#if you like those other ships but you have common manners please know I love you!!! ❤️ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stormblessed95 · 3 years ago

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I posted 1,685 times in 2021

1570 posts created (93%)

115 posts reblogged (7%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 2,803 tags in 2021

#jikook - 748 posts

#kookmin - 743 posts

#ask - 517 posts

#anon - 509 posts

#jungkook - 61 posts

#jimin - 60 posts

#boys in love - 60 posts

#jkjm - 56 posts

#jikook moments - 25 posts

#jmjk - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#can yall just freaking stop with the passive agressive or just straight up aggressive anon asks trying to say my ship is better than yours

My Top Posts in 2021

I wonder what the deal was with Jungkook and dropping honourifics so early on with jimin then wanting to stay formal/hourifics with Hobi, Jin, Namjoon ect.

By 2014 (after two years? Of knowing each other) you see in Bangtan bombs Jungkook is testing it and dropping honorifcs with Jimin where even the translator is like he’s dropping honorifics. Jimin is like I can’t even scold him/get mad? In response when he comes for him. Then from then on it gets a lot more prominent and casual. Saying jiminie/jimin-ssi like it’s second nature by 2016ish. You have multiple moments of jimin telling him to use honorifics like that run episode with the old game show games and Jungkook is like “jimin come out” a jimin replies “use honorifics”. And then jimin even did the same last year during their vlive where he did it and jimin was like don’t address me like that, and Jungkook is like “how should I address you?” While grinning. Like it’s something only maybe asks him to do for show/on camera.

That’s not even taking into account the times he’s snuck in Jimin-ah, it’s even more blatant when he says jimin without the hyung and then mentions like Jin with the hyung right after. Bonus, even uses his tone in a manner like jimin is YOUNGER than him. It’s so……

Hello!! So let's talk honorifics. I'm starting this off with a language lesson. Lol I know it's not really what you asked, but it relates and it's important information to know. And I have multiple asks about honorifics in general. So we are doing it all here! Let's get it!

To start, something we should all be very very aware of is what honorifics in the Korean language even are. Please keep in mind that I am NOT Korean, nor do I speak the language. This is what I have learned from my own observation and research into it. That said, always believe a native speaker of the language first and foremost before anyone else when it comes to what things mean or how saying things can be meant with different intentions. If I get anything wrong, please correct me! Here is a fairly basic chart with some of the most common honorifics used in Korean:

And what isn't included here is the reverse for Hyung/Oppa/Nuna/Unni... which is dongsaeng. Dongsaeng is the same for male or female, essentially simply meaning a younger person that I am close to. The closest translations for all of those in English typically tend to be older brother/sister or younger brother/sister. But that is not at all what they actually mean. When addressing and referring to your actual younger siblings, you would say Namdongseang for younger brother and Yeodongsaeng for younger sister. Some people use them, some don't. But if they attach the Nam- or Yeo- you can assume they are saying along the lines of biological sibling. The honorifics for older siblings remain the same as the ones for older person that I am close to. Another common example we hear BTS or other Kpop artists use is Sunbaenim which combines two of the ones we see in the chart above. You will see them refer to Artists who have been in the field longer and are older than they are this way. We also see many rookies or younger but well established groups now refer to BTS this way. Such as TXT (who now mostly just call them hyungs). It's a way to show respect to their seniors in the industry who they don't really know personally or super well yet, so the extra level of respect is added. When adding -ssi to someone's name, such as Jimin-ssi, it is essentially the same thing as the English Mr. So when BTS or anyone else refer to them as "Jin-ssi" they are essentially saying "Mr. Jin." It is the same for women. So the one -ssi essentially covers the entirely of the words Mr, Mrs, Miss, etc in English.

Now let's talk about WHY Honorifics are generally used. Honorifics are used to convey respect between the speaker and the listener. They are also used to essentially communicate the relative hierarchy between parties, usually to show respect to those who are higher in status or in the hierarchy than you. Status/Age hierarchy are a very big deal in Korean Culture. It is also a way to indicate your relationship to each other in terms of hierarchy, age, gender and intimacy. For instance you would probably address a coworker who you only speak to on occasion with -ssi or sunbae or -nim or some combination. Where as you would address a coworker who is also a very close and personal friend with hyung which shows that you do have a closer relationship together.

Why and when is it okay to drop honorifics with someone? Essentially that comes down to the person who is higher in the hierarchy and their personal relationship with you. The older person in the relationship essentially doesn't have to use honorifics. It is the youngers responsibility to show respect to those higher in age than they are. It is also considered rude to ask to stop using honorifics. Depending on the relationship, it's okay, but it changes person by person. Essentially, in order to truly stop using honorifics on a casual basis, the older person has to offer it and say it's okay for the younger to speak in Banmal with them (or informally). So in the case with BTS, all the members would have essentially had to let JK know speaking informally with them was okay. And speaking informally to a person older than you really showcases the intimacy and closeness you have with that person, whether it is as friends or as lovers. Essentially what it comes down to is that the default should always be to use polite and formal speech, if and when that changes needs to be worked out between the individuals it is being changed with. And the way you speak to each other is and can be a good indicator of how close your relationship with each other is.

Now let's talk about BTS, and Jungkook using (or not using) honorifics specifically. Now I will say that ALL of BTS are insanely close and have almost no boundaries together. Over the years, I am POSITIVE that all 6 of his hyungs have given him permission to use banmal with them on occasion, or off camera. And I could find examples of JK dropping honorifics with every single member if I wanted to (but that's a lot, send another ask if yall want that. This is already an essay. Just trust me for now please). But we also know that using honorifics is his norm for the most part, and especially during the early years, he wanted to keep that up. He wanted to show his respect for his hyungs in that way. During his ITS talk with Tae, we learn that Tae asked him to use banmal with him and that JK refused in the early years.

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312 notes • Posted 2021-07-10 16:56:51 GMT

We Don't Talk About This Enough...

As jikookers all know there are many moments that are universally known and we never stop talking about them.

Moments like Rosebowl:

GCF in Tokyo:

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367 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 18:01:07 GMT

Hey Stormblessed! You said that everyone's been sending you asks about Jikook and their living together based around a clip in ON:E. What clip would that be? Have a great day 🥰💜

Hello sweetie! Congrats, I'm using your ask to answer your question, along with everyone else's question about why I'm 99% sure that Jimin and Jungkook live together. I'll leave the 1% open for reasonable doubt, but if I'm honest, I really don't have any. I'll also address the more specifics in some of the other anons questions. Soooo if you sent in an anon ask about the whole living situation, this post is for you!

To start, the MOTS ONE DVD moment that continues to be referenced and that I'm pretty sure sparked this wave of asks is this one:

And this was the follow up moment when Joon joined the conversation:

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464 notes • Posted 2021-09-18 13:57:22 GMT

What r the jikook moments you think for which there is NO explanation that can fit into Friends category. Like those moments which makes u think Man only couples do this.

Ooo fun question, this will be a long one! Honestly, mostly their grand gestures and some smaller moments. Now I'll put a disclaimer here... These will be moments that I don't think fit into a friends category, no matter how much of a "bestie" you are. It does not confirm anything about Jikook being a couple. People can do whatever the F they want and not necessarily have to label it. You can do these things and NOT be a couple, but it really makes it known that you are probably more than friends at the very least, whatever that may be. In no particular order, here are my "this is not friendship behavior" moments:

1. Rosebowl

ARE WE SURPRISED THAT THIS IS ON MY LIST?? We shouldn't be. I've already done a post on the difference between this and the Tannies love bites/kisses (you can go read it if you want) and if this isn't romantic in nature, idk what it is... cannibalism maybe? This is a very hard to deny moment.

2. Jimin traveling to Korea for JKs birthday

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534 notes • Posted 2021-06-11 01:29:35 GMT

Just Say You're Jealous of Jimin and Go.

I wasn't planning on saying anything about the drama on Twitter this morning after the group photo was posted after the press conference. But its honestly ridiculous, so consider this me venting it out here for a moment. BTS dropped an amazing song, had a wonderful press conference, and dropped a group photo where jikook were... jikooking. It was amazing and I'll probably never be over it! And IMMEDIATELY hate started going around under Big Hits account and on the timeline for Jimin and Jikook. Its not even about ships anymore, its about basic respect for a group you say you "stan" and love.

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557 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 02:25:06 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

This was fascinating. And wow, I'm on this website way too much 🤣🤣 also EXCELLENT posts to be in my top 5 for sure lmao

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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prompts-of-a-dreamer · 4 years ago

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Levi : Does He Like Women?

I'm pretty sure that if you've been in the Attack on Titan fandom for a while, you've heard about 'proof' of Levi being gay from an interview with Isayama. Let's dive a little bit into it, and determine whether or not is this true.

The interview quoted is from a Bessatsu Manga fan event, it is most likely a question from an event called 'Another Maga Thanksgiving 2014' (most likely because I read a comment stating so, but when I searched up the terms no official sources stated the interview, only fans did)

The only source of this particular dialogue was from a tweet by the user @ b5559247 replying to @ aira_toka

Here's the 'original' Japanese transcript:

Ｑ．リヴァイ兵長の好きな女性のタイプを教えてください。

"Rivai Heichō no sukina josei no taipu o oshietekudasai."

Ａ．女性が好きなんですかねえ…？…小さい人って背の高い人を好きになるじゃないですか…。もしかしたら背の高い人が好きかもしれません。

"Josei ga sukinandesu ka nee ....? ....Chīsai hito tte senotakai hito o sukininaru janaidesu ka…. Moshika shitara senotakai hito ga suki kamo shiremasen."

The most common English transcript used for that is:

Q: What type of woman does Levi like?

A: Does he like women, though ... Short people tend to like taller people, so it's possible that he likes tall people.

A lot of fans, at the time mostly 'fujoshis', interpret this as Levi being BL/gay. Some others think he is ace/aro or bi/pan.

However, there are other lesser-known translations for the Q&A. I'm not a native Japanese speaker nor am I proficient at the language.

However other people translate the line :

"Josei ga sukinandesu ka nee...?"

"What type of woman does he like, huh...?" (repeating the original question as a rhetorical) instead of "Does he like women, though...?"

This one is based on context, taking into consideration the Q line. Also the ending 'ka nee?' is, although not a formal ending, used mostly as a rhetorical, like adding ' ..., right?' or '...., isn't it?' at the end of a sentence.

The word 'moshika shitara' is also used, which means 'probably', so Levi 'probably' likes tall people. The term 'people' was not an attempt to discreet Levi being gay by the translator, the interview sincerely uses 'hito', which means human with no definitive gender.

The language used may be suggestive, or Isayama never really thought about it and had to make up a sort-of answer during the interview.

I will remind you again that this interview has never been stated in any official sources - only the fans have been spreading it around, therefore it cannot be taken as 'canon proof' as interviews could be fabricated by fans or taken out of context. AoT Editor Kawakubo Shintaro has asked and advised not to take everything mentioned at some fan events as strictly canon, as some things mentioned may be subject to change. Since most of the time these questions are asked in an informal manner, fans are asked to take this information as not strictly canon.

In the Ilse Langnar OVA 'Ilse's Notebook', there was a scene in which Hange, known to be the closest person to Levi, had the following conversation with Oruo :

H :"Let's say that, hypothetically, Levi's trying to kill you. Kill you dead. What would you do? Can you fight and beat him?"

O : "No way. That'd be impossible. Also, I can't breathe."

H :"Let me tell you how to win. You do the research. You figure out where he goes, the food he dislikes, the girls he likes, and how many times he goes to the bathroom."

Hange's statement in the anime hints that Levi does like women. After all could it be that someone so close to him not know his sexual preference? Not to mention that Hange is extremely observant - there's no way they'd miss something like that about Levi, right?

Well, sadly, in the canon manga this scene never existed. It was probably only added by WIT to extend the runtime of the OVA. I have no idea if Isayama has a say in how his manga is being adapted, so it could be that he approved the dialogue, or not. It's very unclear.

But what about LeviHan/EreRi/EruRi/Rivetra (or most recently, Levi x Zeke)? Well, those are all fanon ships since there is no official statement from Isayama. There is nothing wrong with shipping him, with whichever character you'd like, but keep in mind that it stays fanon and he still has no canon lover.

