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ironwitchpainter · 6 months ago

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Star Trek: Planetary Perception and Pursuit, Episode 1: Artifacts of Memory

The transporter beam hums to life, and with a momentary disorientation, Captain James T. Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy find themselves standing on the surface of a planet so untouched by Starfleet that it remains uncharted on their star maps. The strange readings that had drawn the Enterprise to this far-flung corner of the galaxy still resonate through their tricorders, an enigmatic siren's call beckoning them further into the alien wilderness.

The planet is a riot of colors that seem almost unreal under the light of its twin suns, casting a soft, golden glow across the landscape. The air is thick with the scent of unidentifiable flora, and the distant calls of creatures unknown to Earth echo through the dense forest that surrounds the clearing where they materialized. Kirk's allergies are already flaring up, his eyes watering and nose itching, but he waves away McCoy's concerned glance with a stoic nod.

Kirk looks around, the collar of his torn shirt fluttering in the gentle breeze. "Well, gentlemen," he says, his voice carrying the same mix of excitement and apprehension that thrums through his veins, "we're truly boldly going where no man has gone before." Spock raises an eyebrow, his stoicism a stark contrast to Kirk's boyish enthusiasm. "And probably where no one should go," McCoy adds dryly, checking the medical supplies in his kit.

With a final look at their surroundings, Kirk turns to his science officer. "Spock, what do your readings tell us?"

Captain, my initial scans indicate that this planet's biosphere is remarkably diverse and likely host to a vast array of new life forms. The energy readings we detected from orbit are emanating from approximately three kilometers north of our current position. I suggest we proceed with caution and investigate the source.

And I suggest we don't split up. Last time we did that, you two ended up wrestling with giant lizards and I had to play doctor to a bunch of scaled bruises. I'd like to keep our rendezvous with the Enterprise without adding any extra patients to my roster.

Bones, I appreciate your concern, but rest assured, we've learned from our previous... encounter. There won't be a repeat of the incident with the alien artifact on the ship. Spock and I have our phasers set to stun and we're sticking together like glue on a starship console. Now, let's move out. The sooner we find out what's causing those readings, the sooner we can report back and make sure the Enterprise doesn't end up with any more uninvited guests.

Moments ago, as the trio prepared to beam down to the planet's surface, the Enterprise had been breached by an enigmatic alien intruder. The creature, armed with a mysterious artifact that seemed to be the source of the odd energy readings, had targeted Captain Kirk in a swift and unprovoked assault. In the tense struggle that followed, Kirk's shirt had been ripped as he managed to overpower the alien. The creature was now securely contained in the brig, with Lieutenant Sulu and Lieutenant Uhura working tirelessly to uncover its species, origin, and the means by which it had managed to board their vessel undetected. The event had left the crew on high alert, and Kirk's thoughts were drawn back to the ship as they ventured into the uncharted wilderness. He knew that every second counted, not just in their current mission but in protecting the Enterprise from whatever forces might be lurking in the shadows of this unexplored world.

Unbeknownst to Kirk, the alien's intentions had been misunderstood. The artifact it wielded had not been designed for violence but for imparting knowledge and altering perceptions. As Kirk and his companions cautiously approached the source of the readings, the artifact's influence began to subtly seep into his consciousness. At first, the changes were imperceptible, but as they drew nearer, Kirk felt a peculiar tingling at the back of his neck, a sensation that grew stronger with each step. The vibrant colors of the planet seemed to intensify, the scents of the alien flora grew more potent, and the sounds of the indigenous creatures grew clearer, almost as if the barriers between him and the environment were dissolving. Yet, the captain remained focused on their mission, his curiosity piqued by the mysterious object that seemed to be whispering secrets only he could hear.

Captain, the readings are growing stronger. The source of the energy is definitely a structure of some kind, possibly a temple or research facility. It appears to be ancient, with technology that predates even the Vulcan archives. The significance of this find could be profound. However, I detect an unusual psychological effect on your readings. Are you experiencing any... abnormal sensations?

Jim, you're looking a bit peaked. Maybe we should slow down, let me check you over before we go any further.

Spock, keep an eye out for any traps or defensive mechanisms that could be triggered. And Bones, I'm fine. Just got a bit of an itch, probably the damn allergies acting up again. Let's keep moving. The sooner we find out what's going on here, the sooner we can get back to the ship and make sure she's safe.

(sighs) If you say so, Captain. But if you start hallucinating or sprouting new limbs, you're getting a full medical scan whether you like it or not.

Jim, I'm gonna slip you a hypospray with a mild antihistamine while you're not looking. It's for your own good, I swear. Can't have you turning into a sneezing, itchy mess out here. You know how these alien allergens can mess with your system. And if you're feeling any peculiar sensations from that artifact's energy, I'd rather you be as clear-headed as possible. Now, don't go getting all stubborn on me and say you don't need it. I've seen what happens when you ignore your health.

(smiles despite the discomfort) Thanks, Bones. I appreciate the concern, but I've got a feeling we're going to need our wits about us more than ever before. The whispers from that artifact are getting louder. It's like the planet itself is telling us something. Spock, any update on the structure ahead?

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet gives way, and with a loud crunch and a shower of dirt, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy plummet into a hidden pit. The walls are lined with ancient, vine-covered mechanisms that seem to react to their presence. The pit's depth is obscured by shadows, but the sound of something slithering in the darkness sends a shiver down their spines. The energy readings spike as the artifact's whispers crescendo into a cacophony, and Kirk's vision blurs as he feels a sudden rush of information flooding his mind. He gasps, clutching at his head, trying to make sense of the overwhelming influx of data. Spock's eyes widen as he processes the new readings.

(quickly administers the hypospray) Captain, hold still! This is for the best, I promise. And Spock, we've got company, or something's about to join us in this lovely little trap. We need to get out of here, and fast.

Indeed, Dr. McCoy. The structure's defenses have been activated. Our presence has likely triggered an alert system designed to capture intruders. The psychological effects on the captain are likely a byproduct of the artifact's defense mechanism. We must find a way to deactivate it before it causes irreparable harm to his cognitive functions.

(his voice strained, eyes glazed over) Spock... Bones... I... I'm not sure I can... (his legs buckle)

Spock, Bones... I'm... I'm not quite... here... right now. The whispers, they're overwhelming. I can't... can't stand. You're going to have to help me out of this... pit... and fast. The knowledge... it's... it's flooding me. We've stumbled into something... something incredible... and dangerous.

Captain, your readings are off the charts. The artifact's energy is interacting with your cerebral cortex in a way that suggests a direct transfer of information. It is imperative we extract ourselves from this situation and return to the ship for further analysis. Dr. McCoy, if you can stabilize the captain, I will attempt to find a way to disable the trap.

You're gonna have to give me more than that, Spock. What kind of information? And what the hell is happening to him?

Spock, while you're poking around with that fancy gizmo of yours, I'm going to scan the captain with my medical tricorder. It's got some nifty settings that might help us figure out what this alien tech is doing to his brain. Maybe we can get a better read on the situation if we combine our data. Hold on, Jim. This might tickle a bit.

He quickly pulls out his medical tricorder and runs it over Kirk's body, focusing on the captain's head. The device emits a soft beep as it captures various readings, which McCoy scrutinizes with a furrowed brow. The tricorder's display flickers with a multitude of unfamiliar symbols and patterns, indicating the alien nature of the energy coursing through Kirk's synapses.

Dr. McCoy, the artifact seems to be attempting to communicate with the captain on a telepathic level. It's likely that it perceives him as a threat and is attempting to neutralize him with an overload of information. If we can disable the artifact, we may be able to prevent further harm. However, I caution that any interaction with the alien technology could be risky.

Spock methodically inspects the vine-covered walls, his Vulcan logic working overtime to discern a pattern or weakness in the trap's design. His own curiosity is piqued by the sudden influx of knowledge, but his primary concern remains the welfare of his captain and his friend.

As a Vulcan, I am also experiencing a telepathic intrusion, but it is less intense than the captain's. It appears that my species' natural mental defenses are partially effective against this technology. However, this does not diminish the urgency of our situation. The captain's mental state is deteriorating rapidly. If we do not act soon, the consequences could be dire.

Spock, I've got the tricorder on you now, and even with my medical expertise, half of what I'm seeing is gibberish! This tech is way beyond Starfleet's medical databases. We need Uhura's linguistic skills down here to make heads or tails of this. Can you patch her in, maybe get her to translate some of these symbols?

Dr. McCoy, while your suggestions are appreciated, I must insist that we focus on the task at hand. The captain's condition is critical. If we are to have any hope of deciphering this ancient technology and escaping this trap, we require absolute concentration. I am having trouble concentrating with the constant interruptions and discussion. I recommend you attend to the captain's immediate needs while I attempt to disable the mechanism. Communicate only when necessary, and refrain from engaging in speculative conversations.

If Spock's mind is being thrown into a loop by this thing, then we're in deeper trouble than I thought. That Vulcan noggin of his is supposed to be a fortress against mental intrusion. If it's giving him grief, then we're all in for a rough ride. But we've got to keep it together, for the captain's sake. Jim, can you hear me? We're going to get you out of this, buddy. Just hang on.

The "company" they were expecting arrives with a thunderous crash, as a group of the planet's native creatures emerge from the dense foliage surrounding the pit. These beings, bipedal and covered in a thick fur that matches the vibrant colors of the flora, peer down at the stranded trio with curiosity in their large, expressive eyes. They hold crude, yet surprisingly effective-looking weapons, which they point in the direction of the newcomers. It is clear that these are the inhabitants who have been alerted by the trap's activation. They chatter among themselves in a language that seems to resonate with the very air, their voices harmonizing with the whispers of the artifact.

(his voice strained, eyes glazed over) I... I can see them, Bones. The creatures... their fur, their weapons... they're... they're unlike anything I've ever encountered. And their speech... it's... it's... I can almost... almost understand it. The whispers, they're giving me... glimpses of their history, their culture... but their words... still just sounds. I need to focus, to make sense of it all. Spock, can you communicate with them? Maybe they can help us disable this... this prison.

Captain, my own mental defenses are being compromised. However, I shall attempt to establish a basic telepathic link. (He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, focusing his thoughts.) The creatures are indeed sentient and seem to recognize the artifact's power. They may be guardians of this place. Dr. McCoy, please continue to monitor the captain's condition and prepare for potential medical intervention if necessary.

Spock opens his eyes and, with a great effort, projects a sense of peace and inquiry towards the alien beings. The creatures pause in their agitated state, and their leader, a creature with a prominent crest of fur, tilts its head as if listening to an unspoken language.

As the fur-covered aliens gaze down at Kirk, their thoughts seem to coalesce into a coherent, if still alien, pattern. Their language, it becomes apparent, is not something that can be learned or translated in the traditional sense. It is a symphony of emotions and images, interwoven with the very fabric of their consciousness. The captain's own mind, overwhelmed by the artifact's telepathic barrage, can't quite grasp the full complexity of their speech. Yet, through the haze of information, he feels a glimmer of understanding, a connection that defies the limitations of mere words.

Spock, with his Vulcan mental discipline and eidetic memory, begins to dissect the alien language, piece by piece. Each syllable is a puzzle, a cryptic code that his mind unravels with methodical precision. He starts to perceive the underlying structure, the nuances of thought and emotion that weave through their speech. It is a task that would take a human linguist years, but for Spock, it is a challenge he embraces with the cool determination of his logical nature. His mind adapts, evolving at a pace that would astonish any Earth-bound scholar. In a matter of moments, he becomes as fluent in their tongue as if he had been born among them, the words flowing through his thoughts as naturally as the Federation Standard he speaks with such ease.

The conversation between Spock and the aliens is indeed confusing, not because of a lack of understanding, but rather due to the sheer complexity and depth of their communication. It is as if they speak in metaphors that unfold into vast narratives, each one a tapestry of history, culture, and scientific knowledge. The aliens' words are not just sounds, but a direct conduit to their minds, revealing a world of meaning beyond the captain's comprehension. Yet, despite the initial befuddlement, Spock's Vulcan intellect begins to make sense of their discourse, bridging the gap between their species with his newfound linguistic prowess.

(his voice calm despite the chaos in his thoughts) Captain, the creatures claim to be the custodians of this place. They are curious about our intentions and are willing to assist us if we can convince them of our peaceful nature. The artifact's whispers have granted me a rudimentary understanding of their language. I will attempt to communicate our peaceful intentions and seek their help in disabling the trap.

(his voice rising with urgency) Spock, tell these creatures that the captain is in dire need of medical attention! This... this telepathic overload could kill him if we don't get him out of here soon! We're not here to fight or steal their secrets, just to understand and learn!

The aliens' eyes widen at McCoy's outburst, their fur bristling in what could be interpreted as alarm or curiosity. The leader of the group lowers its weapon slightly, its gaze switching between McCoy and Kirk, who now lies unconscious at the bottom of the pit. The creature's thoughts pulse with concern and a hint of something that feels almost like compassion.

(his voice echoes with urgency and desperation) We come in peace! Our captain is in grave danger! This artifact, it's... it's overwhelming him! We need your help! We need to disable this trap and get him to safety! He's a good man, a leader, and if we don't get him out of here soon, he won't be able to lead us anywhere!

The alien leader seems to understand the gravity of the situation, and it shares a silent, intense look with its companions. The group huddles together, their weapons now lowered, as if conferring about the strangers' fate. After a tense moment, the leader raises its hand, signaling for the others to stand down. It then points a fur-covered digit at Kirk and makes a series of sounds that, to Spock's newfound understanding, translates to a question about the nature of the artifact's effect on the captain.

Spock quickly relays McCoy's message, his own thoughts a tumult of Vulcan logic and the alien language that now flows through his mind. The fur-covered beings exchange looks, their expressions unreadable to human eyes, but their thoughts resonate with a mix of wariness and empathy. The leader finally nods, a gesture that seems to convey understanding.

One of the creatures jumps into the pit with surprising agility, its fur blending seamlessly with the shadows. It approaches Kirk, its weapon now held loosely at its side. It extends a hand to the unconscious captain, and as it touches him, a gentle glow emanates from its palm. The whispers in Kirk's mind begin to recede, the flood of alien knowledge momentarily abated. The creature seems to be accessing Kirk's thoughts, searching for any sign of hostility or deceit.

With a sudden, decisive movement, the alien leader reaches out and presses one of the glowing symbols on the pit's wall. The vines retreat, revealing a hidden door that opens with a ponderous groan. The door leads into a corridor that stretches into the dark, the ancient stone walls etched with symbols that pulse with a faint light. The aliens beckon to Spock and McCoy, indicating that they should follow. With the captain still unconscious, McCoy slings him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and together, the trio of Starfleet officers and their newfound companions go down the tunnel that has been revealed.

Spock, I'm not sure how much longer I can carry him like this. And we're still trapped underground, in a place that's playing havoc with his mind and my medical tricorder. We've got to find a way out, and fast. And what about the ship? If that artifact's energy is affecting us this badly, who knows what it's doing to the rest of the crew?

Dr. McCoy, I am analyzing the telepathic emanations. The artifact's influence is indeed strong, but it seems to be localized to this immediate area. The creature's intervention has allowed us a temporary reprieve. We must find the artifact's control mechanism and disable it before it can cause further harm to the captain.

The corridor opens into a chamber, the air thick with the scent of ancient knowledge and forgotten wisdom. The walls are lined with what appear to be crystalline panels, each one humming with an eerie light that seems to resonate with the whispers in Kirk's mind. The aliens move with purpose, their eyes scanning the room for any sign of the artifact's control.

Meanwhile, on the ship, the Enterprise is in a state of controlled chaos. The crew, unaware of the captain's telepathic entanglement, is busy dealing with the aftermath of the alien intrusion. Sulu and Uhura are piecing together the alien ship's trajectory, trying to deduce its origin, while Scotty works tirelessly in engineering to repair the damage. The intruder is secured in the brig, but the artifact it brought with it remains a mystery. The whispers of the planet's energy have not reached the ship, but the tension is palpable as the crew waits for Kirk, Spock, and McCoy to return.

On the ship, one of the scientists, Dr. Marcus, is examining the artifact closely. Surrounded by a team of her peers, she is meticulously scanning the object with every piece of equipment at her disposal. The artifact lies on a table in the science lab, emitting a faint, pulsing glow that seems to resonate with the very air around it. The scientists are fascinated yet wary, discussing in hushed tones the potential of the technology before them. They're aware of the captain's mission and the risks it entails, and they're eager to learn from the artifact without triggering any of its defenses. Each beam of light from their instruments bounces off the artifact's surface, revealing layers of complex circuitry that seem to dance and shift as if alive. Dr. Marcus, a young and curious xenobiologist, can't help but feel a thrill of discovery mixed with a touch of fear.

Suddenly, Dr. Marcus's eyes widen as she feels a peculiar sensation wash over her. The whispers that Kirk experienced on the planet begin to echo in her mind, though faintly. She stumbles back from the table, dropping her scanner, as the alien knowledge seeps into her consciousness. Her colleagues look on in alarm, their chatter dying down as they watch her grasp her head, struggling to maintain her footing. The room seems to tilt around her, and she catches glimpses of images and concepts that are utterly foreign to her understanding. The artifact's power is reaching out, touching her mind despite the distance.

As the whispers grow stronger, Dr. Marcus realizes she has established a telepathic connection with Captain Kirk. His fragmented thoughts and the overwhelming alien data intertwine with her own, creating a bizarre and confusing mental landscape. She sees through his eyes, feels the weight of the alien knowledge pressing down on him, and shares his desperation to escape the trap. The connection is tenuous and painful, but it is there, a lifeline that might just be their only hope for survival. Gritting her teeth, she forces herself to focus, to push through the chaos and find a way to help.

Despite the malfunction of their communicators, a new form of connection has been forged between Dr. Marcus and Captain Kirk. The alien artifact's energy has created an unexpected telepathic bridge between them, allowing for a limited exchange of thoughts and emotions. This unprecedented link enables her to understand the urgency of their situation and the need to disable the artifact's control mechanism. She quickly informs the rest of the ship's crew, who are equally astonished and concerned by this turn of events. The bridge crew, under the command of Mr. Sulu, scrambles to devise a plan to assist the captain and his party from orbit. The whispers of the planet's energy resonate within the starship, hinting at a deeper mystery that has yet to be unraveled.

Dr. Marcus, now at the forefront of the crisis, gathers her team of scientists around the smaller artifact in the science lab. They know that the whispers are a sign of an ancient defense mechanism, one that has been triggered by their very presence. With Kirk's life hanging in the balance, they must find a way to disable the larger artifact on the planet. Their eyes dart over the alien technology, searching for a clue, a pattern, anything that might give them an advantage. They hypothesize that the smaller artifact could be a key or a control device for its larger counterpart. They decide to attempt a controlled power surge through the smaller artifact, hoping to overload the system and disable the trap from afar. It's a risky maneuver, but with the captain's mental state deteriorating, they have little choice but to proceed with caution and hope for the best.

(his voice weak, yet filled with determination) Bones, Spock... I'm... I'm still with you. I can feel... the whispers... fading. The creatures... they're... they're trying to help. We need to... to get to the... the control mechanism. It's... it's here. I can feel it. We're so close.

The alien guardians, sensing the urgency of Kirk's words, lead the trio deeper into the subterranean structure. The walls whisper with secrets of a lost civilization, and the air is thick with anticipation. Kirk's allergies have subsided, but the alien knowledge still weighs heavily upon him, a burden that he must bear for the sake of his crew. The group arrives at a chamber with a pedestal at its center, upon which rests a crystal orb, pulsing with the same energy that suffuses the artifact. The creatures gesture to the orb, their thoughts clear: this is the heart of the trap.

