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drwcn · 3 years ago

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《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 10 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Exactly 851 days - 2 years, 4 months and 11 days - after Wei Wuxian arrived at Gusu and began his mission as a sleeper agent, he was activated.

That chilly morning, he walked into the pastry shop - a front maintained by a decade-long Wen spy - a walk he'd done hundred of times on hundreds of mornings since he arrived. He breezed past the packaging counter, skipped through the faded cotton drapes, and rounded behind the back staircase to the room where Xue Yang always waited for him. Only this time, it was not just his candy-obsessed, murder-happy shidi, but a face he hadn't seen in many, many months. "...Shifu?" Wen Zhuliu's visit meant the end of his carefree days. It's time. That night, Wei Wuxian did not look at either Lan Wangji or Jiang Yanli when he bid "dianxia" and "Jiang-zhuzi" good night. He pretended to retire to bed early, after washing himself of his servant's exterior and donning his robes of night-black. He laid in the dark, waiting for time to pass, and reminded himself of his true purpose. He was never meant to care about these people; love these people. Jiang Yanli was not his doting foster sister; Lan Wangji was not his beloved wangye. I am Wei Wuxian of the great Qishan Wen. Nevernight is my home. I am a spy. Gusu is my enemy. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his heartbeat slow. In the lonely quiet, he waited, and waited, and waited. Until the candlelight around the princely manor dimmed to nothing, until the night grew still and the moon shone bright and high in the dark, dark sky. Reaching under the floorboard beneath his bed, Wei Wuxian retrieved his life-long companion from its hiding place and released it from its sheath. "Hello, old friend." He whispered, stroking the blade edge. Suibian's steel glistened with cold malevolence in the stark, pale moonlight.

It would be another year before WWX's identity is discovered. During that time, he lived a double life. In the day, he was Lan Wangji's precious Wei Ying, and at night, he was the blade in Wen Ruohan's hand, stealing, killing and destroying on command. His assignments were not always murder; sometimes it required him to break into secure facilities and obtain copies of certain documents. He was never alone on these jobs; there was always someone convalescing with him from within. Slowly, he began to realize just how deep Wen Ruohan's spy network had infiltrated Gusu's foundation. In a way, it excited him, to know that the posturing and pretending would soon be over, that in the near future a quick war would sweep across the land and unite the two nations. In another way, it frightened him to the bones.

Wei Wuxian killed 37 individuals within the span of a year, 37 men and women of different ranks, status and stations. He did not always know why these people needed to die; in fact, he often didn't and preferred it that way. If he didn't know the motive, then he couldn't argue against the reason, and thus could go on believing that what Wen Ruohan did was ultimately for the betterment of everyone. The men of Gusu were weak - Wei Wuxian was always told - they were not fit to rule. The people of Gusu would be better served under a united empire. He repeated this statement to himself before every job, but over time, the mantra on his tongue began to lose its flavour.

In the meantime however, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli quickly formed a strong plan on how they wanted to live out the rest of their lives. Lan Wangji never quite enjoyed laying with women, but Jiang Yanli had just enough wickedness behind her demure exterior that things were... well, interesting. In any case, it was not long before she came to him all smiles and whispered the good news over luncheon .

"Truly?" Lan Wangji set down his chopsticks. "Hm uhm." Jiang Yanli dapped her mouth delicately. "Now, perhaps it's a good time to discuss how dianxia should go about winning A-Xian's affection. He's under the impression you've cast him aside on taishi's orders and has been giving him the cold shoulder." "I wasn't." Lan Wangji defended himself, distressed and slightly offended. "It's just, huangshu's been watching me like a hawk. I was afraid any further attempt to be closer to him would give my uncle reason to remove him from my household entirely." Jiang Yanli was sympathetic. "The summer hunt is in two week's time, and afterwards, since bixia always likes to finish the night on the river with fireworks, perhaps...." She let the sentence dangle, a knowing smile playing at her lips. Lan Wangji felt hope.

Unfortunately, a little hiccup happened before the hunt could take place. Jin Ziyan falsely believed that Wei Wuxian had fallen out of favour with Lan Wangji and was itching to show him his place. Poor Mo Xuanyu was caught in the middle. Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian was an audacious one, but not so stupid that he could be easily goaded into committing a grave offence. Thus, Jin Ziyan planned to cause an incident in the garden whereby poor Mo Xuanyu would unwittingly "offend" him, and he would publicly announce a punishment that was harsher than necessary. He made sure that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were near by, as they usually took a mid-afternoon stroll after lunch. True to his predictions, Wei Wuxian could not stop himself for interfering on Mo Xuanyu's behalf. Then in their altercation, Jin Ziyan would fall into the pond, making it seem as though Wei Wuxian was the one who shoved him out of anger. Oh but a lowly servant shoving Hanguang-wang's deputy consort into the pond??! He was as good as dead. What's more, everything happened on the same afternoon that Lan Qiren was scheduled to visit Lan Wangji to discuss matters of court. If it was only Lan Wangji, Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian would suffer little consequence, but taishi tolerated no insubordination or churlish behaviour of any kind.

Lan Qiren was incensed, livid, but he was not hasty to deal the punishment. Instead he turned to his nephew and asked, whilst fully knowing the answer, "Wangji, your household follows the regulations that govern all princely manors, does it not?" "It does, huangshu." "Then tell me what is the punishment reserved for a servant for daring to lay hands on a deputy consort and to cause physical harm to said consort?" "It....I - huangshu -" "What is the rule?" Lan Wangji knew very well that the punishment was death for any servant, maid or eunuch who dared to harm any member of the harem. But Wei Ying, his Wei Ying... "Wei Ying is very precious to Yanli and to Yunmeng-hou. As well..." Lan Wangji hesitated. "Yanli is with child again. It is still very early so we thought it best not to announce it lest we have a repeat of last time. It would not do to upset her at this time." Lan Qiren was extremely dissatisfied with his answer, but conceded for Jiang Yanli's sake. "I'm glad, Wangji, that you've found your way back to your proper companions. This Wei Wuxian clearly has been spoiled to the point of impropriety. His actions today are utterly unacceptable and cannot be allowed to go unpunished or else others would surely follow his example. Guards!" "Detain Wei Wuxian. Have him strung up on a post in the servants' courtyard and give him fifty lashes. No food nor drink. Sun or rain, he is not to be let down until dusk tomorrow." "Huangshu!" Lan Wangji's head buzzed, as though someone had struck him squarely in the temple. His chest felt tight, and his heart ached where it rebelled inside him. "Please -" "He has his life. That is mercy enough."

Wei Wuxian was stripped down to his trousers only and tied up to a post, his hands bound together above him and his bare feet never finding purchase on the ground no matter how he struggled. This fucking suck ass. Jin Ziyan you're a dead man. When all fifty lashes were dealt, even the guards were sweating through their robes. They left him dangling there in the blistering summer heat. A young maid dared to try and sneak him some water but was thwarted by an older momo. "What do you think you're doing, lassie? Did you not hear taishi, no food or drink until dusk tomorrow. Do you want lashes too? Go on! Go!" It rained hard all through the night, only easing up at dawn, but the aftermath of the storm left the air muggy and humid. Combined with the heat, it felt as though he was being steamed alive like a wheat bun. At some point during the second day, Wei Wuxian finally lost consciousness. He was not aware when Lan Wangji barged into the courtyard against Lan Qiren's explicit orders and cut him free.