There are some people who states that Isayama confirmed that Levi has never had a crush (suggesting he is aromantic), but my efforts to find the original source came up null. Levi, however, has no canon love interest in the manga.

If Levi is aromantic, what about the Ackerbond? Well, first and foremost, the Ackerbond isn't confirmed to be real, and if it was, the Ackerbond is a heightened sense of trust and loyalty, not romantic love specifically.

Conclusion:

The entire research and thread has proved inconclusive - that Levi's sexuality has never been confirmed, nor does he have any lover that would indicate something.

Personally, I'm more a fan of asexual Levi, take it with a grain of salt, but you can headcanon him as anything you want or ship him with anyone you like.

If you'd like to correct something with citation and sources or add your opinion, please do so, but nicely and respectfully. I know this is a pretty controversial topic, and any insights would be welcome.

#levi #levi ackerman #levi headcanons #attack on titan #levihan #eruri #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader

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doctorgerth · 4 years ago

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Hello! Could I ask please for promt 14 (Shanks, Benn Beckman, Law), theme 10, fem!reader. Oh i`m new in your blog, sorry if I did something wrong! (Hope i will have a time)

❥ “Seeking Warmth” - Valentine’s Day Event Scenario [ 5 / 14 ]

❥ prompt: “Your lips are really warm.”

❥ theme: Kiss

❥ pairing: Benn x F!Reader

❥ warnings: brief mentions of one night stands and Shanks x Makino

❥ word count: 1.1k

❥ a/n: hello! welcome to this disaster blog! 😃 gahhhh I love this man an unhealthy amount considering we know hardly a thing about him. he has no business being so attractive 😤 this was my first time writing a scenario for him, I hope I managed to pull it off! this one also ended up not really having anything to do with Valentine’s Day, whoops...

You shivered as you made your way across the ship, choosing to ignore the way your teeth chattered and how the wind chills seemed to seep to your bones. Most of the crew were hidden in their cabins, bundling up from the cold, enjoying hot stew in the mess hall, or drinking to warm their spirits. Not you. You were from a summer island and had only witnessed snow once in your lifetime. It hardly counted as your island only received about a half inch, but you vividly remember being utterly captivated by the silent snowfall; how perfect it laid along the grassy hills, the purest white you had ever seen.

You’ve waited, rather impatiently, for the ship to traverse through wintry oceans. As a newcomer on the Red Haired Pirates ship, you’ve witnessed many interesting places, but this was your first time since you were little seeing snow. Of course you weren’t going to pass this opportunity up, no matter if you were beginning to lose feeling in your toes.

A tall, dark figure leaning against the railings of the ship caught your attention in the blurring white. You drew closer out of curiosity, trudging through the blanket of snow, and were genuinely surprised to see the crew’s first mate, Benn Beckman. You’d recognize that lean figure anywhere as you’ve grown quite accustomed to it from staring at him longingly from across the room, silently tracing the lines of his masculine figure, observing with adoration as smoke clouds encircled his head, and wishing oh so pathetically to be the cigarette that hung from his lips. You hesitated to join him, until he felt your presence and turned around to greet you.

“Hey there.” He drawled, using his pointer and middle finger to retract the cigarette from between his lips, mouth forming a lazy ‘o’ as he blew a quick air of smoke that danced with the snowflakes.

“Sorry to bother you, I was just-”

“Not a bother at all. Come here.” He notioned you over with a jut of his chin then turned back to face the ocean.

You fought the nervous smile that was eager to spread across your face, instead biting your lip as you joined him against the edge of the ship. The two of you stood there, silent as the snow falling into the sea, simply enjoying each other’s company. Benn always had a calming aura about him. No matter how much his close proximity made your heart race, he made you feel at ease. He wasn’t much of a talker, and neither were you, so it was always nice to just be with him.

“You’re not cold?”

You gripped at your shawl tighter, fighting the shivers, and smiled up at him, “I’m fine.”

Benn scoffed with a light roll of his eyes. You attempted to pay no mind, only sneaking a little peek, as he removed his cloak, shook off the collected snow, and handed it to you.

“Oh, you really don’t have to, I-”

“Just take it. Please.”

He offered you a look of sincerity, and one of stubbornness. You reciprocated, “Won’t you be cold?”

He shook his head, “It’s been years, but…” He draped the cloak around your trembling body, nonchalantly wrapping his arms around you to secure you in it, “I’m used to it. I’ve experienced much worse winters than this.”

As his hands grazed your body, a blazing heat radiated within you that was surely enough to keep you warm for hours, even in these unforgiving temperatures. His cloak smelled just like him; aftershave, gunpowder, and cigarettes. It was intoxicating, like your entire world was consumed by him. You selfishly prayed he wouldn’t ask for the cloak back any time soon.

“Thank you.” You muttered, burying yourself further into the warm fabric as your body thawed. Your senses welcomed him, and with enough imagination, you could pretend to be held in those burly arms.

He chuckled, bringing you out of your embarrassing thoughts. It was silly, but you begged the heavens that he didn’t secretly have the ability to read minds. You eyed up at him, a silent questioning of what made him so amused.

“Nothing.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette over the edge with crinkled eyes as he smiled and you could feel your heart thumping in your throat. “You just look really cute in that.”

Your own eyes widened as you buried your entire head in the cloak, “Don’t tease me, Benn!”

You tried to steady your breathing as he laughed. Such comments were common to come from your captain, who quite honestly would flirt with a potted plant. But Benn? He had always been aloof, hard to read. It took weeks for you to understand his mannerisms, and still, he was never an open book. You’d witnessed his more lax side a handful of times, mostly when around friends and when he was drinking, but you’d never witnessed such a playful side of him.

Come to think of it, you’d hardly ever seen him act in a flirtatious manner around anyone, even those who were clearly interested in him (not that you could blame them, of course). Your fellow crew members have all flirted endlessly in bars and markets, some even bringing back one-night-stands to the ship. Why not Benn? Shanks of course had his own reason to avoid physical relationships in the form of a certain green-haired bartender, but what was Benn’s reason?

He peeled back the collar of his cloak to reveal your face.

“Not teasing. Just being honest.” Smiling was such a good look on him. It was truly rare to see such a genuine small along those worn lips, it felt like finding gold when he did.

You were so mesmerized, you’d hardly noticed how the two of you suddenly stood mere inches from each other, his large hands still on the collar of his cloak as he stared down at you.

“Your lips look warm.” Benn smirked, thumb reaching up to brush gently along your jawline, “Can I kiss you?”

You choked on your answer, simply nodding in bewitchment. His hands let go of the cloak to cup both of your cheeks. He admired how soft your skin felt under his rugged hand and he was more than eager to feel the softness of your lips against his. Benn had been hiding from his feelings for far too long, and as embarrassing as it was to use his one of his captain’s lines, all that mattered was showing you how he truly felt about you.

Your lips collided, moving against each other in heavenly motions. The fire of your lips mingled with the freezing snow made for comfortable weather. Your hands reached out from underneath the cloak to grasp at his shirt, smiling as he held your face gently within his hands, embracing the taste of you. You took note of the way his lips moved lovingly against yours, tongue curiously grazing your own. His years of experience was evident, yet he took his time with you, exploring you.

The two of you pulled away, puffy clouds of your heated breaths fluttering in the air between you.

“Your lips are really warm.” He muttered, eyes shamelessly staring at your aching lips. High on cloud nine and garnered confidence, you pulled him closer as you sought his lips once more. Your heart leapt as you felt his lips stretch into a wide smile, hands comfortably dropping to wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer.

Benn wasn’t much of a talker, and thankfully, neither were you.

If you enjoyed this, please be sure to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog! 💕

#doctorgerth #doc writes #scenario #Valentine's Day event #prompt event #theme event #fluff #romantic #benn x reader #f!reader #hardkate

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mariaiscrafting · 4 years ago

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Cishet dnf stans are without fail just super gross about it. I've cultivated my tumblr sphere to be so queer that I genuinely forgot how terrible cishets are about mlm ships they deem "attractive". Cishets making homophobic "jokes"........bro that's just homophobia.

I feel like that's so much easier on Tumblr anyways since Tumblr is so disproportionately queer. I can actually stand to follow Dream stans (*cough* looking at you Angel *cough*), George pfps, and some DNFers here because they're mostly queer. Probably the main reason I stopped using Twitter was actually because of all the cishet DNF shippers. I think there's just something about being queer that makes you more understanding of comp het, queer fetishization, being treated as Other, being psychoanalyzed like a lab specimen, and being potentially outed. Subsequently, queer shippers are simply less likely to take DNF shipping a step too far...

There are lots of ways in which cishet shippers take it a step too far. One common thing is fetishization. Contrary to popular-anti belief, not every shipper is fetishizing mlm relationships. But a lot of them are. Fetishization is contingent on a foundational belief that one is consuming media about a certain romantic/sexual dynamic because they find it attractive. To fetishize is to treat a ship as Other, as lesser or more or weirder or "special" or whatever. If one wouldn't treat a het relationship the same way as they do the mlm relationship they're theorizing about, gushing about, drawing about, writing about, etc., then one should reexamine the reasons one is even shipping them, because the likely answer is fetishizing reasons. Another way shippers take it too far is their creepy fascination with all the intricacies of DNF. Like, the analysis of every voice inflection, every mention of the other, every moment they're together, every smile and laugh and facial expression. It's so beyond creepy. This isn't how you treat real life humans. This isn't how you treat people you respect. This is how you treat fictional characters, or toys, or specimens you're curious about. It's absurd.

But those are all things I've talked about a hundred times on this blog. I'm glad I have been able to, too, because it seems so impossible to get through to Twitter DNFers compared to Tumblr DNFers, partially because of the character limit and partially because of what mcyttwt stan culture is like (stubborn, hardheaded, overly protective, significantly more obsessive, etc).

Regarding homophobic jokes... I think a lot of cishet shippers think they can't be homophobic if they are shipping an mlm pairing. Because if you're so open to gay people that you ship them, how could you possibly be homophobic? Isn't that the opposite of homophobia? To that, I respond the same way I respond to cishet men who claim they're not lesbophobic because they like lesbian porn and white people who claim they're not racist because they have black friends and men who claim they're not misogynistic because they love their daughters or wives; bigotry is not solely enacted upon with explicit hatred. Bigotry can manifest itself in many ways, and in the 21st Century, most often that is in subtle ways that implicate one's own view of minorities/oppressed groups as distinctly "Other." You can have a fascination, love, or adoration for an oppressed group, and still be bigoted against them. Love /=/ the inability to be racist, homophobic, sexist, etc. A failure to accept criticism and recognize one's own propensity for homophobia will only lead to making the same homophobic remarks/jokes, failing to eradicate one's own subconscious beliefs that led to one's homophobia (e.g., comp het), and stagnation in one's personal growth.

And yes, if you can’t understand how treating DNF like this obsession, this other-than-human idealized fasion, is homophobic, then you are one of these subtlely bigoted people, and I am begging you to pause, step back, and self-reflect, please.

As always, the usual disclaimers apply. First, not all cishet DNF shippers cross a line in their shipping. If you read this and you don't know if this applies to you, it's important for you to pause and reflect on your manner of shipping. Recognizing when we do wrong is the first step in eradicating homophobia and fetishization. Second of all, for those who don't know what prompted this ask, here is a link to the half-joke post of mine from a few hours ago. Third of all, I am never an expert on any of the discourse I engage in. I'm simply providing my opinion. Fourth of all, this is not meant to be hateful. Yes, I come from a place of extreme frustration and exhaustion towards cishet shippers, but I still think there is capability for growth within the mlm shipping community. I am a DNFer, just a queer one; I read DNF fics, I love DNF art, and I watch DNF compilations. I, too, gush whenever Dream and George act fond of each other. I'm not an anti; I just like to criticize the communities I am a part of because I love the spaces they provide for me and want them to grow and improve through self-reflection and critical analysis. Positive change always starts from within.

Anyways, if you're interested in my other random rants about related issues: here is one of my original takes on DNFers crossing lines they shouldn't and dehumanizing DNF for their own enjoyment, here is a more general take of mine about reading into DNF dynamics with empathy, here is my thing with fetishization (thank you Angel for the input), and here is a long-ass post with queer perspectives on DNF shipping (thank you Xen for the input).