Spock, if we can't communicate with these beings in a way that doesn't end up with us all in a telepathic coma, then maybe we've got to take a more... direct approach. That artifact's trying to turn the captain's brain into Swiss cheese! So, let's not mince words here. If we can't talk our way out of this, then we might just have to smash it. We're in a race against time, and the prize is keeping Jim's gray matter intact!

Dr. McCoy, I am attempting to ascertain the proper protocol for disabling the artifact without causing further damage. These creatures are invaluable as guides, and their understanding of the technology may be critical to our success. However, I concede that we must proceed with haste. Kirk's condition is precarious, and the longer we remain here, the greater the risk to the entire crew.

The alien leader seems to sense the urgency in Spock's thoughts and motions for them to approach the pedestal. It places a hand on the crystal orb, and the room's light dims as if the very energy of the structure is focusing on this spot. The whispers become a cacophony, and Kirk feels the pressure on his mind increase, but the creature's touch seems to be anchoring him, keeping the deluge of knowledge at bay.

Aboard the Enterprise, Dr. Marcus and her team of scientists, with the guidance of the ship's AI, calculate the precise amount of power needed to safely overload the smaller artifact. The room is tense as they make their final preparations. The whispers from the planet are now a constant presence, a background drone that's hard to ignore. Dr. Marcus takes a deep breath, her eyes closed as she tries to maintain her mental balance amidst the alien thoughts. She nods to her colleagues, and with a flick of a switch, they initiate the power surge. The smaller artifact in the science lab emits a high-pitched whine, its light pulsing rapidly before stabilizing into a single, intense beam that shoots into the ceiling. The connection between Kirk and Dr. Marcus feels stronger, the whispers clearer, as if the energy is being channeled through the starship.

On the planet, the crystal orb flutters with the incoming energy surge. The alien guardians tense, their thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and anticipation. Kirk's vision blurs as the whispers crescendo, and he can feel the artifact's control loosening its grip on his mind. He reaches out, his hand trembling, and touches the orb. The connection is instant, a torrent of alien data and instructions flooding into his consciousness. It's as if the whispers have become a howl, a deafening roar that threatens to drown him in its depths.

The guardians' thoughts reveal the location of the off switch, a concept that seems so simple yet profound in the face of the ancient technology. Kirk's hand, guided by the aliens' mental instructions, finds a small, unassuming stone panel beside the pedestal. It's hidden, almost as if it doesn't belong. He presses it firmly, feeling the chamber's energy shift around him. The whispers begin to subside, the pressure on his mind lessening. The vines that had held them captive retreat into the walls, and the ground beneath them trembles as the trap deactivates.

As the telepathic connection with the aliens fades away, Kirk realizes the profound implications of their loss. These beings had once thrived on the very whispers that had nearly consumed him, their society intricately woven with the fabric of the artifact's power. Now, with their lifeline to that power severed, they are left mute, unable to communicate as they once had. Their eyes, filled with a mix of relief and sorrow, meet his, and he knows that they understand the gravity of what has occurred. Their world has changed irrevocably in an instant, and they are as lost as he was moments ago.

(his voice steady, despite the turmoil of emotions around him) Captain, the artifact's control over you is weakening. The telepathic link with the creature on the ship is also diminishing. The risk to you and the crew is decreasing, but we must find a way to safely retrieve you and Dr. McCoy.

(his voice firm, though strained) Let's just... let's just walk out of here. I think I remember the way, from the information that was... was implanted in my mind. The whispers are fading, but the path is still clear. We need to move quickly before the effects wear off completely. Spock, tell Dr. Marcus and the others that the artifact is disarmed. The whispers will cease, and we're coming back to the ship.

(his hands moving deftly over his communicator) Understood, Captain. I am attempting to adjust the frequency of our communicators to penetrate the planet's subterranean interference. The device is not designed for such conditions, but I am applying a modification that may allow us to maintain contact with the Enterprise. Stand by for further instructions.

(his voice calm and focused) Dr. Marcus, this is Spock. The captain has successfully deactivated the artifact's control mechanism. The telepathic whispers are subsiding. However, we are still unable to communicate with the ship directly. We require immediate extraction. Please coordinate with Mr. Sulu to transport us back to the Enterprise as soon as it is safe to do so. Kirk's condition remains critical, and we must act swiftly.

The alien guardians, now free from the artifact's control, watch with a mix of curiosity and trepidation as Kirk and McCoy stumble out of the chamber, the weight of the alien knowledge still heavy upon them. The creatures seem to understand the gravity of the situation and help guide the humans back through the corridors. Their eyes are filled with a newfound respect for these strange beings who have freed them from the whispers that had bound them for so long.

(his voice filled with disbelief and frustration) Spock, what in the seven hells do you mean we can't contact the ship directly? I thought I heard you talking to them just a minute ago! If that thing's got us cut off from the Enterprise, we're in more trouble than a duck in a tornado!

Dr. McCoy, I have modified my communicator in an attempt to tap into the telepathic connection established with Dr. Marcus. However, the link is deteriorating rapidly. We must reach the surface and signal the ship manually. The captain's condition is precarious, and we cannot afford further delays. The alien creatures are assisting us in navigating back to our landing site.

The trio, guided by the alien guardians, hastily makes their way through the ancient corridors, the air thick with the fading whispers of the artifact's power. The path seems eerily familiar to Kirk, as if the very stones themselves are guiding him back to the surface. His thoughts are a jumble of human and alien knowledge, a disorienting blend of his own memories and the whispers of a lost civilization. Finally, they arrive at the same clearing to which they had been transported earlier, the same spot where the Enterprise had beamed them down. The sky above is a swirl of vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the shadowy depths from which they emerged.

Spock, we can't just stand here and hope they'll find us. We need to send up a flare or something. Maybe we could use the alien tech we've got to signal the ship, some kind of beacon or a light show that'll cut through the atmosphere. And if that doesn't work, I'm not above waving my arms like a lunatic on a cloudy night. We've got to let them know we're alive and where we are before the captain's condition worsens.

Indeed, Dr. McCoy. However, I must advise against any rash actions. The artifact's energy could be unpredictable. We should remain cautious and attempt to communicate through established protocols first.

As Dr. McCoy suggests a more proactive approach, Spock reminds them of the need for caution. The established protocols for signaling the ship in the case of communication failure typically involve using the emergency beacon on their communicators, which are designed to cut through most forms of interference. However, given the unique nature of the artifact's energy, even this may be compromised. The alien technology they have in their possession could serve as an alternative, but they must first understand its workings to avoid triggering any further defenses or causing harm to the delicate balance of the planet. The alien guardians, sensing their urgency, bring forth a device that appears to be a communication tool of their own. It's unlike anything they've seen before, a crystalline structure that seems to resonate with the very air around it. The creatures manipulate it with an elegance that suggests deep familiarity, and it emits a pulse of light that shoots into the sky, piercing the swirling colors and disappearing into the stars. The Enterprise's transporters are calibrated to detect such anomalies, and it's their best hope of being located swiftly.

Aboard the Enterprise, the bridge crew is on high alert. The sudden surge of power from the artifact had caused a momentary disturbance in the ship's systems, and they had felt the telepathic echoes of Kirk's distress. Dr. Marcus, her eyes still glazed from the lingering connection, reports the successful deactivation of the artifact to the bridge. Mr. Sulu nods gravely, immediately ordering a search pattern for the captain and his party. The ship's sensors scan the planet's surface, searching for any sign of the missing officers.

The crystalline pulse reaches the Enterprise, and the bridge lights up with alerts. The transporters lock onto the signal, and Mr. Sulu, with a look of relief, initiates the beam-up sequence. On the planet, the three officers feel the familiar tingle of the transporter, and before they can fully process what's happening, they're enveloped in a shimmer of light. The alien landscape blurs and fades away, replaced by the stark white of the Enterprise's transporter room.

(his voice firm and unyielding) Spock, Captain Kirk is in no condition to argue, and neither are you. You both need to be in sickbay, and that's an order. We've got a lot of work to do to make sure the whispers don't do any lasting damage. And if I have to drag you there myself, I will. No debating, no Vulcan logic, no "but Captain, I'm fine" nonsense. We're going. Now.

(his gaze on Kirk, a rare show of concern) Dr. McCoy is correct. The captain's mental state is unstable, and my own exposure to the artifact requires examination. I shall accompany him to sickbay for a full medical evaluation.

Upon their immediate return to the Enterprise, Dr. McCoy wastes no time in escorting Captain Kirk and Spock to sickbay. The medical bay is a flurry of activity as the doctor barks orders at

Upon their immediate return to the Enterprise, Dr. McCoy wastes no time in escorting Captain Kirk and Spock to sickbay. The medical bay is a flurry of activity as the doctor barks orders at the medical staff to prepare for a trio of patients. He's visibly concerned for Kirk, who is still visibly reeling from the telepathic assault. McCoy's voice is firm but tinged with urgency as he directs the nurses to run full neurological and psychological scans on all three of them. He wants to ensure that the alien whispers haven't caused any lasting damage to their brains.

The sickbay's atmosphere is a stark contrast to the serene alien landscape they've just left behind. The sterile white walls and the hum of medical equipment serve as a harsh reminder of the reality they've returned to. Kirk, his eyes still glazed over, is helped onto a biobed, the alien whispers slowly fading from his mind. Spock, ever stoic, takes his place next to him, allowing the medical staff to attach sensors to his forehead. The alien creatures' device is placed on a separate biobed, its crystalline form glinting under the harsh light, a silent witness to the extraordinary events that have transpired.

The results of the scans come back almost immediately. The medical readouts show that Kirk's brainwaves are erratic, a jumbled mess of human and alien patterns. The whispers have left a clear imprint on his neural pathways, and the extent of the damage is not yet fully understood. Dr. McCoy frowns as he reviews the data, his eyes darting back and forth across the screens. Spock's scans reveal a similar, though less pronounced, pattern of disrupted neural activity. Despite their Vulcan resilience, even he is not immune to the artifact's influence. The alien device remains a mystery, but it's clear that it has played a significant role in the recent events.

I appreciate your concern, Dr. McCoy. However, I assure you that my Vulcan training in meditation and mental discipline will enable me to restore order to my neural pathways. The whispers, while disturbing, are a mere aberration in the grand tapestry of logic that governs my thoughts. I shall require solitude and time to achieve this, but I am confident that I will be fully recovered.

Spock, you're not getting off that easy. I know you Vulcans think you're made of pure reason, but you're not immune to trauma. We'll keep an eye on you, and if I see so much as a twitch of an eyebrow that's out of place, you're not leaving this bay until I say so. Now, let's focus on getting the captain back on his feet. Those whispers looked like they were about to turn his brain into scrambled eggs.

#star trek #fanfic #fanfiction #sci fi #captain kirk #spock #dr mccoy #telepathy #star trek original series #Planetary Perception and Pursuit

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thrashtrashh · 2 years ago

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TENNA C. ROOK

*HEY! *WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PIPSQUEAKS DOIN' 'ERE?! *'YER IN THE MIDDLE OF A SET! *WHO ME? *'YER TELLIN' ME YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM?! *TENNA. TENNA C. ROOK!

---------------------------------

Hey! First post here! So! Tenna, right? What a guy! Since everyone's making up designs for him left and right I thought I'd put my hat in the mix as well.

DESIGN CHOICES:

So, well before I begin with the design. The name. Tenna C. Rook. Well, I don't have to explain Tenna, I guess. Rook's there because I'm a firm believer in chess theory, and the C is there because it makes the "rook" look like "crook", because he's a criminal, I tell you, a criminal! Also, if you put the Tenna at the end it spells out CRT, and that's kinda funny.

THE COLORS:

Green! Yeah, I love green! I chose green for two main reasons: -It seems that the main villains are going from right to left on the color bar thingy.

Queen is light blue, so I thought that good old Tenna over here would be green.

-You can't spell GREED without the first four letters of GREEN. Tenna's that type of guy you know? He cares a lot about THE MONEY. Apart from being a big shot producer, he's an avaricious little troll.

Apart from green, there's no real reasoning behind any of the other colors. Red's just there to not make his suit look to same-y, if you catch my drift. White's there to fit in with King and Queen. Also, headcanon that Tenna's like Lancer's uncle or something like that.

THE SUIT:

I think pinstripe suits are the best thing ever. I am a pinstripe suit supremacist. Of course, there's a reason other than my love for these types of suits: mobsters! I think Chapter 3's gonna be like, a look into the Golden Age of Hollywood through Toby Fox' lens. I could be totally wrong here, and to be honest, I'm probably totally in the wrong, but y'know it could be fun. Mobsters + TV is always fun! The square-y shoulder pads on his suit, combined with the hat are supposed to kind of look like the top part of a rook chess piece.

It's probably really stupid, but whatever.

The little antenna on his hat is a thing he uses to control stuff from long distances, by the way. I didn't put it in the dialogue sprites because I tried and it looked ugly.

The T-Belt, T standing for Tenna of course, is there because he's got a company to promote! And he's got a huge ego, so he has to let everyone know who he is!

GENERAL SHAPE, SIZE AND HAIR

I tried to make him really squarish, to contrast with King and Queen since they're both rather round and curvy. Also, like I said, the top part of a rook is square-y so that also influenced his shape, as well as the fact that TV's are generally rectangle/square-like, so yeah.

Sprite-wise he's about the same size as Kris. I thought it'd be funny to go from these pretty tall, imposing villains to this little Wario-like goblin. The size is also inspired by the "really short leader who's really smart but gets angry really quickly" trope. I don't know the name of the trope, but there's Joe Dalton from the Lucky Luke comic strips that made me fall in love with it, so here you go, this one's for you Joe.

The hair. So, I wasn't going to give him hair originally, but I thought it'd be good to not have the head be entirely white with a green hat. I thought of Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, because frankly, his hair looked stupid in that movie and I think it's really funny to give characters stupid hair. I can easily imagine Susie mocking him for his stupid hair. Also, technically not his hair. It's a wig, and I think it'd be funny for it to fall off during the final boss fight.

Oh yeah, also the shadowy part covering the eyes is supposed to look like a club, because King's got a spade-like thing going on and Queen has got a heart-like thing going on, so yeah.

All-in-all, I'm pretty proud of how this thing turned out. I saw a lot of tv-heads, lots of big and bulky figures and a Jerma thrown in there for good measure, so I tried to stay as far as possible from those, as to not get too inspired by them.

Anyways, see ya bye!

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maverick-werewolf · 4 years ago

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Modern Dragon Designs - Where they came from

Your regularly scheduled werewolf facts will return soon. For now, we provide this special, because you may not realize this, but I love dragons. There’s a reason one of my protagonists is basically obsessed with dragons.

Once upon a time, there was a movie - I don’t see anyone talk about it, I’m not even sure how many people are familiar with it...

It’s called Reign of Fire.

This movie shaped the modern Hollywoodian concept of dragons. Seriously, it did. Hear me out.

Released in 2002, Reign of Fire was a movie about - essentially - dragons as that age-old trope of “let’s take one monster and turn them into an overpopulated zombie plague so we can use them to tell a story about humans and make the monster just this brainless evil locust swarm backdrop.” This has happened to a lot of monsters by now.

But wait, these dragons aren’t like the dragons you might be used to: these dragons were completely redesigned from the ground up by the filmmaker(s) in order to make a more “realistic” and “animalistic” dragon that was acceptable by Hollywood, who generally views “dragon movies” (like so many other fantasy things...) as cheesy and silly. Market your movie as a film about dragons and you probably won’t get a deal. Well, turns out, coming up with your own gritty dragon designs worked!

Doesn’t this remind you of every other dragon you’ve seen in a movie for the last, you know, 18 years? Although it actually looks quite a bit cooler than those other ones that came after it

Please note that while I may sound sarcastic, jaded, and often maybe a bit scathing, I mean nothing against the creators of Reign of Fire or director Rob Bowman. I watched the movie in theaters when it released. I applaud Bowman for coming up with unique and interesting dragon designs, in order to have a different take on the creatures, so that they fit the story he wanted to tell, instead of doing what so many people do and completely co-opting concepts without trying to alter them to fit anything and... yeah... okay, I’m not going to talk about werewolf things in this post. Getting back on track:

What I don’t applaud is everyone ripping off Reign of Fire for their own dragons, doubly so because most of these people didn’t even take into account the reasons why it was designed that way. They should have left his dragons alone and come up with their own thing, but at least I guess Bowman can go down in history as the man who designed every Hollywood dragon for over a decade to come - with no signs of stopping - even down to the tail shape.

On Vice, you can find an article and interview with Rob Bowman, the director of Reign of Fire, discussing how he came up with this dragon design and how influential it has become. I highly recommend giving it a read.

Please note the Vice article is clearly written with the bias of someone who “can’t take dragons seriously,” so it’s also a good look at the Hollywood mindset about dragons and how much Hollywood treats fantasy in general like garbage (jerks).

It’s impossible to pretend this movie didn’t basically reshape modern dragons. Let’s get to the details...

Animalistic Design

Dragons in popular culture are generally - or at least they were generally - assumed to be powerful, intelligent creatures, often of a higher nature than humans and other mere mortals. They may be good or evil, but one can’t understate that traditional fantasy dragons are regal and majestic either way.

Reign of Fire wanted to usurp the majestic, intelligent dragon image, creating a smaller, hunched, knuckle-dragging sort of dragon that looks more like an animal - like a pteranodon. This is because the dragons in Reign of Fire are not exceptionally intelligent, noble beings that speak and hoard gold and have the wisdom of the ages. They are brutal hunters that set things on fire and eat everything smaller than them. So this design choice was a conscious one and a smart one.

The dragons in Reign of Fire are meant to be more scientific, more plausible, and also simpler, in a manner of speaking. They are not colorful, magical, ancient fantasy dragons...

Trouble is, everyone took cues from this design for their talking wise noble fantasy dragons, and it... doesn’t really work, at least if you ask me.

The dragon design in Reign of Fire looks like an ancestral throwback, an evolutionary ancestor to the intelligent, talking fantasy dragon, although they are smaller. They’re hunched, they haven’t evolved forelegs independent of their wings... you get the idea. Take a look at the “proto-drakes” in World of Warcraft versus the ordinary drakes, which have tiny dangly T-rex forelegs that haven’t fully developed yet, so they walk like the Reign of Fire dragons.

A proto-drake in World of Warcraft - also say hi to my worgen warrior

So many things taking this design for their intelligent, “higher being” dragons seems kind of... odd to me, to say the least. Unfortunately, Hollywood decided that’s the only way moviegoers can “take dragons seriously,” so here we are.

“Wyvern” - Two Legs vs Four

Municipal arms of Stjørdal, Norway

In medieval heraldry, there came to be a creature called a wyvern. Now, the etymology on the term “wyvern” is a little shaky. It originally didn’t specifically refer to a “two-legged dragon.” It is thought to mean/be derived from words meaning anything ranging from “asp” to “light javelin,” and essentially boils down to a flying serpent. It is noteworthy, of course, that the word “dragon” basically just means “serpent” too.

In heraldry, though, “wyvern” came to refer to a two-legged dragon - at least, if you ask the English, Scottish, and Irish; elsewhere in Europe, they may not be so picky. And now, in modern pop culture (such as Dungeons and Dragons), we often use it in the same sense.

