatt @amethystmerm4id @completebandgeek

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little-inkstone · 7 years ago

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A Fate Sealed with String Part 7

Summery: After meeting the man her parents have arranged for her to marry, Belle decides she’ll take her own fate into her hands. Literally, with the help of a charmed piece of thread that will lead her to her true love.

AN: I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

AO3

The first thing Belle realized while she traveled without Rumple was that she missed him. Her heart yearned for him in a way that it never had for anything else before. Even when she met a young Princess traveling to the same destination and joined her she still longed for Rumple. Anna was good company and they became fast friends over the two days they traveled together. Belle had wanted to see the Valley of the Trolls just to see it, but Anna needed their help. The trolls had told Anna what she needed to know Belle decided to help her get home as fast as possible and they had raced their way down the mountain. Everything had seemed to be going well but that hadn’t lasted for long.

Anna was dead.

Belle lay on the side of the cliff they had been traveling down, her hand reaching into thin air as tears filled her eyes. She let out a sob and rolled away from the cliff, curling into a tight ball as she cried. Anna had been suspicious of a woman that had claimed to be her aunt and was hoping the trolls could tell her if it was true. It had sounded like an adventure to Belle. One that would help distract her from her own swirling thoughts. And maybe if she helped the princess with her problem an answer would come to her. Now all of that was for naught. A storm had whipped up just as they sidled along a sheer path etched into the side of the mountain. The path was safe enough in normal weather, but beyond treacherous otherwise. Nothing had been natural about the snow storm; clearly it was the work of Anna’s aunt. The wind had all but grabbed Anna and pulled her off the cliff, leaving Belle to desperately try her best to reach for her new friend. She had stretched as far as she could, almost falling off the path herself. Belle’s hand had just barely missed Anna’s and she watched in horror as her friend fell.

She had failed, she had been so close to grabbing her and she hadn’t made it.

“Rumple,” Belle cried as she cradled the necklace he had given her. “Rumple, help me.”

He was there before she had even finished speaking. Belle felt his arms wrap around her, strong and reassuring and everything she needed. She clung to him as he ran his hands along her body, his voice panicked as he searched for some kind of injury. He wouldn’t find one, she was fine, she was safe, but Anna wasn’t.

“Belle, please,” Rumple begged, worry making his voice high. “Tell me what’s wrong; I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I failed her.” Belle said. “I failed Anna and she’s gone.”

“Who, Belle, who?” He asked, trying to lower his voice so it was more soothing instead of panicked.

“Anna, my new friend.” Belle repeated pointing over the cliff. “She f-fell; I couldn’t reach her in time.” Her voice broke and she began to cry harder.

His lips thinned and he carefully removed her from his arms. Rumple tucked her against the side of the mountain to keep her safe and pulled a white cotton handkerchief from thin air. Gently he dabbed at her cheeks and then handed her the cloth. He kissed her forehead and pushed a strand of her hair out of her face; then he stood with a grim look.

“Don’t move. I’m going to be right back.” Rumple said.

Belle nodded, her face blotchy and red from her tears. She was confused and scared as he looked over the side of the cliff and her heart almost stopped when he kneeled and began to climb his way down.

“No, don’t I can’t lose you!” Belle said jerking forward to grab him.

“I’ll be fine Belle, I’m using magic.” He said, raising his hand to keep her from getting closer as he hung off the side of the mountain. “I’m going to go and see if there’s anything that can be done for your friend, the fall might not have…” Rumple trailed off and Belle nodded jerkily.

They both knew the chances of that were very low, but his words made her hope. Belle sat for a long moment, trembling as she waited for Rumple to return. Two short days ago she had been with him in the capital, happy and safe. Honestly she wished she’d stayed there with Rumple. Her time away from him had done nothing for her confusion and had only made her ache with loneliness for him. That’s why she and Anna had been on such a dangerous path, both of them had been in a hurry to return, but Belle had been the one to suggest such a risky route. Closing her eyes she pressed her forehead to the tops of her knees. Her foolishness had led to Anna’s death. If Belle had just stayed with Rumple then Anna would be safe still and on her way to warn her sister of the danger their aunt posed.