As always, reminder to blacklist /neg or #discourse if you don’t want to see posts like this from me. Take care of yourselves <3

#/neg #discourse #long post #long posts #dnf #dreamnotfound #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #homophobia #mcyttwt #asks

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forsakenoathkeeper · 4 years ago

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I Am Alive (chapter 5/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a mechanical engineer, now a nurse for androids, who moved back to Detroit after the revolution to offer aid. After reconciling with an old friend, you became rather acquainted with his android partner.

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

Connor wasn't oblivious to what he was doing.

'Rogue' was one word that came to mind; but, that was a bit extreme all things considered. He wasn't acting against the police and he didn't intend to commit any crimes, especially heinous ones.

He was hunting the android alone, without clearance, without jurisdiction.

-not like this was the first time.

He had intel that the human detectives didn't have. A good lot of them didn't respect him, some more obvious than others, and often disregarded his input on things. Of course, they were never hesitant to let him take the lead when dealing with dangerous individuals or gunfire.

Most of the time, it didn’t bother him.

Fowler saw him as a competent detective and needed the manpower, now more than ever. Hank trusted him with his life and stood up for him. That was all the recognition that Connor needed.

Having to work alone wasn’t all that terrible. He was faster, stronger, more capable of discretion... usually. He didn't have to worry about putting someone in danger or being slowed down. It also meant that he could-

-bend the rules in ways that only androids were capable of.

The other detectives were hung up on the possibility that Evelin Wheeler was murdered by someone she had crossed in her days as a lawyer. Connor had found seven cases that ended with death threats. Three of those cases, the plaintiffs or victims, were still alive and living in or near Detroit.

While other detectives were investigating those potential leads, Connor took to the streets to see if he could locate Robert. Maybe it was his programming talking; but, Connor was suspicious of the android.

Clouds were heavy and dark in the sky, the smell of approaching rain thick in the air. Connor was waiting outside of Haven in a nearby alleyway, perched up against a crate where he could duck back into hiding or lean out and see into the street.

He was standing near an abandoned warehouse that seemed to have suffered structural damage at one point, rubble having collapsed into the plot nearby. The towering structure was an eyesore and provided good cover for the detective. It was also across the street from Haven.

Connor fumbled with his coat pocket, fishing out a coin. He rolled it between his fingers as he waited.

You had been texting him, a very welcomed distraction from the monotony. Though, if Connor was being honest, waiting never bothered him. He couldn’t quite tell if it was because his android, a part of his programming, or just the way he was.

"u know u dont have to" was your latest message, popping up in the top right corner of his HUD. You had trouble getting your car started this morning and had taken a taxi to work. When Connor found out, he asked if he could give you a ride home.

"If I'm being honest, it is not just for your sake. I want to see you" he texted back.

It had been a little over week since he last saw you. Work had been hectic for you both, between countless damaged androids and Connor knee deep in multiple cases, one in particular that was rubbing him the wrong way. Even if he only got to sit in a car with you for thirty minutes, that would be good enough.

"i miss u too" your reply came in. Connor smiled at that and briefly pondered how to reply.

When people were 'an item', what did they do? Attending a restaurant together seemed to be the most common answer that came up in his searches; however, considering Connor did not require sustenance, and lacked the components to dispose of them, he couldn't eat.

Surprisingly, ‘drinking’ came up a lot, too. There was no way he was taking you to a sleazy bar. There were always clubs. Did you like that sort of thing? He didn’t want to make assumptions about your lifestyle. There was the added concern that Connor didn’t know if he could dance. He had never tried it before.

'Walks in the park' also came up in his searches; while Connor was not easily perturbed by the weather, you likely would find it far too cold outside. The local movie theatres were closed down temporarily due to the uprising, leaving that option out, as well.

He could invite you over to his apartment; but, what if you took that as an unwanted suggestion? He missed you in that manner, maybe more than he cared to admit; but, he didn't want to give the impression that it was all he cared about.

Connor's LED was blaring yellow as he internally argued with himself. He aggressively shifted his coin from one hand to the other and flung it high into the air with a flick of his thumb.

Humans did this - 'heads or tails' - so he tried it.

When it fell back down, he snatched it from the air, opened his palm and glanced down. The coin had landed on tails. Connor glared at the harmless nickel disk for not giving him the results he wanted.

Okay. Maybe he was thinking too hard.

-maybe he just needed to go for it.

"I want to treat you to something. If you would like that?" Connor messaged you.

Likely caught up in something, you didn’t reply immediately. So, Connor began rotating his coin again, rolling it between his fingers, flicking it back and forth between his palms. He had no idea where this quirk came from: if it was programmed into him or some bizarre string of code that manifested itself. He could do it without much processing power, making it rather relaxing.

"if you wanna? u dont have to do anything like that" your message popped up on his HUD some time later.

"Is it weird that I want to?" Connor messaged you back.

"not at all" you replied. He read it in your soft voice and found himself feeling bashful. He felt weird, like he wanted to do things for you - unnecessary things that you were perfectly capable of doing yourself.

"theres a park i loved as a kid. we can go when it warms up?" you offered.

"I would like that" Connor replied.

A thought came to him, something that he chided himself for: he had hoped for something he could do for you, now, not later.

But, then-

"until then i like ur apartment" immediately came in afterward.

Connor gawked at the message like an idiot for a moment or two before he snapped out of it. Maybe you had read his mind... somehow.

He had no need for a TV because he could get all the news on the interface in his processing unit. He didn't have a need for many dishes for obvious reasons and only bothered to keep the fridge plugged in in case Hank brought something over. His apartment was severely under furnished by human standards.

Suddenly, he wanted to change that.

"You are welcome anytime" he replied. "I'll make sure its warmer this time"

Your reply came fairly quickly; but, Connor didn't see it.

Movement caught his eye.

An android was approaching Haven, not that that was anything new. However, he dressed in a dirty hoodie and torn up pants, ankle-high work boots matching what Connor had seen in Evelin Wheeler's home, the correct height and stature for the model type seen in Louis’ memories.

Connor slid the coin back into his coat pocket and focused his optical sensors on the android. He couldn't get a good enough look from this angle to see into the propped up hood.

The detective waited outside while the other android crossed the threshold into Haven.

Markus wanted to do things the right way. Connor respected that.

It meant that he would inform Robert the police were looking for him and try to encourage him to speak with them. If he was innocent, that meant he had nothing to hide. But Connor knew that Robert would likely attempt to flee, even if he was innocent.

The android was inside the building for eleven minutes and some odd seconds before he stormed out the front and trotted down the street. Connor didn't waste any time taking up pursuit. The android had some haste to his steps, but wasn't running. Still, Connor knew he would lose him if he dawdled for a second.

Rain began to fall, beginning in gentle sprinkles that coated the concrete and asphalt in faint specs. Connor could feel the rain like gentle taps against his outer skin. It was useful: the noise made it harder to properly hear the sounds of their footsteps. That potentially risked the chance that Connor would lose Robert; but, it also meant he was less likely to be detected.

He needed an empty, quiet place where he could interrogate him. But, Connor also was well aware of the fact that he didn't have backup. If the android proved to be more dangerous than he anticipated, he would be alone and at great risk.

-again, this was nothing new.

Connor recognized the route Robert was taking. He was heading for the industrial district's harbor.

It wasn't abandoned. Factory work had resumed, albeit with struggles considering the android workforce had been lost. However, people were trying to return to normal life. They needed to; and so, the ports reopened and shipments starting to flow again.

The detective continued to stalk behind the android for miles, paying no mind to the fact that he was steadily growing farther and farther away from where he had parked his car, nor the fact that he was getting soaked by the rain.

When they arrived at the harbor, Robert took a path through a rundown building that was likely once a communication hub for a business that went under decades ago. It was longer than a direct route, but provided cover, less any of the human workers at the nearby plants spotted him.

In following, Connor realized that abandoned shipping containers were piled up outside. The rust and erosion patterns suggested they had been here a long time.

At the end of the row of containers, another building, a steel hub right at the edge of the water. Normally, these were open, designed to be for receiving and sending shipments, unloading. However, someone had taken the time to board it up.

Robert entered through a hastily cut out hole acting as a doorway.

Connor knew this was the end of the line. He was going to have to face Robert here.

He took one, careful step past the threshold, and realized there was an echo. That alone made it near impossible to continue sneakily. When Connor stepped forward, he felt something scan him. It was harmless, a perimeter censor: the kind of motion detector that could pick up android's serial numbers with a quick scan, and send alerts to the programmed android. It was, essentially, an intruder alert.

The detective turned his head to the adjacent wall. Sure enough, there it was, the size of a quarter, at head level, eyeing him.

He was intrigued that Robert had taken the time to setup defenses here. It wasn't particularly deterring, just a simple alarm that would prevent him from being snuck up on. Connor could hear Robert's shoes loudly squeak on the floor. He was pacing, probably deciding his next move.

Connor continued, turning down the hall and stepping into the main hull.

When Robert spotted him, he took a few steps back, maintaining distance between them. Connor took up a firm stance, feet shoulder length apart, arms crossed in front of him, hands cupped, like a soldier might stand.

"Why are you following me?" Robert called out, sounding more annoyed than anything else. The echo in the room was loud, creating an obnoxious tremor around them.

"I wanted to talk to you - ask you a few things," Connor replied calmly.

Robert was silent for a moment, eyeing Connor suspiciously. "You're the detective android," he said lowly. "I heard stories...” Robert looked him up and down. “You're not as intimidating as I expected."

If that was intended to insult Connor, all it managed to do was make him curious. What kind of images had Robert conjured in his mind of the android detective?

"Why haven't you removed your indicator?" Robert asked in a manner that was almost taunting. "You think we're equal to humans, don't you? Why wear something that sets us apart?"

"It doesn't matter to me if people know I am an android," Connor answered, maintaining his passive tone. It wasn't entirely the truth. Sometimes, he wanted people to know he was an android. He was once frightened by the idea of deviancy; now, it felt like a badge of honor. Maybe, he was prideful: he was the first detective android to join the force, and the last and only of his model.

"You work for the humans - against us," Robert accused. “What makes you think you have any right to stand with us?”

"I don't work against androids. I work against murderers," Connor proclaimed. He could see panic flash behind Robert's eyes. But, the android was quick to compose himself. "-human or android," Connor added on.

Robert opened his mouth; but, Connor, growing tired of this pointless banter, decided to be direct.

"I'm here because I believe you killed Evelin Wheeler."

"Who?" Robert asked, his head tilting to the side. From his lack of concern, Connor couldn't quite identify if he was being sincere, or just didn't care.

"An elderly woman who was being cared for by an android," Connor elaborated robotically.

Robert shrugged. "What makes you think I did that?"

"I saw you harassing the android living with her," Connor answered, tone lowering.

Robert settled a firm glare on Connor. "Harassing? I wanted to help him be free."

Connor kept his stoic expression, eyes unyielding of his emotions, LED strong blue. "I'm glad you remember them," he replied lowly.

The detective could see some stress rise in Robert. He wasn't frightened by Connor. He was growing steadily more and more angered by him.

"Then, surely you-"

"He was delusional," Robert interrupted sharply, clearly insulted. "Called her 'family'. I had to help him. He was being controlled by that human. I set him free."

"He was free,” Connor corrected him. “You hate humans. That's what it is. It has nothing to do with justice.” He maintained his persona: a cold, calculating detective.

The other android didn't seem to like that word. "You still elevate them above us, you hypocrite!" Robert snarled. "Don't talk to me about justice."

"Human or android, you killed an innocent woman in cold blood," the detective said lowly, letting his stare darken slightly.

"Where's your proof?" Robert challenged.

"Your shoes match the impressions at the crime scene," Connor stated bluntly. "You also were seen harassing the family-" Robert twitched at the word. "-a week before the murder. That's enough circumstantial evidence to obtain a warrant for your memories for that night."

"Where's your w-warrant, huh?" Robert challenged, his voice faltering slightly. "Why am I not under arrest, yet? You have nothing!" Robert shouted, his voice echoing around the chamber.