Wyverns weren’t really a “thing” in folklore, just as dragons in folklore didn’t look like our modern idea of a dragon. It’s debatable whether the father of our modern concept of dragons, Fafnir (from whom Tolkien drew inspiration for Smaug), even had wings at all; he was essentially a serpent, perhaps with legs. Point is, wyverns come from heraldry, especially the specificity of two legs versus four.

So now you know why you might see a lot of people (myself included) referring to this design as a “wyvern design” for a dragon.

Dull Coloration - Grey and Brown over Red, Blue, Green...

There’s something else - something very important - that Hollywood took from Reign of Fire... the concept that dragons aren’t pretty colors and are, in fact, various hues of grey and brown, and any more contrasting colors are just vague indications instead of bright red scales.

Now, Reign of Fire obviously did this because - again - they were going for the more animalistic, natural look as opposed to the mysterious majestic magical being look. Okay, that’s fine. But then Hollywood decided that fantasy, too, has to be devoid of dragons with bright colors.

The green dragon in Game of Thrones

There are countless examples of this in modern media. Any dragon that was previously brightly colored has been dulled pretty much to an extreme. Sometimes you might catch a fleeting glimpse of them looking like a brighter shade, but it was probably just a trick of the light. Why? Because all dragons are desaturated to the point of being almost indistinguishable by color.

The golden dragon in The Witcher Netflix series

This is also why you see so many mods on the Skyrim Nexus called things like “true red dragon.”

There are plenty more examples of this - I’m sure you can see the difference when you look at those dragons and other modern film dragons over, say, something like this...

Red dragon in D&D

And now we move on to...

The Fire Breathing - Chemicals, not Magic

Bowman insisted on ditching traditional fire breathing (you don't want the audience wondering whether the dragon's mouth is being burnt up with every flame) and again looked to the animal kingdom for inspiration. The king cobra, once again, was a great starting point. It doesn't spray fire, but it can spit its venom. Even more useful was the bombardier beetle, which shoots two chemicals from its abdomen that, once mixed, create a hot, burning spray. Bowman used these real-world examples to inspire his own dragons. They don't breathe fire exactly, but rather spit chemicals from two different sacks in their mouths that, when combined, ignite. "That's anatomy. That's already been designed, so we're going to draw from there," he said.

(quoted from the Vice article linked to earlier in this post)

The Hungarian Horntail in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - fire is streaming from two separate organs in the mouth, but they aren’t chemicals mixing together like in Reign of Fire...

The director of Reign of Fire wanted his dragons to be more natural in that they breathe fire through organic means, based on chemical reactions, instead of the usual dragon magic. But lots of people loved this “mouth flap”/”mouth organ” design with “streams” of fire coming from the mouth instead of fire flowing directly from the dragon’s throat, so now you see it pretty dang often.

Horns? Brow Ridges!

Another thing that is basically out now in dragon designs is the real horns of many traditional dragons, like Spyro, and like the dragons in Dungeons & Dragons used to have.

These days, it’s all about brow ridges and big spiny scales that aren’t separate horns, they’re just big pointed scales or piles of scales or bone ridges - and they aren’t a different color than the dragon’s scales, either, pretty often. And, in general, dragon’s horns have become much smaller and far more numerous, and more like spines/ridges, as opposed to the great, sweeping horns of classical dragons.

Firkraag, the red dragon, in the D&D video game Baldur’s Gate II, from 2000

Firkraag is a very traditional dragon. Now, while Dungeons & Dragons has generally kept more traditional dragons (yay!), they did fall into the brow ridge horn thing - although they, thankfully, didn’t make the horns smaller and subtler and more numerous little spikes, like so many other modern dragon designs. They also went with the brow ridge horns for tieflings (once humans with demon blood, then some weird thing in 4E, and now I think they’re humans with demon blood again), as opposed to the ordinary horns of the tieflings in previous editions of D&D.

Skyrim dragon head concept art

The Desolation of Smaug(’s design)

Here is... a big one. Here, we’ll talk some about the production of The Hobbit films over time, so we’re going behind the scenes.

Alright, so we all know Smaug, probably, by pop culture osmosis if nothing else. He is the quintessential dragon. He’s basically the founder of all Western dragon concepts: he’s big, he’s red, he hoards gold, he’s extremely intelligent and talks, etc. You get the picture. Every dragon that we have borrowed at least something from Smaug. And, in turn, he was inspired by Fafnir, the father of all our dragon concepts, from Norse mythology - but Tolkien took it all a step further and created the concept of dragons that we have today. Or, well, the not Reign of Fire ones. The fantasy ones.

A map drawn by Tolkien: notice the winged, four-legged Smaug over his mountain

During the first Hobbit movie, An Unexpected Journey, we see Smaug attack the Lonely Mountain...

In this clip, you can plainly see that Smaug has four legs. This was actually edited slightly for later editions of the movie, or so I’ve heard (I haven’t watched any later editions).

I can tell you for certain that when I saw the theatrical release, it was like this, too. It is apparent throughout the scene that Smaug has four legs and wings, separately. I know because I was paying very, very close attention, because I was going to be very upset if Hollywood turned Smaug into a wyvern.

Well, they did - later.

Smaug the wyvern looking like just another slightly different take on the bog-standard Hollywood dragon

Apparently, some studio exec decided that having a traditional fantasy dragon, even if this dragon happens to be frelling Smaug himself, would not be okay in this modern Hollywood world. So we ended up with a dull reddish spiney hunching knuckle-dragging wyvern with an angler mouth (I’m sorry; I really am sorry if you like the design, that’s totally fine, it’s a fine design, I am glad you enjoyed it, but Smaug shouldn’t have looked that way IMO and forgive me but I am still in pain over it) in place of a more traditional dragon that held more to things like, I dunno, how Tolkien himself drew Smaug. Smaug’s movie design flies right in the face of that and destroyed our chance to finally see a proper traditional dragon done justice on the big screen.

Tolkien’s art of Smaug - note the position of the forelegs, separate from the wings, like in the earlier map

This is all just one big example why we should be thankful that The Lord of the Rings films were all shot in one go, so no one could alter important things like the design of the fantasy genre’s father of all dragons, in the middle of production. Of course, the production on The Hobbit movies was a nightmare at best, as you can read about in assorted other articles, and Peter Jackson was very unhappy with what the studio had him do to the series. All of that is just another story, I suppose.

Dragons Redesigned by Reign of Fire: Example List

Now that we’ve gone over just a few of the talking points about Reign of Fire’s dragon designs (although I didn’t even get into the flat, spaded tail look in detail), here’s an undoubtedly incomplete list of several examples that have either entirely taken the design and/or were massively influenced by it...

(please note that not everything in this list held entirely to Reign of Fire’s design, obviously; some have the fire, some don’t; some have horns, some have head/brow ridges; but all of them are wyverns and most are darkly-colored)

Skyrim - Obvious influence with the general design, skin/scales and ridges design, as well as coloration; however, it is noteworthy that the Elder Scrolls has had dragons with no forelegs since at least 1998, in the game Redguard - though that dragon was also very brightly-colored (also of note: Peryite, while technically a Daedric prince and not a dragon, had four legs at least as far back as Daggerfall in 1996)

The Hobbit films, specifically The Desolation of Smaug onward - as mentioned before

Harry Potter movies - Wholesale. Two streams of fire from mouth flaps in Goblet of Fire, generally dull greyish and/or brownish colorations, no forelegs, short/simple horns that are mostly ridges...

Gods of Egypt - The giant fire-breathing cobras have the mouth flaps

Game of Thrones - This one’s pretty obvious too.

Disney’s Maleficent - In the new live action Disney movie(s), the dragon falls right into this design (though the fire doesn’t come from mouth flaps)

Netflix Witcher series - Villentretenmerth is very much a wyvern design and a dull shade, and he in fact has no horns at all, even though dragons weren’t portrayed this way in any previous Witcher adaptations

Stargate SG1 (season 10) - In the episode series “The Quest,” a dragon appears and... well, it looks just like all those other dragons, though the fire does come from its throat.

Beowulf (2008) - I try not to ever talk about or think about this film, but I have to just throw out there that the dragon is very much Reign of Fire, especially with that wyvern design.

Seventh Son - If you can call Malkin a dragon - she was called one, I think - she definitely also has the same kind of dull-colored wyvern design.

Sucker Punch (movie)

Lots and lots of B-movies and direct to DVD/streaming films - Dawn of the Dragonslayer, Dragon (2006), Dragon Crusaders...

Something to note, also, is that cartoons, anime, and other non-film media is mostly - but not entirely - free from this influence. Cartoons especially are free from it, partially because they aren’t influenced by Hollywood producers who want “serious” and “realistic” dragons. Cartoons are allowed to have magical, colorful, four-legged dragons. Unfortunately, we are deprived of those in live action film and television, by and large.

There are still other exceptions - most notably things that were created before this influence, like Dragonheart and its spinoffs and sequels, which have thankfully kept their dragon designs consistent instead of erasing their forelegs.

Of course, why dragons are depicted as four-legged and winged in the first place - and when this depiction arose - is another topic entirely. I’m not going into that right now, seeing as how this post is already preposterously long.

Long story short, I was rewatching the movie Gods of Egypt and, when I saw the giant cobra monsters breathe fire, I was possessed to write this article. Because Reign of Fire’s influence is something I have always noticed ever since its release, and something my brother and I talk about a lot (and everyone who knows me has surely heard me talk about it, too) - because, frankly, it’s always bothered me. My favorite dragons are traditional dragons: four legs, bright colors, wings, horns, breathing fire, the works.

So, although the original creator of these design ideas did something cool and different because he wanted to do his own take on dragons, Hollywood decided that these design cues should be taken to dumb down all dragons forever, the same way that Hollywood has dumbed down so many monster designs so that the only acceptable ones just a bunch of near-replicas of each other, including werewolves.

I think it’s very sad that film producers think you can’t take something like dragons or werewolves seriously unless they are dull, nontraditional, and ugly. And I say ugly in the sense of these are not pretty, majestic fantasy designs - they are, many of them, intended to be ugly. Though I personally also hold the opinion that most of them are ugly regardless of if they are intended to be ugly.

So - now you know! If you haven’t seen Reign of Fire, go check it out to meet the father of modern dragon designs, from the color of their hides to the shape of their bodies, the smaller horns, and - sometimes - even their tails.

(Special thanks to everyone on my discord who helped me compile this list, as well as of course my brother and all our ranting at/with each other on this topic over many years)

If you like this post, maybe you’ll enjoy the rest of my blog, where I post a lot about folklore and all kinds of monsters (especially werewolves)!

Werewolf Facts --- Patreon

#dragons #pop culture #dragon #reign of fire #creature design #folklore #wyvern #wyverns #game of thrones #skyrim #harry potter #the desolation of smaug #the hobbit #movies #film #hollywood #long post #EXTREMELY LONG post

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btswishes · 4 years ago

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Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 2 )

Previous / Next

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Continuing my little experiment here with chapter2, a bit more filler for the story. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count: 2,903

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name

Y/L/N- Your Last Name

----------------------------

The suitcase made a slight thumping sound, when you laid it down on the floor next to your desk. Wasting no time books found their new home on the empty shelves, notebooks fell asleep in the dark drawers. Pens, pencils, markers and all your stationary soon followed suit and found their own little space to rest.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” the silence in the room finally got overthrown by the voice of its new owner, asking for some help in the matters unfolding

Yes Miss Y/N

“Would you put a timer for 5min from now please?” still focused onto your stuff, finding them a visible but safe from damage storage. Nothing could destroy as well as time and dust did.

Timer set for 5 minutes from now.

“Thank you.” The only thing left to do now was to get the clothes in the closet and move the tech to the lab. Hopefully Dr. Banner wouldn’t mind waiting a bit more, not like he seemed to but who knows, Hulk lived inside him after all. You didn’t want to take a chance and play with his limits. The closet was hidden inside the wall, stealthy I must say. Toothpaste and toothbrush, essentials and cosmetics. All was done, now.

Ding Ding Ding.

Timer is going off Miss. Shall I turn it off or restart it?

“Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y. You can turn it off. “

Your laptop and small bag were safely nestled under your arm, making your way outside the room. For a moment you thought you got lost, but the orange tint of the sun’s rays soon pulled your attention in the right direction. Around the corner your nose caught the smell of caramel. Your head hesitantly protruded behind the pillar, as you called out to the man holding 2 cups in his hands firmly.

“Oh.” He jumped a bit, reaching out offering one of the mugs “ I hope you like it, we don’t have much selection when it comes to tea here. Coffee addicts you know.” he laughed out

“It is ok. Thank you very much.” Your leg levered and you swung onto the bar chair like it was nothing, taking a sip from the hot drink. You felt it warm you up slowly as it went down, melting away a bit of your anxiety. Once again your sight was captivated by the view. No one knows how much time passed since you got lost in the sunset, but it was nice. You could barely hear the bustling city from the 134th floor. It was only you, the sun and the room. Quiet almost like a safe serene space.

“Beautiful isn’t it.” Bruce shook you out of your little mind palace

“Mm? Ah, yes. Very much so. “ you puffed out some air with your smile, eyes forming little crescent moons “I feel like a cat, my attention keeps drifting to the glass unintentionally.”

“I understand you. I keep doing that myself and I have lived in the compound for quite some time now. “ the conversation was lighthearted, easily drifting over the main reason for your arrival “One would think I would be used to it by now.”

“Mr Stark made this place so calm. Big yet homey.” Your head scanned the area, words intriguing the doctor “ In a way it contrasts the inner state of most of the Avengers.” realized what just came out of your lips, your body stiffened. Oh man, way to ruin it - you thought to yourself “I am so sorry.” The mug clanked under the table, sending a vibration to his palm, as you bowed “I spoke out of place.”

“I think you might be on to something.” Your neck pulled your head up, a few strands of hair falling down next to your soft cheek. Bruce was still looking at the setting sun with a soft smile, his jaw exposing the beard to the light, coloring it a deep fiery yellow hue. There was something nostalgic in his dark eyes. “Most of us here have some sort of troubled past- lets sugar coat it a bit. This whole building, on the levels we use., is like a constant Zen state. It calms us down unintentionally. How do I say this...” He turned towards his coffee, laughing out almost silently.

“Maybe it offers you the peace you couldn’t have on the inside, masking the pain from past trauma. A way to indirectly cope with all that had happened, offering a haven to heal the past.” Bruce was listening to you, taking in your way of thinking and how right you were about something that had always been in front of his eyes ,but he had never noticed it before. Such a young girl, so much pain in her manner. He couldn’t bring himself to ask you about the weight inside your voice. It felt too close for him to do so. He had just met you after all, it is not like he could just straight up ask you about all your deepest and darkest secrets, that you might be hiding underneath your mature façade.

“Well, enough about our depressing past.” He pushed off the table “Lets get you situated in your new place.”Dr. Banner began walking in the direction of the lab, turning towards you from time to time. He was make sure you were close by and not lost somewhere in this maze of halls, corridors and who knows what else Tony could have hidden in these walls, for some unsuspecting person to stumble upon.

“I am sadly not familiar with your work like Tony is. He told me about you literally a few hours before you arrived, so you would have to excuse me for that.” You nodded with a smile, accepting the apology he didn’t even need to speak of

“The lab is pretty big.” He unlocked the door and turned the lights on. It was exactly as he said and nothing like you had expected. The color pattern was the same tints, maybe a bit of blue mixed in as well, a dash of red. The tables and tech inside were state-of-the-art, high-quality and very well kept. Some weren’t even yet released or known to the public. Talking year 3054 up in here.

“This will be your desk, right next to me.”Bruce plopped onto his chair and waved at you “Hi, Hi.”

He gestured for you to get yourself as comfortable as possible, which you almost couldn’t wait to do. Your fingers gently ran over the material getting familiar with it. Just with one look you already knew where everything was going to go, like it knew it’s own home. You had a tech bay, where you could check how systems worked, if they didn’t and building anything. It was amazing, just an arm’s length distance was possibility and creation itself. Excitement boiled inside you, eyes wide. Reaching inside the bag, you pulled out your work computer, your project tablet and made sure they were all connected to the internet and matched the Stark system interface. As soon as you saw the company logo you were all set up.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” the silence danced hand in hand with your voice

Yes Miss. Would you like a run down on the desk functions?

“Yes please.” In a matter of minutes you realized that this wasn’t just some random fancy desk ,but a whole machine of its own. Interactive hologram functions, building station and program 3D design. It had it all. Bruce was shocked how easy you worked with F.R.I.D.A.Y. , naturally taking a lead and informing yourself at 100% capacity about what you will be working with. For a second Tony flashed before his eyes.

“What made you apply here?” he cut your investigation “I don’t mean to be rude but I saw some of your pre-university work.”

“No problem. I was mostly out of the country for a very long time, maybe most of my life. When I came back the Avengers were something I loved watching on the news.” The praise went over Bruce’s head unnoticed “ There was something nostalgic when I looked at you guys. Mr. Stark’s tech, the way everyone fought with ease, I don’t know how to explain it. I craved that in my life, almost like a forgotten world I was striving to immerse myself back into. “ a gentle crook of the neck and a smile eased Bruce from the question

“Well you made it here, so congratulations.” loud joyous clapping followed his words” I think I am talking for all of us, we will love having you around. So-” His face became serious, glasses finding the bridge of his nose onto his face, eyes sharp “Would you like to start with your job here miss intern?” he winked playfully waiting to see your reaction. Like a mirror ,you pulled your hair away from your face, rolled up your sleeves and flashed back the same look of determination. “Introduce me to your train of thought and your projects.”

“I work mainly with the structure and characteristics of vibranium. At first, I was focused on making prosthetics that pack a punch the same way the Iron Man suits worked and Sergeant Barnes’s arm- of course on a smaller scale. But then my mind started drifting towards the process before amputation, which was for a certain percent of people the healing factor. Maybe inside strength as well. ”

“As in incorporating it into medical technology?” this sounded too simple of an idea coming for someone Tony chose, yet Bruce kept listening. He was judging the book by its cover way too soon.

“Not exactly. Vibranium has a metal crystal structure that possesses ‘memory’ the same way other metals remember being indented even after getting fixed or straightened eventually. My theory has a few parts before I reach the main plan. Going on an atomic level, even deeper to its base structure, I change the connections between the atoms. They have the same functions as in keeping the shape, but missing that molding memory.”

“You are saying you can mold the bonds, selecting freely what function to remove?” Bruce pushed back off his chair, letting the idea enter his ear and stay there, feeding the interest on his face.

“I am not saying I can.” he was listening more and more with each passing minute “I am saying I did it. I am in the final stages of my project.” Your hands pulled out a flat disk of vibranium “F.R.I.D.A.Y. would you do a double scan before and after I bend this?”

Affirmatively Miss. Scan done. Shall I offer a hologram?

“Please do.” Right between your two bodies you could now see the basics of the metal “ See how the bonds are thicker? I noticed, metal bonds just have to keep the shape of the crystal structure. Not only did I make vibranium stronger than it originally was, but now if I bend-it.” Your voice strained in pair with your muscles, as you folded and unfolded the sheet. The second scan showed no memory intake not even deformed the shapes “I call this metal healing.”

“That...that is amazing, not even a crease to be noticed! But where are you going with this?” Bruce rubbed his face, still shook from what you just showed him

“It might sound stupid, but this isn’t even my main idea. You see, if we look at matter as one and the same, things start to add up. Everything on a molecular level has no difference. Bonds, and atom-placement dictate what the object will be, look like and how it works- properties if you wish. I looked at vibranium and human flesh as different parts of one thing, which lead me to believe enhancing people could be done without super soldier serums.”