The sound of rustling made her look up and she let out a relieved sigh. “You’re okay.”

“I am, but Belle, are you sure your friend fell?” He asked as he pulled himself up and kneeled beside her. His hand reached out to gently brush her hair out of her face, the wind kept throwing it into her face.

“Yes, I-I couldn’t reach her.” Belle said, more tears beginning to fill her eyes again. “I failed her.”

“No, no, Belle you did your best, I know you did. I’m just sorry I wasn’t here.” Rumple said, carefully he wrapped his arm around her and she tucked herself under his chin.

“You should have been with us; I shouldn’t have asked you to stay behind. I’ve missed you so much and now everything’s gone wrong because I couldn’t just admit I love you.” She whimpered.

Rumple made a strangled noise at her words but cleared his throat and pushed away what she had unknowingly said. They could deal with that later.

“Belle, please, listen to me, your friend – Anna was it? – she wasn’t down there, and the air was thick with magic.” He told her, tilting her jaw so she was looking into his eyes.

“W-what?” Belle asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means she never hit the ground.” He said gently. “Someone whisked her away.”

“Then she’s alive!” She gasped, grabbing the lapels of his shirt. More tears sprung to Belle’s eyes, but this time they were from relieved joy. “It must have been the trolls! They said they would watch out for us.”

“There was no malic in the spell, I think you’re right.” Rumple said. He pressed his forehead to hers and smiled. “I’m so relieved you won’t have to carry the burden of feeling like you failed someone.” He added, almost so softly she didn’t hear him.

His words confused her. She thought on them the entire time they traveled down the mountain. And continued to think about them as she and Rumple made their way to the castle to make sure Anna really had survived. The words haunted her even more so as she introduced her new friend to Rumple and his eyes had turned sad and preoccupied. That night she couldn’t sleep; she lay in her bed in the inn and remembered his words from their ride so many months ago. There was a hurt in Rumple’s past, a regret that still needled at him. It wasn’t her place to ask, but he was hurting and all she wanted was to comfort him as best she could.

Biting her lower lip she slipped from her bed and wrapped herself in a thick gold coloured shawl. Her heart raced as she quietly left her room and walked the short distance from her room to his. Going to a man’s room in the middle of the night was rather scandalous, but after having slept in the same bed as Rumple Belle doubted this would do anymore damage to her reputation. Softly she knocked on his door, stepping from foot to foot as she waited from to answer. When a few silent moments went by without a reply Belle let out a sigh. It was foolish to think he would be awake just because she was, and if he were sleeping she didn’t want to wake him. At least someone needed to get some sleep. Just as she was about to leave the door creaked open slightly and Rumple peeked out, when he saw her he opened the door wider.

“Belle, what’s wrong?” He asked worriedly.

For a moment words abandoned her as she looked at him. Rumple was in nothing but a sleeping shirt that was open down to the middle of his chest. The string that kept it closed was missing she couldn’t help but stare at the large patch of tan skin on display. Her eyes drifted down, realizing he wasn’t wearing sleeping pants and his feet were bare as well. She had never seen him with so little on before. On the ship he had worn long johns a sleeping shirt laced up and pants with socks. Belle had wondered if he was cold, but now she realized that he had been trying to preserve her modestly. Her mouth went dry as she looked at him and her cheeks began to heat.

“Belle?” Rumple repeated, his hand reaching out to grasp her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She replied, his touch shocking her out of her daze. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just…”

She licked her lips, suddenly unsure of herself. When she had been alone in her room slowly being driven mad with curiosity this had seemed like a good idea. Now faced with a Rumple who was so close to nakedness she wasn’t as sure.

“Anything you need, Belle, I am your loyal servant.” He told her earnestly.

“Today, on the mountain, you said you were happy I wouldn’t have to carry the weight of having failed someone I cared for, and when we rode together you mentioned not being in time to save someone. What did you mean?” Belle asked.

It was best to just get it out of her mind. If he didn’t want to talk of it he could send her back to her room. He lowered his head, his eyes shadowed by his hair, his lips were had thinned with a deep grimace. The look made Belle wish she wasn’t so bull headed and reckless. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, she wanted to comfort him, but instead she had ended up causing him more pain by dredging up old wounds. Silently Belle cursed herself for the unintentional cruelty. Just as she was about to apologize and return to her room he looked back up at her.