Connor narrowed his eyes slightly. "742-11-904, you are under arrest for trespassing on private property-"

Robert suddenly shifted and charged at Connor. Being a unit designed for industry work, he was bigger than Connor, bulkier with a wider frame and greater weight capacity; but, Connor was agile, flexible, and designed for combat. He avoided his assault with ease, but wasn't able to counter. His back hit the wall and Robert continued down the hallway past him.

Connor took up pursuit, finding that Robert took a different path out. He chased him into the harbor, out in the open, where security lights shined down on them. Workers from a nearby plant were perched on a balcony on the second floor. Connor could hear their surprised murmurs, "what the hell - you see that shit?"

Chain link covered the edge of the dock to act as a barrier to prevent falls. Connor contemplated pulling his gun on Robert; however, trespassing wasn't an offense worthy of firing, and he had yet to obtain the warrant he needed for the murder case. Pulling his gun would have been a one-way ticket to suspension, or likely worse.

Robert wasn't made for this. Connor was going to catch up to him. The android likely knew this. He had to take a path that Connor wouldn’t follow. He climbed the chain link, reaching the top before Connor got to him, and dived over the edge, straight into the harbor. The splash was drowned out by the rain tapping on the metal roofs nearby.

Connor looked over the edge to where the dark waters lapped at the concrete platform. Naturally, he couldn’t see anything through the murky water. He sighed, placing one hand on the chain link to lean against it.

"Well, so much for that," he groaned to himself.

It was unlikely that Robert could stay submerged for long, even less likely that he would surface here. He wasn’t going to return to this hiding place, nor Haven. Connor would have to find him through other means.

The rain started to pick up, sprinkling morphing to heavy droplets. Connor's eyes adjusted to lighting, or lack of, naturally. He was too focused on finding Robert that he failed to realize the sun had set. The time was normally hidden on his HUD as it was intrusive, distracting. He didn't need sleep. He didn't need rest. He could theoretically go days without a break.

When he brought the time temporarily back into view briefly, he realized it was 7:17. Your shift ended at 7 tonight, and he had promised he would be there.

"Shit!" he cursed out loud, swiveling away from the fence.

As he trotted away, shoes making wet sopping noises on the concrete, Connor started a message, "I'm sorry. I'm going to be a little late".

Before he sent it, he realized that he had missed your previous message.

"hold u to eet" you had replied. It was in response to his promise that the apartment would be warmer next time. But, it also struck him as a painful reminder that you had placed trust in his ability to get you home safely, and in a timely manner.

The rain continued to pick up until it was pouring down, like tiny rocks pummeling his body. It didn't hurt, but it was exhausting. He had fucked up, twice. He failed to capture Robert and now he was delaying you.

Instead of sending that message, he decided to call.

It rang once, then twice-

"Oh - shit - are you here already?" you blurted into the phone as soon as you answered.

"N-no, I-" he stammered. "I'm going to be late. I'm sorry."

"Actually - that's fine. I got so caught up in this thirium shipment, I didn't realize what time it was," you explained, sounding out of breath. "I was afraid I was keeping you."

"I wouldn't have minded waiting," Connor replied, feeling some relief at your words.

"No - don't say that," you scolded gently. "Don't take bullshit from anyone, Connor."

"Ugh-" he stammered. Did he take bullshit from people? Maybe he did and he just didn't care most of the time. Was waiting for you bullshit, anyway? He didn’t need to sleep, afterall.

"Working late, too, huh?" you breathed into the phone.

"Field work," Connor replied lowly.

You chuckled into the phone. "You know I can take a taxi if you're-"

"No, I-" he interrupted sharply. "I want to see you. Please."

"Connor," you breathed into the phone.

His phone wasn't a handheld device. It was an interface build into his processor. He could hear you directly in his head. Even through the slight distortion created by radio signals, the sound of your voice still managed to do something to him. Maybe he underestimated how badly he missed you.

In the background, Connor could hear one of your coworkers, "ooooo - who's Connor?" teasing at you in a purposely obnoxious voice.

You laughed quietly. "My boyfriend," you answered.

My boyfriend-

For some reason, something as mundane as you telling people that, made him really happy.

There was some shuffling noises, likely you moving around and trying to balance something in one hand and your phone in the other.

"Is he cute?" a different voice asked this time.

Connor was prepared to eavesdrop on this conversation in full; but, after some loud shuffling, you came back, speaking into the phone properly. "I'm gonna let you go, now - get this finished up - oh shit it's raining - let me know when you're in the parking lot?"

"Understood," he replied automatically, a habit. Plus, if he was being honest, he was disappointed.

"-and don't stress about it, Connor-" you added on hastily.

Fuck that-

-as soon as you hung up, Connor was running to his parked car.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

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thewhitefluffyhat · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Sotsu Episodes 1-5

Lack of motivation to write aside, I genuinely don’t have much to say about Sotsu so far! So here’s a collection of scattered fragments on the first two arcs.

First: these are by far the most straightforward Answer Arcs in the entire WTC series, aren’t they? I was initially wondering if we might be doing the set up from original Higurashi, with similar events but different Fragments - but no, we don’t even have that conceit. We’re showing the exact Fragments as in the -damashi arcs, just from different points of view. With Satoko even spelling out her trick afterwards!

The overall result is that Oniakashi and Wataakashi still feel like Higurashi being set to “easy mode” to cater to newcomers. Even after that ship long since sailed.

Meanwhile, the actually optimal way to experience Higurashi SotsuGou really does seem to be having watched the original Higurashi anime many years ago. My younger brother is in that category - so what feels like repetition for superfans like me ends up being a nice refresher on the characters and their circumstances for him.

New OP/ED!

-Gou’s OP might still be my favorite (not having a random clothing damage Hanyuu helps…), but Sotsu’s is a close second! And I suspect the song will only grow on me as the season continues.

-I think the part of the OP that surprised me most was the sheer amount of St Lucia-age Satoko and Rika in this one. So far, it seems like Sotsu’s Answer Arcs are going to be exact perspective swaps on the corresponding Question Arcs, which won’t leave much time for St. Lucia shenanigans. Perhaps a hint that we’ll be returning to that original Matsuribayashi Fragment?

-And yes, @tarhalindur, you were not wrong that I would be all about those OP/ED visuals! As so many people have noted, the laser light battle in the Sea of Fragments is extremely Umineko-like. Even specifically Lambda and Bern-like. Regardless on how the actual SatoRika relationship shakes out, I think we’re still fully on track for witch origin stories!

(Though leaning too far into the Umineko witches makes those shots really hard to take seriously, haha! Please imagine Rika and Satoko screaming “I LOVE YOU” at the top of their lungs there, and that’s it, that’s Lambda and Bern’s dynamic in a nutshell. XD)

-As for that one shot of Satoko and Rika nearly kissing… well… that’s what my other post is going to be about.

-I actually don’t have much to say on the ED, beyond it being as incredibly beautiful as the last two. (Gosh, I really need to get high resolution screencaps of it to use as desktop backgrounds!)

Symbolically and tonally, it’s oddly hopeful and reconciliatory for this point in the story. (That handholding image in the Sea of Fragments at the end...!) In the episodes themselves, all we see is Satoko going about her plan with villainous glee (and so much for my theories that she was barely keeping her side together). But between the OP and especially this regretful ED, I still find myself believing Satoko and Rika will eventually work things out.

Oniakashi

-I thought Oniakashi was a surprisingly efficient and well told version of Rena’s backstory. I can’t remember how it was done in the OG Higurashi anime, but compared to the VN, this is a very efficient condensation of her backstory. We got exactly what we needed to know, presented in a decently affecting manner, and without over-belaboring the point.

-I always disliked that Rina was characterized as so one-note evil given her profession. It felt stereotypical in a bad way. So I was quite happy to see Rina got some tiny bit of depth to her, she honestly needed it even more than Teppei.

-There were also some neat bits and bobs of symbolism and atmosphere building scattered throughout these episodes. That quick shot of Satoko with looper-eyes in her reflection in the classroom, for example.

(Seeing the witch version of yourself in a reflection… does that happen in the Umineko manga? I know it’s a very very common subject for fanart, but I don’t recall it occurring in actual canon before. Which is to say: goodness I love all the fanart in this mode, so I was very happy to see that visual come up in the actual series.)

Another neat detail - the symbolism of Rena’s cotton puff sinking during the Watanagashi festival. Was it on-the-nose? Sure. But it’s lingering on tiny things like that which really help to set the atmosphere, something Gou really struggled to do. So all-in-all, I think I’d actually consider Sotsu off to a stronger start than Gou in its presentation.

-After building up "how does Satoko inject people without arousing suspicion?” as an obstacle in my head so long, the explanation that Rena was just asleep felt rather underwhelming. (And come on, we don’t even get to see it in Wataakashi? Sheesh...)

-All the digital ink spilled on theories where part of Keiichi and Rena’s fight was a hallucination… well, so much for that. Pity, that was the one thing that could have really elevated the end of Onidamashi in my opinion.

-That being said, as much as I’m unhappy with the “solution” to Rena and Keiichi’s fight, juxtaposing it with Rika’s happy cheering was about the best way that material could have been presented. (The pitch black comedy continues to be on point, lol.) Plus, whiplashing from that to Rika learning about it at school makes it clear why she despaired enough to resort to suicide.

And the suicide itself… well, that scene sure made it obvious that Satoko is a lot more practiced at manually jumping Fragments! Heh.

(Though much like the infamous USO DA, Rika Stabby Fun Times is another scene where I think the original anime sold the horror better.)

Wataakashi

Satoko and Eua being able to snoop on Rika and Hanyuu’s conversations in the Sea of Fragments is very intriguing. That means Satoko probably knows about the Onigari too.

But does this detail (and Eua’s badmouthing of Hanyuu) make it more or less likely that Eua is Hanyuu in some form? Man, I don’t even know at this point…

-At least Satoko’s adventures in firearm acquisition was a taste of the completely absurd time looper thunderdome tactics I was hoping for. Rika really needs to up her game!

To some extent, Satoko’s strategy here also feels like a commentary on fans asking silly questions like “why didn’t Rika get a gun?” Ditto regarding her curiosity about what an L5 Mion would be like. She truly is becoming more witch-like - in that she’s now a dark mirror of the audience’s most morbid interests, just like the role played by Bernkastel, Featherine, and of course, Lambdadelta.

Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch those horse names being another extremely oblique LambdaBern reference. Satoko placed her bets on Wanyan beating Cheshire Cat, you say~?

(Wanyans/Meowoofs are also a Ciconia thing, though they’re first mentioned as a pet Lambda has in Umineko’s epilogue.)

-As for Satoko and Teppei, I’m still okay so far with how Teppei’s change of heart is being handled. I actually kind of like that even this “better” side of him is still clearly a pathetic loser who has no business taking care of a kid. And Satoko is warily tolerating his presence on her own terms, with no actual intention of forgiving or trusting him. She controls the situation!

-So much for Shion escaping St. Lucia getting brought up in Wataakashi, huh. Or Shion and Mion’s backstory at all, for that matter. A disappointing choice, after I thought Oniakashi did decently well with Rena’s backstory.

-In general Wataakashi seems to be getting hit the hardest with pacing woes, as well as taking the least unique route to Mion going L5. Lots of it seems like an attempt to parallel Shion’s obsession with Satoshi / Shion realizing she did something horrible but it was too late from Meakashi, to questionable effect.

If anything, the thing I found most interesting was that Satoko was the one opting to push the jealousy angle! Usually she’s quite naïve when it comes to romance. But now... projecting much, girl? :P

-Finally, I can’t help but continue comparing these -damashi/akashi arcs to the twists in the original arcs, and that comparison still does not do the new arcs any favors. Because Onikakushi and Watanagashi had some really good twists to their solutions! In contrast, these new arcs are an exercise in “what if the early suspicions you had about Rena being murderous and Mion being a yandere were actually RIGHT?” It’s Onikakushi and Watanagashi played completely straight, and I think those arcs lose a lot of their brilliance as a result.

It also makes me very, very nervous for how Tatariakashi will be handled...

But we’ll get there when we get there, I suppose. No sense worrying about that now, when we’ve got Mion’s bloodbath to cover next episode!