Really tho, i just want this scene to happen (╹ڡ╹ ) "I'm sorry." Wei Wuxian blinked at Lan Wangji's hunched figure sitting at his bedside. "Whatever for? You saved me, dianxia." Lan Wangji, "But it was my attention that put you in such a position in the first place. Huangshu was looking for a reason to punish you since that day he saw us in my study." Wei Wuxian, "dianxia..." "I find you... lovely, Wei Ying," confessed Lan Wangji with a heavy sigh. His ears burned red not only with the embarrassment of a youth in love but with shame. "I wish for your company, even when you have no desire to be part of my harem. Now I know my mistake. I should have respected the boundaries. I should've known my attention on you would incite jealousy from the others, and as a servant, you have no means of protecting yourself. This is entirely my fault." Wei Wuxian's heart fluttered despite himself. He quickly shook his head. "No dianxia, please don't blame yourself -" Lan Wangji, "perhaps I should send you back to Jiang-fu; I'm sure Jiang-xiao-gongzi would be delighted to have your company back. You would be safe there." Jiang Wanyin had come to visit his sister the very next day after Wei Wuxian was sentenced to whipping. He was one of the most accomplishment young men of his generation, anticipated to be a great general. Nie Mingjue had thought highly of him and had expected great things from this youth. Though perhaps what the late feng-jun found truly commendable was Jiang Wanyin's complete lack of pretense and his short-fuse temper. That is to say, he did not hesitate to get in Lan Wangji's face. His sister would have chastised him, had she not been so preoccupied by her tears. Wei Wuxian, "Jiang...Jiang Cheng was here?" "He was, and he was very upset about your condition. He left many fine medicine and ointments for you." Lan Wangji sighed again. "I shall speak with Yanli. If she is amenable, then I shall make arrangements for you to go back to Jiang-fu. You would not have to put up with me any longer." Lan Wangji stood up. Wei Wuxian grasped his sleeve immediately. In that moment, he could not tell if his panic was derived from his worry that he would not be able to complete his assignment if Lan Wangji were to send him away or if he simply did not wish to part with the prince. "Dianxia - I - I don't want to leave. I - it's true I had once rejected you, but...would you think less of me if I said your attention … hasn't been unwanted for a while, that I have come to enjoy them." At Lan Wangji's widened eyes, Wei Wuxian continued quickly. "You need not give me anything, no elevation, no rank. I don't care about any of that. I am a man, I have no ability to give you children. Nor do I have any family who would benefit from your continued favour of me. I am an orphan, dianxia, I have no place to go. I just....don't send me away. Please let me stay! I'm not afraid of Jin Ziyan, or taishi, or anything!" Lan Wangji sat back down. His hand trembled when he laid it on top of Wei Wuxian's. "Wei Ying...?" Wei Wuxian smiled, still radiant despite his pale complexion. "Dianxia -" "Lan Zhan. No more dianxia, I only want to hear you call me by my name." Wei Wuxian flushed pink. The blush was real, as was the pleased little smile he tried to hide. "Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is yours, if you still want him." The worst part of that was that he meant it. Just the mere thought of being held by Lan Wangji, of being kissed by him, of... so many other wonderful possibilities, made Wei Wuxian want to hide his flaming face into his pillow. Lan Wangji smiled. Quietly, he lifted Wei Wuxian's hand and pressed a kiss to the inner side of his wrist. "Rest, I will be right here." Wei Wuxian felt his treacherous little heart soar: oh no … oh no no no no ….. (Xue Yang's voice in narration: and it was in this moment, that Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up.) The cruellest thing Wei Wuxian ever did was give Lan Wangji hope knowing that one day he would take it all away.

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #without envy #corie fics #cql ficlet #i posted it and then immediately deleted it. I wanted to add some stuff

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years ago

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For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.” Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. ��Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg)#sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Omertà👄2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (sexual intercourse); tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: We vibing these two bad boys so here’s chapter 2. Be safe.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The dress was plain, but you were certai, nice enough for the occasion. You didn’t expect Loki’s approval, that was a rarity, but you were content in your malicious compliance. The long burgundy crepe was held up by thin straps and hugged your body enough not to be entirely baggish. You wore a thin black shawl over your shoulders as you hailed a cab and gave the closest intersection to the underground club.

You hadn’t been this dressed up since your regrettable prom night. Then you were still naive enough to dream about a Lizzie Maguire fairytale. You hadn’t even been arm candy that night, you had merely been a ploy to make some other girl jealous. You’d left early upon the realisation. ‘Fuck ‘em’, your dad had given his usual snipe and since your inner monologue tended to echo him.

A decade later, a little more than, and your cynicism had aged like a stringent and oaky whiskey. You hooked the strap of your small beaded clutch around your wrist as you got out of the cab and peered down the street. Streetlights illuminated the smoke blowing up from the sewer and distant neon light stared back at you from the end of the block.

You would appease Loki and whatever game he was playing. You knew his moods, his tricks. He grew bored often and quickly flitted to his next delight. You suspected he was merely reminding himself of his power after a near disastrous war. And you, too.

You descended the iron steps and knocked on the painted door. The tiny slat slid open and a muffled din wafted through. “Slate,” A voice cut through the night and you replied swiftly, “Pyramid”. A heavy lock turned and you were let into the dark corridor.

You’d been here once before. You were sixteen, your father had been with you. He’d played a game of Hold ‘Em with Diablo and won a few times too many. The two of you had barely escaped before the droopy-eyed owner caught on. That was long ago and yet, nothing had changed.

There was a thick velvet curtain at the end of the hallway. The doorman escorted you to it and pulled it back to reveal a bright room full of men in tailored suits and women draped off their arms like peacocks. You shook your head and stepped through. You needed a drink. You needed an excuse to turn back. But you went on.

Loki was slender but tall, a few inches above most men. You saw him amid the crowd, a snifter held to his nose as he inhaled the scent of the dark liquor. You passed a man in a crushed velvet jacket and his eyes caught yours. His arm was around a slinky redhead distracted by another boisterous guest. He winked and you scowled.

You wove through the bodies and appeared at Loki’s shoulder.

“Where do I get some of that?” You pointed to his glass and he looked down his long nose at you. If he was surprised, it was hard to tell. Only the slight part of his lips cracked his stony veneer.

“Darling, I’d stick to the wine,” He preened.

“Darling?” You scoffed. “You know my name.”

He smirked and turned to you entirely. He was overt as he looked you up and down and touched the fabric at your waist.

“I thought I said to wear something nice,” He muttered. “At least I can see your eyes.”

“You told me to wear a dress. Should I have gone with the black victorian number?” You challenged.

He considered you as his smirk fell.

“Kitty has found her claws,” He taunted. “Best she keeps her growls to herself.”

“I don’t understand why I’m here,” You said. “Tell me you couldn’t find a better date among your harem.”

“Harem? You make me sound a king,” He mused. “As you are so generous to yourself. This is not a date, darling.”

“Then what is it? Is it really necessary for you to wag your--”

“Watch it,” He warned as he pointed his long index finger at you. “You’re not playing at this anymore. You are made or you are burned. There is no in-between.”

“I tend to doubt your concern for my standing so long as my work benefits your own,” You said. “So forgive my suspicion.”

“Your father was on the scene, he made a name, as detestable as it is, and your grandfather has not been forgotten either,” He said. “We are both a part of this city’s legacy.”

“Mm,” You arched a brow. “I still don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you will.” He shrugged. “But best to start thinking for yourself before another does it for you.”

You squinted and looked around. A woman in a feather dress carried a tray of tall wine glasses. You preferred another taste but you would settle for the pale chardonnay. You beckoned her over and took one as Loki perused the room.

“Is this all you do at these things?” You sipped. “Coil like a snake in the corner?”

“I observe. I learn.” He grinned. “And the snake does not bow to the mice, rather they cower before him.”

“Poetic,” You said dryly.

“Well,” A deep voice came from your left and you looked to the man you vaguely recognized. His golden brocade was embroidered with dragons; a gaudy Oriental knock-off. Finely tailored but still ill-fit to his person. “Is that Georgey’s girl?”

You greeted him with your usual straight-lipped stare. You batted your lashes sharply and he chuckled.

“I remember you,” He carried on. “You’ve grown.”

“As have you,” You gestured to his stomach, poorly hidden beneath the gauche jacket.

He laughed even louder and turned to Loki.

“I did hear you had the bookie’s daughter,” He boomed. “I wouldn’t trust that ilk to keep my books but call me prudish.”

“Don’t you worry, I wouldn’t touch your books over my father’s dead body,” You snorted. “Even I couldn’t untangle that knot with a blade.”

“Oh, I see,” Diablo shook his head. “The mouth on her.”

“Yes, rather endearing, isn’t it?” He sneered.

“Not sure anyone else would agree,” Diablo said. “The prettier one’s are much quieter.”

“Yet--” You began.

Loki raised his hand to silence you. You clamped your ships and your nostrils flared in anger.

“Let us excuse ourselves,” Loki gestured Diablo away. “And discuss in private, yes?”

“Best while everyone else is distracted,” Diablo replied and peeked over at you. “I dread our next meeting.”

“As do I,” You assured him.

Loki looked at you from the corner of his eye as his lip curled. He directed Diablo away from you and you watched them go, a smirk slowly spread across your face. You never wanted to make your father proud but he would’ve been beaming.

You finished your drink and searched for a table to dispose of it. You set it down carefully on a tall corner table and slipped your shawl down around your elbow. You glanced around. You thought of fleeing as Loki was distracted but you knew he wouldn’t forget you. In fact, it seemed he had grown intent on you for whatever reason.

A shadow blotted the edge of your vision and you turned to greet your assailant. You were slightly surprised to find Bucky Barnes closing in. He smiled and tilted his head as he stopped before you. He wore a deep violet jacket over navy trousers, his eyes shone in the contrast.

“I wasn’t sure you got my invitation,” He said.

“Invitation?” You shook your head. “What--”

“Loki, he-- I mentioned I’d like to see you again,” He said staunchly.

“What?” You scrunched your brow.