“I’ll tell you, but not in the hall where anyone can see you, please, come in.”

He opened his door wider and gestured for her to come in. Belle took a step forward and then froze when she saw his bed. Of course he would have one in his room, she wasn’t foolish enough to think he was sleeping on the floor, but it hadn’t crossed her mind. Taking a deep breath she walked in anyway, she had shared a bed with this man, it didn’t matter if they were alone with one and he was almost naked. Belle had begun this and now she needed to be brave.

Perhaps if she acted brave bravery would follow.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #A Fate Sealed with String

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fanfictionconnectionwordpress · 7 years ago

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Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 12 Seven's Bunker

***What a day to post! Saeran route is officially available for Android users and my best friend is over at my place playing it, so we can experience the glory together. I'm hoping for a good route that I can do a continuation for in my Good Ending Continued Series. I just made it through Seven's route again and am drafting the beginning of his version which I hope to start posting by March. Hope to see ya'll reading that too~ Vandy will obvs make an appearance. Oh, btw, next week you get your first Cherrywood NSFW. ;3 ~Let's Connect! FFC***

*Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. Tagged Chapter Directory*

After their most recent encounter with Marie, Vanderwood and Cerise had decided to take another day before heading away from the hotel, making a shopping trip to a store for Cerise to purchase some pillows that would make her more comfortable while staying at the bunker. (Hidden deleted chapter for patrons.) It was for the better that she’d be there until Vanderwood could leave the agency. She needed to be kept safe; that was his highest priority. Cerise was simply playing around with her phone during the ride, only putting it away once Vanderwood pulled into Seven’s garage. He locked the security system using the in-car controls before turning to her. “Alright, shortcake…Let’s get you inside.”

Honestly, he was feeling just a little anxious. Vanderwood had always been on Seven’s case that relationships weren’t safe for them, that they didn’t deserve it. Not that he thought Seven would complain, more like he had a feeling the redhead would somehow take revenge on him. Seven would definitely be weird and annoying, that was inevitable, and he rolled his shoulders back, already dreading the idiot’s behavior.

Cerise was just ready to stretch her legs again, eager to get out of the car. Once Marion helped her out of the car, she grabbed her cherry pillow from the back and held it with both arms as they approached who she assumed was Seven. He looked nice enough, and he was already smiling. Of course, Marion had warned her that Seven was a troll, but maybe he was exaggerating. Sometimes it seemed like Marion saw the worst in everything.

Seven was standing in the doorway to the house with a huge grin on his face as Vanderwood approached, standing close to Cerise. Something about the grin on the redhead's face made the brunet feel on edge. "Ooo, I read in her file that she was short, but she is absolutely adorable, Mary." And Seven was already pissing him off. Cerise shuffled, her nose scrunching up in displeasure. The first thing out of his mouth was commenting on her height?

Vanderwood was about to open his mouth to give the redheaded idiot a piece of his mind when Seven started to reach for Cerise's waist like he was going to pick her up. Cerise stepped back, tucking herself a little behind him as Vanderwood felt something ugly stirring in his chest. Not only was Seven about to put his hand over her still healing wound, but the redhead was also about to touch his girlfriend. Vanderwood snatched Seven's arm roughly. "Pick her up, and I will break your arm."

Seven’s eyes widened somewhat at the tight grip. Holy...Vanderwood was mad. The redhead had seen him mad plenty of times, maybe even gotten tased on one or two occasions, but this was different. He frowned and pulled his arm away from Vanderwood's grip, who let go, seemingly a little confused as well at why his reaction had been so violent so quickly. If it had been anyone else, Seven had a feeling his arm would already be broken. Well, no matter, just don’t touch the little lady, and he could still have fun. The redhead grinned just as wide as before at Cerise. “As you wish, Mary dearest. I'm Seven Oh Seven, good to meet you, Lady Vandy. I happen to enjoy your blog as of late. I might have a picture or two of my maid that you can add."