“That is… truly amazing, but won’t the testing period be a sadistic thing. We are not HYDRA thankfully.” As great as this was Bruce had a point here “Human experiments are not a politic the Avengers will ever lean upon. As fellow humans nonetheless.”

“I am not planning to make another Winter Soldier. I already have control over vibranium on levels outside and inside hyperspace.” You pulled out a bottle of metallic looking dust. The top unscrewed easy and you spilled the contents like heavy silvery snow all over the floor. “If I take quarks from the human body and use them to make 1 proton from the atomic nucleus, I can theoretically program it to answer to the human body using the unbroken rule of our system.”

Bruce blinked a few times understanding exactly where you were reaching “All work in favor of the body.” He said out loud, glasses sliding off his skin

“Exactly. If they get programmed correctly the metal will work for the body, under the command of the main system- the nerves and brain. Post that success I would be able to inject them with a liquid medium directly into the bloodstream. As they make their way to all parts of the body, they will get acquainted with the cells. I want to change them so they will be susceptible to hormones as well. Basically I want to make a metal compound that reacts like organic matter. It would be able, upon will, to pile around bones, create fibers, strengthening muscles ecc. Some could even carry other substances with them, or isolate toxic ones. Now their size and ability for diapedesis is still questionable. So far I can move them at a certain extend.” You swung your hand and the dust lifted off the floor cleanly in one swoop

“That is amazing!” Bruce pitched his voice after seeing the floating cloud “Are you using some kind of device ?”

“No, this dust was modeled after me, I am the only guinea pig so no one was harmed in the making. I have to say though, it was quite painful till I got it right.” You laughed out uneasy, scratching your arm

“ I could only imagine, taking your own tissue for this. What else could it do?”

“Well. I know that Mr. Stark isn’t into weapons anymore, so I pitched him the enhancing technique only. The dust’s only function right now sadly is shaping.” Your fingers danced as the vibranium cloud formed Captain America’s shield, before turning into a sword. “As long as I have enough information of structure, function and the way the object works I can make it.” Your footsteps were confidant and strong.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. the window if you please.”

Certainly Miss

The clicking sound of the metal around the glass flung the object open. Your hand reached outside and pointed towards the sky. “My uncle had a deep interest in weapons so naturally I learned as well by listening to him.” The dust wrapped around your hand and formed a Heckler Koch pistols. With the pull of the trigger you shot into the air, making Bruce jump from the sound.

“I am sorry about that, I should have warned you.” You giggled stepping in

“That is a completely functional firearm. His breath normalized as his body took him right up to you, running his hands over the gun “ This is, something I can’t even imagine.” Eyes scanning every inch of it looking like a perfect mold “How does it look so solid? Smooth, no trace of it even being made from any smaller particle. ”

“Oh that, intra-atomic pressure. Kind of like gravity times 100 or more. If I pitched this to Mr.Stark I think the selling point would have been…”your fingers gently pulled the weapon out of Dr.Banner’s hand as the vibranium flew from the outside to the magazine “ It doesn’t run out of ammo since I call it back at anytime AND once in the body I can infest it.”

“It could travel through the blood stream and form clumps in certain organs!” he gasped

“I could have gone a bit more sadistic with this one, but I will stop talking now.” You laughed out sending your project back to its jar, securely tightened up.

“How far is your limit? I mean is there a distance at which you can’t sense the partials, any mental fatigue or physical? You are amazing! This is something out of this world truly, no wonder Tony accepted your application. I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything closely resembling…wow.” He kept praising you each time his mouth opened

“Banner.” Light and confident footsteps accompanied the familiar playboy voice inside the lab

Welcome back Sir

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. medical bay on standby please.”

As you wish Sir

“I would appreciate it if you stepped back from my new intern and helped out a bit. We have injured coming in stat.” Tony waved his hand and Bruce pulled away from you, cleaning the couch on his side “You too miss intern. No slacking off just because it’s your first day. Treat it as orientation.”

“Yes Mr. Stark.” Panic rose up inside you again as you tried to follow what Dr. Banner was doing. Injured? Were the rest of the Avengers on a mission this whole time? It didn’t matter, you were mobilized as well and for a second it felt kind of cool, like you were also an agent fighting crime. The grunts and groans pulled you back to Earth as Captain America’s large frame stepped inside.

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starsinmylatte · 4 years ago

Text

A Song Among the Stars Ch 3

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/tags:

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (never by Thrawn)

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Masquerade

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Summary: Lyra's life was turned upside down the day the Empire took her. Once a renowned singer and performer on the Outer Rim, she is now little more than a songbird trapped in a gilded cage. Forced to perform and used as Imperial propaganda for years, she grew to despise her life until one fateful night and a chance encounter with a certain Grand Admiral.

Author's note: Hi everyone! Please let me know if you enjoy chapter 3 of A Song Among the Stars. I'll have a masterlist soon with all of the chapter links, but here's the link for the first 2 chapters on Tumblr and AO3 here. Tumblr likes to hide my writing, so please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it!

A big thank you to @pala-din-djarin for formatting advice!! 💙💙

AO3 link here for chapter 3 if you'd prefer!

Song Suggestions At the beginning: Thrawn - AtinPiano The dance: Masquerade Ballet Suite: 1. Waltz - Aram Khachaturian

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

The edge in the Grand Admiral’s voice glittered with dark promise, and a tense silence fell. Even in my current state, I could tell that he was definitely not asking; his statement was little more than a scarcely veiled command. Bost stood incredibly still as the oppressive atmosphere continued. I could tell he was carefully considering his options, but there couldn’t have been many, as Thrawn’s commanding body language clearly showed he had no intention of backing down.

Suddenly, the sound of frantic footsteps broke the silence. All my muscles involuntarily tensed as my instincts screamed danger. Three more shadowy figures came running around the corner of the maze behind Bost. Fearing the absolute worst, I physically and mentally prepared to defend myself again. I dropped my weight evenly between my legs and shifted into what I assumed was a passable fighting stance. Apparently, the change in my posture did not escape my new friend even though I was still completely behind him.

“There will be no need for that,” Thrawn’s voice had returned to its original soft, dulcet tone, “excellent timing, Commander Vanto.”

How did he recognize him? It’s kriffing pitch-black out here!

I quickly decided it was a question for another time and relaxed ever-so-slightly as Thrawn acknowledged the newcomers. If he knew them, considering the present situation, it was currently good enough for me. Thrawn gestured back towards me and spoke again in an infuriatingly calm tone for the situation, “Please escort her back towards the ballroom. I will join you momentarily; the Commodore and I have something to discuss.”

I had no idea what Thrawn needed to discuss with Bost, but anything was better than me being chased down.

The three shadowy figures stepped into a patch of starlight. Any relief I felt earlier was amplified tenfold because Dreycolt and Arkmad were instantly recognizable. They stood slightly behind the third man, who I assumed was Vanto. All three of them looked ready for a fight, and their facial expressions flickered between worry and relief. Vanto gave Thrawn a curt nod before pushing past Bost and offering me his hand.

I don’t know him, but I don’t have much of a choice here, and there’s not really any time to think…. I have to trust my instincts.

Tentatively, I reached out and placed my hand in his; he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Vanto’s hands were noticeably calloused, which gave me another sensation to focus on. However, even with those feelings grounding me to reality, my frazzled emotions swooped in like carrion birds as the adrenaline started to wear off. Intrusive thoughts started to slip through every mental wall I had in place as he led me away from the maze and back through the garden.

Stars, what do they even think about this situation… How is this going to be handled? Is the Empire going to somehow blame me for causing a scene? Am I going to be the one punished??

Before I realized it, we had walked about half of the way back to the ballroom. Vanto led me to a nearby bench; I gratefully sat down and stared back in the direction of the ballroom. The flickering lights, laughter, and faint music indicated that the party was still in full swing and would be for some time. There was zero chance of me leaving early because the second part of my job tonight hadn’t even started.

Vanto took a seat on the bench directly across from mine, and I didn’t even have time to open my mouth before words came tumbling out of his, “Are you alright?”

I immediately recognized the accent, and it momentarily drew me out of my melancholy state. “Commander Vanto, you’re from the Outer Rim too,” I noted with as much of a smile as I could manage.

He returned the smile, but his deep brown eyes and creased eyebrows still showed unease, “Yes, I’m from Lysatra, but please call me Eli.”

It was obvious that Eli wanted to discuss the incident, but it was so very rare to meet another person from a world near mine on Coruscant that I actually felt slightly relieved. It was like having a small piece of home nearby.

Another pleasant change was that the starlight shone bright enough for me to fully see in this area of the garden. Eli’s tanned face seemed kind, even though half of it was hidden by a black mask, and his dark hair and eyes were a welcome contrast to Bost’s icy complexion. Maybe it’s a sign that everything will be ok.

I could tell that Eli was trying to find the right words to continue, but he only managed to gesture around like he was trying to pull them out of the air. That alone told me all I needed to know; he had a rather good idea of what Bost tried to do.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself as I nodded with all of the confidence I could muster. You must be strong. “It’s happened before. I didn’t have anyone to rescue me, but I survived then, and I will survive now.” I was reminding myself just as much as I was informing Eli.

His face paled. “This isn’t the first time?” He trailed off before nervously running his fingers through his dark hair. I heard him muttering something under his breath that sounded like a long string of swearing in another language.

Any chance of further conversation was stopped by the sound of footsteps and the arrival of Dreycolt. He was out of breath from running through the garden, but he still managed to get the words out, “I cannot apologize enough for what happened. We tried to get help, but….”

The apology is nice but pointless.

I raised a hand to cut him off. “I’m assuming you don’t know Bost like I do. That conniving bastard would have found a way to dispose of you both so he could get me alone. However, you getting help likely saved me; the Grand Admiral arrived at a very timely moment.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but a pointed look from Eli cut him off. I raised an eyebrow at the two men.

Eli rushed to speak first. “I was the contact if there was trouble, but we weren’t expecting anything like this.

Something doesn’t quite add up here…..

At that point, I noticed both Dreycolt and Eli had the same insignia on the shoulder of their uniform: an extremely stylized black tribal design with three heads. It was emblazoned on a grey circle, and the whole thing was ringed in red. They had to be from the same fleet, and if Thrawn knew them immediately….

Suddenly, everything clicked into place as I locked eyes with Eli. “You’re all from the Seventh Fleet, and Grand Admiral Thrawn is your commanding officer.”

“Quite perceptive.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden reappearance of Thrawn’s smooth voice behind me. Unlike with Dreycolt, there had been no footsteps or any other warning of his arrival.

Kriffing hell, why is this man so silent? He may have helped me, but that doesn’t give him the right to scare me out of my mind a few minutes later.

Concern flashed across Eli’s face as he wordlessly reached out to make sure I wasn’t too rattled by the shock. I took a deep breath and nodded slightly in reassurance. My thoughts raced through my previous mantras. You are fine. You are safe now. Eli shot an annoyed look at the man behind me as I composed myself and turned to face Thrawn so I could properly thank him.

It was still dark but I immediately realized that he was tall. Very tall. Even though I was looking up, my small stature combined with my seated position meant my gaze fell on his broad shoulders. I instantly noticed the crisp, white hue of his close-fitting dress uniform and the shining rank bar he wore confirmed his earlier claim. He was absolutely a Grand Admiral.

He smoothly stepped backward and acknowledged me, “My apologies, it was not my intent to frighten you.”

Any words coming out of my mouth died at the tip of my tongue as I finally saw Grand Admiral Thrawn fully illuminated in a patch of shifting starlight. All thoughts of this rank or thanking him abruptly left my mind as one thing became abundantly clear: he was not human.

Where the neck of his pristine uniform ended, his skin was blue. Not merely tinted with blue, but it was truly the beautiful color of a deep pool of water that had frosted over in winter. My gaze continued its path upwards and traveled to his face, which was partially obscured by an ornate mask resting atop high, regal cheekbones and an aquiline nose. From beneath the mask, his ruby eyes seemed to burn into mine like red-hot coals.

Trying desperately not to make a fool out of myself, I did my best to snap out of the shock. Grand Admiral Thrawn was the only non-human Imperial of any significant rank I had ever met, and I severely doubted any others existed. Every Imperial gathering I attended before this one had been filled with countless human guests, but I had only ever seen non-humans used as servers or entertainers. Talle, Kaia, and Ahni had never served a non-human Imperial, but almost all of the other handmaidens were non-humans taken from their worlds.

Why is he working for the Empire in this high of a position?

I fervently hoped the dim lighting hid any sign of my surprise. After all, no matter the reason why, this man was still a Grand Admiral. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t request some kind of a favor in return for saving me earlier. I knew enough legends about the types of favors high-ranking Imperials often pulled or traded, and I was already way more indebted to Thrawn than I was comfortable with. His appearance may have surprised me, but I refused to let my lack of knowledge show. I fully realized that lack of knowledge was a weapon the Empire had firmly pressed against my throat, and it was marking me as prey like blood in the water.

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, and mentally berated myself. This was all my fault. I had gotten too complacent and comfortable with the Imperials. I had no idea Bost was even here, but I let down my guard and accidentally gave him an opportunity. Dreycolt, Arkmad, Eli, and now Thrawn…… There was absolutely no guarantee that I could trust any of them.

Think, Ly, you have to think. These people prey on the weak, so you have to seem strong, at least for now. At the very least, use caution. Just get through this night.

It was like flipping a switch mentally; all of my walls flew back up, and my emotions dulled until everything was just numb. The sparkling, faultless personality I used in Imperial society clicked back into place. I inclined my head respectfully and addressed Thrawn, “Grand Admiral, I cannot thank you enough for your help tonight; your quick response to the situation likely saved me.”

“There is no need,” his voice was still impossibly soft as he regarded me. I lifted my head and met his eyes for the second time; the heat of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “From the state of his hand, I would say you were defending yourself admirably.”

My face flushed, “Still, I do not know what would have come of the encounter. If it came to a case of my word versus his, especially since I injured an Imperial officer, I doubt anyone would take my side.”

As a “guest” of the Empire, I had everything to lose based on my reputation. If I angered the wrong person or fell from social favor, I would no longer be useful as propaganda……. The weight behind my previous words went unspoken but was understood by all.

An indecipherable expression crossed Thrawn’s face. Krayt spit, he’s hard to read. Most people had tells that let me read their expressions like an open book, but the Grand Admiral seemed to be very different.

“However, I do have one question. What happened to Commodore Bost?” I couldn’t help the tiny falter in my voice when saying his name, but it was small enough to be excusable.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed and seemed to burn brighter, “I sent him to be treated for his injury. However, I made it perfectly clear that you were a guest and asset of the Empire, so his behavior towards you would not be tolerated.”

I mentally scoffed. So that’s what upset him. Not the injustice committed against me, but the mistreatment of Imperial property. I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the protection he had provided, but my blood absolutely boiled at his words. However, I gritted my teeth and smiled at him, “Again, I do not know how I could possibly ever thank you enough for this.”

I wasn’t worried about the medics treating Bost; they knew enough about Imperial society to keep their mouths shut on what and who they treated. Most likely, they assumed he was one of the many starting an after-party early. The rumors of the extreme tastes of some officers and politicians often spread like wildfire among the servants and handmaidens. Talle had been unofficially requested at an after-party once before, and she told me stories that made my stomach turn.

Thrawn inclined his head towards me in acknowledgment of my thanks, and I continued speaking, “However, I do need to return to the ballroom. The orchestra will be the main entertainment for the rest of the night, but I was requested to be available as an escort. I’m sure my dance card is already quite full, and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

After all, what good is propaganda if it isn’t thoroughly used, I thought dryly. It honestly did not matter to me if I kept anyone waiting; in my opinion, they could wait for all eternity. Unfortunately, it would matter a lot to my handler if they complained.

“Don’t worry, Captain Dreycolt and Lieutenant Arkmad will still be accompanying you. Both of them are already on your card,” Eli reassured me as I turned around to face him again. “I also took the liberty of placing myself on your card so that I will be close by too.” He pulled out a small datapad and continued, “We are all spaced evenly throughout the remaining time so that you will have someone checking on you often.”

Now that was reassuring. As much as I wanted to be wary of Eli, he seemed to be very kind and it was making it hard to keep my guard fully up.

I thanked him with another smile and reached up to check my hair. Thankfully, all of Kaia’s hard work seemed to have paid off. Not a single pin or gem felt out of place, and I chalked it up to a minor miracle. After a brief inspection, my dress was still pristine, and my shoes were fine too.

I stood up from the bench and turned to address Thrawn once more, but he had stepped off to the side and seemed to be in deep conversation with one of the medics. His current expression was much easier to infer because the poor medic looked terrified. I quickly decided that I didn’t want to know, and it was better that I didn’t ask.

When I glanced back towards the ballroom, Eli offered me his arm, and I accepted the gesture. He signaled to Dreycolt, and the three of us began the short walk back through the garden. Thankfully, it was uninterrupted and uneventful.

Arkmad was waiting for us at the same side door he and Dreycolt had helped me exit from earlier. He was fixated on the small datapad he was holding and muttering under his breath. The datapad looked very similar to Eli’s, but this one was exceedingly familiar.

I peered down at the list displayed on it, “So, who’s on the card tonight?”

“Oh, just the usual mix of the usual senators and high officers. You actually seem to be in higher demand tonight; the performance earlier must have really impressed some important people,” he responded with a sympathetic look. “It looks like your card is completely full for every dance tonight.”

Oh, joy. Sometimes I was lucky enough to escape the last few dances, but, of course, tonight couldn’t be that convenient. I sighed inaudibly and shifted my feet. At least these shoes are comfortable.

Arkmad tapped me lightly on the shoulder and gestured to the far side of the ballroom, “Your first partner will be waiting for you near that column. The next song is about to begin, so I suggest you get started.”

The first thing I did when I stepped inside was signal the nearest server. I took a glass of sparkling wine, quickly glanced around to make sure nobody was staring at me and downed it. I felt the effects of the strong alcohol almost immediately; one glass was nowhere enough to make me drunk, but I hoped it would further dull any remaining nerves. I returned the glass to the tray and ventured off in search of my partner.

The first few songs passed by quickly. The slight buzz from the alcohol lightened my mood and made it easier to tune out any faults of my partners. Some were heavy-handed with flattery or praise, intent on trying to steal me away for the night. Others had already indulged in too much alcohol to the point where their breath smelled of the wine and their steps faltered. At least they all seemed to be decent dancers, and I was skilled enough in social etiquette to politely refuse or divert the conversation.

I truly had no problems dancing; most of the time I rather enjoyed it. My education at the conservatory had included many lessons on the classical styles and different regional dances in addition to my more intensive singing lessons. We were all supposed to be well-rounded performers, so the education contained much more than just singing, even though it was my main focus. When I was taken to Coruscant, it was vaguely easy to learn any dances I didn’t already know. Most of my partners here were higher class, so they had some kind of dance instruction at least once; they weren’t always graceful, but almost all of them were bearable partners that only sometimes stepped on my feet.

As the orchestra played on, the long list on my dance card grew shorter. Some faces were new, but many were the same senators and officers that often requested me. Before I knew it, I had danced with both Arkmad and Dreycolt, and less than half of my list remained.

I told both men the same thing when they checked on me: the rest of the night was going well. They each seemed satisfied with that answer and moved to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. As Eli’s lively dance was finishing, he pushed his stray hair back into place with a gloved hand, “Miss Lyra, it was a pleasure.” He gave me a small bow as an excuse to lean in close and whisper, “Are you doing alright?”