“I like the colour,” He admired your dress. “But I think a different cut might suit you better.”

“Oh, I didn’t take you as a purveyor of fashion. Well, nothing beyond a g-string and stilettos.” You huffed.

“Ah, I run a pretty classy joint,” He winked. “My girls have nothing but the best, even if it isn’t much.”

You pushed your shoulders back and looked around once more.

“Well, I was not told my presence was at your whim,” You said. “In fact, my being here is entirely undesirable.”

“If I had my way, sweetheart, you’d be doing a lot more than just standing here in that pretty little number,” He snickered.

You looked at him sharply.

“I need a drink,” You stormed off in search of the girl in the feathered dress.

You sensed him following behind you but ignored him. As you made to swipe a glass from the tray, he reached around you and grabbed it first. He caught your hand before you could take another and drew you back to him as he placed the slender flute into your hand.

“I wasn’t done, sweetheart,” He closed your fingers around the glass.

You were livid. Had Loki brought you here to whore you out? Another pawn to secure his peace?

“Loki’s my boss but he is not my pimp,” You pulled away from him.

“I didn’t say that,” He said. “I didn’t think it, either.”

You flicked the glass at him so the chardonnay splashed across his front and dripped down his face.

“Not interested,” You snarled and swept away with the empty glass.

“Sweetheart,” He sang from behind you. “I wouldn’t do this.”

“Get away from me,” You rushed away from him towards the door. “If you see Loki, tell him I’ll see him at the shop. To be frank, I don’t care either way.”

“We can just talk,” He purred. “Come on. You haven’t even given me a chance.” He caught your elbow and turned you back. “No other girl has ever thrown her drink in my face because if she had, I’d break hers. Now, I have no intention of hurting you. You see, I will look past your little slip.”

“I came here for business, or so I was told,” You said. “I am not interested in talking to you about anything beyond that.”

“Is this about the boss, hmm? This has nothing to do with him or our relationship, if that’s what you think.”

“I think you are all the same. You all just like to poke and poke and poke at each other until guns come out.” You said. “And I’m not going to be a part of whatever you two are doing.”

“Your loyalty is admirable, especially around here,” He kept hold of you. “Loki doesn’t even know what he’s got.”

“Let go,” You ripped your arm away. “I am not interested in being a comare. Especially yours.”

His brows lifted and slowly he smiled. His blue eyes twinkled and he wiped away the last of the chardonnay with his sleeve as the rest soaked into the front of his jacket.

“Comare… noooo.” He coaxed. “No, you’re not that type.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. His arm shot out and he planted his hand against the wall to block you. You sighed and crossed your arms.

“Look, I know you, you’re just like the rest of them. You don’t like being told no. Little baby.” You snarled. “But I don’t like to repeat myself. So--”

“There you are,” Loki called from behind you. Bucky pushed himself straight as you looked over your shoulder. “Barnes…” He lifted his chin as he approached.

“Loki,” Bucky’s jaw squared. “I was just getting to know your little secretary, but she’s not very chatty. Hasn’t even given me her name.”

Loki snickered and peeked over at you.

“Don’t be rude, darling,” He said. You bit down and looked at Bucky and stiffly recited your name. He smirked. “She’s shy, that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Bucky countered. “I feel like you’ve been sneaky, hiding her away.”

“Well,” Loki’s arm slowly snaked around your waist. “I thought we agreed to keep to our own territory.”

You went rigid and tried to pull away. Loki tightened his hold and kept you against him. Bucky watched you squirm and his thoughts wrinkled his forehead.

“And I thought we were just becoming friends,” Bucky returned.

“Allies,” Loki corrected. “Have I not been peaceable?”

Bucky poked his cheek with his tongue as he glanced over at you. You stared at him blankly and he nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He cleared his throat. “Both of you?”

“Of course,” Loki spread his hand over your hip and squeezed. “You know where to find… us.”

“I do,” Bucky affirmed and turned away.

You watched him go and wished you had more wine to throw as you stared at your empty glass. You tore away from Loki and jabbed his arm.

“What the fuck was that?” You snapped.

“That, darling, was how you play the game.” He grinned.

“You’re disgusting.” You glared at him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t deny that but you see, that man, oh, he is a tough nut to crack but I’ve finally found something he wants.” He said. “Something he really wants, not just some stretch of land.”

“No, no,” You spun and set your glass down. “No, I will not do this.”

His heels clicked behind you as you closed the distance to the curtained door. He shoved you through and pulled the velvet back into place as he grabbed your wrist.

“You will do whatever I want you to do.” He lowered his voice as his shadow loomed over you in the dark corridor. “You are good at what you do; your numbers, and I am sure you will recall a little jot in your margin. That one marked with the star.” He squeezed your wrist. “That’s you, darling.”

“Me?” You sputtered.

“Diablo, along with Viscardi, old pals with your father.” His other hand played with the strap of your dress. You gulped at the latter, the name of your father’s killer. “That bounty was not just for old Georgey, that was for every drop of his blood left. You…”

“No, no.” You said.

“I paid that bounty. I still pay it and it keeps you alive and in my pocket, until I should need you and your time has come.” He taunted.

“I don’t--”

“My father always said the best investments are people.” He touched your neck and tickled. “They are the most useful tools in this business. The most profitable.” He drew away and stroked your chin. “Know your worth, darling, and you might just prosper from it.”

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bespectacledbookworm · 3 years ago

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Im currently looking for another style of pant to wear. Skinny jeans are my go-to but I want to expand my options. I tried trousers, but they didn't fit so well ( maybe I need to try other trousers, idk). Capris... Can't find many that aren't just blue denim right now. I don't think harem pants would look good. I don't like a lot of material swishing around my legs in general, especially if it's heavy denim. I have a pair of high waisted rayon capris that I like, but they're only good for when I dress vintage, which isn't that often...

I've been thinking of going more fairy grunge and wearing more leggings and layers, but that doesn't work so well in the summer :/. I need something that flares away from my natural waist, but that kind of leaves me with skirts...

why are pants so hars to find? Where do you shop for unconventional reasonably priced pants?? Hm. I guess the thrift store huh.

#pants #finding pants that fit and feel good is hard

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nautiscarader · 6 years ago

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H-Hotel Quickies 2 - The tale of two harems

Second quickie, this time focusing on the, admittedly, absurd harems so prevalent in two certain fandoms.

Adventure Time/Star vs. the Forces of Evil crossover, T/M (just heavy implications) , 2.2k

(Ao3) (twitter)

"It was the best of times, it was the..."

No, it still was the best of times, Marco Diaz thought, sipping his drink in the hotel's bar. Though he never overused alcohol, it only seemed fitting that after a wild night like this one, he had something stronger, perhaps just to make his brain juggle a bit, and remind him about the time he spent with his entourage.

- Uh, hi, do you have apple juice?

A sudden, curious-sounding voice brought his attention, as a newcomer came to the counter. He was about the same height as Marco, wore a blue shirt, and a few strands of blonde hair stuck out from under his oversized white hat that covered his head, making him look like a teddy bear. However, it was his unusually looking arm that piqued Marco's interest. It was pink, glittery, and looked vaguely mechanical.

The elephant barman grabbed the glass and passed it to the newcomer with his trunk.

- Thanks, man. - he replied politely, taking half the drink in one go. - Rough night? - Marco asked, pulling his chair just a bit closer. - Uh, you could say that.

The young-sounding fellow met Marco's eyes only for a moment, concentrating on his drink far more intensely as he should. Marco smiled.

- Yeah, I felt a bit like that when I first stumbled upon this place. - You have?

In a sudden move, he turned his head to Marco, looking at him with great interest. Without much thinking, he followed Marco, shuffling his stool towards him.

- Finn. Finn the human - he offered him a handshake with his distinctively non-human arm. - Uh, hi, Finn the human. Marco Diaz... Also "The human".

That information had apparently great significance to Finn, whose eyes widened even further, and the faintest of girlish screams escaped his lips. One of the glasses shattered, but the bartender remained unmoved.

- Sorry. I'm still getting used to meeting other humans. - Another dimension, I suppose? - Marco asked - Also, you can let go of my hand. - Oh, sorry.

Finn released Marco's right hand from his strong grip. Marco shook it a few times, wondering if any of the visible glitter would remain stuck to him.

- New arm. - Finn spoke with what he thought was a casual statement - My friend PB made it from candy and science. - And the previous one was made from sticks and stones, I presume? - Marco replied, still feeling just a bit of pain lingering in his fingers. - Heh, no. First was a grass one and the other made from metal. I miss the grass one...

He returned to his drink, unaware of Marco's gaze still lingering on him after that revelation.

- Well... I shouldn't be that surprised - Marco spoke - I used to have a monster arm. - Woah, really? - Yeah... it was a bit of nuisance... and I'm not sure if it will grow back...