#when they cry #higurashi #higurashi sotsu #higurashi gou analysis #higurashi gou critical #my ramblings #read more #looper thunderdome #onidamashi #watadamashi #oniakashi #wataakashi #(reusing some gou tags here #just for ease of categorizing all sotsugou posts)#my higurashi gou sotsu meguri thoughts

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brownandblackpearls · 4 years ago

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📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.2

PART 2 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the first segment of your first date, attending a medical convention in Vesuvia.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. ☾ next

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Sitting across from Julian in this grand carriage is a fascinating journey all on its own.

The doctor is an eccentric one, telling you tales of wild cases, interesting cure possibilities, and lesser known homeopathic solutions to common Vesuvian ailments.

His sheer passion is more than enough to hold your interest, and hearing his innermost thoughts on his work is enough to spread the contagion of enthusiasm for this medical convention you were arriving upon. You were admittedly squeamish when it came to gore, but you did find an interest in the workings of the body, and more than that, you found an interest in him.

Unfortunately...you weren’t the biggest fan of leeches. When you let him know honestly, he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“I apologize,” Julian says to you honestly, looking sheepish. “I should’ve realized.”

You shake your head, smiling.

“It’s quite alright. Your line of work is very different from what I know. I simply manage my estate and related businesses, but you...? You help the people of this city. If you say leeches are a helpful medicine for people in need, then I’ll believe you and do my best to rid my trepidation. At least, for this evening.”

Julian stares at you for a long moment before suddenly reaching across the space between you for your delicately-gloved hand and kissing it soundly, intimately. His eyes focus on you through dark lashes before he lowers his gaze as well as your hand.

He clears his throat, sitting back stiffly.

“I…that was forward of me. I must beg your forgiveness.”

“Yes,” you agree in jest. You found nothing wrong with the act, regarding it as more endearing than anything. Clearly, the doctor liked the fact that you were happy to try and see the value in the world he clearly loved so much. “You’re forgiven.”

Julian seems to deflate at your words instead of soothe, wrangling his fingers together anxiously. He forces a laugh and nods, looking out the window. Had he missed your humorous tone...?

You don’t like him looking dissatisfied. You like him looking away from you with that wary expression even less.

With a slow, confident reach across the space, you use your own hands to gently cup his anxious one. Raising it between you both, you pinch the fingertip of his thick, leather glove before slowly lifting it off to unveil his hand of its leather casing. It is easy to pull his large hand towards you and observe the white, open palm.

His hand is large, long, and elegant for a doctor’s, yet clearly worn in certain places from fervent use. He must help so many, with these hands. Your mind drifts to other possibilities that those long fingers may be capable of, but you settle yourself quickly.

No need to rush. Not in courtship.

Instead, you use the subtle imaginings to move your lips, pouting and pressing them long and gentle against the palm of his hand. You linger there, flicking your gaze up and watching him freeze through the gaps of his fingers, before pulling away with a sweet release. Your eyes flick down to the lipstick-stained kiss mark left on his hand.

Your mark.

Smiling with satisfaction, you gently tug his glove back on and pat his hand before releasing him.

“That was also forward of me,” you say casually enough. “Am I forgiven…?”

Julian fumbles, a hot blush crawling up his cheeks.

“Y-yes,” he barely breathes, leaning towards the window once more. You settle with the thought that it is for some air, likely...instead of apprehension.

You feel your own face heat from the thrill of the forbidden, enjoying the slight cover that your dark, warm skin gives you. It would take more exertion than thrill or embarrassment to reveal you. The act of kissing his hand had been deviant, but delicious, and you thoroughly enjoyed teasing the doctor. He probably had expected no mischief from a respectable, established woman such as yourself. He may have even thought he had to hold himself in a certain manner to gain your favor.

Little did he know, he already had it. You wanted him, and you wanted him to understand you better, as well as lower his guard around you. You were certainly high in the Vesuvian aristocracy circles, but you were human just as anyone else, and you could make the same mistakes...the same missteps...as anyone else.

Your idea seemed to work well enough. Mr. Devorak no longer seemed to be upset, or appeared as if he felt alone in his forwardness.

Now, he seemed bewildered, if not highly intrigued.

You were pleased to think that later on, when you were no longer together, that Dr. Devorak would still have your mark on him after the day was done. A pretty reminder.

But no more of that. The day was just beginning.

“Ah, there it is!” He exclaimed, beckoning you to the window. “That’s the hall the gala will be held in!”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Though you were never one to feel overdressed at any occasion, you could certainly feel the eyes draw onto you as Dr. Devorak escorted you towards the large building.

Leaving the warm space of the carriage allowed you a reason to stay close with him in the crowds. His offered arm is strong and warm, but you keep your admiration to yourself for the moment. You take it as if its second nature, letting him lead you both towards the great hall in an easy step.

Your eyes span the people crowding near the entrance way, and you realize there are several other young beauties here with courting partners as well. Perhaps this event was more popular for Vesuvians than you once believed? You were curious to find out about the draws of this event that you had been unaware of prior.

The doctor flags down one of the door staff, smiling. The doorman spots him and grins back, calling out his name.

“Dr. Devorak! Welcome, welcome. You’re on the list of course, so you can come right in. Here’s your pin.”

Your date smiles, allowing the man to pin a medical emblem on his lapel. You realize it is likely a determiner for others in the event to understand who he is, and know that he is also a medical professional participating, not just a socialite.

“My lady,” the doorman greets, bowing to you kindly before stepping back. You don’t miss the sly wink he shoots to the doctor, who funnily pretends as if he did.

You greet the man back pleasantly before allowing Julian to lead you both into the event, past the crowds.

“Oh!” You gasp aloud, seeing the dioramas inside.

There were huge displays of freeze-dried human musculature, stuck in stasis while posing as if they were alive. Some were running, others jumping, and some standing. You mistakenly thought before that such sights might be grotesque, but the preparers did such a good job in making all the displays neat, clean, and scentless, you couldn’t help but feel only fascination.

Other tables were covered in medical tools, some from ancient Vesuvian history, and others from the current times. You could spy syringes, hacksaws, casts, all kinds of tools and oddities. Another table held medicines, their respective bottled forms, only for the bottles and pills to be under-laid by the real ingredients that went in them. One bowl of tablets showed huge ferns beneath them, and you wondered to yourself how pharmacists and herbalists could ever mash up such large plants to fit into such tiny capsules.

You didn’t realize you’d forgotten to interact with your date since entering the hall until Dr. Devorak pulled up beside you, smiling as you gawked at everything.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You startle a little, turning to him with wide eyes. A smile comes to your face.

“Yes! Very!”

You point out the bottles to him, revealing the question that had run through your mind.

The doctor seemed highly pleased to hear of your interest, and even moreso to engage in it.

“Well, you see,” he began, “though some professionals settle for the old mortar and pestle, there are new devices made just in the last year to assist with the refining process! In my offices, we’ve also experimented with rollers, stones, pressers, as well as the normal affects.”

“Like what?” You wonder, leaning in.

“Oh…” He pauses, unsure of himself now. “I, erh...I wouldn’t want to bore you. Are you in need of refreshments? I can—“

“You’re very kind,” you insist, trying to redirect back to your question. He’s gotten you interested and now you want to know! “What affects did you mean? From before?”

He pauses, analyzing you for a moment before breaking into a somewhat fond grin.

“Well...things like heat or chill can help separate what we need from the ingredients used. Though I had to study all arenas of medicine and practice in my youth, I focus more on diagnosis, prescription, and research these days. I used to do surgery and medicinal preparations but with the recent expanding we’ve undergone, I’ve been sidetracked with indulging in more hypotheticals and innovation than tried-and-true practice. So, I’m very excited to see what my colleagues have come up with!”

You smile, watching him speak and taking in his words. He seems so bright, so glad and inspired.

“I am happy to hear your expansions allow you the pursuits you desire. It must have been difficult.”

The doctor laughs then, and it is a warm, rich thing.

“I am only lucky. I’ve come a long way, from dingy old ships to grand palaces. Compared to all that, starting my practice and training younger medical professionals was easy.”

You could’ve kept walking beside him, conversing easily...but suddenly, a group of older doctors crowd you both, eyeballing your date.

“Devorak!” One crows. “We’ve been looking for you! Grimmes delivered the best speech on those new splints you both collaborated on, I wanted to congratulate you.”

“Why, thank you!” Julian says happily, shaking hands. “Grimmes did more of the work, she’s a natural.”

He seems to be in his element, amongst all the chatting doctors. Another one steps forward, completely bypassing you and fixated on Julian. You felt like a fly on the wall, drinking up all the curious interactions. This conversation was a world away from politics, estate dealings, and nobility gossip.

“Did you see Asif’s chiropractor module? It was quite horrific.”

“Really...?” Julian wonders. “I thought he sorted out the vertebrae counts for the model?”

“So did we! However the model looked rather poor. Shoulders up to here!” The doctor explains, displaying what he saw by shifting his shoulders as far up as his body could manage.

“Goodness…” Julian worried. “Was his gait irregular?”

“Irregular? Why, it looked like he’d been hung up on a coat rack Devorak, starched to high hell, and left to waddle out the practitioner’s office. There’ll be hell to pay, that one.”

Julian shakes his head, sighing.

“I can refer the poor man to the southern branch if I see him. The one on Marigold? God knows the trainees could use the practice. Perhaps we can fix it.”

The doctors nodded their assent and boasted of Julian’s generosity, before finally glancing at you. They all seemed somewhat shocked out of their reverie, glancing between the two of you with increasing disbelief.

“Hello,” you greet, ringing off your name politely.

The doctors bow politely, before looking to Julian. An older one shoots him a wide grin.

“Don’t you worry about any referencing, Devorak. We’ll let him know, ourselves. You just focus on your engagement with the lovely young woman you’ve caught here.”

“Right,” another one agrees quickly. “Been holding out on us, haven’t you? Who are we to interrupt a courting? Enjoy! Ladies, gentlemen, to the tinctures tables!”

The others agree, bumbling off in their crowd to find more of the convention to see.

You watch them go before turning to Julian.

“How many practices do you possess?” You inquire. You are genuinely curious, but there is an underlying meaning to your question.

As much as you adore the doctor, these courting dates are very necessary to glean information from potential partners. Julian clearly held standing amongst the other doctors, and was regarded with much respect. You didn’t doubt his ambition or success. But...since he held no large property or titles, so you needed to see how he could help benefit your estate and those that lived and worked in your home. You also needed to ensure that he held few vices or flaws that would conflict with your own…it was a superficial process that could not be completed in one engagement, and you didn’t particularly enjoy seizing people up like items on displays, but…it was better to do it now while you could rather than risk hearts, coin purses, and marriages down the line.

Besides, you expected the same from Julian, to interrogate you on your end in his own way. You weren’t the only one with assets to think of, and liabilities to consider! And only a fool would assume a wealthy beauty is all they needed in a match.

You felt Devorak could be silly in his own odd little way...but he didn’t strike you as a fool.

‘Hmm. Marriage.’

You watch the doctor, your heart thrumming a little faster at the thought.

‘One thing at a time,’ you remind yourself. ‘I don’t know if I’m even ready for the convention with anyone, him included. Slow and steady wins the race.’

Dr. Devorak stands a little taller, pushing his shoulders back and preparing a bolder facade than you believed he actually felt. He seemed to understand what time this was, what the question really meant, and was eager to please with honesty and transparency.

He wanted to prove himself to you, you realize.

“I am but a humble man,” he begins. “I own one practice, with several branches throughout Vesuvia. It has grown to the point where I now simply stop by each one weekly, and oversee the operations. I have three locations in the city’s center, and five in the outer regions. Those locations range from general practices to apothecaries.”

You nod, highly impressed.

“Eight branches is hardly humble, Julian. It sounds very admirable.”

The doctor blushes, pulling at his collar and pretending nonchalance.

“Eh…well...”

“You must be quite good at what you do.”