She was glad that Vanderwood had succeeded in keeping his partner from picking her up, still sensitive where her wound was and not really interested in being treated like a child. Cerise chuckled nervously as the man introduced himself. "...Lady Vandy?" Apparently, he knew about her blog...not like it was hard to find it. Cerise glanced over towards her boyfriend who seemed to be in a state of irritation. She slipped her hand into his, giving it a little squeeze. Obviously Vanderwood's anger didn't deter his partner, and somehow, that was unnerving to her. "Uhh...sure, but I don’t think I know your maid?"

Vanderwood was already bristling, clearly not wanting Seven to show off his pictures, but when the girl took his hand, he seemed to get somewhat distracted. It was actually kind of sweet seeing the big guy with his girlfriend. He'd always thought Vanderwood wouldn't be able to find anyone to grab his attention, for longer than a few hours anyway. Of course, it also stung. Seven found what he was looking for and with an exaggerated bow, held out his phone, showing Cerise the photo of Vanderwood and he dressed as maids. Seven was hanging off of Vanderwood's shoulder in the photo, who looked very unamused.

Cerise peeked at the phone with her eyes wide, although as soon as Marion saw that photo, he snatched the redhead's phone. "No. Absolutely not." She had still managed to get a good look though, and now her mind was racing. Was that...was he...? Crossdressing, really? Just what sort of relationship did those two even have? She was horribly, horribly confused. Was this another part of his past that she didn't know about? Cerise kept nervously glancing between Vanderwood and Seven even as Vanderwood handed the phone back to Seven, presumably after deleting the image. Was there more about him that she didn’t know?

Deleting the photo was probably pretty useless, since Seven likely had a million copies, but it at least felt somewhat therapeutic, even with his eyebrow twitching. Cerise’s hand slipped out of his, causing him to furrow his brows and watch her from the corner of his eyes. She seemed…shocked and lost in thought. Well, could he expect anything less when Seven had just shown her a picture like that? He’d have to deal with that later, once the redhead wasn’t around. Vanderwood slipped his hand behind Cerise's back after giving Seven a little shove, getting a laugh from the redhead even as Vanderwood guided Cerise past him, grumbling. "Lay off, will you?"

He led his girlfriend to the couch, but Seven still seemed to be hovering. That wasn’t completely unusual. Vanderwood sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll be right back, shortcake.” Cerise made a noncommittal noise. She didn't even take out her phone when she sat on the couch as she tried to wrap her head around the situation and make sense of it.

Vanderwood broached the topic of leaving the agency, disbanding it even, but it seemed like Seven wasn’t entirely on board. It didn’t make sense to him. In all the time Vanderwood had known the redhead, Seven had always seemed like he hated what he had to do and the workload. Although, once the kid mentioned his twin brother, Vanderwood felt a tight pang in his chest. He hadn’t known. Well, he’d suspected there was someone that the redhead was protecting, but it made even more sense to him now. "Right, yeah, just give me a day to rest up then...I’ll help you find your brother and then we’ll get out of this." The redhead seemed far more on board with that. It would mean field work, potential danger, being away from Cerise, but that was what it was going to have to take.

Vanderwood rejoined Cerise on the couch as Seven shot him a peace sign and left the house, with a grin that once again had Vanderwood questioning if the redhead was up to something. Cerise was still out of it, only shifting slightly as Marion sat next to her. She hadn’t been able to hear what he and his partner had been talking about, but considering that she didn’t understand what was really going on between the two of them, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know.

"So, that's Seven. I took a bullet for that asshole." God, he felt awkward. Vanderwood rubbed at the back of his head. He hadn't addressed the photo yet, but with Cerise sitting here looking like she was going through the shock of her life, he was going to have to deal with it right now. "That photo...that was just us doing undercover work, and in no way do I do that normally, nor did I enjoy it in any capacity." He wasn’t sure if she just had an issue with crossdressing or if she was having weird visions of him walking around in women’s clothing, but he wanted to nip anything like that in the bud right away.

Cerise had been about to ask him about the photo, but he had beaten her to it. His explanation made her sigh in relief. Okay, so that was one less thing she had to worry about...It wouldn't have made her love him any less, she would have just had...a bit of concern. Knowing now that he wasn’t a crossdresser or secretly wanted to be a woman or something…It made the photo a lot more hilarious. He had looked really irritated in it too, like he wanted to kill somebody. "I think..." She started to laugh a little now, the hilarity of the moment really hitting her, "...That you might...pfft...look better in a skirt than I do."