He once again took a good, long look at his fingers that once was the enormous, magical sentient tentacle.

- The girls liked it though. - Maybe I could help. PB will able to get it back, Or Huntress Wizard. I don't think any others would know how to do radical stuff like that. - And thus, we have revealed "the others" - Marco smirked. Once again, Finn's face turned a darker shade of crimson, just like when Marco first talked to him. - Oh, right... So, you're with your friends? - A few. - Marco replied quickly, taking another sip to hide his excitement

They both sat in silence, staring into their glasses, until they both launched one at another, talking furiously one over the other.

- How many? - Five. - Dang, I have four. - As if that wasn't enough, Finn boy... All night though? - All night and a bit of this morning... - Nice... - Do you have wizard ladies too? - Are you kidding? Star's got a magic wand, Kelly magic hair, and H-Poo magic scissors. An I'm pretty sure Janna can do magic too... - Magic is the best, isn't it? Especially when one girl levitates over you and another...

Realising how they must look, the two men suddenly retracted from their slightly too-intimate confession hug, returning to their drinks. Though they haven't exchanged a single word for quite some time afterwards, they both knew exactly how the other must have felt, having to satisfy their parties of girlfriends.

- How do you keep going? - Marco asked, breaking the silence again - I mean, I see you're fit, but... - Heh, I'm a hero of Ooo!

Marco blinked.

- A hero of what? - Ooo. My home. - Oooh. - Not "Ooh", "Ooo" - Finn corrected him - Anyway, H-Dubs gave me this to chew.

And he pulled a bag filled with what looked like brown, phallic-shaped cookies, but upon closer inspection, turned out to be dried, sliced mushrooms, though that fact hasn't improved on their shape.

- I mean, they're not really tasty... - Finn mumbled, taking a bite - But, heh, they do work, if you know what I mean. - Oh, believe me, I do. - Marco rolled his eyes - Ever since Star found those energy drinks at Quest Buy, I have no more excuses... And there was a sale last week...

He took another sip.

- A hero's work is never done... - Marco said, stretching his arms in satisfaction. - I guess you guys use magical protection too? - What? - Protection - Marco's tone became more serious - You know, against...

Marco made a circular move around his belly, throwing a knowing look at his friend.

- Oh. - Finn replied - Yeah, I don't think we use any. - What?! - Marco almost spilled his drink, and his chair wobbled just a little bit - Dude, I mean...

He dug his hands into his pockets, and retrieved what at first looked to Finn like a a few candy wrappers, but he understood what objects the multicoloured plastic bags held.

- Ever since Star found that contraception spell in her grandma's book, we don't have to worry about it, but I can happily lend you some. - Uh, yeah, but... - Finn paused - I don't even know if I can... with any of them... You know.

And he repeated the same round moves over his flat stomach.

- I mean, PB is made of candy, Marcelline is a vampire, and Flame Princess is a flame elemental. The closest is Huntress Wizard, but I think she can whip out a potion or something. She is a wizard, after all. - Oh, I get it. I haven't even thought about compatibility issues, I just want to be on the safe side. I know I could have problems with Janna, Star and Jackie, Kelly... Maybe, and Hekapoo is a whole different matter... - Marco replied, counting - Still, if you need these, you know whom to call...

Another pregnant pause fell between the two.

- Hey, speaking of your friends, where have they gone to? - Uh, I think there's a beauty salon on the lower floor. - Marco thought for a moment - Uh, or maybe the upper floor, I don't think this place works like it should. - Oh my glob! - Finn exclaimed - My girlfriends are there too!

At once, Marco sat upright, once again turning to his new buddy.

- Wait, do you think that...

His question was answered at once when the saloon doors to the bar opened, and nine stunning ladies walked in, forming an impressive, multicoloured, diverse line-up. With their bodies and spirits reinvigorated after the time spent in the spa, they arrived not as two, but one group of glamorous gals that looked like they have known each other for years.

- Marco! - Star screamed, breaking the imposing formation and rushing to the counter to throw her arms around Marco's neck - You won't believe what happened in the sauna!

She was about to continue, but then she spotted Finn.

- Oh, hi, Marco's new friend. Anyway - she turned back to her boyfriend - We met soooo many cool ladies there, and guess what! - They also are here having some fun with their boyfriend? - Marco rolled his eyes again, enjoying watching as Star's expression changed from peppy to utterly surprised. - How did you know?

Silently, Marco pointed his hand towards Finn, who only waved his hand at Star.

- Hi.

Her eyes widened as Star latched onto Finn's pinkish arm, and she let out a low moan of excitement.

- Wooooah.... You are Finn! And that's your arm! - Heh, yeah.

The bewilderment on Star's face changed to a sly grin when she leaned onto Finn, causing him to bend his body back just a little.

- Marcelline has told us about what you can do with that arm... and those fingers... but also the whole arm... - Heh, yeah... - Finn swallowed loudly, wondering *how* much has the girls talked with each other about their excesses. - Wait a minute, I got an idea, Marco! - Star exclaimed. - Let's see if our keys can cross-over! - Our what can what-what? - Finn raised his brow. - That's how this hotel works, man. - Marco explained nonchalantly - You just gotta roll with it.

He pulled a rustic, brass key from his pocket and reached his hand towards Finn. After a bit of fumbling in his trousers, Finn found the key to his room - a plain, green one that looked more like a plastic toy - and mimicked Marco's move. The other eight women flocked to the group, anxious to see what their men were doing, almost as if they anticipated what was about to happen.

And sure enough, when the two brought their keys together, the metal and the plastic melted in their hands, twirling around each other, forming a double helix, that after a short glow, solidified into one, bizarre looking key with two sets of teeth on opposite sides. The crowd of girls gasped, though the ones from Marco's party definitely sounded more excited than the girls that arrived with Finn, already foreseeing the nearby future.

- Analytical! - Finn exclaimed, as he examined the intricate key in his hands. - What's going to happen now? - Well... - Star begun, a wicked smile forming on her face. - I guess now we only have one room, Finn. - Jackie continued - And from what we've heard, you've never properly met a human girl before.

Finn almost dropped the key to the ground when he heard a smoky hot voice of Jackie behind him, and his nose nearly bumped into her cleavage when she walked to his side. He tried turning around, but met Janna, who, like Star before, was already taking interest in his right, otherworldly arm.

- Yeah, I think we can work with that... - she mumbled to herself, knocking on Finn's arm as if to check if it was hollow - That might be even better than what I wanted to do with Marco!

In desperation, Finn looked to Marco for help, but in turn, he also became a centre of attention for magical women that only knew about his prowess from tales. Marcelline and Huntress wizard couldn't help putting their arms around his neck and feeling the muscular body underneath his red hoodie. Meanwhile, behind them, a heated and inflamed discussion took place, between two equally fiery gals.

- I can make Finn's cum boil with these in seconds! - Flame Princess pushed her hands to her breasts, squeezing them in the process. - Oh, please - Hekapoo replied, laughing at her bosom, that objectively speaking, looked pale compared to hers - And can you multiply yourself? How long do you think Marco can last when there's three of me? - Girls! Girls!

Princess Bubblegum clapped her hands to silence the parties and gain their attention.

- I think this fortuitous meeting gives us great opportunity to solve the dilemma we've had in the spa! - Dilemma? - Marco raised his brow, looking somewhat worryingly at Finn. - What dilemma? - Well, duh! - Star took over putting her arms around their necks, bringing them closer - Which one of you is the better lover!

A realisation finally dawned on the boys, colours draining from their faces, as Star continued to cheer.

- I mean, we've spent sooooo much time discussing which one of you is longer, and thicker, better at oral, and how many times can each of you do it in a row... - to their horror, she kept counting. - I mean, we also talked about nails, hair, music and the pros and cons of replacing monarchy with democracy, but I'm not gonna lie, you were the main topic... - But the only objective method is a series of direct observations! - Princess Bubblegum finished, smiling at the two perplexed guys.

If Marco and Finn had anything to say against that idea, then the enthusiastic murmur amongst the other girls, all looking excited at the prospect, exchanging overjoyed and down right hungry stares between one another has successfully silenced the two.

- Come on, Marco, we gotta see how our rooms have merged! - Star shouted, as she lead the group of women from the bar.

Marco and Finn took one more look at each other, grabbed their glasses, and finished their drinks in one go.

- A hero's work is never done...

#h hotel #nautiscaraderfics #adventure time #star vs the forces of evil

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kittypeas · 7 years ago

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The King and The Rook

SUMMARY:Post TFA. The story takes place few weeks after Rey’s capture. Luke loses his battle with Kylo, and Rey, in order to save her teacher, agrees to become Ren’s hostage. Will the roles get reversed?