I responded with a curtsy and an almost imperceptible nod. “The pleasure was all mine, Commander.”

He seemed satisfied with my answer as he walked off to join the other men on the balcony. I had turned to grab another glass of wine before my next partner found me when an all-too-familiar voice turned my blood to ice.

“I do believe that I have the pleasure of claiming the next dance. It seems the man on your card….. won’t be able to make it.”

I whipped my head around and stared directly into the cold, glacial eyes of Commodore Bost. Somewhat vindictively, I noted that his injured hand was bandaged and slung across his chest. He had also donned a plain, white half-mask that covered the scarred side of his face since our last encounter.

My heart raced in my chest; I scanned the upper balcony for Eli, but he was nowhere to be seen. I caught Dreycolt’s eye and he raced off with a panicked expression at the sight of Bost standing in front of me. Even though my heart was racing and panic rose in my throat, I knew that as long as I stood inside the ballroom he couldn’t harm me; even Imperials dew the line somewhere.

Bost reached out to seize my hand and I snatched it away from his grasp. “I refuse to dance with you. You aren’t the name on my card and I have no reason to accept your request.”

He clicked his tongue at me mockingly, “So defiant…” He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “However, I am a very patient man. I can be here all night if that’s what it takes.”

Another shiver ran through me at Bost’s chilling words. I closed my eyes and winced at the foul feeling of his breath on my neck. Suddenly, a looming presence appeared behind me and Bost quickly stepped backward. Assuming Eli came to my rescue, I turned around and gave a low curtsy in greeting, but I instantly realized my assumption was profoundly incorrect; the figure standing in front of me was dressed in white.

Still in my low curtsy, I raised my head and stared directly into the smoldering gaze of Grand Admiral Thrawn. His red eyes remained fixed on mine as he bowed and offered me his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Thrawn’s request rang in my ears. Did he actually want to dance with me, or was he just guarding an Imperial asset? Either way, I was incredibly grateful for his second timely arrival of the night. There was no other choice for me but to take his hand.

Before I could, Bost made a small noise of protest behind me. Thrawn rose from his bow and silenced him with a single look. The Grand Admiral’s voice had the same dark, commanding edge as it had in the garden, “Commodore Bost, your presence here is not required. I will be claiming the rest of Miss Lyra’s dance card tonight.”

My thoughts raced again at his statement. Sometimes a particularly wealthy or powerful person would request multiple dances a night, but someone claiming the rest of my dance card was absolutely unheard of. However, I highly doubted anyone would be willing to argue about it with Grand Admiral Thrawn if he was serious.

Bost must have realized the futility of his position; he glowered at me, turned away with a flourish, and exited the ballroom. I sighed audibly, “Thank you for stepping in again. However, I don’t wish to be a burden on you for the rest of the night.”

The corner of Thrawn’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Not at all. I believe it will provide an enlightening distraction.” He offered me his hand again, “May I?”

Kriffing hell, he was serious then. I gently placed my right hand in his left, and he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around mine. The orchestra played the beginning notes of the next song, a waltz, and he seemed to recognize the dance immediately. Thrawn murmured appreciatively, “ah, an excellent choice,” as he pulled me in until our chests were almost touching.

My cheeks colored slightly and I prayed he couldn’t tell. The familiarity with which he moved me was almost seductive when combined with his velvety soft voice and the lingering effects of the wine.

The dance began and we glided across the ballroom floor to the music. This was one of the more difficult dances of the night, so many stepped off to the side and watched the braver couples attempt it. I knew it by heart, but Thrawn led us with an intensity that told me he did too.

Some of my previous partners could dance very well, but none moved with the same warrior’s grace that he exemplified in every step. The feeling of his broad chest against mine and his strong arms firmly around me made my mind spin. He was so unlike anyone I’d ever danced with; he seemed to move with the same strength and confidence with which he commanded.

No, no, no... you are not doing this. It’s just the wine and your overcharged emotions running all over.

I distracted myself from the dance and his burning touch by studying the intricate pattern on his mask. It was white, but under each eye a thin strip of red in a slightly darker shade outlined the openings and made his gaze even more intimidating. An intricate pattern of entwining, golden snakes bearing their fangs delicately wove their way around the mask’s rim.

In the back of my mind, I came to a sudden realization: Thrawn was testing me. As the song progressed, he began using more and more complex movements. It was as if he was trying to see if I could keep up with his brutal pace.

Kriffing blue bastard. I’m not some little thing for you to toy with.

Well, two could play that game. I locked eyes with Thrawn, gave him the most stubborn look I thought I could get away with, and switched my step pattern up. If his gaze was smoldering before, now it was blazing. He flashed me a grin that was absolutely feral and twirled me out on his arm. As he brought me back in, he pressed me against his chest and dipped me low. He murmured in my ear and his breath smelled faintly of the sweet wine, “Very enlightening, thank you.”

The rest of the night passed in a similar fashion. Thrawn led and I matched his pace step for step, challenging him the entire time. By the time the final note on the last song rang out, we were both breathing noticeably harder. A single strand of his neat, dark hair had fallen into his face and I knew some pins had fallen out of mine. This was the first time a dance partner had made me break a sweat since I was at the conservatory.

He released me from his arms, and the loss of contact was more disappointing than I cared to admit. The Grand Admiral bowed one last time as Eli, Dreycolt, and Arkmad appeared behind him. His voice seemed to have the slight accent from the garden as he addressed me, “You dance quite artistically; thank you for indulging me.”

Thrawn turned away and shared a quick word with Eli, who had an expression of shock on his face. Their conversation lasted for a few minutes before he addressed me again. However, this time his accent was gone. “I’m afraid I must take my leave now, but Commander Vanto will see you safely home.” He reached up to push the stray lock of hair back into place and walked off the dance floor and out of the building. Dreycolt and Arkmad shared a look before following closely behind him.

Eli still seemed to be in a state of surprise. He shook his head like he was clearing out his confusion and offered me his arm, “Miss, if you’re ready, we can head outside. I have a speeder waiting for us.” I smiled at him as we walked out of the ballroom and into the crisp Coruscanti night.

Tags: @mittheresabosen @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @handbaskethell

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x oc #thrawn fanfic #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #star wars rebels fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #please tumblr stop hiding my work #original character #original female character #my oc character #thrawn fanfiction

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a-magical-artist · 4 years ago

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Top Ten Favorite Doppels

Turned in less than five minutes before Halloween ends, but whatever:

10. Abigail

Hagumu is really just a scared kid despite being a Neo Magius stooge, and Abigail is a very good representation of that; Hagumu closes her eyes whenever she comes out, to which, same as Abigail is a very intimidating doppel filled with teeth and spikes. Her form’s listed as a “reversible shape” and she gives the impression of a torn up, straw-filled doll with a toothy mouth and spines/shards all throughout her inner lining. It’s also a good twist that since Hagumu’s magic makes her unusually strong against witches, Abigail is the opposite, being effective against magical girls.

I really love the exterior on this one, it looks very pretty and ornate, and it does a nice job contrasting with the messy, shard-filled fiber underneath.

9. Gothel

I’m very close to unlocking Gothel (all I need are materials for Magia leveling), but I already love her design. She takes Yozuru’s wish and magnifies/projects it as many witches (or doppels) do, in her case, trying to find someone or something that can make Yozuru feel the emotions she wished away. She takes the form of a tower (name being a great Rapunzel reference) with exposed ribs she uses to drag in and crush whatever she sees, which is...fairly impressive as a doppel design without being too gory (a reason why Beatrice and Therisia aren’t here or in this slot).

8. Clothette

I...really, really don’t like Suzune Magica, and I don’t like Suzune. I do however, have a grudging respect for her Doppel design. Clothette’s based around a gadfly, comes out of Suzune’s eye, has bells for eyes, and is constantly on fire. It’s a great design, but points off for coming from a character I can’t stand.

7. Gibdaughter

So, fun fact about hummingbirds for anyone who doesn’t know; they’re beautiful little birds...that have the worst tempers. I love them for that, and I’m happy to see one used as a base for a doppel design. Gibdaughter, as per usual, externalizes Kanae’s wish to be left in peace by using her very love of music. Her main attacks all revolve around the vibrations she gives off, adjusting them to resonate with her targets until they shatter. Given both the animal and the character of Kanae, this was an all too appropriate fit. The doppel’s mechanical appearance is pretty and both a nice reference to hummer feathers (they give off a metallic sheen when light hits them), and to Kanae’s aloof exterior.

6. Sylvie

Given how sweet and caring Ikumi is, this one was a surprise. Sylvie’s a very invasive doppel-moreso than Hevelius even-in that she’s not only formed from Ikumi’s lower half, but also seems to thread her way through her entire body given Ikumi’s eyes turn into glowing, barbed anchors. Definitely lines up with her nature, but...jesus. She gives the impression she’s based around one of those cymbal monkey toys, which is already creepy enough, but Sylvie’s “head” is just Ikumi, and also the gigantic screw jutting out of her upper back. The accordion midsection does not help in any of this and makes Sylvie’s movements look off, even for a doppel. Good but horrifying design, though the glowing eye anchors are a little over the top for me.

5. Hund Balou

Hund Balou is one of the rare genuinely disturbing doppels; Hanna was already very close to being her by externalizing her curse on the world and those around her, so there’s not much for Hund to do except just. be destructive. Her form is creepy, her description’s creepy, everything about Hund is really screwed up. And Hanna, being spiteful, vindictive Hanna, loves her and thankfully, never got the opportunity to use her for some pretty obvious reasons. Hanna’s relationship with Hund is similar to Alina’s with Old Dorothy-both are in sync with their doppels and have the same goal, which is...horrifying given both characters. Hund is really cluttered and witch-like in appearance, being covered in leashes, chains, and buttons with a splattered green/purple/blue dress topping it all off. Her mixed media feel is pronounced, which is a good indication of how close Hanna is to her, and how messed up her implications really are.

4. Ein Roter Drache

This is the stupidest, and yet most awesome doppel I have ever seen; it’s a dragon that makes its entrance by riding on its hoard of treasure and smacks its targets with its tail. The tiny crown is a really funny touch for it and I will forever be sad that I can’t get Elisa outside of a support as of NA’s shutdown

Also love how it’s just Elisa’s bottom half to give the illusion she’s riding the doppel-that’s awesome and I love the creativity going into it

3. Oaji

*Insert the “What are you doing in my swamp” mere here*

Oaji takes the appearance of an entire swamp that lures people in, hinting at both the barrier of the witch and the witch herself possibly being similar to Zola, which is a cool concept. I love how simple she looks, and her coming out from behind Chiharu lines up with her misguided efforts to help her. She kind of gives off a similar vibe to Elsa Maria from the original series-even the branches bring the Sebastian familiars to mind. Also really love the lantern and the gray pool forming underneath Chiharu-the gold streaks just really top everything off here.

2. Marita

I love assassin bugs and so I love Marita. Instant number two for me

For real though, I didn’t expect these to be used as a doppel base, so I was very surprised when Sunao came out and her doppel had this as one. It looks appropriately creepy and very elegant, and I like the little necklaces hanging just below the head of the doppel. Marita also shares the needle/sewing aesthetic with Latria, and although there’s no blood, the giant one serving as a mouth is scary enough in implication. The crystal ball (that turns red during attacks) being the doppel’s abdomen’s also a nice touch.

Honorable Mentions:

Old Dorothy: Old Dorothy in-game is described as witch-like, and that’s because unless the viewer knows where her core body is, she just looks like an unrecognizable mass of puffballs and paper flowers dipped in orange paint. With witches, you can never really tell what it is you’re looking at, so Old Dorothy gives off that same impression. She didn’t officially make it because of her weird little core body, but I do love her gimmick.

Theresia: I do like Theresia, but I felt her design wouldn’t fit since I’m trying to avoid the more gory doppels. I do like how she’s literally just Sana’s ears, and how there’s two versions of her that have an equal chance of coming out (though this does present some complications when going competitive with Sana).

Poker Alice: Too much of what looks to be exposed muscle for me to feel comfortable putting her in, but I adore the skulls exploding outward behind the chair and the hands covering Yukika’s eyes. Speaking of, the eyes on this thing are both cool and nicely scary in contrast to the simplicity of the rocking chair.

Gosirsa: Colorful and very beautiful, the wheels at the front make for a surreal touch, something that many doppels tend to lack due to being scaled down versions of the full witch. Didn’t make it because there’s too few slots and too many doppels to choose from, but definitely in my personal faves.

1. Campanella

Campanella’s just the right amount of dumb, elegant, and unsettling, hence her being here at the number one spot. Yachiyo’s training event also helped me warm up to her; while Yu Hong and Cyan were self-defeating and frustrated respectively, Camp was really, really mellow by contrast. She seemed willing to work with Yachiyo as long as she accepted and stopped rejecting her, which was, at the time, a very nice change from the usual (not that Camp doesn’t try to take over however-once Yachiyo implies she’s going to keep running from her, she goes on the attack). She takes the form of a ticket puncher holding a lantern, comes out of Yachiyo’s leg, and gives the overall impression of a scorpion, ridiculously oversized shoes and all. Her anime appearances are a nice representation of Yachiyo’s fears and it’s just really satisfying to find out that they have enough of a relationship to where she can use her in fights. Doppels when it comes down to it are a sort of agreement/truce between the magical girl and their witch self; not only does it allow them to come back, it allows them to make peace with their insecurities and fears without the danger of turning into a witch. Campanella, both in-game and the anime, represents that relationship to its fullest, so she’s at the #1 spot.

#magia record #halloween special I guess #doppels

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silverwhiteraven · 4 years ago

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Wings of Broken White - Ch. 3

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 4 ]

[ Summary: Literal and Metaphorical dirt. ]

Hawkmoth had learned the lesson Monarch did not. Do not mix the positive power of a Blessing with negative emotions. Instead, enhance those negative emotions with the power of something else. Let his Champions be fueled by the opposite of a Blessing, something that haunts and feasts on darkness.

Give them Demons; give them an Akuma.

But still. He knew that he had to pick carefully what emotions he harnessed and the people behind them. Hawkmoth couldn’t afford to lose control of another Champion. And Gabriel refused to risk his son.

So he bided his time, researching and studying whatever he could. And while he waited, he built his public empire, funding his underground renovations and the care needed to keep his wife healthy.

Still alive, Emilie was kept that way in a chemically induced coma to prevent further deterioration. To the public, she was missing. In private, she was under the care of doctors from the world’s best medical center, Mayo Clinic.

Adrien would have been aware of her whereabouts were it not for the mistake and loss of control over Monarch’s Blessing. Gabriel had delayed telling his son the truth, and now there was no way to tell what would happen if he knew; what powers White Rose had truly gained beyond what was originally planned.

The thing is, Hawkmoth would have never surfaced if Gabriel could have prevented it. He was ready to let his wife go. But he still needed to find a way to remove the Blessing from Adrien, so he continued to use the Butterfly Miraculous, continued learning about it and the others.

But Adrien just had to go missing one early morning, barely before the sun had risen. Gabriel couldn't find him, neither could Adrien’s ever-present bodyguard. So in an act of desperation, Hawkmoth was brought to be. He then Akumatized the worried and protective bodyguard, granting him an ability to track down their shared ward.

This only furthered things along and also put them to a grinding stop.

The wielders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous arose to combat Hawkmoth’s Champion. Rather than admit why he was using the Butterfly in a dark way, he decided to reveal his last-ditch plan that he thought he would never bring himself to use, anyways.

He demanded their Miraculous. He was glad they refused, because he would not trust anyone so willing to give up such dangerous powers so easily instead of using them to protect.

So while plans to experiment with the use of Akumas were furthered, it was the mix of one Blessing and one Hero that halted everything.

Paris had very few albino citizens. It would be almost too easy to track down the potential civilian identities of Chat Blanc. But those white wings tipped in blue, so similar yet so contrasting to the black Starling wings of a younger Adrien? There was no way to deny such a similarity. And the Black Cat Miraculous itself would not change it’s own color scheme on a whim, either. Monarch himself had experimented with designs and color palettes, learning that only significant enchantments and magical interference could cause anything even a noticeable difference, not to mention such an extreme as turning Black to White.

The last nail in that theory's coffin was how Hawkmoth could feel the whispers of the Blessing influencing Chat Blanc. Certainly, it could have been a much older Blessing from a previous Butterfly Holder, but Gabriel highly doubted such coincidences could stack like this.

So, Gabriel accepted the facts. He felt heartbroken for his son that had to fight him, even if Chat Blanc didn’t know who he was fighting behind Hawkmoth’s mask. But he was so proud of him, too. Monarch’s Champion White Rose was doing what he was meant to; protect others from the harm of the Miraculous. And Gabriel’s son Adrien was free to be happy, as happy as he never was when inside the Agreste mansion, even when Emilie was still walking its halls. So Gabriel and Hawkmoth did nothing more than play his part as the fatherly villain.

He really didn’t mind how long it would take for it all to come to a close.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite her semi-disastrous first time as Ladybug, Marinette rather enjoyed the side-job.

Akuma’s were few and far between, and oftentimes could be talked down instead of fought head to head. Their abilities oftentimes got dangerous, yes, but Ladybug and Chat Blanc, not to mention the rest of Paris, were more than thankful that their Supervillain seemed to have at least some sort of moral code. He would prevent Akumatized villains from causing mass amounts of damage. Once, he had even taken back the powers and the Akuma that granted them, all because the Champion he had made was being unreasonably dangerous to innocent civilians.

Sometimes, she swore Hawkmoth would Akumatize students just so the whole district would have to let school out early due to the emergency. Maybe he had a soft spot for kids, maybe a child of his own? Either way, she appreciated the breaks.

Soon enough, a whole six months had passed since Hawkmoth first appeared.

The most recent attack had been earlier that evening. Marinette had to distract her Akumatized friend Nathaniel. He was akumatized because of Chloé. She had made fun of his art, at first. Then, to make things worse, she told him that he was right to have his and his boyfriend Marc’s hero-sonas to both be wingless, because the ones Nathaniel had were ‘wasted on his talentless existence’ and ‘if Marc wasn’t already wingless, then they would be utterly useless on him, too’. In general, it was a rather nasty scene.

Marinette had been quick to tell her to back off and leave Nathaniel and Marc alone. Adrien has sprung up right after her, telling Chloé not to talk to his friends like that, and even if she is his oldest friend he wasn't okay with her actions.

Marinette was proud of Adrien for standing up for others in the face of someone important to him. It was brave.

Unfortunately, their combined efforts didn’t prevent the Akumatization. Luckily, Evillustrator wasn’t a bad villain, he just really wanted to mess with Chloé with revenge-pranks.

Marinette got herself caught up in it by distracting him with other ideas. For example, using his power to create objects to set up a date with Marc. Chat Blanc had shown up part way into the setup of said date, and as a way to prevent Evillustrator from starting a fight, she had roped him into helping with the decoration ideas and music selection. He turned out to be a natural with romantic set-ups, and an even smoother talker, convincing Evillustrator to hand over his Akumatized item in exchange for them escorting Marc to the date’s location.

Marinette had managed to step away long enough while Blanc went to find Marc to transform into Ladybug, and called for her Lucky Charm just in case. It was nothing more than a red rose and she laughed happily to have a simple item with obvious intentions.

When Blanc returned, she showed herself and offered the rose to her partner, trying not to be flustered by her own romantic gesture. “Hold this for me, Kitty? I need to make sure their date goes well, and that means Nathaniel has to be here for it. Don’t want yours and Marinette's efforts to go to waste, now do we?”

Then, she took the Akumatized item from Blanc and broke it, purifying the butterfly within.