“Well...It was not without considerable help, I cannot lie. In the beginning, I had a generous investor that believed in my vision and potential. That investor was the central Countess, and without her I doubt I could’ve gathered together the startup costs. But...I take pride in taking the best care of Vesuvians that I can. And so word spread, and now they come to us for all sorts of ailments and needs. We’ve fairly profitable year after year since. I..I could make more, raise prices, yes, but...I always wanted affordability to be important. Everyone in Vesuvia deserves access to quality healthcare.”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “Not many businessmen in Vesuvia are transparent about their journeys, and not many can honestly say they value ethics.��

You briefly review his words to yourself.

He was hinting near the end that though he had his personal reasons for not breaking his profits ceiling in a way that would truly impress a run-of-the-mill blue-blood, that neither he nor his businesses would be a liability to your estate.

There was another implication in his words that you couldn’t help but notice.

“You know Nadia…?” You ask suddenly.

“Yes! Do you…?” He inquires back, curious.

“Ah...yes,” you respond kindly, tightening your lips on why. You didn’t want to appear rude mentioning your other current courting potentials. Ritually, that was only to be used in situations of dire need for leverage. It was one thing to review each others ways of living and financials, whereas it was quite another to throw into the face of hopefuls…all the other hopefuls…unless asked, of course.

Julian seemed to catch on. He did not seem upset, though.

“Hm,” he wonders quietly. “...I am not surprised that you are getting house calls from all walks of Vesuvia.”

You pause, unsure of what to say. Had you offended him?

“I…”

The doctor is kind, and fills in the empty silence with warmth.

“I am just glad that you answered my letter, that I get to have you for myself today. I am happy that you like the gala and…I only anticipate enjoying the rest of our time together.”

You beam at him, tugging his arm closer to your body.

“I feel the same, Julian.”

He pulls you tighter as well, circling you both around the event to watch more displays and pass by speakers who were taking charge in different corners of the venue. You overhear some very interesting ideas and concepts, and Julian leans over every so now and then to comment on them in your ear.

Soon enough, Julian offers to take you for a break near the venue’s indoor patisserie. You agree joyfully, all too eager to spy the cute little confectionery cakes and pastries as the both of you walk up near the outdoor seating.

Julian hunts down a seat for you both amidst all the other couples, some wedded, some courting, and some just having a casual meetup.

He pulls out your seat gingerly for you, and you sit graciously. He takes his own seat as a waiter arrives, bringing you both a drink and dessert menu. Together, you and Julian order coffees and a cake to share before sitting back, watching one another.

‘Wait,” you think.

You realize very suddenly that the doctor is being too gracious in not asking on your situation in return, and so you decide to open the floor up to him so there is no risk of offending. Perhaps he is nervous because of your status...? Perhaps those things matter so little to him, that he is willing to break courtship convention to avoid asking after them...? Perhaps he is simply forgetful...?

“Is there anything you’d like to know about my estate or my courting season, Julian?”

He pauses, thinking to himself for a stretch.

“Well…I must admit, I know little about you besides what I saw from the theater and what I’ve heard from the grapevine. I’m not fond of gossip and would rather hear it from you, but...I knew so few in your circle...I know nothing, really. Besides your distaste for leeches of course, and your penchant for…” he coughs, adjusting, “….for...adventure.”

You giggle, covering your mouth before leaning in.

“You find me adventurous? Some would say I am just an aristocrat, perfectly happy to hole up in my estate with no influence on the outside world. Not like you. You do so much good.”

He shakes his head, frowning.

“Don’t discount yourself for me. I…I do know of your philanthropy around Vesuvia. Generous donations for the citizens, for the disenfranchised. That is good in its own way. And class is no barrier to who possesses the heart of an adventurer and who doesn’t. You proved it today.”

“How?”

Julian laughs.

“Like you know few honest businessmen, I know few women of your stature who would eagerly come here for a first engagement. Especially after my confidant revealed that I had sent an inquiry letter in a poor manner, to a poorly-picked event. You came—and even better—you enjoyed yourself.”

You gift him a wink.

“I think I may enjoy myself wherever I go, with you at my side, Doctor.”

There goes his flush again, as clear as a bounty of roses! You love the way it matches his hair. He hides his face behind a gloved hand, sinking into his seat as you laugh generously.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he insists, “with your teasing.”

You fake a pout, looking at him innocently.

“I am no tease, sir.”

“Right,” he says simply, smiling. “And I am no doctor.”

You laugh once again, batting at him lightly with a gloved hand before sitting straighter.

“Enough about that,” you say, “I should inform you of my situation, just as you informed me of yours. I would be very rude not to.”

Julian stiffens, sitting straighter as well.

“You don’t have to—“

“Oh but I do,” you insist. “You are too kind and too subtle to ask on such things as blatantly as my aristocrat self can, but the courting traditions demand it. You shall peruse my purse and pursuants as I have yours. There will be no barriers here.”

You clear your throat, and Julian waits patiently.

“I possess the estate of ———, as you already know. I am —— years old, with a long lineage. Most of my family has moved away outside of Vesuvia to our ancestral nation of origins, but I am a Vesuvian-born and Vesuvian at heart, so I chose to stay and take over the household. Like any baron or baroness, I oversee properties, farms, accounts, and merchandise. My estate largely relies on profits from renters on our land, but I began a perfumery and garden a few years ago. Using the florals from the garden, the business has become a success and sells in local tailor shops. So we bring profit in on that end as well, my endeavor alone, since the family that left have their own means in the ancestral country.”

Julian nods, interested.

“A perfumery...?”

“Yes,” you answer, happy. “I really enjoy it. With scents, I can create candles as well. I would love to show you sometime, if you’d like.”

Julian perks up more from the sound of that, than your financials.

“There will be a next time…?” He wonders aloud.

“If you will have me.”

Julian beams then, wider than you’ve seen all day. He nods and sips at his coffee happily, taking the olive branch and leaving so much unsaid. There was no need to.

You both seemed to be on the same page.

“Scents are interesting,” he says suddenly. “It is considered flimsy medicine, but I’ve often thought of aromatherapy. I wonder if it could help patients with mood difficulties…?”

Your eyes widen at the thought.

“It’s certainly worth a try. I can spare some scents for your practice when you visit me.”

Julian seems awed, amazed at the opportunity and you giving it.

“Are you real...?” He asks suddenly. “Am I dreaming?”

“No,” you laugh. “I am quite real. Do you need a pinch to prove it?”

Julian makes a very odd face at that, straightening up and moving swiftly past the question, diving into how delicious the cake is.

You watch, noticing. You could only wonder what it was that set him off.

“I will not pinch you…” You explain, hoping to ease him.

“Ah!” He shakes his head, trying to wave off your worry. “It’s not that. You’re fine. You can, uh…I want it- wait, no, that’s…never mind! You’re real, that much is certain.”

You watch him flail before shrugging internally and refocusing on the cake. You mentally file the ‘pinching’ reaction away for later thought.

“Is it good?” You ask.

Julian nods eagerly, forking off a piece and raising it to you. You see he is angling the fork for you to grasp yourself, but you decide to forego that idea.

What’s life without a little pleasure?

Sure that no one is watching either of you, you lean forward and eat the cake off of his offered fork, skillfully sucking the remnants off entirely. You look demurely away from him, but you know you’ve hit your mark when you hear him squawk. You chew, assessing, before glancing over to him feeling pleased.

“This is very, very good,” you agree.

Julian looks a little pained, watching you with wanton desire and intrigue.

You gently take the fork from his fingers and cut him a piece, offering it up to him kindly.

“Say ‘ah‘, for me,” you request pleasantly enough, yet you know that your gaze you’re pinning him with is a little less collected than your tone.

Slowly understanding, the doctor leans forward and takes the offering with his own mouth, too flushed to look at you directly. You’re thrilled to see him clear the fork in the same manner before he pulls back, focusing less on the cake he just ate and more on how you’re making him feel.

“Does it taste better, now?” You wonder aloud.

“Yes,” he nearly whispers. “Much better.”

You smile demurely, supporting your face on a relaxed hand.

“That, dear doctor,” you say, “is a tease.”

“I…I’ll remember that,” he says quietly, shifting under your gaze.

You’re sure that he will.

“You don’t have to,” you insist. “I can always help you, if you forget.” The promise sounds very sweet from your lips.

“Uh…Ah!” Julian pretends suddenly, checking his watch with faux vigor. “Wouldyoulookatthat, the theater! We’d best be on our way, we have box seats, you know.”

You giggle and he mirrors your humored grin, laughing himself.

“Of course, Julian.”

He assists you up before grabbing his cane and coat. Together with your funny doctor date, you are led out of the venue and into the afternoon of the day.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ previous. ☾ next

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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This Crackship has Inspired Me

inspired by this by @maulusque which is the funniest star wars ship i’m somehow only learning about just now.

Palpatine listened with the same idle half attentiveness he always reserved for Skywalker’s ramblings about his wife, smiling and nodding genially at the appropriate intervals. At least his rants about blasted Kenobi or his monstrous little Padawan yielded tactical insights into the Jedi Order’s weaknesses.

There was very little he could do with ‘shine of Senator Amidala’s hair’ or the ‘brilliance of his speeches.’ Of course, he always found something to use but there was an awful lot of nonsense to sift through.

“...I still can’t believe she married me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more...” Skywalker trailed off.

“You deserve every happiness, my boy.” Palpatine said kindly.

Anakin looked down, a shadow falling over his face. He stared into his drink.

“What is it?” Sidious pried gently.

Skywalker hesitated. “Can I tell you something...and can you promise not to...think to badly of me for it?”

Palpatine leaned forward, disguising his keen interest behind a reassuring ‘genuine-warm-smile.’ “Of course, Anakin. I couldn’t lose my confidence in you anymore than you could lose yours in me.”

The anxious Knight took a fortifying sip of Soulean brandy before leaning forward and confessing in a low whisper, “I was happy of course during our wedding- but- more than that- I felt. Satisfied. Victorious. I mean.” Skywalker took another gulp. “Jedi aren’t supposed to get, you know, possessive of people. And slaves...its complicated.”

“Whatever you say, I promise it will never leave this room.” Palpatine encouraged him with his best grandfatherly-tone.

“On Tatooine...” Skywalker’s voice was barely audible, and Palpatine had to restrain himself from shaking the words out of him. The boy typically preferred not to discuss his most easily manipulated vulnerability.

“In the slave quarters...the most valuable thing a person can own is themselves. And even if you can’t be free- you can choose to have a different master. It’s not- it’s not the most common form of s-secret marriage. Or even the most approved. It’s actually a little taboo.”

Skywalker hunched in on himself and Sidious kept his face gently neutral.

“But- I remember feeling so good when I won that podrace. I earned something important and it was me who did it. And this was better than that. Padme- she didn’t even love me that much at first - I think I was always going to let her have me, if she just asked. It was one of the first things I thought when she walked in- It was one of the first things I thought when anyone wealthy looking came in the shop, ‘what if they buy me?’ And she was so clean and beautiful and I thought that if it was her maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But somehow I won her and she chose to bind herself to me. So...we both kind-of have each other but-”

Skywalker dropped his head in his hands.

“It’s probably wrong- I know it’s wrong- but winning her? A smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should by all rights want nothing to do with me- I don’t think I’ll ever match that sense of victory. Of power. No matter how many battles I win or enemies I destroy. And- that’s what I felt during my wedding.”

Palpatine leaned back, impressed despite himself. He had always despaired over the boy’s seeming lack of desire for power for its own sake. But that was almost...poetic. He had never been much for ‘romance’ but he did very much enjoy when his enemies chose, under their own power, to play into his hands. Making that happen on such an intimate level... well he could almost see the appeal.

Out-loud he said, “I think that feeling is perfectly natural, my boy. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Really?” Anakin said, pathetically hopefully.

How to phrase this...

“I myself enjoy a sense of, well, power, over others. From time to time. Of course, I know its not the same, but when I manage to pass a tricky piece of legislation the feeling of winning over another often personally overshadows my anticipation of the joy my work will bring. It’s perfectly normal and harmless. It’s not as though that feeling of victory over another diminishes the good my actions do. And you and the Senator are so very good together. Don’t let shame yourself for a...harmless bit of perceived darkness.”

He clasped Anakin on the shoulder and the idiot beamed back at him adoringly.

Long after the evening ended and his future Apprentice departed, Darth Sidious sat in his office musing.