“You’re not ordinary girls anymore, you’re houris. You need to take on that role, which shouldn’t be so hard if you try. But if any one of you gives us away to our visitors, she’ll have to die immediately.” The girls were seized with fear. They kept quiet and worked diligently. “Oh, what’s the use,” Fatima remarked at last. “What will be, will be. I’ve been in a harem where we had to act and pretend constantly. Men, especially when they’re still young, aren’t all that bright. It’s easy to fool them. Playing houris in these gardens won’t be that difficult either.”

Vladimir Batrol, “Alamut”

The door to his quarters finally opened, but he wasn’t eager to step inside. And yet there was nothing unpleasant to expect: The room seemed intact, and those few things he had kept stored on shelves were exactly where he had left them. There were no signs of a fight, either. The only thing that was oddly out of place was Rey, standing in the middle of the apartment in complete silence. She had bathed and changed into simple black clothes, prepared for her by the droids. Her hair was still curly and wet. When she heard him walking through the door she turned to face him. Although in her eyes he could no longer see the storm of thoughts and feelings, he spotted a particular glint, which—over the last few weeks—he had learned to recognize immediately, and which never meant anything good.

“I want to get my things back,” she said instead of a greeting. “And I want you to take this thing off your face.”

“I don’t grant prisoners’ wishes.”

“Prisoners?” She snapped. “I gave up without a fight!”

“Indeed.” He let out a snort of amusement, his voice distorted by the mask’s modulator. “Because I told you that otherwise I would cut your beloved teacher’s head off of his neck.”

Rey didn’t let him provoke her.

“I came here freely and I don’t plan on escaping.” The tone of her voice suddenly softened. “Give me my things back, Kylo.”

Before he had a chance to think his arms lifted, his fingers instinctively looking for the button unlatching the complicated mechanism. He had this fleeting thought that it is exactly what she told him to do, but screw it, he needed air to breathe. With a hiss the mask was gone; with a metallic thud it fell to the floor.

“Your lack of respect for any rules… Your ignorance of any rules! It is…” He stopped, words already failing him. He made a gesture as if he wanted to shake his hands—something that Ben Solo used to do then he was distressed—but fortunately, he managed to stop himself.

She tried again. “We could talk this through.”

“You are in no position to make such proposals!” he exclaimed. “You don’t understand any of this, do you?”

She didn’t, at all.

When he was a kid, C-3PO taught him chess rules. In the beginning he played with his mother; later he practiced on his own, and soon no one except for the droids could beat him. He enjoyed the times when Uncle Luke visited them. He never refused a match or two. Luke, raised on a desert planet, spent all his youth working on a farm. He knew only the basics of the game. Sometimes he managed surprisingly effective moves: seemingly absurd and irrational, moves that no droid would advise. Yet this unpredictability often gave him upper hand.

Every fight with Rey was just like a chess match. The most disgraceful, perhaps, was his failure on the surface of crumbling Starkiller Base, but their verbal duels were even worse. He felt that he was losing every time Rey decided to open her mouth.

Now it was her voice that brought back him to reality.

“I haven’t tried to escape,” she said, lowering her head. “And I can promise you that I won’t do it. But I want to get my things back.”

She looked him in the eye, and suddenly there was resolve in her gaze. As if she decided on a matter known only to her, she crossed the space between them in a couple of small but steady steps. He should have stopped her, yet somehow he didn’t, and now she was standing inches away. She tilted her head, determined to see his face. He too could see her better: her skin darker in the places where the merciless sun touched her on Jakku, pale and delicate where the layers of fabric covered her arms. She was standing so close that he could smell the grey soap from her bath and an underlying scent of rust and grease. For a brief moment he wondered how long would it take to wash it off completely and if he would like it or not. But there was something more, something sweet, salty and undeniably feminine. Flavor that made him gasp for air.

His cheeks and ears were burning.

“You know I can give you whatever you want.”

His own words reversed and voiced by her lips sounded crude. He used to think better of himself.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he protested.

“I don’t know many things,” she said, “but I know some things for sure. I know about men and woman and how they fit together. I saw many travelers in Niima Outpost, and I saw how hungry they were. You may have a ship, guards and clothes made of silk, but you are no different. I know what it means, this look in your eyes. Don’t lie to me.”

He moved his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Without a warning she grabbed his tunic and tugged at it, forcing him to bend lower. He observed rather than felt as his body slowly gave in until he was practically bowing before her, and that was when her lips met his. He froze, his mind a flurry of incoherent thoughts, but then he pushed, their noses and teeth colliding as he forced his tongue clumsily into her mouth. She didn’t seem to care. One of her small hands grabbed his wrist to guide his palm under the band of her trousers.

She didn’t have underwear. He cursed against her lips and grabbed her thigh; it was soft under the touch. The higher his fingers went, the warmer her body seemed, until he reached her folds, wet and sticky. Without thinking he pushed deeper, too preoccupied to notice Rey’s grimace. Yet when she let out a moan he noticed that one of her eyes was slightly open, still watching him carefully. He felt a sting of fear in the pit of his stomach, and he imagined for a second that something terrible might happen if he entered any further, like something sharp and pointed might await him there. This thought was ridiculous, but it stopped him. Rey blinked, disoriented.

Things were getting out of hand.

“My bedroom is behind that door on the left. Go there. Stand beside the bed,” he ordered. “Now!”

***

Rey barely made it to the bed when she saw him approaching. She turned to face him.

“No. Turn around,” he said. “Lay flat on your stomach.”

She heard a clink of metal as he took off his belt and a rustle of cloth. He slipped his hands under her hips, grabbed her trousers, and yanked them down in few rough movements. She tried to change the position of her head to see him better, but he collapsed on her, pinning her to the mattress. He grabbed her wrists and held them tight; his mouth was on her ears, neck, his fever-hot body on top of her.

She felt his cock, hard and thick between her legs as he pushed, clueless and desperate, always missing, yet he repeated these uncoordinated attempts to the point where her thighs were totally wet. He moved his hand to hold her by the neck, then he grabbed her head, and finally he broke away from her in frustration, only to seize her hips with sweaty palms.

She could feel his weight shifting to the left, then to the right, and she imagined that probably he was trying to get a better look at her to figure out what to do.

“If this is the first time…”

“No more talking!” he barked, and dropped on her, but this time she didn’t have a chance to come up with a response, because he entered her with one surprisingly effective and painful thrust. Rey stifled a cry of pain and tried to focus on her breathing, waiting for the sensation to recede.

Her body was a useful tool to her: strong legs that let her run fast and jump far distances, and that carried her through miles of desert land in search of goods. Nimble hands, seizing every crack and fissure in the walls she climbed, skillful fingers, able to find and extract treasures from wrecks. At the same time, her body served as a valuable currency that helped her survive when illness or injury made it impossible for her to work. Finally, it gave her pleasure when the outpost was visited by handsome boys from unknown lands who—just like her— didn’t want to spend nights alone on this cursed planet. She gritted her teeth and decided to endure just like she always did.

All of it ended abruptly, just the way it had started. Kylo made few last awkward thrusts, then suddenly stopped. With a feral growl he fell, his limp body forcing all of the air out of her lungs, almost crushing her. His tunic was damp, his hair, now falling on her chin, was soaked with sweat.

For a moment she thought that she was really going to suffocate, but then he rolled on his side, taking her with him, wrapping her in a strong embrace. He curled around her and buried his face in her hair. They lay like that, without speaking, until Rey couldn’t stand the awkwardness any longer.

“Kylo Ren!” she exclaimed. “You will give me my stuff back!”

She felt rather than heard him holding his breath, then, without a warning, he released her and stood up. He fastened his belt with shaking hands.

“Get dressed!”

She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, but obeyed. They didn’t talk when Kylo put his mask on or when they walked out of the room, Kylo leading her through the corridors back to her cell. Rey’s hair was tousled, her clothes disheveled, black pants stained and thighs sticky. If the stormtroopers guarding the entrance to her cell noticed a change in her appearance, they didn’t show it in any way.

She stepped inside in silence, but she refused to look away from him. He made a move as if he wanted to leave, but stopped.

“Search her backpack,” he ordered. “If you find anything that might help her escape, confiscate it. Her other things, apart from weapons, can be brought into the cell. Her lightsaber should be stored in the training room.”

He avoided her gaze, a silent admission of defeat.

She smiled a little, an expression spiteful but hollow. Rey was born a fighter: she fought hard, gracelessly and dirty, and the wasteland of Jakku had made her a winner, not out of ambition or pride, but out of necessity. There were no second chances in the desert.