“What about the Lucky Charm?” Chat Blanc looked a tad confused. “As soon as you call for Miraculous Ladybug, everything Evillustrator made will disappear. Their date will go poof!”

Ladybug smiled knowingly. “Already thought that through. You hold on to that rose, okay? Or maybe let Nathaniel hold it? As long as I can find it again later, just make sure it’s safe. I’ll use Miraculous Ladybug long after their date is over, so nothing will get spoiled. Gotta go, Bug out!”

She returned to the scene as Marinette once more, finding a de-Akumatized Nathaniel on a successful date with Marc, and Chat Blanc still watching over them, happy for the couple. Satisfied, she made her way home, away from the setting sun.

Now, it was completely dark out and Marinette was drinking a thermos of hot chocolate on her balcony, wrapped in a warm blanket. The quiet night got interrupted by a shadow moving over the rooftops, followed by white boots lightly thumping onto her balcony. She sat up, surprised to see Chat Blanc still lurking about the city. He bowed theatrically with a gentle smile.

“Princess, what a lovely evening to see you! I presume I have found you safe and happy in your tower tonight?”

Marinette couldn't help but laugh. “You saw me maybe two hours ago, pretty-gryphlet, you know I’m perfectly fine.”

“True, but as your loyal, trustworthy, and handsome White Knight, I am obliged to check on you anyways.” He had bowed again and taken her hand, kissing the air above her knuckles ceremoniously. She had to fight back both her blush and her wing’s desire to flutter bashfully where they were hidden under the blanket.

“Silly gryphlet,” she smiled, before noticing his gloves were stained and had left some of it on her fingers. Then she noticed the dark spots on his boots and knees as well. She frowned in confusion, inspecting what was on her hand. “Why are you covered in dirt?”

“That dirty little secret,” he deflected the question easily with his pun and a cheeky smile, “I will explain soon. But first, I gotta ask, why do you call me ‘pretty Griflet’? I already know I look amazing, but is Griflet a reference to one of the knights of the Round Table? If so, I am honored to have such recognition.”

Marinette laughed and shook her head. “No, not a knight, a gryphon. You know, a mythological creature with the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle? You’re a cat, and you have wings, hence, gryphlet!” She explained proudly, before realizing how embarrassing it was to nickname one of the local Superheroes and retreated into her blanket.

Chat Blanc blinked owlishly at her explanation, but soon a smile bloomed on his face, and she could swear he was blushing under his mask.

“I like it,” he said softly, looking gentle and earnest.

“S-So anyways! Blanc Chat, I mean, Chat Blanc, I uh, You say were? Were saying? About the, uhm, dirt?” She turned away, grabbing her thermos to keep her hands busy.

“Oh! Right!” He brightened even more, his eyes starting to look like that of an excited kitten. “Come with me somewhere, Princess? I know it’s cold out so I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to show you something.”

She nodded, standing up and setting the thermos aside. Then she hesitated, once more remembering her wings. “I...Blanc, can you keep a secret for me?”

“Of course, what is it?” He looked curious and just so innocent. She couldn’t do it.

“Uh, never mind, next time, okay? I don’t think I’m ready. To say anything, I mean, not that I don’t want to see what you want to show me, but also I’m not ready to go yet for that either, wait, i meant-!” She closed her mouth with a snap, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. “What I mean is, let me just get something from my room real quick? I should really put on shoes and something warmer than pajamas. Then we can go!”

“Of course! I’ll be here when you’re done.” Oh Kwami, he was so patient with her, and understanding, too. Could he get any nicer, she wondered?

She fumbled her way back into her room, swiftly putting on a wing-binder, thick white leggings, and a warm long-sleeved baby blue dress. She remembered to grab some shoes, too. As she climbed back up to the balcony, she tried to ignore the fact that she had chosen to wear colors close to Chat Blanc’s. From the look on his face, he was probably trying not to think about it too much, either. “Ready, Marinette?”

“Ready. So uhm, how are we going to get there?” she shuffled on her feet, hands fidgeting.

He grabbed the thermos she had set down and put it into her hands, warming them, and subsequently her cheeks, too.

Politely he asked, “Permission to carry you?”

“Granted? Wait, carry? Like, on your back carry or- Woah!” He answered by sweeping her into a classic princess carry. “Uh, works, I guess, this does? I mean- Okay,” she finally squeaked out.

He chuckled and held her securely, but gentle. “Let’s not waste time. Hold on tight!”

She didn't scream dramatically when he jumped from her balcony, but she also won't admit she might have squeaked again from the unfamiliar feeling of jumping over rooftops while untransformed, let alone while being carried.

But the trip to their destination really was rather short, as only a couple minutes later he was setting her back down on her own two feet.

The rooftop was surrounded by decorative iron fencing. Candles, protected from the wind in glass jars, lined the top of the railing and between the bars. What really caught her eyes, however, where the Lily-of-the-Valley flowers spread around decoratively. She couldn't help but gape at them. The scene was gorgeous, and she wondered why Chat Blanc had brought her here. Did he do this? Was this why he was covered in dirt? She turned to him where he stood looking almost nervous for her reaction.

“Chat...It’s beautiful. Did you set this up? Did you get these flowers yourself?”

He perked up, glad to see she wasn’t reacting badly. “I did. I also learned I’m a really bad gardener,” he chuckled, and she smiled, amused. “And don’t worry, I didn’t steal any of this stuff, it was all mine already. Well, sort of. The candles were my Mother’s, and I use them sometimes. The flowers came from our yard- They would have died soon anyways, the brief warm spell this week made them bloom too early, so I thought I might as well put them to use. So, you like it, Marinette?”

She giggled and nodded, looking away shyly. “Why set all this up, anyways? Special night?”

He nodded, his own gaze shy as well. “Sort of? Ladybug trusted me with something. And earlier today, this amazing girl I know helped me take down an Akuma. So I wanted to prove I can be trusted with Ladybug’s thing, while also getting to show that amazing girl how much I appreciated her, even if it is only for a little bit. Here,” he stepped to the side, bringing Marinette’s curious gaze to a small table she hadn't noticed before.

It had a few more candles and flowers on it, but there was a delicate vase in the center. She quietly gasped as she noticed the red rose, Ladybug’s Lucky Charm, sitting in the vase. Chat Blanc plucked it from its place and held it out to her.

“For the most creative and wonderful Princess in all of Paris,” he smiled, bowing as he presented the rose. He chuckled sheepishly, then, “Well, you can’t keep it forever, because it is Ladybug’s, but I figured that if anyone was worthy of keeping it safe until she needed it, that person would be you.”

Dumbfounded and flustered into silence, Marinette accepted the rose with her free hand.

“Well, I guess I should take you back home now, huh?” He asked awkwardly.

“O-Oh, uh, sure,” she agreed, still distracted as she held the red rose close to her chest.

This time, she was prepared for him to lift her, and she stayed quiet on their way back to her balcony. This time, she noticed how warm he was and just how easy it was to trust him even as a civilian. She wouldn't admit to being sad when he set her down again, though.

“Until next time, Princess; I hope to see you again,” once more he took her hand and gave the air over her knuckles a kiss, but before he could let go, she clutched his fingers tight, pulling his attention up to her eyes.

“Uhm- It’s cold out, and I barely touched my hot chocolate anyways.” She turned his hand over and set her thermos into his palm. “Take it with you. You can return it, next time we meet.”

He beamed at her and nodded. “It’s a date,” he winked teasingly, and she giggled. “See you later, then. Have a goodnight, Princess.”

And just like that, he was gone, and Marinette was left a blushing mess on her balcony until Tikki finally came out and told her to go to bed.

In the morning, the red rose was still where she left it on her desk, proving the night before was no dream. Tikki then informed her that it had slushed a bit while she slept, so she should be careful when she goes outside.

Ladybug went off in the early morning to check on Evillustrator’s reactions, only to find that they had been washed away by the sleet. It seemed that just like all other forms of art, even the magical creations of an Akuma were susceptible to the natural elements when exposed long enough.

So that morning, Ladybug returned an intact Lucky Charm to Marinette’s room, and Marinette got to keep the gift of an everlasting red rose.

#marichatmay2021 #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat blanc #marichat #ml wing au #wing-binding #willowbendt

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a-world-in-grey · 4 years ago

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Galahdian Gemstones

@secret-engima because headcanons (and I’d like your input on gemstone selections). Two sections - headcanons on Clan Stones, and some history stuff.

-Clan Stones.

-Like Clan Colors, each Clan has a gemstone or pair of gemstones that identify them. These stones are worn in their Clan Braid, usually the first bead in the braid (though some Clans wear theirs at the end, like the Ostium joiners or the Furia), followed by personal beads.

-Certain Clans do share one of their Stones, but each Clan has at least one of their stones unique to them and them alone that serves as their main Clan Stone. So, from the top to the bottom (not including pictures because this post is long enough):

-Altius: Chalcedony/Sunstone. There aren’t very many grey gemstones, but grey Chalcedony is very pretty, especially when banded (striped). For an orange stone, I headcanon sunstone because of my hcs of them being blood of Ifrit’s Blessed, and because it’s a very pretty gem. I headcanon sunstone being their main Stone, because they are one of two Clans that have Orange as a Clan Color. (Second choice for the Altius grey stone would be grey moonstone, without the blue sheen, to contrast the sunstone.)

-Arra: Alexandrite. The Arra are one of the Clans to have a single stone that represents both of their Clan Colors, as alexandrite (though in-verse it’s probably called something different) changes color from green to purple depending on the type of lighting. A suitably subtle gem for a subtle Clan.

-Bellum: Carnelian/Dumortierite. Dumortierite is a pretty blue stone that I chose because of the name - dumortier is a French surname meaning death, though the in-verse name is likely different. Carnelian is their main stone since they are the only Clan with Red as a Clan Color (primary or secondary), and every Bellum is willing to Throw Hands at the drop of a hat.

-Bestia: Chrysoberyl. Again, probably a different name in-verse, but this pretty stone comes in both yellow and green. The yellow is likely their main Stone.

-Canere: Sapphire. Specifically color changing sapphire, which like alexandrite, changes color in different light. Color changing sapphire changes between blue and purple.

-Carduus: Moonstone. Blue moonstone is a silvery-grey stone with a blue sheen, representing both the Blue and Grey colors of the Carduus, as well as harkening back to their original Secondary Color of Silver. (My second choice for them would be Labradorite, which is a dark-grey stone with flashes of blue and green, though blue is the most common and what the Carduus would reserve for their beads.)

-Furia: Pearl. Pearls come in a variety of natural colors, though as a rule they tend to be fairly pale. I headcanon that the Furia are the only Clan to wear pearls as hair beads, and few outside the Furia wear pearls as jewelry, most of them being Lazarus, Arra, Praesidium, and the occasional Canere. Furia wear orange and blue pearls as their Clan Stones, and make quite the profit selling the white and pink pearls to the Mainland.

-Khara: Purple/Yellow Jade. Purple jade (known as Turkiyenite) is only 40-60% jadeite and so not technically classified as such. However, this is fiction so we can do whatever, and it’s very pretty. The purple jade is their main Stone.

-Lazarus: Citrine/Quartz. Quartz comes in a variety of colors, including grey. Citrine would be their main Stone. (Alternate grey stone would be chalcedony, which they could feasibly share with the Altius, since chalcedony is really common.)

-Ornata: Lapis Lazuli. While mostly blue, lapis lazuli is known for its gold flecks. (While I really like this stone, I know it’s not necessarily a perfect fit, so another option could be topaz - which comes in both yellow and blue varieties.)

-Ostium: Tanzanite/Onyx. The Ostium are one of the only clans that place their Clan Stone at the end of their braid - the black onyx joiners are the hallmark of the Ostium Clan. Onyx also comes in green, which is what Ostium Braincells wear to designate that they’ve got an Ulric to cluck after.

-Praesidium: Azurite/Malachite. These two stones often form near each other and mixed together, resulting in a pretty and vibrant blue and green stone. Praesidium are the only Clan to have two Clan Stones they are known by, with azurite and malachite being worn in equal amounts alongside the azurite/malachite mixes.

-Tibiae: Quartz/Emerald. Contrary to what one might think, emerald is actually this Clan’s main Stone. Because that Clan needs a warning label, and it’s the only one they are going to give you. (Other options for green stones could be chrysoprase or peridot. Could also use chalcedony or grey moonstone for grey stones.)

-Ulric: Onyx/Charoite. Ulrics share onyx with the Ostium, the latter wearing it after picking up the Black Clan Color from the Ulrics. However, the Ulric main Stone is charoite. (An alternate purple stone is amethyst, but I think charoite is prettier and generally prefer semi-precious stones to precious stones.)

-(Astrum: Obsidian/Heliodore. Differing from the other Clans in that their Stones come from the Lucian mainland. Their main Stone is their obsidian joiner, similar to the Ostium.)

-History headcanons!

-Galahd is rich in gemstones and metals. Much like real-life Myanmar, Galahd has just about every kind of gemstone imaginable, with the exception of diamonds (which Galahdians don’t really wear anyway).

-As such, before the Burning it is very common for every Galahdian to wear precious and semi-precious stones for their braids and jewelry.

-Now, I headcanon that before Lucis folded Galahd into the Empire, mining was not a huge business in Galahd. Oh, it was definitely a viable profession, but the Clans didn’t use a lot of gemstones, and generally weren’t picky about what they did mine up. The best quality went to making beads, and the rest went to jewelry.

-After being ‘conquered’ by Lucis, well. Wealthy Lucians were highly interested in the ‘untapped resources’. Now, depending on how dark you want to take things, this could go a couple different ways. We’ll start with the least nasty, because why not.

-First possibility is that Galahd is able to dictate the trade of Galahdian gemstones. They present a selection for sale, and the Lucian traders buy what they want. Trying to pressure the Galahdians into offering more/higher quality Does Not Happen, because the first attempts are shut down hard by the Galahdians and the Crown slaps down any armed hostilities from breaking out because We Do Not Fight The Jungle Children FOR THE LOVE OF THE SIX. This likely results in some resentment from the Lucians and wariness from the Galahdians, but nothing too drastic.

-Second possibility, still fairly light, but a bit darker, is that the Lucians’ offers for high quality gems drives local prices up, making it harder for Galahdians to sell/buy their own gems. As such, local gems become much more scarce, until they are almost exclusively reserved for Clan Beads. This scenario is going to breed a fair amount of resentment from the Galahdians towards the Lucian mainland, specifically the nobility/wealthy.

-Third possibility, which is very dark, is that Lucian corporate interests manage to get a foothold in Galahd, and begin large mining operations - either with their own Lucian workers or with locals. Lucian workers would be paid more, lured by a promise of making money, but clashes between the workers and locals would be higher. Galahdian workers would likely be paid far less, and oh boy would that breed it’s own resentment, but there would be less possible conflict between Galahdians and Lucians, other than overseers management. This is going to breed a lot of resentment, to the point of possible outright rebellion from the Galahdians.

-Then we have Niflheim occupying Galahd. And things get a whole lot worse. Because Niflheim is only going to see the potential profit from Galahd’s gemstone resources and won’t care how they get it.

-In the darkest scenario, take that third possibility, and crank it up to eleven. Large scale environmental destruction, forced work in the mines, and pittance pay. Exploitation at its worst. Galahdians likely had to hide their Stones or have them confiscated by Niflheim overseers and sold overseas, and you can bet the Nifs would dig up the Galahdian dead just to get at those beads too. The Galahdians wouldn’t be allowed to keep any of the stones they mined either. Not even the inferior quality stone unsuited for jewelry - Niflheim would have dumped it in the sea just to spite them.

-(Look, there’s a reason Galahd hates Mors for pulling the Wall and leaving them to Niflheim’s ‘mercy’. There’s a reason the Galahdian refugees can’t go home, even after almost twenty years post-Burning. There’s a reason so many refugees left, even before the Burning. Why so many chose to fight for a mainlander king. Why so many Betrayed Regis when he surrendered to Niflheim. Why Luche and the others took Niflheim’s deal.)

-During the Occupation, there was probably resistance and rebellion everywhere Niflheim turned, until they decided to cut their losses and Burn it all. (Perhaps they were losing too many workers. Or perhaps they’d exhausted the mines and didn’t care to look for new ones.)

-In Lucis, any refugees likely had to sell their Stones just to survive. Those that didn’t wouldn’t be allowed to wear them if they lived in Insomnia, because of the Sumptuary Laws or for fear of being arrested on charges of theft. (And even if the charges were dropped, many of the stones confiscated as ‘evidence’ were coincidentally ‘lost’.) For those that lost their Stones, replacing them is near impossible - either they are too expensive, impossible to find, or in most cases both.

-Which is when carved and painted wooden beads become the norm.

#Shadow of Heaven's Light #ffxv #worldbuilding #galahd #galahd culture #braids #lucis #history #I have spent way too much time looking up gemstones #in other words I now have the exact stones everyone wears in their braids

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littleeyesofpallas · 4 years ago

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So i kind of went on a brief tangent in my last Bleach post about how it always stuck out to me that Kubo designed a lot of the Visored as being very kind of specific to the 1970s, or at least not contemporary. And other than the styles themselves being fairly distinct to anyone who’d recognize them, what also pushes the contrast into the spotlight is how unlike Kubo’s sense of style it is otherwise.

But let’s talk about what that even means...

Kubo was kind of well known for his chapter covers and impeccable sense of style by the time the Arrancar was well underway. But it wasn’t always like that, his early sensibilities were very street and sporty (and frankly kind of ugly if you ask me) A lot of graphic tees, random English, and things like windbreakers or other utilitarian outer wear. His idea of accessorizing was sweatbands, sports watches, and scarves/bandanas. And a LOT of different colors, often bold primaries, in every individual outfit.

Also a lot of goggles and headphones, which strikes me as funny, because he also tried to throw goggles into a lot of actual character designs, yet always wound up ditching them in the end... Ganju and Renji both started with goggles that they ditched without explanation.

(the above are actually from the digital colored manga release, but tiling them in black and white at that scale was just going to be illegible. Only the Chapter 5 cover(top row: 2nd from left) was originally a color page. The digital colorist seems to have a pretty firm grasp of Kubo’s sense of style though.)

It seemed like he started picking up a taste for semi-formal wear around the Soul Society Arc, but he also started doing more cover art that was just characters in their in-story outfits, and the series of Shinigami with their names in a kind of calligraphic style, so Kubo’s fashion sense kind of vanished from sight for a while.

(The calligraphy and general wet and heavy brushwork is something else that Kubo picked up and developed into his style over time. It definitely wasn’t in his early Bleach work, or his earlier work. He seemed to start with hand lettering his sound effects, but over the course of the SoulSociety Arc he really started incorporating it into his actual illustration. But that’s a different subject...)

It’s not uncommon for manga artists to pull from real world reference material, although I think it tends to be more common in shoujo artists, but Kubo clearly started perusing fashion magazines, or maybe just google, for inspiration as things went on. And whether he kept working off reference material or eventually developed kind of an eye for design himself, he clearly has the ability to focus in on one particular style over another when he wants to; That is to say, he can work in starkly different styles, and doesn’t just have one core kind of fashion he makes small variations on.

So, when he does something like Shinji’s very 60s-70s British mod wardrobe, with a blonde moptop and a toothy grin, it’s not a coincidence. He knew what style he was going for and he homed in on it, and probably searched it by name when looking for reference.