A simple probing into an exploitable flaw had revealed a dimension of power Palpatine had, shockingly, never considered. Sex was enjoyable, but ultimately not a priority. And rape was one of the less creative forms of torture. But love- tricking someone into falling in love- earning someone’s absolute devotion- there was a certain appeal.

Obviously he had sycophants by the score, but Skywalker had incredibly said it himself: ‘a smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should hate him.’ Now that would be a triumph. And Senator Amidala even knew about her husband’s less traditionally tasteful sides! Anakin really had pulled off a bizarre coop, hadn’t he? His pretty face probably helped give the whole process a boost, but Sheev had a rather impressive amount of personal wealth in need of a new mechanism for display that should serve the same function. He decided to keep the matter under consideration.

A week later, during a briefing with Commander Fox- who he would decommission for the sheer number of senatorial secrets he possessed were he not proving so uniquely invaluable at suppressing food shortage riots- the idea reemerged.

It would tie up a number of loose ends if those secrets were wholly under my control- and there would be a delicious irony in having one of my most elegantly designed weapons choose to serve me so completely before the choice was taken away...

Palpatine was nothing if not patient, and decided to bide his time, carefully observing before committing any real energy or resources.

Another week after that, the Commander came in for another meeting, absolutely professional but clearly projecting the wincing sensation of a hangover as well as...nerves? The over-promoted clone was usually freakishly adept at maintaining natural mental shielding, but apparently the over-indulgence had weakened him.

Throughout the briefing the nerves gradually hardened into determination before his typical mental walls came up to block any other easily-gleaned insights. Palpatine was intrigued.

After the conclusion of their scheduled business, Fox cleared his throat. “That’s a very...flattering robe you’re wearing.”

Palpatine raised a brow. The commander usually didn’t try flattery on him, not because it never worked, but simply because he seemed to find it beneath his skills.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Commander.”

“I can be very...kind. When the mood strikes me. And red is a very...striking color on you.” Palpatine blinked rapidly, genuinely shocked for the first time in quite a while. That was absolutely a suggestive tone of voice. Could his mere idle thoughts somehow have already manifested themselves?

“Oh?” Palpatine responded calmly. “I can’t say I knew that, Commander.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sir.” He drew out the last syllable in a... new way. Typically when the Guard Leader said ‘sir’ it was either sarcastic, neutral, or inexplicably pronounced like a slur. This time he seemed to caress the word in a manner that wouldn’t be out of place in a bedroom.

Before Palpatine could think of how he wanted to reply, the clone bowed lowly and marched towards the door. At the exit he paused and pulled off his helmet.

Free of the vocalizer, his voice was much smoother, “And please, when we’re alone...feel free to call me Fox. Sir.”

“Thank you, Fox. Safe travels,” Palpatine called weakly as the figure slipped away.

Palpatine leaned back, grinning wickedly. Well. This was an interesting development.

#star wars #anidala #um a bit of angst i guess #anakanon typically angst u know #foxitine #crack treated seriously #i regret nothing #rape mentioned briefly as an abstact concept cause palpatine is gross #like REALLY briefly #but still #potentially triggering

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snowbellewells · 4 years ago

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A Cottage by the Sea {Part Five}

Here we are at last! After months off (I’m truly sorry for that wait, by the way!) I’m back with the next to last addition to this @cssns20 story - only the final part/epilogue left to go. I meant to have this up much earlier today, but I had several different things come up that made me later. I hope you all who are still reading will enjoy... :)

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the sand near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the beach, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half. But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

From the beginning on AO3, and here on Tumblr

Part Five

Calypso looked on with a mother’s concern and doting affection, treasuring the chance to see her son happy. After so many years separated from her children, to have one of them here on her island where she could speak to him each day, brush back the wild dark hair from his face as she had done when he was just a little boy, no longer having to miss him, and knowing he would always be safe. It was nearly inducement enough to put a protective barrier up around her hidden home - an enchantment as she’d had before letting it down to allowing Killian’s princess passage, that would keep others out, and her son and his beloved in.

Yet, tempting as it was, the sea nymph knew better than most that she could do no such thing. Killian might find contentment here, now that Emma was by his side, but she could never force him to stay in such a manner. She would be parting him cruelly from the life he had worked hard to make for himself, and from the people who had taken him in - those who had become hs family when Davy had taken he and Liam from her arms. Having been forced to live with such loss, she would force no such thing on anyone else.

No, she would not make her beloved boy - long since become a man - remain here. She knew he would go, and even as she feared what might await him on his journey back to Misthaven; almost sensing that the threat from the deep was not yet over, she could only treasure this interlude she had been granted, to see Killian again, and to let him know he and his elder brother had always been loved and wanted.

~~***~~

Far below in the depths, fathoms beneath where Calypso watched anxiously, eyes drinking in every second of her son’s presence she could, and where Killian Jones and his royal lady love splashed and frolicked in the tide, another pair of eyes waited and watched, biding his time. True, he used supernatural means to do so - a dark orb of swirling greenish water housed in a gigantic open half shell platform brought the image to his underwater lair - but it was just as effective. Twice his younger son had escaped his clutches - once washed ashore as a youth before he could drag Killian down in his watery hold, and the second time foiled by the righteous nymph who fancied herself saving the whelp’s life. ‘Saving him? Bah!’ Davy’s glowering evil mind recanted. What could be more glorious than receiving his destiny? Sitting at his other side with Liam, ruling over the deep?

All these years, he’d been missing the set, the pair; he had his elder son - the wreck nearly a decade ago had seen to that - but he would not rest until both his sons were with him, his rule and legacy complete.

Of course, though he might hold his firstborn in thrall - unable to escape and return to the land of the living unless Davy released him, not after so long under the sea - that did not mean his eldest remained willingly. A dark glance over his shoulder gave him a view of Liam silently waiting and watching until orders were given him. Brooding, was more accurate, the immortal fiend thought angrily. Unlike the other souls lost and gathered into his unholy crew, Liam still looked much as he had when he had first been pulled below. He was not a mindless shade, hollowed and twisted beyond recognition as many of Davy’s captives for any length of time became. He still stood young, proud, and tall; broad-shouldered and handsome, just the sort of right hand a king of the deep would require, and Davy knew it well; it was just as he had envisioned long ago when he sent the typhoon that had claimed Liam’s young life. Unfortunately, the flaw in his plan was that it was meant to have brought him Killian as well, both his heirs to flank him and support him - his powerful living legacy. Instead his youngest had slipped through his clutches by chance or Fate - or interference from the dratted creature he had once charmed into loving him, who had borne him two strapping lads. To his way of thinking, Calypso had known full well just who he was and the darkness within him, but had then grown a conscience and set herself to oppose him at every turn.

“Liam!” he bellowed. Though he knew his eldest lingered just nearby, rekindled temper made his voice boom and reverberate in the small space, bouncing off the cavernous rock that encased his throne room. “It’s time my boy,” he pronounced, evil fire lighting eyes that had once been as blue and mesmeric as either of his sons’ but were now clouded and dark - foreboding whatever his mood. “Kilian will join us soon, as he should have long ago.”

The elder Jones brother, face steady and resolved, without flicker of emotion to betray his true thoughts came to stand at his father’s side dutifully when beckoned. He nodded at the boastful proclamation without comment, though if one looked closely - as Davy was too absorbed to do - they would have seen the strain in Liam’s every muscle, the tension radiating from his clenched jaw and tightly balled fist. His concern for his long-missed younger sibling would have been evident if one were watching, though he had learned long ago that luckily his power-mad sire noticed only what pleased him and related to his own concerns. He didn’t want Killian with him out of any genuine desire to reunite his family, but through some twisted ideal of dynastic completion.

Though he couldn’t hide all of his concern, Liam schooled his face into a mask of bland curiosity and obedience as he looked to Davy who growled, “You remember the job you are to do?”

“Aye,” Liam affirmed simply with a curt nod, leaving out that he had every intention of doing the opposite when the moment came.

He left soon after, knowing his keeper - all the moniker his pitiless sire truly deserved - would never suspect him to do anything other than exactly as he decreed. ‘Thank the gods for small mercies on that score,’ Liam thought as he swam from the lair with unnaturally strong, tireless strokes. Such blind tunnel vision was all he really had to count on in his hopes to turn the tide.

~~***~~

Emma was genuinely surprised by Calypso’s warmth and affection as the gracious sea numph accepted her thanks for her aid and guidance in finding Ogygia before drifting lost at sea interminably. Of course this otherworldly being - uncannily graceful and stunning in all respects - was Killian’s mother! Not wonder he had always been able to charm any person he met with a mere smile or twinkle of his eyes! The part that staggered Emma was that the woman would embrace her and bless them as a couple rather than begrudge her pulling Killian away when she had just found him again. Princess trained in regal bearing and dignity she might be, but all the same, Emma could only tightly hug Killian’s mother in return, blubbering an apology about not being able to desert her parents and her people, which Calypso acknowledged with a calm gesture of understanding, and then boarded the ship, trying to quickly wipe away the stray tears that had escaped down her cheeks. She was glad to be able to say she had met his mother, and Killian deserved a moment alone to say his farewells - at least for the moment.

“Your princess is truly a lovely young woman,” Calypso told her son warmly, squeezing his hands in her own, hating to think that soon Killian would once again be out of her reach. “She is as enchanting and kind as her lady mother, Misthaven’s Queen, is reputed to be. I have no doubt that she will rule justly and well when the time comes.”

“Nor do I,” Killian agreed softly, his assurance, and the pride her felt for his beloved clear in word and tone. “But Mother, I…”

“And she loves you,” Calypso continued, cutting him off because she knew she must tell him all before her emotions choked her. “Above all else, she holds you closest to her heart, my son. Right where you deserve to be. It does a mother’s heart good to see it.”

Killian bowed his head, flushing to the tips of his ears, pointed like hers he realized now with pleasure to have a trait in common with this mother he hated to part from. “And I love her,” he replied without hesitation, “But you know that I love you as well… don’t you?” He pressed their joined hands to his chest, just over his heart. “That I do not wish to leave you? Emma’s people look to her; they need her… and I have responsibilities as well. Her parents, they took me in…”

“Never fear, Killian,” Calypso soothed her son easily. “I do know. And you will never fully leave me. You will always be my baby boy. You - and she - will always be welcomed here, should you ever wish to return.”

For a long, heavily charged moment mother and son leaned into a lingering embrace - full of comfort, which neither wished to let go. Foreheads touching, Killian tried to breath in her scent, to memorize the sound of her voice - all the things he had forgotten before.

“I will always be here for you, Son,” she promised as he turned to stride across the sand and into the ship to sail home. “You know where to find me… whenever you need.”

Her son waved one last time before joining his princess at the bow, and soon their little ship was no more than a speck on the horizon, drifting further and further away.

~~***~~

They had been on the water some hours when a gentle bubbling and foaming disturbance of the surface appeared just ahead of their boat. Both Killian and Emma noted it, but were not terribly concerned at first. It was only when the waves around them began to roll and grow choppy, forcing Emma to grasp the sides tight-lipped and white-knuckled and Killian to eye the frothing, churning, and ever-expanding disturbance with worry he did not wish to voice. This was clearly no mere passing dolphin or larger tide as he had first hoped. He remembered too just how malevolently and suddenly the storm which wrecked his vessel and drowned the rest of his crew had blown up. He could not bear to see such a calamity befall Emma.

Glancing to his side, Killian’s heart swelled with admiration and affection for her as she braced herself and remained calm, neither crying nor panicking as many an untested sailor might have done. She was silent and steady - every bit as determined to hold her own as he was to see her home safely. However, he was about to caution her to wrap a length of rope around her oar-lock and then her waist securely, so that if she were tossed overboard he could haul her back in before she was lost, when suddenly their small craft bucked and lurched so strongly that she was thrown to the deck on hands and knees, and he nearly toppled down on her, despite his own more seasoned sea legs.

Before Killian could even reach to help her up, some unknown form broke the surface in the center of the spinning waters, and once it did, the worst of the pitching and rolling calmed. A head, then broad shoulders, emerged seemingly from the deep - as impossible as it should have seemed. However, they did just leave the island of his mother the sea nymph, so neither felt quite as supported by usual logic as they once had been. It was only as the figure glided toward them on the waves, as if they could simply float atop the water weightlessly without the effort of swimming, that Kilian recognized its build and look with a shock of disbelief. As the mysterious arrival raised unmistakably blue eyes to meet their awestruck gazes, the single word fell from his mouth on a harsh, ragged breath. “L- Liam?”