He had been waiting for her reaction, watching her, but when she finally did react, he wasn’t sure how to process that either. Was she laughing at him? And then what she'd said actually started to make sense in his brain. "C'mon, Cerise. I’m too masculine for that bullshit…” His voice kind of trailed off a little before he coughed and the rest of what he was thinking made its appearance. "Besides...no one could ever be better looking than you." It was really true, no one had ever affected him in the way that she did. Her cuteness had been the first thing to strike him when he'd met her, but that had quickly transformed into the knowledge that he found her strikingly beautiful. Vanderwood rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. He needed a change of subject. Now that he wasn’t on a mission anymore and cigarettes were back on the table he also felt like he was getting a craving. "Do you uh...want to watch a movie or something?"

Cerise was still giggling, loving the way he was reacting. Maybe she would have to ask Seven if he had any backups of the photo later. She hoped he did, because she now found that she needed it. Grinning at the compliment, she gave Marion a kiss on the cheek before settling back down on the couch. "A movie sounds great. Let's watch something you like." Cerise was a little excited to see the type of thing he would watch on his own. So far, they'd only watched things together that she enjoyed.

"Um..." Something he liked to watch? Mostly all he'd ever watched was action movies and laughing at the crazy shit they did in the secret agent ones. Sometimes he'd complain about them totally flubbing something up...but if she wanted to watch something he wanted to watch..."I guess that'll be a secret agent movie then." The nerd in him had considered grabbing Niron Man, but he didn’t quite want to reveal just how much of a dweeb he was right now. He smiled sheepishly, getting up from the couch to grab a movie he'd watched several times and starting it up. Cerise just giggled at his selection as he worked on getting things ready. Did he like to watch secret agent movies ironically or something?

Vanderwood stretched and looked at the couch as the opening previews started to play. After being cramped up in the car all day, he really needed to stretch out. Maybe Cerise wouldn't mind. His face filled with a little bit of color. "Shortcake, you think I could lay across the couch and you could uh...lay on my chest maybe?" Why was he being so awkward to ask such a simple little question? She tilted her head a bit at his request before smiling widely. "I'd love to do that." Cerise wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to snuggle up to him, no matter the reason, and laying on his chest while watching a movie sounded cozy and actually sorta romantic. She shifted out of the way to let him lay down, grabbing her cherry pillow from the cushion where she’d placed it and hugging it tight.

He stretched out onto the couch, making a soft groan of relief at getting to lay down and relax. Vanderwood was really getting into this lazy day stuff. He furrowed his brows, eyes scanning the room. It didn’t look like a pigsty…Had the redhead cleaned up on his account or for Cerise? Or was the redhead really planning something?

Once Cerise had settled down onto Vanderwood’s chest, he reached for the remote and started the movie. She could probably hear his heart skipping just a little as she'd first laid down, something he was starting to get used to when it came to her. Vanderwood stroked her hair and back gently, knowing she liked that from the time they'd spent watching TV in the hotel room. Cerise could hear the quickening of his heartbeat as she snuggled the cherry pillow trapped between them. She found the way his heart changed pace as she nuzzled him endearing as well as amusing. This man wasn't playing when he said he had feelings for her, and it made her own heart beat faster. Cerise couldn't help but to close her eyes despite the movie playing as he stroked her hair. She was a victim to the calming sound of his heartbeat. The way he was gently stroking her hair and then her back...who could blame her for having heavy eyelids?

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head as he hit play on the main menu. This was so incredibly pleasant. His brows furrowed as a soft hissing got his attention. Vanderwood looked up, seeing the emergency sprinkler directly above him opening up. Shit fuck, and the next moment the sprinkler started pouring on them. He was pretty stuck with her on top of him, not wanting to move too fast and knock her off him to get hurt.