And that’s the reason I get so hung up on these lingering features of the Visored that didn’t actually go anywhere... Shinji’s thing about Jazz in Turn Back the Pendulum even solidifies this to me, because the “110 years ago” timeframe, be it from the in-world time or the publication date just doesn’t add up. So why have it at all? The obvious answer to me is that because, even if Kubo never intended Shinji to have been around 110 years ago, he did always intend Shinji to be into Jazz. And again, the deliberate fashion choice with Shinji side by side with a Jazz theme points to the 1960s-70s Jazz-Rock scene.

Also, just a random detail, but every other Visored has just one outfit, yet Shinji changes clothes EVERY time the day changes during the Arrancar Arc.

Then there’s the distinct 1970s shoujo vibes with Rose that place him in a very specific time period.

And Mashiro’s tokusatsu bodysuit, heart-shaped and bug-eyed hollow mask, and gogo boots+goggle glasses look, are all 1970s staples. The overall outfit I believe a bad pun on Gogo Dancers and Gorenjaa(5-Ranger), her hollow mask is a mix of Momorenja(Pink-Ranger)’s heart shaped visor and Kamen Rider’s grasshopper helmet: The original Kamen Rider and Himitsu Sentai Gorenja series airing in 1971 and 75, respectively.

It’s just super apparent that Kubo had the 1970s in his crosshairs, and it’s hard to really take a concrete guess at exactly why. But by proximity some of the others like Kensei start to naturally fall into place as their more obvious themes have their own links to the 1970s.

And this is just a bunch of Arrancar Arc covers for comparison. Unlike the other two image sets these are actually mostly originally color pages; in fact only the 1st-4th, and 7th(Uryuu) tiles in the top row were originally black and white.

#bleach #Hirako Shinji #Kuna Mashiro #Visored #Kubo Tite

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bang-tan-bitches · 4 years ago

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MONSTER MASH 2020 ENTRY 3

Room Service

Waves hit the shoreline as Y/N scuttles quickly down the sidewalk that borders the beach. Her front desk job at the Hotel Corll is waiting to meet her at the end of the walkway. Light posts slowly line just ahead, then besides, and then behind her, flickering on as the sun sets and the icy fog rolls inland. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N catches a glimpse of a freshly printed missing persons poster, with bold Arial black letters in contrast to the young pretty redhead with a coy smile, blue eyes peering back. She considers the expense of printing in color ink then moves on. She was already late getting out of her clinicals as it were. As she rounds up onto the hotel property she takes in the sleek lines and wooden facade of the luxury hotel, hoping tonight isn’t as busy as yesterday. She could barely keep her eyes open during her clinicals today, earning a scolding from her nursing professor much to the amusement of her fellow classmates. Bunch of morons.

“Took you long enough!” A voice rings out as Y/N steps into the lobby. Her coworker Soohyun is waiting with a grin, coat on and purse in hand, for her to approach the desk so she could finally go home. The lobby is as intimidatingly large as it is cold. Cream marble floors lead up to the dark oak front desk, with wooden columns lined in neat even rows between the entrance and where Y/N will be standing for the rest of the night. Vaulted ceilings seem to encase the room, a remnant from the hotel prior to renovations. Though the fireplace casts a glow from the sitting area, it is difficult to penetrate the natural draftiness of the building, though its easy to blame it on the shoreline the hotel sits on.

“Jungkook is actually already here, just had to go use the restroom,” Soohyun scoots to let Y/N place her schoolbag into the employee cubby under the desk. “Was pretty quiet today, so should be an easy night, though I’m surprised you didn’t just call off sick. You look…how do I say this, ghastly?” Y/N stands back up, pouting at the comment.

“I would, but rent’s comin’ up soon, and you know my roommate always slacks on her half,” she says as she logs in for the start of her shift. “I’ll survive. Besides, I’m off tomorrow. I’ll just sleep in then.”

“Alright, your choice,” Soohyun responds. “Any case, I’ll see you in the morning! Good night!”

Her heels clack on the floor as Soohyun struts her way out of the building, posh bag in hand and not a hair out of place despite the end to a long shift. Y/N looks positively bedraggled in comparison, her flats scuffed badly on the sides and a small stain on her shirt from her attempt at chugging her coffee before getting on the bus. As she swipes in with her master key, Jungkook steps behind the desk, returning from the restroom.

“Hey Jungkook, how’s it goin’?” Y/N asks. Jungkook just nods his head and grunts in response, doe eyes half-lidded as he quietly prepares for the shift. He is a quiet man who attends the same school that she does, though he is studying photography. Stoic and observant, he only speaks as needed, but is a hard worker and is always at the ready to tend to guest needs. Standing at his computer station, his lean height towering over Y/N, he prints out the list of remaining check ins for the night.

“We have two VIP guests tonight. Looks like Mr. Jung extended his weeklong stay in the Hindley Suite for another night. He requested extra towels for his stay tonight. Kim Namjoon has not checked in yet though he did call to let us know he will probably be checking in late.” Jungkook reads off monotonously from his computer screen.

“Looks like Miss Lim left a note, she says the Holmolka suite is not available to be rented out? Ah geez, did somebody trash it last night?” Y/N crumples up the pale-yellow post it that was stuck on her computer screen and tosses it in the trash.

“Seems so,” he deadpans.

Miss Lim is the long-time owner of the Hotel Corll, a heavy smoker with too strong Chanel No. 5 seeping from her body and too red lipstick trying to make up for lost time. With a plastic personality that matches her new nose and lips, she is a real piece of work. At least the job pays well. That reminder has served Y/N well in her comparatively shorter time working at the hotel. Nothing like the hospitality industry to suck the life out of everyone that deals with it. Miss Lim’s gaudiness reflects in her property from the gold painted- furniture to the overly lavish light fixtures that look like a Versailles fantasy from hell. However, this seems to not be a detriment to the establishment’s business. In fact, despite appearances, the hotel gained a small, loyal, and wealthy following due to the hotel’s strict confidentiality code. It has done well for Y/N’s pockets.

About an hour after the night shift began, Seokjin, the head housekeeper, and Yoongi, the live-in handyman, walk into the lobby wearily. Their eyes are drooping in exhaustion. Seokjin’s blonde tresses gleam as several pieces of hair are left in disarray. Yoongi takes his cap off to run his well-worn hand through his hair and then returns the hat to its original position. They both make their way to signing out of work, looking as if they were both asked to run a marathon.

“Are you two just leaving now?” Y/N asks. She looks a bit puzzled that both employees are still on the clock even though their shifts usually ended two hours earlier.

“Had to finish essentially rebuilding the Homolka suite,” utters Yoongi. “Took damn near all day to complete.”

“The guests from last night absolutely decimated the room, you’d have thought they were raised with by wolves!” Seokjin exclaimed. His irritation was agreed upon by Yoongi with a harumph. “Now if you excuse me, I’ve got to get home and soak my feet,” he continues. “I think they have earned their reward. Good night!” And with exhausted feet, he slowly wobbles out of the building. Yoongi simply waves his hand goodbye and makes his way to one of the two elevators to go up to his small room.

As the evening wears on, more guests straggle in through the hotel doors and up to the front desk. The quiet mumbles of guests checking in, ringing credit cards through the clerking system to confirm their reservations, and authorizing payment becomes the soundtrack to Y/N’s evening. The monotony and false smiles are what’s getting her through the evening. At nine o’clock the long-awaited VIP guest Mr. Kim Namjoon steps through the hotel’s door. He walks up to the front desk with an even and patient gait. A false smile sits on his plush lips though it fails to reach his eyes. Like cold fisheyes Y/N thinks. Jungkook and Y/N both stand to attention, almost as if preparing to be disciplined by the school principal. With stillness and silence, Mr. Kim reaches Y/N’s section of the front desk. He always did prefer young women. The more impressionable the better.

“Good evening Mr. Kim, how may I help you?” Y/N asks. A shiver of trepidation slithers up her spine. His handsome face just serves to accentuate the fear.

“Just checking in, and how are you this evening?” Mr. Kim responds, the partial smile never slipping off his face. Y/N voices her learned pleasantries and decides at that moment she never wants to be caught alone unawares by this man. She takes the black card from his proffered hand to finish the check in process, the sooner the better.

“This is the Lalaurie suite, correct?” he asks. “And to confirm, can you please make sure the complimentary room service is added to my reservation? There was a mix-up the previous time I stayed here and wouldn’t want a repeat of that, would we?” His tone says amicable and easy going, but his eyes say otherwise. His eyes convey zero tolerance for mistakes.

“Yes, of course Mr. Kim, anything for our most loyal guest. Is there anything else you would like added to the reservation?” Y/N weakly inquires.

“No, not at all. Oh, and I have a guest with me on this reservation, though she will be arriving later. Please call my room when she does.” And with that, Mr. Kim takes his room key and makes his way to his preferred suite. Y/N releases a sigh of relief as Jungkook’s shoulders visibly relaxes. He still says nothing.

The night continues as a typical and quiet one for both front desk employees. Jungkook receives requests for extra towels and bathroom amenities which he delivers every so often while Y/N begins the night audit for the hotel. That is until the two figures enter the hotel and disrupt what was supposed to be a normal evening. They are covered in head to toe blue, their badges visible as is their handguns on their waists. Both men step up to Jungkook’s side of the desk. Great, the cops are here.

“Officer Park, how may I help you?” Jungkook asks with the usual lack of enthusiasm. Of the two policemen in the hotel, Officer Park Jimin is a recognizable face amongst the staff as he is an acquaintance of Miss Lim. Or one of her many lovers as Soohyun loves to put it. Between his cocksure expression, his flirtatious demeanor, or an ass designed to fill out tight pants, the sentiment is not too far of a stretch for Y/N to believe. As for the other cop, neither Y/N nor Jungkook have ever seen the officer before. With a knowing glance between the hotel employees and Jimin, this does not bode well. And they all know it.

“Hello, I am Officer Kim Taehyung, and apparently you seem to already know Officer Park,” Taehyung supplies with a suspicious glare thrown Park’s way. “We’re here as we’ve received an anonymous call about this place yesterday. Seems some folks happened to have been walking outside the hotel and happened to hear screaming and pleading from an open window. Would either of you happen to know anything about it?” Taehyung shifts his gaze between Jungkook and Y/N in expectation. They are more screwed than they previously thought.

“No.” Jungkook replies as succinct as possible.

“No,” Officer Kim straightens up and forces his shoulders back, eyebrows furrowing. His demeanor is growing more aggravated by the second. “That’s it huh? Hey, what about you?” He throws out to Y/N, who makes it a point to match Jungkook’s countenance closely. “You see anything suspicious at all?”

“Nope, I wasn’t even working yesterday. Been off all week,” she lies through her teeth. “But, if you need to speak to the owner, you can give us your name and number and we can relay the information to her.”

“See I would, but the girl who we came to speak to yesterday gave me the same bullshit and now I’m here again. So, I will ask one more time, what do you two know about whoever that was screaming bloody murder on your property?” says Taehyung.

“We don’t know anything,” supplies Y/N. “Now unless you got a warrant or something, I going to have to ask you to leave. Now.” Her lips purse in barely retained frustration. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin defiantly. She refuses to be cowed by this fool. She has encountered much worse than the likes of him.

“You know you two could get in big trouble for lying to an officer of the law, right?” Taehyung encroaches into Y/N’s space, face molded into a sneer, dark eyes peering into hers. He was a man used to getting what he wanted. However, before he could go any further, Jimin steps in.

“Hey, come one Tae, she’s got a point, no warrant not much we can do. And besides, you know Chief told us to drop this. Let’s go.”

Although Officer Kim looks prepared to argue, with his partner standing down, he knows he will have to leave and regroup before anything further happens.

“Fine,” he relents, “but I will be seeing you again. The both of you.” And with heavy steps he exits the building, fury pulsing through his body. Jimin hangs back.

“It might be time for the boss lady to start pulling her connections for that one,” he throws his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at his partner. “Could be trouble if it isn’t nipped in the bud.” Park tips his hat, winks at Y/N, and leaves, easygoing and stride confident. Perv.

Jungkook picks up the phone as soon as the officers leave, speed dialing Miss Lim with the update. She picks up on the first ring, fully aware of Officer Kim’s previous visit. Her words are difficult for Y/N to hear through the receiver. Despite not hearing the words, she can tell her employer is instructing Jungkook to navigate through the clerking system to look up the previous occupant of the suite. It was the Holmolka suite. With a few clicks here and there, it looks like the Mrs. Ushakova that rented the room on the aforementioned date is added to the Do Not Rent list, all her guest privileges cleared and an alert placed on her account. Mistakes as done by Mrs. Ushakova are not allowed by establishments such as the Hotel Corrl, where silence and confidentiality are sacred dogma. Her indiscretions come with repercussions. Jungkook hangs the phone up.

With the hours flowing by, the previous lethargy felt by Y/N has now been replaced with worry due to the police’s visit. She hopes that the remainder of the night shift can continue as normal. Though that remains to be seen, as Mr. Kim’s guest now arrives. Y/N has seen her face before. In fact, she just saw her this morning, at St. Francis for her clinical rotation. The girl giggled particularly obnoxiously, in-light of Y/N’s reprimand via their professor. She just can’t seem to remember the girl’s name for the life of her. She must be more tired than she realized.

“Call Mr. Kim’s room, he should’ve mentioned that I was supposed to be arriving.” she hadn’t even made it all the way to the front desk before she starts haughtily commanding the employees to do her bidding. Jungkook takes this as his cue to simply crouch low under the desk as if he were searching for something. He isn’t. As the girl reaches Y/N, she lays one well-manicured hand on the large oak desk while leaning on the other one. She examines her nails as though she was contemplating different acrylic shades that can replace her current pearlescent one. Y/N hesitates for a beat, a sliver of concern for her classmate becoming more discernible after another second. Unfortunately for her, the girl notices, her eyes flicking upwards.

“Hello? I said I was expected, shouldn’t you be notifying him?” she asks, her snobbishness a blatant fixture on her person.

After another missed beat, Y/N clicks through her computer program. She is aware of exactly who this girl is, and as such, dithers her way around the clerking system. She can’t just let her classmate go to Mr. Kim’s room, can she?

“Sorry, he doesn’t seem to be checked in, are you sure this Mr. Kim is staying here?” Y/N asks. Jungkook side-eyes her from below, still looking for nothing.

The girl narrows her stare, scrutinizing the female operating the front desk. Realization dawns on her as she smirks. She fails to read the near-imploring gaze her classmate working the computer gives her, a sign of precaution.

“Oh, I know you. You’re that dumbass from this morning! At St. Francis Hospital? The one that went into the wrong patient’s room and tried to give her the wrong medication? I remember you,” the girl’s smirk expands. “Now you see, I know my date for the night is here, I have it right here in his texts,” She brings her phone up as if to show Y/N the incriminating evidence. “And I don’t think it would do so well for your job here if I just call him and let him know that you of all people are stopping him from getting my services for the night, would it? How about this, you don’t stop me from doing my job and I will make sure you don’t lose yours!” She flips her hair with a flourish. Y/N pauses for a moment, a sickeningly sweet smile appearing on her mouth.

“Ah, it seems I have made a mistake, he has already checked in.” A few extra clicks on the computer and a newly scanned room key later, she picks up the hotel phone to make a call up to the Lalaurie suite.

“Mr. Kim, your guest is here, shall I send her on up?” With Mr. Kim’s confirmation delivered, Y/N delivers her classmate to his suite, hospitality in full swing.

###

A few minutes after 3 o’clock in the morning, the front desk phone rings. Y/N is reading a chapter in her textbook about proper bedside manner whereas Jungkook is playing solitaire on his computer. Like second nature he picks up the receiver. Mr. Jung is calling. With little being said, Jungkook turns to his colleague.

“Hey, Mr. Jung wants his extra towel service now, you think you could do it?”

“Sure, gotta get away from this book or I might go cross-eyed.” She replies. She takes her master key and walks towards the elevator down the hall. She presses the glass button, standing in front of the elevator doors, a tacky reflective emerald green coating the doors as she waits. She looks up at the electronic number screen above the doors, the numbers still descending, five, four, three, two, one. A ding sounds out as the doors slide open and Y/N steps in, pressing for the twelfth floor, where the most important guests stay. When the doors reopen, this time many stories above ground, she takes a left down the hallway where in a small corridor next to the elevator is a well-maintained utility closet. To provide Mr. Jung his towel service, she grabs a laundry bin, a couple plastic tarps, several bottles of bleach, gloves, and many white fluffy towels made from the finest Egyptian cotton. Only quality at the Corll. Bin in hand, Y/N rolls the container down the hallway, past the elevator to one of the only three rooms on this level. Arms going jiggly from pulling the cart to its designated location she finally stops in front of the Kemper suite, Mr. Jung Hoseok’s room. She knocks on the door three times, and before a fourth one rings out, Hoseok swings the door open, blood coating his clothes and body, from his hands to his neck, splatters across his visage.

“Oh! Thank you! You can put that over here,” he says appreciatively, pointing to a corner of the room next to the flat-screened television. Y/N rolls the bin full of supplies past the lean black haired man, across the blood soaked carpet, past the cold blue corpse lying in a pool of his own liquids, past the California King euro plush mattress to the corner of the room.

“There you go sir. Now you do know that because you are staying in our Kemper suite you have complimentary room service, right? Are you sure you just want the extra towel service?” she asks doubtfully.

“No, no, its fine, I always preferred doing my own disposal, I can get it just right that way!” Mr. Jung smiles enthusiastically. With a smile and a nice hundred-dollar tip in hand she looks over at the redhead splayed on the floor, blue eyes staring wide eyed at the ceiling, fear frozen in their features. She looks smaller than she did on her own poster Y/N notes, before tucking the money away and leaving the room.

She shuts the door behind her and turns towards the elevator when she notices something at the other end of the hall. Someone is crawling. Y/N lets out a deep sigh, tucks her tip into her pocket, and stalks down the hall in exasperation. As she gets closer, she sees its her classmate from before bleeding profusely, begging for help.

“Please, please help me! I’m- I’m dying!” she gurgles out, sobbing in between her words. Y/N bends down, and huff expelled, grabs the girl’s long hair soaked in her own blood before she starts dragging her back down the hall, back to her client’s door. She screams and cries and begs for her life, but Y/N is unphased, continues dragging her classmate to her doom. Three door knocks echo through the hallway. Namjoon opens the door, perplexed by the sight before him. He is freshly showered, a towel slung low around his hips, water still dripping down his built chest. Cold fisheyes looking back.

“Sorry to bother you sir, seems you almost lost one.” She calmly says, as she lifts up the girl’s hair as she screams.

“Ah, my apologies,” he then reaches down into his bag sitting by the door. “I thought I had finished with her. It seems I was incorrect.” With deft fingers he grasps the handle of a large hunting knife from the front pocket of his bag.

“No! No! Please!! Don’t-!” and with one swift slice, Namjoon swipes the blade through the girl’s throat. She falls forward, death rattle sounding out between her lips.

“It’s fine Mr. Kim, she couldn’t have made it far anyway.” Y/N asserted.

“Eh, I still pride myself in thoroughness,” He wipes the knife clean on the towel slung across his hips. “Could you make sure room service comes tomorrow after I have checked out?”

“Of course, sir, I will make sure to notate that for the morning shift. Have a good rest of your stay.” She bows her head a bit in deference and turns to make her way down the elevator.

###

As the morning sun rises, Yoongi makes his way to the hotel lobby for the free coffee and continental breakfast served there. He yawns into the air before grabbing an apple fritter in one hand and black coffee in the other. He turns to Y/N and Jungkook still manning the front desk, counting down the minutes until they can leave. He acknowledges the both of them but before he could go finish his treat Y/N stops him.