Kylo Ren was a killer. He knew death and suffering, but it was rather a matter of morals and choice for him, not survival. He had never spent a night outside during a sandstorm. He hadn’t robbed the dying and or stolen from the dead. He was never thirsty, and he had never starved. But he had known a gentle touch and longed for it, a secret that made him weak and ultimately would make him yield. She knew that.

#reylo #rey #kylo ren #The Force Awakens #the last jedi #rey of jakku #fanfiction

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vesperlionheart · 8 years ago

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Dream Sweet in Sea Major fluff Friday

Here’s another fic I’ll never finish inspired by the song Dream Sweet in Sea Major and a little bit of Kingdom of Monsters. MizuSakura (cause it has to be a harem with me.)

She hadn’t meant to swim so close, but man’s world was a lure in her throat she couldn’t pull free from. She was weak to it’s thrilling call, seductive and mysterious with lights and smells and sights. But, just like a lure, it proved to be her doom.

It was in the harbor she came back to consciousness, naked in the mess of open bodies, left cold from the night. The net she had been left to dry in was slashed in parts, but her new ankles stayed tangled in the twine, leaving her half in and half out. Moving felt like dying, ever shift of her new legs was against invisible knives, but Sakura moved to free herself from the knots before whatever came to feed on the fishermen came back for her.

Nothing simple had open the bodies like ripe oranges. They had been peeled open with long claws and savage jaws. It was their own fault for fishing horrors out of the deep. More than one tank had been smashed and drained back into the sea. There were two other nets that had been heavy with body when she had been first brought into the wherehouse over the docks, but they now hung empty.

The last tug around her ankle came undone and Sakura fell the three feet to land in a damp clump on the stained floorboards. She smelled of brine, but now there was blood in her long pink hair she could inhale the scent of. Maybe it was supposed to be disgusting, but it was a smell from the world of man’s world and she was a babe to it.

Sakura stood, cried silently, and walked to the nearest crate, away from the hole in the floor that led back to the waves. It was pain to move on legs, but she knew the transition back would be just as painful and ten times more emotionally draining. She finally had a chance on land, she wanted to take it.

There was a room off to the side decorated with fish plaques and posters. It was a sort of waiting room for workers. She saw the lewd books left behind and the ash tray for cigarettes. There were lockers too, just like the ones sunk in ships. She reached for one but it refused to pry open. Gripping again, she thought about the strength she needed and yanked hard. The metal came apart on a whine, tearing off its hinges. Inside there were work shoes, too big, trousers, also too big, and a pair of white teeshirts.

She ripped apart the other two lockers before finding something sparkling in the last one. She pulled it out and laid it over her naked chest. It was a sequined costume. She looked up and saw a woman wearing something similar, kicking high in the air and smiling wide. It was the only thing that would fit her, but that didn’t matter because it sparkled. Sakura pried it open and dragged it over her body, wincing when her legs moved into the holes made for them.

It took time, but after a while she stood again, swaying only slightly, and moved on. She saw her reflection in the glass of a window and smiled, stretching her mouth wide to match the woman in the poster’s expression. It wasn’t quite right and she couldn’t exactly pin down why.

‘I don’t know enough,’ she thought to herself, turning away from the glass and searching for a body. There were plenty left behind from the mess, but she didn’t know how useful their bits would be. The dying always had more to glean than the dead.

There was a man torn open close to the work room that Sakura sat down next to. She pulled his head onto her lap and sighed before bending over his dead expression and inhaling what was left of his evanescence. As she expected, it came out thin and weak, but at least there was something for her to swallow. She sucked the white ghost of his knowing down, seeing his sights, hearing his thoughts, feeling his past. She got fragments, but it was enough to learn from.

Sakura drank the knowing from two other men until she had to stop at one and wrinkle up her nose at what he discovered. She was wearing a whore’s costume-one that belonged to a girl the dead man apparently hired on the regular. It made her peel off the garment’s sparkling top and ripped away what was left of the costume. Sakura learned the meaning of burlesque and wine. She saw faces too, important faces.

There was too much to learn. The more she drank from the bodies the more questions she was filled with. She saw speakeasies and fire, she saw monsters and war. She saw a demon or god, standing above it all and laughing at the ants that ran and killed for his amusement. She saw ages. She saw time pass. She saw the gods pass on, his chaos growing in his absence.

Killjoy used to be called something else, but even before the cull of man and rise of monsters, it had always been a cesspool for sin. It had always been a place of adventure and fright.

“That’s what they were doing here,” Sakura said aloud, only to wince at the feel of blood in her throat. Ow. It hurt to speak, she had forgotten that.

The wars raged on between different factions. This particular faction hoped to capture something ancient and powerful to tip the scales in their favor. Whatever they had drudged up was too powerful to be tamed. Sakura counted eight dead bodies, including the one on her lap.

If Sakura stayed she would only get caught up in the chaos of Killjoy’s turf wars. It would be hard to avoid it, seeing as how the town fell to monsters decades ago.

“Damn, I can smell it from here.”

Sakura looked up sharply, hearing the voice that clearly wasn’t dead. There was someone still alive in the facility, or maybe they were just finally coming into the warehouse.

Did she hide, did she confront them? Would they think she did this? Would they care? What if they were the people who pulled her out in the first place and hung her out to dry? Should she have slipped into the waters when she had a chance.

Sakura tried to, but when she moved to stand her legs failed her. She tried again but the collapsed like jelly and sticks. Her heart hammered in fear as she watched to see if scales would sprout, but her legs remained whole and intact. She looked human, but why wouldn’t her legs work for her, and why were they shaking so terribly when she tried to run?

With no other choice, Sakura crawled away from the body, intent on hiding behind a crate when her arms wobbled too and she fell on her chest. Her whole body was shaking and it was only a minute later when she realized why.

‘I’m afraid.’

The door opened and Sakura turned to it, tears leaking from her eyes like saltwater only to see a figure as unnatural as she, standing there. He was tall, fit with a powerful feature, shark black eyes and the skin of a finfolk. He was tinted head to toe with bluish gray skin, coloring even his hair. He took in the carnage but his eyes froze on her.

He didn’t move, didn’t stir. He didn’t even blink as time stretched between them.

Her mind was a mess of insults dismissing her as nothing more than a foolish pip in the ocean. How could she have been so stupid? She should have swam away while she had the chance.

“Kisame, what the hell are you doing, taking so long?” a new voice called out, followed by the lumbering body of a shorter man with ash gray skin and dark charcoal hair. The new man stopped behind Kisame and shoved him aside, only to pause at the sight.

“Shit.”

Sakura grabbed at the floor and pulled herself up, eyes turning to the hole in the floor where all the ocean sank. She made it two drags before she heard the footsteps behind her. Before they could reach for her she turned over and held her hands out, ready to fight them off.

“Oi, oi, hey!” the blue one was bumbling with something long and green, the trench coat he had been wearing. He held it out like a net, ready to trap her again and she swiped at it.

“Shitface, don’t be soft,” the other snapped, shoving Kisame aside and tearing the trench coat away. “She thinks it’s a net.”

“It’s not, she’s naked!”

“She’s also a dreg. We should just let her go.” He turned back and looked at her, almost glaring. “She’s feral by the looks of it. Did you forget we have work to do?”

Kisame frowned, grabbing his coat back and yanking it back when his partner wouldn’t release it right away. “Don’t be a dick about it, Zabuza. I know what we came for. You’re more than enough to work over the pieces.”

The man called Zabuza grunted and then nodded. He looked back over at Sakura and then turned on his heel, hiking up his shoulders as he stalked. Sakura got the impression of a barracuda slithering through the waters.

“D-don’t mind him. He doesn’t think well of anyone.” Kisame folded his coat over his arm, moving slowly. “Do you…need help getting back to the water?”

Sakura paused, not knowing if she should reply or not, but ultimately shook her head and turned back to her dragging. The rest of her still shook too much to stand.

Kisame stayed where he stood, watching her go and making no move to stop her. She looked back once, just to check, but he didn’t seem to move as he watched her struggle. There was an odd way to his expressions. It was hard to tell what they were, since so much of his face was angles and glare. He had the eyes of a shark and those were always hard to read.

Sakura reached the edge of the broken floor, where the floorboards cracked and rad down into the shallow waters. There wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough to swim in and make it back to her ocean.

She gripped the side of the hole and slid down the broken planks, bracing for the sting of the saltwater, knowing it would hurt to melt her legs into a tail again. She hit the water and sank down to her neck, pushing herself the rest of the way underwater, only to struggle. She pushed herself deeper, feeling a pinch in her chest, but no scales bloomed and her toes still wiggled as she kicked in the water. Her legs were still there, her body was still human. The pinch in her chest was her need for air.

She wasn’t transforming.

Why?