Cerise was just able to drift off when she was beginning to get soaked with water, causing her to shriek and jump up. Her first instinct was to protect her phone, so she shoved it in between the cushion and arm of the couch. It was already too late for the pillow she was cuddling in her arms. She looked up to see that all of the water was coming from the sprinkler above the couch and moved away from it to try and get out of range of the thing. "How do you turn this thing off!?"

Vanderwood was about to get more soaked than he already was. "Fucking...Just a second." He pushed himself up and hopped onto the couch, reaching up to the sprinkler and manually placing it into the locked position, stopping the downpour. Everything was sopping wet, from his hair, to his clothes, to his girlfriend. His jacket and gloves would need some tending to after this bullshit. Grumbling, he hopped off the couch, pulling off the items and hanging them over a nearby chair to dry. This had to be Seven. One single sprinkler turns on and it happens to be the one right above them? Vanderwood turned to check on his girlfriend. "You alright, Cerise? Besides being wet, I mean." His eyebrow twitched just a little. The redhead was going to get it. He didn't know how yet, but he'd figure it out.

Cerise nodded and looked to the now soaked couch where her phone was hidden, approaching slowly just in case the sprinkler decided to come back on. She reached for her phone, scrunching her eyes closed tight before trying to press the home button and then opening her eyes to see if it had turned on. Thankfully it still worked and wasn't damaged…but her poor pillow. Cerise squished it a little and water dripped onto the floor. She stared at it blankly for a moment before tears formed in her eyes. Once a soft, fluffy pillow got wet, it would never be the same again. She hadn't even gotten to properly cuddle it yet! It probably seemed silly to cry over a pillow but dammit! It had so much cuddling potential! Cerise kind of crouched with the wet pillow and held it to her chest, not caring because she was rather soaked herself. One last cuddle for her fallen comrade.

He watched rather helplessly as tears formed in her eyes. Holy shit, his girlfriend was crying! What was he supposed to do? He felt completely unprepared. Oh, that redhead was so dead. Vanderwood just went with his gut instinct and crouched down next to her, pulling her into his arms with gentle care and kissing the top of her head. He didn't say anything, not really one hundred percent positive on why she was crying, but he supposed that didn't really matter at the moment. What was important was that he got her to feel better, and this seemed like a normal way to do that...right?

Cerise leaned into him and sniffled a little. "The pillow you got me is ruined...you're not supposed to get them wet..." Vanderwood held her a little tighter as she sniffled. "I'm sorry, shortcake..." It seemed a rather silly thing to be crying over to him, he’d been concerned that it was something horrible. Well, maybe this was horrible in her mind. The harder Cerise squeezed the pillow, the more water dripped from it. It was like her pillow was crying too.

After a few minutes of silence, she straightened herself up and did her best to wring out the rest of the water from the pillow. She sighed and looked at it with a sad expression before turning back to Vanderwood who was starting to stand up now too. "At least I still have it so...that's a plus." Cerise shivered a little, reminding her that she was indeed still wet, and the room was a little chilly. "We should probably go get some dry clothes. "They were pretty damn soaked, and Vanderwood wasn’t about to disagree with her, definitely not when she’d just been crying. "Let me just go grab your stuff out of the car.”

He was thinking about how he would get back at Seven as he headed out to the car, grabbing her bag from the back. His eyebrow twitched as he heard something else, faint thanks to his hearing damage but... Was that barking? Oh no. Oh no, no. Vanderwood broke out in a run back to the living room.

Cerise had taken out her phone to write a status update while she waited when she heard shuffling. She looked around confused until there was barking. What looked like a tiny robotic dog had wandered into the living room and was barking at her. It was actually kinda cute, and she kinda wanted to...pet it? She had made up her mind to do so when Vanderwood came barreling back into the living room, yelling not to touch it.

"Cerise! Whatever you do don't touch that dog!" What the Hell was the redhead thinking? That stupid fire-breathing guard dog could really hurt her. Of course, Seven was probably sending it out for him, but really. What the fuck? The dog was standing in the living room, facing the doorway as Vanderwood came in, and then it's mouth opened, an orange glow visible. Oh shit. He ducked out of the way and ran to pick up Cerise, carrying her bridal style.