“Yoongi, before I forget, make sure the Lalaurie suite gets room service after Mr. Kim checks out. Its his special request.”

“Seriously?” he grumbles, “He is always ruining our mattresses! And we then we have to replace them! Last time, the new housekeeper accidentally walked into his suite before he left and he was honest to God cuddling the body! Who does that?” Y/N shrugs in response, her eyes bloodshot. She’s ready for the nap of a lifetime. Before she gets any more exhausted, Soohyun comes in for shift relief. Thank God. Jungkook offers a short update on the cop debacle and after not much longer both employees pack up and walk out the lobby doors.

Y/N shuffles towards her bus stop down the walkway, adjacent to the beach. She makes it past the light posts fading off, one by one as she walks past them. She walks by the missing persons poster and takes in the crisp clean air. She decides she is going to go home, sleep, and then wake up for a study session. If she wants to eventually be a top-notch nurse, she needs to act the part. She feels the tip money burning a hole through her pocket reminding her of a job well done. It gets messy but the pay is nice.

#BTB: monster mash challenge #monster mash 2020 #bts fanfiction #horror

28 notes · View notes

revalise · 4 years ago

Text

After the Sun [M] | 02

Pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer x Fem. OC

Genre: Romance and eventual smut

Rating: M

Words: 3730

Notes: Huge thanks to Rissa @bnha-aesthetic or beta reading this chapter!

I’m laughing at Astra’s future scenes, and I can’t wait to write it. THE BOLDNESS AND AUDACITY PLEASE.

Masterlist | Prologue | 03

Chrollo Lucilfer gets everything he wants, when he wants—even if it means undergoing extreme measures. Nothing bothered him, until an aphrodite, Astra Gerber, appeared one night and stole from the infamous thief. In return that Chrollo doesn't report her, he strikes a deal. But it could be more than what Astra bargained for.

CONSEQUENCES

There are three times Astra remembers disappointing her father.

Sure, she’d been doing that for a lot longer but those three times were the ones etched in her memory to never be forgotten.

The first time, Astra decided to take up Interior Design instead of Engineering, which her father had chosen for her beforehand.

They were aligned with law, politics, medicine, and studies that make their name. And to be a Gerber is to follow the rules set for them by their father; to be of use and bring praise to the family. It ran along their lineage, and no one deviated from it.

A family stays with you through tough times. Rooting for you and cheering you on to go further and take on the world as they guide you and keep you from falling. But not this family.

There is no room for failure. And it certainly meant no room for her.

Astra did not fancy making buildings upon buildings. The thought of having to toast her brains out with bricks, cement, and the hammering of nails did not feel suitable for her. Though she’s been told it wasn’t exactly necessary, she just couldn’t fathom the thought.

If it didn’t allow her to wear her killer heels for the rest of the day, she’s out of it.

However, she did fancy making a life out of establishments. The beauty inside, as she dramatically called it. She thought it’d be better to pursue something she likes, instead of something that did not appeal to her.

Unfortunately, her father thinks otherwise.

The second time, she told him that she’s going to try show business.

Martin lashed out then and gave her a reprimanding. To even think of joining that world, where everyone stepped on each other, interacted with hypocrisy, and filled with scandalous issues would be such a shame for the family. A disgrace.

Many wouldn’t know the reason why elites are so against show business. But then again, not many knew how much of a whorehouse it could be.

Young ones, coaxed by the industry, think of it as how they regard the night stars in the sky. But they forget their feet that’s stuck in the sewer. Only when they’ve fallen hard do they realize how deep they’ve sunk. Or how they couldn’t take those times back.

Ignoring her father’s comments and great disapproval, she continued anyway.

Despite her rising popularity, she didn’t realize the weight of the responsibilities it required. Thankfully, she was popular enough to only settle for modeling. Occasionally, she pairs up with a few girls from her agency to sing and dance to an original song. It wasn’t exactly an official group and was only meant for publicity, so it didn’t require too much work. The jobs she took with her big paychecks would be enough to sustain her personal, lifestyle, and social ‘needs.’

Lastly, when she refused to marry the man her father chose for her. Martin thought, if he couldn’t get anything from Astra because of her stubbornness, it’d be better to marry her off to some man who’d be of use to him.

All that ended to an embarrassment between both families when Astra decided not to show up, too hungover to even move. Not that she planned on meeting with the man anyway.

Three disappointments, and it caused their already tarnished relationship to rift further.

To Astra, it was absurd that her father thought he had complete control over her.

Who was he anyway? He was just some man who screwed her mother and left her pregnant until his mistake blew up in his face. He was just some man who slapped her with counselling with strangers when it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe his daughter wanted to talk to him instead.

She didn’t have the perfect role models to look up to. But she certainly was not a fool to obey someone just like that. She was sure to never take the path someone else had decided for her.

Astra Beatriz Gerber only belongs to Astra Beatriz Gerber.

Yes, she felt bold after all the times she went along with her wishes, rejecting her father’s commands. But she knew that after all that, she’d never get her father’s approval for anything again.

Martin, despite all the sunken wrinkles on his face and silver streaks against his raven hair, stands tall right in front of her, mocking her very existence.

And Astra felt small.

“What are you doing here?” Martin asked gruffly. The simple question sounding as if a question of mockery.

A chill snaked down her spine. She snickered inwardly, laughing at herself that her father still had that effect on her.

That his approval is still something she yearns for even after all these years.

She felt the need to clench her first to calm herself down. There was something about her father’s atmosphere that makes her crumble every time. There was something about his demeanor that felt icy cold and biting against the skin, taking all the warmth she longed for.

Perhaps it was the way he spoke in such a manner, so formal that no trace of familiarity could have alluded. But it wasn’t as if he’d treated her like one.

She teetered inside in stillness. He wasn’t always that way. He wasn’t always as distant as he was. Yes, there was always a gap between them, but it wasn’t as bad as it was now. She didn’t need to ask to know why. It was due to all her repeated disobedience.

Clicking heels sounded against the marble floors, its veins illuminated by the golden, luxurious chandeliers above. Their gaze shifted to the source.

Margaux Gerber, her older sister.

While Margaux looked elegant and sophisticated clad in all white, Astra looked rather odd in the picture with her bold choice of colors.

Margaux had an elegant aura about her. It’s in every piece of clothing she wears and every word she says. Whatever she did, she always looked superbly classy and luxurious.

It translated into the suit dress she wore, accessorized with golden buttons and chains, stopping until her mid-thighs and paired with matching white platform pumps. Her tone is a lovely sound, gentle, and calming as rain.

Her long, black, silky, and straight hair was side-parted with a pearl clip, giving her a look of femininity. A dainty necklace surrounded her smooth neckline and the matching earrings dangled from her ears.

In contrast, Astra looked odd against Margaux with her off-shoulder black mini dress with see-through balloon long sleeves and red ankle-strap platforms.

Everyone who knew the two sisters would see the vast difference between them. While Margaux received all respect from her peers and colleagues, and even strangers she passed by, Astra was only paid admiration - worldly admiration.

It was clear as day she lacked the gifts her sister possessed.

Astra tried hard to hide her feelings, the pounding of her heart pounding against her ears and the rushing of her blood against her veins.

She hadn’t seen her family in two years. Hadn’t heard from them in two years. Never even received an invitation to family dinners since the last time she disobeyed her father.

Her father’s presence was enough to melt her, turn her into dust to be taken by a gust of wind, and the addition of her sister made it even worse.

The sister that ignored her very existence and only looked at her with distaste.

She felt dizzy, nauseated, too small, and too large at once.

Astra tried to contain herself. She took slow and deep breaths, calming her fast-beating heart.

But anxiousness was mixed with perplexity when she watched as Margaux sauntered alongside with a familiar face she knew. The familiar face she was only conversing with earlier. From the looks of it, they were acquainted.

Anger boiled within her blood, and it perplexed her why.

“Dad,” Margaux elegantly greeted her father with a smile that showed off her perfectly white teeth, ignoring her sister’s presence even as she watched her.

Margaux's gaze shifted from her father to the man beside her, Chrollo Lucilfer. Her hand made its way to Chrollo’s arm, locking it with hers, her fingers tightening around his biceps. “This is the one I was telling you about.”

Astra’s brow raised upwards. A grin spread across Martin’s lips as he formally extended his hand with a deep, old chuckle, “I see. I see.”

Chrollo reached forward to shake Martin’s hand, in the process untangling Margaux’s arm with his.

“I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from my daughter,” Martin’s voice was deep and formal, different from the icy tone he used with his daughter.

“Oh, please,” Margaux chuckled and rolled her eyes but with a smile on her face. Astra wanted to vomit at what she witnessed. She mouthed the same words from Margaux’s mouth with a face and roll of her eyes.

“Likewise, sir,” Chrollo politely replied with a last shake before shifting his gaze to Astra, who put no effort in hiding both her curiosity and displeasure, standing beside Martin. And though they were close in space, the invisible barrier between the father and daughter couldn’t be avoided.

“Will you join us for dinner?” Martin followed with a question.

The way Martin spoke to Chrollo, with all his fake politeness, made it evident to Astra that this was more than just a casual talk. She knew nothing about business and the way connections worked and how it was built, but she could tell that her father was up to something with Chrollo. She just couldn’t quite put her hand on it.

However, Astra hadn’t exactly been stellar with all her guesses in the past. That mere fact was enough to make her drop all her doubts.

“I would’ve loved to. But I’m afraid I’ve already had dinner with Astra,” Chrollo replied. No ounce of fear or intimidation etched on his face.

That only made Astra wonder more.

Most would fall into her father’s intimidation and end up embarrassing themselves, especially young ones like Chrollo who’d done nothing to prove themselves just yet - or as she thought.

Like Margaux, Martin also had an aura about him. A very intimidating one at that. One could say that it came from their father’s influence.

“Astra?” Martin didn’t try to hide the undercurrent of curiosity as his brow shot up.

“Astra, sir,” Chrollo found his way towards Astra before casually slipping his hand around her waist, “is a very good friend of mine.”

“Oh?” Martin narrowed his eyes, his wrinkles creating lined dimples across his face.

If he was shocked at the revelation, it didn’t show. And Astra knew better than anyone how controlled her father’s poise was.

Margaux, on the other hand, raised her brow and her blood throbbed. Darkness flitted across her eyes as she stared at his arm around Astra.

Astra couldn’t help but savor the perplexed faces of the two. The way Martin’s brow furrowed and the way Margaux’s disposition suddenly braced for defense, like she’d been exposed to something she shouldn’t have.

“You know each other?” Margaux's voice was hushed but marked by vehemence. She forced the corner of her lip to twitch upwards.

A wolfish smile tugged on Astra’s mouth and she prepared whatever lie she could muster to annoy her sister. A long list of lies clouded her mind.

The best lies were always mixed with the truth.

But before words could come out of her mouth, Margaux spoke yet again to finish her sentence, “Chrollo?”

It hadn’t been her who Margaux had been directing her question to. Astra rolled her eyes in irritation.

‘You evil witch,’ Astra hissed and cursed her sister in her mind.

If Margaux did it on purpose to embarrass her, she wouldn’t put it past her.

Chrollo glimpsed at Astra, who had her gaze in the opposite direction with a frown, before shifting it towards Margaux to reply with a vague answer, “We met under certain circumstances.”

But Chrollo’s answer wasn’t enough to quell her curiosity, and Martin interceded before she could ask again, “Margaux,” he said calmly, stopping her.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Martin said.

“The pleasure is mine, sir,” Chrollo flashed a smile.

“Please,” Martin chuckled, “call me Martin. I have a feeling we’d be well acquainted.”

Chrollo laughed from beside Astra, “I sure hope so.”

Martin’s gaze shifted towards Astra, to her surprise, “Astra,” he said acknowledging, his eyes lingering on hers.

Margaux turned to examine her as they strode past before shifting away to look at the lobby ahead.

“Now about the deal,” Chrollo started once the two disappeared completely from their sight, his index wiping the corner of his mouth.

“About that,” Astra started. The feeling of what had just happened still rushing to her veins. “How about we do it next time?”

Chrollo’s brow shot upward, “Why?”

She turned her head to him, flashing an impish grin, “I have something better in mind.”

“No,” he replied flatly, making her frown.

“Then leave me alone,” the impish tone from earlier had gone missing from her voice. “Threaten me. Say whatever you want to say to ruin me. I don’t care. People are always going to talk shit about me. There’s always another version of me in someone else’s mind. So I’d rather listen to the people who know me best instead of someone who has only seen me twice. It won’t hurt me.”

With that, she stalked past Chrollo, who’d been dumbfounded at her sudden outburst.

Had she gone mad? Had she forgotten what Chrollo held against her?

Chrollo dashed to walk alongside her. His gaze didn’t bother shifting to her, only to the vast length of the lobby before them, “Fine. What is it you want?”

Astra ignored him but a smirk played on her lips. Of course, she won again. She quickened her pace to the elevator, eager to dash to the room she rented until she could go back to her place.

Once she’d gone inside the elevator alone and pressed the button to her floor, she watched as the elevator doors slowly blocked her view of the golden majority of furniture and red carpets in the lobby, until a quick hand stopped it from closing.

Chrollo fixed his blazer with a tug before sauntering inside, settling on the opposite corner from where Astra stood.

“I want to go out tonight,” Astra said.

“Okay,” Chrollo replied impassively.

The elevator then started moving up, up, and up. Though Astra found it odd that Chrollo had been quiet beside her and didn’t shoot him a glance.

Why hasn’t he been talking?

“What is it with you?” She asked sharply, crossing her arms as she turned her body to him, who stood perfectly still in calmness.

Chrollo didn’t answer.

“Wow.” She prolonged the word with amusement before rolling her eyes as she flipped her hair, “You followed me, stalked me. And for what?”

Chrollo furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing yet again.

Astra scoffed. She moved forward, each step with screaming arrogance, “Yes, I’m Astra Gerber. What do you want? A picture?” she mocked.

Chrollo didn’t reply, irking Astra even more.

Not only did she have a confusing reunion with her father and sister, but she had also been entangled with this mad lad right in front of her.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” Astra poked Chrollo’s arm again and again before she yelled so loudly, “Hey!”

With the timing of her yell came the ringing sound of the elevator before it opened. The color on their face paled as they were greeted by Astra’s… questioning manner.

Astra’s head whipped towards the door as she saw the horrified faces of those waiting outside.

She cleared her throat and slunk away, making sure to confine herself in the corner, while Chrollo stayed on the other.

Her fingers reached for the sunglasses in her bag, which she donned as she hid her head sidewards as a throng trickled in, blocking her access to Chrollo. And she made sure to keep her head down to avoid locking gazes with anyone.

The elevator went up, up, and up, until Chrollo and Astra were left alone together with another passenger who caught the situation with Chrollo. An elderly woman turned to glare at her, a look of disapproval written on her face. She was all too aware of the sharpness the lady was giving her; she could see it in the mirror on the sides of the elevator, which is why she made an effort never to turn away from the corner. Let the others think she’d been admiring herself all along.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw a glimpse of Chrollo’s reflection in the mirror behind the lady. And she could have sworn she saw a ghost of a smile across his lips. But before she could relish in the sight, the elevator bell rang and giggles from the opposite side seeped in the enclosed space. The elderly woman stepped out.

The titters were from a body of personnel, who made an effort to even bow their heads slightly at the sight of Chrollo. Their voices blended against one another, “Good evening, sir.”

Astra rolled her eyes, ‘Why only greet him? I’m a guest too.’

Chrollo dismissively waved his hand as he flashed a smile, “Good evening.”

Astra’s eyes narrowed as she caught a glimpse of a blonde-haired girl who smiled maliciously and batted her eyelashes at the man. She didn’t try to be discreet when she scoffed, making them shift their heads in her direction. Not even when Chrollo stepped out of the elevator with her as she wrapped her arm around his, giving a snakelike smile to the women who seemed interested in him.

To her surprise, Chrollo didn’t have the intention of inviting himself to Astra's room. She tilted her head to the side to ask why, only to be given a smile and a polite gesture to escort her in her chamber before he parted, promising to return in a few hours.

Astra couldn’t quite contain herself when she slumped on her bed with a wide grin on her face, her hands spread upwards just like her legs. The sudden warmth in her chest hadn’t worn off yet.

It took her a few good hours to get herself ready. She picked a dress plucked out of the stars. And she’d twirled enough in the mirror to know how it looked good on her, accentuating her strong features and her molten eyes.

Only when she heard the soft knocking did she step out of her dream. The warm sensation from her chest traveled to her stomach as she met with the man she’d been expecting.

When Astra mentioned that she wanted to celebrate tonight, Chrollo didn’t think twice about accompanying her. But it seemed that Astra shrugged off his kindness when she decided to stray away, leaving him for himself to look for her.

The flashing and the quick changing of lights illuminated the darkened club. A throng of strangers danced and flocked around Astra. She swayed her hips, closing her eyes as she felt the rhythm of the music pulse within her senses. The alcohol's effect sinking deep inside her veins.

“For someone who relies on my good graces, you’re certainly bold,” Chrollo’s deep, raspy voice whispered in her ear as a large hand snaked around her thigh, pressing the thin material of her dress so harshly against her skin.

“You’re very selfish, aren’t you?” Chrollo hissed, his breath brushed against the crook of her neck as he held her from behind.

An impish grin flashed across Astra’s lips as she let out a sultry chuckle. She whipped her head to the side and her nose touched Chrollo’s, a hair’s breadth separated their lips. “The world is wide open. And mine for the taking.”

A hush fell between the two and the world went mute around them as the crowd faded into the background. She was all too aware of how close their faces were, but she couldn’t bring herself to shift away.

Chrollo’s black eyes glowed with want as he watched her. She was something out of a dream.

He felt a pang of desire through him so strong it took all his self-control to keep himself from taking her. But he didn’t want to give her a night she could regret. Not when she’s in her high.

Astra felt a palm press against her stomach, feeling the warmth it deigned before it slid upwards gradually. It passed in between her breasts, and she fought the urge to bite her lip. She felt the warmth wrap around her neck softly. Soft enough to avoid entirely disrupting her breathing.

He wanted her so bad, it hurt. But he didn’t want it to stop.

Chrollo tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She breathed, so softly that her lips barely moved.

He found himself closing the short gap between them, turning her chin in his direction with the hand he used around her neck. He looked at her once more as if asking for permission. Astra’s starlit eyes found his, making his blood thrum in his veins.

She slowly closed her eyes, and he took in her beauty once more. Her long lashes, red lips, and straight nose.

Chrollo’s sudden appearance. Chrollo’s bargain. Chrollo’s relationship with her family.

She didn’t have the faintest idea of what any of it meant and how it happened.

And why was he treating her like a damsel? Had he noticed how her father and sister ignored her? Had he been acquainted with Margaux even before her? Is this a plan?

Questions like that should’ve been clouding her mind. But she was too indulged with the fact that standing before her, was the most beautiful man she'd ever met.

Astra turned to twine her arms around his neck and his eyes blazed with hunger. Though she was tall, her neck ached as she matched Chrollo’s gaze with his height, but it abated once Chrollo’s hand found its way to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him.

Never mind the crowd around them. Never mind the questions that’ll follow after. Never mind the sharp gazes Margaux sent her. Never mind the mysteries surrounding Chrollo.

Consequences be damned.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer fanfiction #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer x oc #chrollo lucilfer smut #hxh #HxH FanFiction #phantom troupe #fanfiction #anime #afterthesun

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hazel-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

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