Hadn’t the two other mermaids caught been able to return to the sea? They were gone when she woke up, so she assumed they had made it safely back, but Sakura was still drowning. When it got to be too much she pumped her arms and broke the surface, grabbing for the splintered wood and pulling herself up.

“You okay?”

She looked up and saw Kisame staring down at her. He was frowning, but she didn’t know if he was scowling or not.

Not knowing if her voice would be able to come out for him, she shook her head, the shorter strands of her hair slapping her in the face. The rest of it floated around her shoulders in the water.

“You can’t go back?” he guessed.

Sakura made a strangled sound, feeling panic bloom in her heart next to those treacherous lungs that refused to work underwater. She was supposed to transform back. She was supposed to be able to go back home. Why couldn’t she? Had they done something to her while she had been asleep? Had stealing the evanescence of the dead done it to her? It shouldn’t have. Mermaids stole the evanescence of drowned sailors all the time. Some were even dead when she stole from them.

“You’re still there?” The voice of Zabuza came from somewhere Sakura couldn’t see.

“Shut it, she needs help!” Kisame snapped back, voice sharp and raised in anger. The gills on his neck flared.

Zabuza approached the edge and looked down, seeing her predicament. “They took her Seaheart.”

“What?” Kisame raised a single brow.

Zabuza growled, waving his hands as if he wanted to dump her out of them. “They were after her magic, and it looks like they managed to extract it. It’s common practice these days since the tail eating takes so much work. Don’t look at me like that, you know the old stories.”

“What’s going to happen to her?” Kisame asked, stepping back from the edge to better see where she drifted.

“She’ll try to go back and drown herself. She can’t help it since she’s bound by the call of the ocean, regardless of her form.” He waved his hand again. “Let her go. You’re worse than a human with these things.”

But Kisame knelt down and swung his legs over the side and slid down into the water. It didn’t seem to bother him or react to him in any odd way. The other man called out to him once, cursed loudly, and then started to wander away, out of sight.

“See if I care when she bites out your throat for touching her. She’s feral.”

Kisame hesitated at the edge of where the wood ended inside the water. He held onto the edge of it and extended his hand. He didn’t reach for her, but waited.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Bad men did this to you. I’d like to help you if you let me. I…I don’t think you’re as stupid as he says you are. Don’t try to go back or else you’ll drown.”

Sakura made a strangled noise and hit the water with her fist, eyes glistening with her own tears. She could feel her cheeks heat with all the pain she felt in her heart. She wanted to speak and talk and run and hide from this feeling, but she was just so scared. She couldn’t even stand, much less talk in this distressed state.

“I know, I know you want to go home. I believe you, but you can’t do that without dying and you’re smarter than that, so don’t throw yourself away. I’m Kisame by the way. I’m not one of the fishermen-those are the guys who dragged you out. I’d like to help you if you let me.”

Sakura looked up, almost moving towards him.

“Your Seaheart, we could look for it. I know where they would sell a thing like that. People would want it for the immortality of it. We’d help you get it back.”

‘Why?’ That didn’t sound like an easy thing to do. Why would he want to help her.

“Please,” Kisame implored her once more. “I know what it’s like to be left behind and left alone. You’re scared but that’s okay. I won’t hurt you. Please trust me, okay?”

He wasn’t human. His skin wasn’t like the skin of the men who took her, pulled her out of the ocean and rubbed their hands down her tail. He was something else, he was one of the old ones who had blood from the old world in him, anyone could see that much.

But was that enough to trust him?

‘What choice do you have?’

Sakura held one arm over her chest and reached for him with the other one. He took her hand and pulled her close, up out of the water before throwing his green trench coat around her. She shivered, wet in the open air and he ran his hands over her arms, creating friction.

“Can you speak?” he asked, still rubbing her down.

Sakura thought about lying, but ended up nodding for him before lifting up two fingers together. She made a motion like she was squeezing something between them. ‘Little’ the hand sign meant.

“It hurts, doesn’t it…? You’re not used to it cause your vocal cords are all wrong for this sort of thing. Don’t worry about it, I have a feeling you’re smarter than he says you are. When you can, tell me your name.”

He pulled her up the broken floor and held her when she started to fall on unsteady feet. It wasn’t because she was scared anymore. Her legs were just weak from the newness of being. She could walk, but it was odd and uneven. She ended up falling against his side more than once.

“Here.”

He reached down and pulled her to him before tilting her sideways, then lifting up. Sakura made a noise and reached for his neck, grabbing for it to steady herself. He chuckled at her reaction, but carried her around like she weighted nothing. Considering the size difference, she likely did weigh nothing to him.

“You’re brining it with us?” Zabuza asked in annoyance, watching as Kisame walked past with the squirming bundle in his arms. “I’m telling you now this is a bad idea. Put it back and let nature be sated.”

“No. Now, mind your own business.”

Zabuza growled, but didn’t say anything more. Without further complaint, the shorter of the two fell into step behind Kisame and followed the blue man out of the back of the warehouse to the main entrance where a door was left open to the road. Parked half on the sidewalk was an automobile they had left in a hurry.

Zabuza stopped to watch as Kisame opened the backseat door and held it open with his knee before sliding her in. Closing the door he rounded the car to slip into the driver’s seat. Sakura sat up in her seat and stared out the window at Zabuza while Kisame turned over the engine from the front, watching the road. With his attention caught, Sakura stuck her tongue out at Zabuza before sliding down in her seat and curling up.

‘Not so feral, am I?’

Bonus

Keeping the mermaid child was an issue, but Kisame knew it wouldn’t be a major one. Other members kept women on the side for fun all the time. He should be allowed to share his room with a creature in pain and need.

That’s what he thought, anyway.

“What the hell?” Mei sneered, bright eyes shinning like daggers as she looked down at the girl still in Kisame’s arms, now half asleep from the car ride. “No. The answer is no.”

“Finally,” Zabuza breathed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. “At least someone here has some damn sense.”

Mei glared at the shorter male and then fixed her eyes once more on the girl. “You’re not going to keep her in your room like some cheep call girl. She may not look like a child, but she’s just as innocent out of the waters and I won’t have anyone taking advantage of her while she’s here. I’ll take her. She’ll have her own room and we’ll get the brat to hire a tutor or something for her until we can help her get back home.”

“What? You’re letting her stay?” Zabuza gasped, leaning off the wall and dropping his arms.

Mei placed her hands on her hips and the full intensity of her glare was focused on Zabuza. “No girl, woman, or creature gets taken advantage of in my house. Do I make myself clear?”

“No one would want to,” Zabuza grunted. “It’s too much work. Throw her back in the water with the lame catch.”

“You’re heartless,” Kisame bit over his shoulder, scowling at his friend.

“It’s not that simple,” Mei added. “She’s not a fish, she’s not just a mermaid either. You think they all look like that when they dry out? Look at her coloring. She’s highborn, one of the fair breeds, and she reeks of the deep waters.” Mei reached for a strand of the limp girl’s hair and twirled it between two fingers, watching how it reflected light and shone. “Damn if she wasn’t bioluminescent with a fishtail.”

“She’s staying though, that doesn’t change?” Kisame repeated, words slow and hopeful.

“Obviously. Now, where is Yagura? He was supposed to report in before any of you came back but he’s still burning the town? I’m going to have words with that brat.” Mei turned sharply and face the door. “Cho-cho!”

Moments later a small blue haired boy peaked his head in and gulped. “It’s Chōjūrō,”

“Cho-cho, go get a guest room prepped in the same wing as mine. It’s for a girl so don’t slack off. I need it now.”

“N-n-now?” Chōjūrō squeaked, eyes going wide.

“Yeah, just prep it real quick, that’s one of your jobs, yeah; maid service.” Mei turned to look at Zabuza. “Are you still dressing Haku like a girl? Let us borrow some of his old dresses.”

“They’re not dresses, and he wasn’t dressing like a girl, he just naturally looked feminine in anything robe like.” Zabuza looked away to avoid offending her with his glare. “Plus, he’s out with Yagura, so I have no way of getting his things or knowing where he keeps them.”

“Then go shopping.”

Mei sweetly coos, knowing the blush on Zabuza’s face will inspire him to get creative in Haku’s room all for the sake of avoiding a trip out in public for lady things.

“She’s pretty out of it, but she might wake up soon,” Kisame said, watching her stir and then cuddle closer in his arms. He didn’t want to admit to anything for fear of having to let go of her sooner. It was nice to carry a cute girl around for a change.

“Don’t count on it. She lost her magic, she’ll be pretty lethargic for days. Some creatures never recover from something like that, some die in the first week. I don’t want to scare you, and I swear we’ll do everything we can, but don’t get too attached so soon, Fish Face. She might not pull through.”

“You said she was special though.”