She had turned to shoot him a puzzled look before the dog's mouth began to glow, and then he was picking her up and running off with her. It was hard for her mind to keep up. The dog started to spew flames from its mouth as it chased him. What was even happening...? "The dog breathes fire!?" She asked him incredulously. Was this normal for this place? It wasn't long before the lights went out too, the only light coming from the glow of the robot dog's flames. Now Cerise was panicking and terrified. It was like something out of a horror movie.

Holy Lord, this wasn't good. He couldn't remember the damn command for the mutt. Had Seven been banking on him remembering? Jesus. "It's okay, just...gotta remember what ‘heel’ is in Arabic." Vanderwood was going to strangle Seven. It was dark too, and he was having to think hard to figure out where his own room was. Cerise was in danger in his own damn house. He started randomly spewing the Arabic words he could remember as the dog continued to bark away. At least it was keeping its fireballs restricted to the floor. Vanderwood got to his doorway after what felt like running in circles for ages, placing Cerise and her bag inside. "Change here, I'll take care of the mutt." He closed the door as fast as he could to keep that dog out, running back into the living room to find his Arabic dictionary in his jacket.

Cerise stumbled around in the room a bit in the dark, her heart beating wildly and trying to calm down. She was worried but was sure that Vanderwood could handle it...being an actual secret agent and all. Still...that dog was scary. What dog breathes fire anyways!? She dug around in her bag to try and find some clothes to change into. She couldn't really see, so she grabbed whatever. Matching was the least of her problems at the moment, and she just wanted to be out of her wet clothes. Cerise peeled off her clothes and replaced them with the dry ones she had randomly chosen. Just as suddenly as the lights had turned off, they turned back on. Did that mean Vanderwood had successfully defeated the scary fire breathing robot dog? She wanted to take a peek outside of the dorm but decided against it, because who knew after that what she would find?

Vanderwood had been stumbling around trying to find his jacket when the redhead finally decided to show a little mercy by turning the lights back on. He was probably laughing his ass off as he watched from the CCTV's. After grabbing his jacket and rummaging around in the pockets, he was finally able to find the dictionary. It was soaked, but somehow, he found the right page. Vanderwood gave the command and the dog stopped completely, sitting back on its haunches and shutting down.

Such a quick fix for something so disastrous. He breathed a sigh of relief and focused on trying to catch his breath. There were scorch marks all over the floor. So that was why the house had been clean, why he’d used the sprinkler on the couch. Seven had been trying to keep from starting an actual fire or damaging anything important. The brunet’s eyebrow was twitching like mad, his skin starting to crawl as he looked at the mess. Vanderwood needed to clean…but then Cerise was probably worried. As much as he couldn’t stand the mess, his OCD making him itch like mad, Vanderwood started to make his way back to his room. She was far more important than the mess.

"Everything's fine now, shortcake!" Vanderwood called out to her before he returned to his room, pausing before entering, not wanting to walk in on her changing like he had that one time. He knocked and waited for her okay before opening the door and going to her, taking her face in his hands. "Are you alright?" His brown eyes searched her gold ones as he ran his hands over her, looking for any injuries just in case, too focused on the task at hand to be flustered by it.

"I'm fine...are you?" He just nodded as he continued what he was doing. Cerise didn't really care that he was dripping some water on her as he checked her over, she was just happy that he was able to handle the danger and get back seemingly without any injuries. Having him worry over her like this was sweet...even if having his hands run over her was a little flustering. She knew his mind wasn't anywhere near that, so she didn't make a fuss over it. "You should probably get changed yourself. I'll wait outside the door." It shouldn't be a problem if the threat of the dog was taken care of. Cerise gave him a quick squeeze before she headed out the door, closing it behind her and waiting for him to change.

Vanderwood had been about to tell her that he had an attached bathroom, but she was already headed out of the door, and he was getting hit with a Hell of a realization. Only then did he realize that he'd just touched her practically everywhere. His face turned all sorts of red as he grabbed some clothes to change into, getting out of his soaked pants as well as his shoes and everything else. He could walk around the house barefoot just fine, so Vanderwood threw on just a t-shirt and some pants, praying to whatever douchebag of a God existed that Seven was done with his trolling game before joining Cerise just outside his room in the hallway.