“Which makes the loss all the more painful.” Mei frowned looking down at the girl again. “But I think she’ll pull through if she was able to walk and talk with you. She seems like it. Either way, we’ll have someone keep an eye on her for when she wakes.”

“You want us to do anything else about the raid?” Zabuza asked, sounding grumpier than usual.

“No, the others are out and will deal with it. You’ve done well, boys, go rest. Kisame, find where Cho-cho is setting up the room and help him out, will you?”

Helping meant putting her down and Kisame didn’t think he was ready for that, but he nodded anyway and left.

#damn #now I want to write more of this #it's Kingdom of Man #but with all Mizu boys #and lovecraft #and monsters #Sakura #Kisame #Sakura Haruno #my fic #fic #fluff friday

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hotspottrends · 6 years ago

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THE 10 ESSENTIAL ITEMS NO WOMAN SHOULD BE WITHOUT Just around the corner in every women’s mind’s is a lovely dress, a wonderful suit, or an entire costume which will make an enchanting new creature of her. ~ Wilfelia Cushman Editing your wardrobe is essential for making your morning routine as smooth as possible and enjoyable in order to eliminate any tricky decisions about what to wear and how to wear it. The ideal would be to build a capsule wardrobe around those key pieces and you will be covered with a solution for every season and occasion. We all want to invest our money in those items that will last as a lifetime, will go perfectly to any event and will continue looking fashionable and in style years after we bought them. Unfortunately, we have to admit, most of us end up spending fortunes on clothes that barely survive a few months. Now, we know that finding those items beautiful enough to outshine any trend may seem like a daunting task but this is why we are here for. Here we will show you the various items that they survived all fashion fads and continue to look effortlessly stylish and cool no matter of the season and changing trends. Get Inspired By The Icons All we have to do is look at the women over the decades and you will only see class, elegance, and style. Princess Diana Heidi Klum Jackie Onassis Eva Longoria Brigitte Bardot Jennifer Aniston THE 10 ESSENTIAL ITEMS EVERY WOMAN SHOULD OWN All these items can be tweaked to accommodate your personal style. The idea is to make a variate of outfits that all work together instantly. Choosing a tonal palette, where the colors of all outfits work with everything else, is the key. 1. The White Shirt The white shirt has got such fabulous fashion potential. There are many styles that work brilliantly with a white shirt. The minute you find one you like it becomes your new best friend. If you are one of those ladies that may think a white shirt is mostly for work, we will definitely show you how in our opinion, the classic white shirt paired with some awesome blue jeans will make you look red hot. Whether you choose to wear it with high heeled boots or shoes, this outfit would work for a day shopping as well as would for a night out. Tip: It is always worth investing in a good quality white shirt, the more tailored the look, the better. 2. The Polished Trousers Trousers shapes have changed over the past years but we think there’s still so much fashion potential in the classic style and you really don’t have to rush out and buy the latest trend every season. Yes, even trousers shopping can be a bit tricky and finding a classic pair to perfectly suit your shape isn’t a very easy task but if you have a pair, those trousers could always be a fantastic back-up to your little black dress, a dependable closet item that will suit you from day to night, desk to dancefloor and beyond. 3. The Hero Denim Jeans Let’s face it, we could not talk about fashion if we are not covering the one item that has been a staple fixture in every woman’s wardrobe for decades. We’ve all got a favorite pair of jeans that we live in and can’t live without. They are comfortable and usually easy to wear but jeans are the benchmark garment when it comes to how we feel about our bodies. We have days when our best jeans can make us feel like the sexiest person alive and those not-so-hot-days when so even they may be the easiest thing to pull on and forget about it, we still need to look a bit into fashion fix too. Your perfect jeans should flatter you and fit your lifestyle. Darker denim shades are always smarter and can take you through to evening with more dash, paler washes always look more casual and more summery. Whether you want to create the illusion of a slim figure or a tall frame, there’s a style for every requirement. 4. The 12-Hour Dress From red carpet dazzlers to the dream summer shift, dresses are the self-contained fashion fix of any wardrobe. Once you find the one, it will change your life. this is the dress you will throw on first thing in the morning for a school run, for a coffee chat, supermarket run, and even office. This is the dress with just a change of shoes or earrings will take you through a night out dinner, cocktails and even dance clubs. From floor-skimming to thigh-slimming there are loads of top dresses to choose from and whether you are in your trendy teens or your sexy sixties, you’ll sure be able to find that style that makes you rock. 5. The Super Cool T-Shirt T-shirts are one of our favorite keys in our capsule wardrobe and just like the jeans they are just to easy to pull on and forget but you will have to remember that a T-shirt can make or break an outfit. Any time you put on a t-shirt make sure it curves in at the waist, otherwise it can look blocky and stocky but no worries, with so many options out there, I am sure you will find the right one to suit your shape. Whether you go for plain cotton, silky and slouchy, you can create a whole wardrobe of different looks from them. One perfect choice would be a vest style T-shirt which is very easy to layer up, not too bulky and comes in varying lengths, so you will always find one that suit you. Try to pair your lovely vest T-shirt with a pencil skirt and a big, glam statement belt or work it with a pair of statement trousers, such as silky harem or printed palazzo pants. Bold ethnic-style jewelry and bangles also look brilliant against a simple vest backdrop. Tips: Bargain vest tops are great for layering under shirts and cardies but they can bare a bit too much flesh when worn on their own with bra straps showing through. If you don’t feel your tummy is your trouble spot, traditional T-shirt shapes may not be ideal for you as they tend to cling around the middle. Instead, you can go for a looser, slouchier style that gathers in a band under the tummy. White T-shirts tend to show every lump and bump. For curvier girls, a flattering option would be a loose white cotton shirt. 6. The Blazer Slipping on a perfectly tailored blazer will give you infinite power and polish. Whether is in form of a tux or a looser, boyfriend style this do-all cover-up will rise to any occasion. The blazers are a super cool choice for a daywear generally but they become a real hit for evening events too. You can dress down a thigh-skimming mini dress and super mega heels with a long-length blazer at a red-carpet event. Single breasted blazers are suitable for most shapes, where the double-breasted styles are more likely to double you in size. Cropped blazers are great for petite and curvy girls as they highlight your gorgeous waist and elongate your legs. 7. The Fine Knitwear Fine knitwears are much more flattering than bulky sweaters and you can layer them for warmth. Vneck knits are great for most shapes and even if happen to have a flat chest you will still look very sexy. V-necks give an elegant look to your top half and show off just the right amount of skin. Crew-neck sweaters will give your outfit a classic preppy twist. Layer up with scarves for added style. Belted cardies can also look really good with the exception of ticker belts as they can look bulky. Tuck your favorite fine sweater into a pair of high-waisted trousers, button down the cardie to just above the bust and give it a sharper edge with a tin studded belt. For a touch of tradition, vamp up your twin-set top with a statement collar necklace or piles of short-strand pearls. Add an edgier feel with a pair of statement heels. Longer-length or boyfriend cardigans are a really hot trend right now. this is a brilliant garment for any shape. You can play a lot with it, you can even do the whole eighties thing and wear your cardi with a pair of skinnies and stilettos for a really hot and sexy look. Pick a color that will lift your mood and go with every other item in your wardrobe. Cobalt blue, rust or emerald green are shades that are one step away from being a neutral but give your look a little boost. Choose wisely and you can wear this piece with jeans at the weekend, at night with any statement skirt or to the office with tailored trousers. 8. The Mac Now ladies, the coats and jackets not only keep us warm but they are key to building your style and add a fashionable flourish to any look. We are referring to a mac as a crucial piece of your capsule wardrobe just like your jeans. You can wear it day to night, from spring through to winter, this year, next year and beyond. Tips: Always try to go a little bit bigger in the size with this style, a mac that is too small will spoil the look. You need some fabric to gather in the waist. Macs that are hemmed just above the knee are great for most shapes as they highlight legs at the sexier spot. For a hot sexy look put on your favorite stilettos. If yoyr tummy is your trouble spot wear your mac loose and belted at the back to create a casual look. Belting your mac high above the waist will create a more nipped-in shape and you want to avoid it. Were To Shop? Donna Karan Bailey/44 Burlington Reve Boutique Choies The post THE 10 ESSENTIAL ITEMS NO WOMAN SHOULD BE WITHOUT appeared first on Hot Spot Trends.

https://hotspottrends.com/the-10-essential-items-no-woman-should-be-without/

#IFTTT #WordPress

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maziedclark-blog · 6 years ago

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#categorylevel1smallappliance #categorylevel2othersmallkitchenappliance #Electric

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titoslondon-blog · 7 years ago

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New Post has been published on Titos London

#Blog New Post has been published on http://www.titoslondon.in/a-flare-for-style/

A Flare For Style

Wearing history: Unlike a gharara, the sharara has no joints or gathers at the knee.