When he finally reappeared from his room, she turned around to face him and couldn't help but to blush a little. He was wearing normal clothes...just a t-shirt and pants, but somehow, he made it look extremely attractive. She was pulled from her thoughts when he started getting close to her and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. Normally she wasn't this hyper aware of him or this flustered at the mere sight of him...What was going on? He was giving her a sheepish smile, trying not to think about the fact he'd just had his hands all over her.

His thoughts slipped to Seven, anger and tenseness slipping into him, worse the more he thought about it. He decided to focus on Cerise, knowing she had that amazing ability to calm him down...when she wasn't irritating him too. A small snort escaped him at the thought. She was his everything, and he was really going to give that redhead some good payback, although he wasn't positive on how yet. Vanderwood bent his head to give Cerise a kiss. Cerise melted right into him, her hands going to his chest as he pulled her closer. Was her heartbeat even wilder than normal? She didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The floor was moving out from under them, and Vanderwood broke their kiss just before it sped up even more. Fuck. How had he forgotten about the damn hallway conveyor belt? They tumbled, causing Cerise to shriek in surprise. Thankfully, she had fallen on top of him. Vanderwood grunted as he hit the floor, quick to wrap his arms around her protectively. Then the conveyor belt just stopped moving, having deposited them at the end of the hallway.

Once the dumb conveyor belt stopped moving, she attempted to check on him, because he was the one who had the pleasure of falling right onto the floor with extra weight on him. "Marion! Ohmygosh Are you okay?" Luckily, her wound hadn't been disturbed much. It ached a little, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Vanderwood’s mind was turning toward revenge. Seven was so dead. He probably wouldn't be home until late that night, but that meant he wasn't going to get much sleep…Perfect. It really wasn't time to think about that right now with her on top of him, though, and now she was fussing over him. He couldn't help but blush at how she was checking on him, using his real name. It just sounded so nice coming from her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, shortcake." His hand found her cheek, thumb stroking gently. "I'm fine." Actually, he was surprised that he wasn't so tense that he couldn't think, surprised at just how little effort it was taking to push irritation away in favor of caring for her and enjoying her presence. It seemed like the more he had gotten used to not using sex as a stress-reliever, the easier it was to relax normally. That felt so fucking good. No pun intended.

Cerise sighed in relief and smiled as he responded to her. The guy took bullets and being cut like a champ, of course a fall wouldn't hurt him...but she still couldn't help but to worry. Cerise nuzzled into his hand before realizing that maybe she should get off of him, so he could get up. She laughed nervously and stood up, blushing something fierce again. "I uh...thanks for breaking my fall by the way..."

That blush on her face was supremely adorable, and he immediately responded without even thinking. "I'll always be there to break your fall...Just like you were when I fell for you." Cheesy. He was going to have to get used to the fact that he sounded like an utter idiot when he was hitting on her. All other women, he was charming and sultry, but no, he was just a cheesy idiot with her. Vanderwood got up from the floor, briefly rubbing the back of his head where he'd whacked it, for once not rubbing it because he felt awkward. He was so sweet, and it was just making her blush worse. She turned around, so he couldn't see her, rubbing at her cheeks...which was probably doing absolutely nothing.

He looked up at the CCTV directly above them and flipped it off. It was best to get the two of them out of any main areas of the house where Seven could enjoy watching his trolling through CCTV feeds. "Let's head to my room...It's safer in there." Cerise nodded her head in agreement, hoping that maybe magically her blush would go down, as she turned to follow him back to his room. They were both stepping carefully, so as to avoid the conveyor belt. Yeah...his room was probably safer. She didn't quite know what was going on, but she definitely didn't want any more surprises from the weird house.

Vanderwood was busy hating himself for having moved into Seven’s house, but it had become impossible not to with the way the redhead had started slacking when that ‘MC’ joined the RFA or whatever stupid charity group it was that the idiot had joined despite the security risk. Could he really judge the redhead for the security risk anymore now that he had his own? It was better not to think about it. Honestly, it all felt a little like déjà vu, as though maybe he’d been through this route of things several times before. His scar from Drawl started to ache as well as his head, so he just shook his head and opened his door, holding it open to let Cerise inside. At least they’d be safer in here.

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