Emma’s head whirled to stare at him, then the aquatic visitor, and back, slack-jawed and goggle-eyed. She wanted to make sure she’d heard him correctly. Liam? The brother who had died when Killian was a child? Who had been lost to the sea at the same time it brought Killian to her? How was that possible? The thoughts cropped up in her mind one after another, but turning to see the intensity and confusion, the pain and the dawning joy on Killian’s face made her hold her tongue.

Tears started in the corners of her own eyes all the same, though he managed to speak again softly, “Brother? ...Is it really you? You- you drowned.” His face almost crumpled, and Emma wanted desperately to take his hand in comfort, but she held back, sensing that the brothers needed this moment - however it was happening. “I thought you were lost.”

Somberly, the shaggy head of hair lighter and curlier than Killian’s nodded to confirm his words. “Aye, it’s me, Little Brother.” He glided closer, out of the water up to his waist, until he was right next to their vessel, facing Killian as he reached out tentatively. “I was drowned… more or less. But I have not really died, not as one normally understands it. Oh blast, am I buggering this up!”

Emma knew her face must match the look of perplexity covering her sailor’s. The words this man was uttering didn’t make sense. And yet, Killian would not - could not - leave him hanging, regardless of his confusion. He reached forward and met Liam in a tight, frantic hug of reunion after so many years apart, She heard a strangled sob leave the younger Jones, muffled against his elder brother’s shoulder, which was in turn shaking rather markedly with a soundless anguish and relief of its own.

When they finally parted, Liam’s hands were resting on Killian’s shoulders as he peered into his brother’s eyes intently. “I will explain all - as best I can anyway. I swear it, Killian. I am sorry I could not make myself known to you sooner.”

Killian nodded in acceptance of those words, looking almost dazed - as if afraid to even blink or speak for fear his beloved sibling would vanish from him again.

“But first,” the elder Jones continued, “I must tell you how I have reached you now - and warn you to be on your guard.”

Tremors ran down Emma’s spine at the words themselves, and the tone in which they were spoken. This was not idle chatter, but a true threat, and she could only imagine who, or what, he might warn was coming their way.

Killian gave his older brother a curt nod of understanding, urging Liam on. It was clear how they would have worked impeccably well together - an unstoppable team on any ship - if things had been different, if they had been allowed to sail into adulthood side-by-side. They do not argue or waste time, but instead each obviously trusted the other at their word, without a second’s hesitation, and moved forward without fail toward what must be done - not allowing room for doubt nor fear.

Liam cleared his throat, eyes lowered to avoid quite holding contact with either of their faces when he continued, voice gravel-rough and low. “Of course you know of Davy Jones and his infernal locker…” he began..

Again, Killian nodded in confirmation, “Aye, naturally.”

“What most do not know - what I myself could not have known all those years ago, still just a lad, and would never have believed, is that Davy Jones and the legend surrounding him - his locker, his cursed crew, the Flying Dutchman - all of it is true.”

Neither Killian nor Emma spoke to interrupt him, though it was a near thing, both of them staring frozen and gobsmacked, trying to figure out how they must have misunderstood Liam’s words. Finally, Killian gathered his wits enough to sputter incredulously, “You mean to say that you’ve been held prisoner - a part of that villain’s crew all this time? How - how is that possible?”

Liam shook his head resignedly, answering with little more than a shrug and a low voice. “I do not begin to know the whys and wherefores, Little Brother. Until seeing you here before me, I had genuinely lost all sense of time passing, and much memory of who I once was and what I felt long ago - a sort of suspended animation, if you will.”

Emma had remained quiet throughout their exchange - partially stunned into speechlessness and partially from a desire to allow Killian the time and space to be reunited with the sibling he had mourned as long as she had known him. Yet, with this revelation, she found her curiosity overruling her previous restraint. “What allowed you to come to us now then?” she questioned, tilting her head as she attempted to study his face - familiar, but not as open to her as Killian’s had ever been. She didn’t mean to be mistrustful, but all of this tale was strange - straining belief, in fact - and his arrival to warn them at just the opportune moment seemed almost too much a coincidence.

“A fair question indeed, your Highness,” Liam answered respectfully, with a slight dip of his chin in differential bow. For a moment, his gaze slid back over to Killian with such proud approbation, as if congratulating him in finding such a sharp lass and valuing that about her, that Emma felt herself flush with pleasure.

He granted her a small but transformative smile; in truth, the way it lightened his whole aspect made him seem an entirely different person. Not only that, but the familial similarities between he and the brother she had grown up beside became all the more evident when his expression drew her in just as Killian so easily did. “In answer to your question - as fair warning, as much as it is in my power to offer you - Davy sent me to the surface anyway. He made me have you in my sights, ready to do his bidding at the moment he chooses to strike. I did not know whether I would be able to thwart his intent and show myself or speak to you ahead of when he wished, but it seems I can, and it was worth any effort for me to at least try. I believe he knows my loyalty is not fully his, in whatever degree I am free of his influence, and so he has not told me all. Have no doubt he will attack when you are weakest though, when the moment is most opportune for his victory. Please, both of you, be wary and ready. I will help you in any way I can, but I can never be fully assured how much of my will might be my own.”

Kililan’s brow furrowed in anger and disgust, his concern for the sibling he loved clear as he asked disbelievingly, “He controls you?”

Liam bobbed his head in grudging confirmation, but he wanted them to know as well as possible just what they were up against. “To a large degree, yes. If he wills it, that seems often to be the case, at any rate. Thankfully, he has numerous minions, most much more eager to serve as they are grateful to be - at least in some measure - alive. He is often distracted and not actively ordering me to do anything, and as such, I am often able to do as I will. Not that I have much to see or do here trapped within the ocean. It would have been better for me to have perished outright, but he did not allow that - not when he sent that storm to gather us both to his side.”

The elder Jones shook his head in frustration, gritting his teeth before concluding ominously, “I fear he will never rest until he has captured your soul as well, Brother… And I do not know how much I will be able to aid you or resist his orders when he directly states otherwise.”

Before he could divert his gaze, obviously ashamed that he could be used as a pawn, made to hurt those he most wished to protect, Killian brought his hand quickly to grasp his brother’s forearm, bringing Liam’s stormy gaze up to look on his own, clasping his long lost hero’s hand in a firm, brotherly grip. Killian vowed solemnly. “Understood. We will be on our guard. But do not think for a moment we will hold you to blame for something beyond your control, either.”

Emma stepped closer, looking into the slightly greyer, more muted blue of the brother she had just met’s eyes as well. “Take care of yourself too. See that you weather the storm as well so we can meet again. And thank you… for the warning.”

The shaggy head, which had once been carefully close-cropped and tended light brown curls nodded, seeming to know better - just as his younger brother always had - than to argue with a princess so prepossessed and determined. There was a sheen of unshed tears filming those wise, weary eyes as he hesitated every second he felt able, but in the end he dared not linger further, loath to draw Davy Jones’ attention to the princess and lieutenant if they could by pass his waters undetected.

Unfortunately, the entire sea was the evil being’s domain - and all those upon it a part of his purview. All three of them knew - and Liam from a sickening knowledge of seeing and living the aftermath of when struggle against Davy for survival ultimately failed - it was a battle that would take all they had, with the outcome Emma spoke of anything but assured. Still, the fact that they knew it was coming, could steel themselves and prepare for the worst, somehow steadied them. Neither Killian nor Emma had ever been people who had backed down from a fight - and they were calling on every bit of that resolve in the moment.

Though Liam was more than reluctant to leave his brother and Killian’s beloved - a princess! And a woman he already found himself feelings brotherly affection for - he knew he must do so soon. The last thing he wanted was to destroy their one advantage and let Davy know they were aware of his plot. Nor did he wish to lead his predatory sire right to Killian and Emma; let them get as close to their home and safety as they could before the nefarious, supernatural captain caught them up.

“Aye,” he finally managed to choke out harshly. “May we do so.” One more quick bow of his head, reverence in the gesture before he offered a warm, loving smile and then sunk so smoothly beneath the surface of the water that it barely rippled, unlike when he had appeared. Almost as though he had never been there at all; leaving Killian and Emma to turn to each other, vowing to fight through together, to find Liam again, their eyes promised it even if no words were spoken, whatever they were about to face.

~~***~~

Sure enough, they might have hoped otherwise, Killian and Emma felt Davy Jones’ presence approaching before they reached Misthaven’s shores. The otherworldly menace’s arrival was heralded as much by the change in the wind and the waters around them as the chill of foreboding that made the hair at their napes stand on end. Though he had not yet shown his cursed visage, the way what had simply been a pleasant breeze now picked up to whip at the sails, their hair and clothes, and to howl in their ears, and the way what had been a light blue sky turned a sickening chartreuse full of scudding grey clouds ever-darkening with ominous intent.

For an extended moment, Kilian’s eyes sought Emma’s across the small hull of their rolling vessel, being tossed more and more as the waves crested higher. “If we capsize, Emma,” he spoke slowly, firmly, as if to imprint his words on her memory if he were not still there at her side. “Swim for land in this same direction,” he indicated the way they had been traveling, over her shoulder. “We nearly reached the harbor. A strong swimmer - which you are, Love - might yet make it on their own strength.”

She wanted to ignore his words, to shake her head in wild denial that she might need knowledge he wouldn’t be there to provide. She had no intention of losing him again. And yet, the confrontation they had hoped to avoid was surely coming any minute; they would not outrun the master of those lost to the Deep. The little vessel that had taken her so far, and had nearly borne them home again was no longer managing any progress forward, merely struggling to remain afloat as it rode wildly up and down on the ever-rising swells.

And then, at long last, with a loud, whooshing roar, it was as if the ocean itself parted, a huge, dark shape, which solidified into the monstrous hulk of a ship surged up from the depths of the open chasm. As it leapt to the surface, righting itself to mount a wall of water, the split in the waves fell closed once more, leaving the blackened, ruinous black ghost of the Flying Dutchman towering before them not more than fifteen feet away - like a shark poised to swallow smaller fish too stunned or too late to flee.

No sooner had Emma been able to swallow hard in a throat suddenly parched with apprehension, her fingers clenched in the material of Killian’s sleeve, above all else determined she wouldn’t let him be taken from her again, when everything around them went horribly, unnaturally still. The waves, the wind, all their surroundings silently seeming to hold their breath before all chaos broke loose. For one last moment, she and her lieutenant fixed their eyes on each other; wordlessly swearing to see each other on the other side, whether or not it was within their power to follow through on such a promise. Then he turned to face his sire - if one could truly be made to believe that the monstrous captain towering over them at the prow of the other ship could have had any connection to the true and honorable man Killian had become. Intending to remain at his back, to do whatever she could to help him fight and keep them afloat, Emma straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine as they waited and watched.

Sound and fury returned to the world around them as the accursed captain reached the very helm of his ship, bringing him fully into view as his low, malevolent chuckle at their show of resolve seemed to set the waves crashing and churning once more. “Oh ho, Killian, you’ve brought your intended to our long-awaited reunion, have you? Not particularly well-advised, but she is a pretty wench. I supposed I can see why you’d be loath to leave her behind.”

Killian’s frown deepend, the muscle in his jaw working as he bit down on his anger. Those eyes that she usually likened to the brilliance of a summer sky or the blue of his beloved ocean were instead lit with the pale fire of the hottest of flames at Davy’s callous words. “Hardly,” he clipped in a low growl. “I had no intention of meeting you at all. And I’ll not have you getting anywhere near Emma.”

“Is that so?” Davy snarled, his own temper seeming to erupt at his offspring’s defiance. “We’ll just see about that!”

The waves their little boat floated upon suddenly seemed propelled forward, rising on a towering crest of water as if drawn to Davy’s hand. Skilled a sailor as Killian was, there was no steering them anywhere else when the very elements were turned against them. The air seemed to quiver just as Emma found herself doing, in spite of her best efforts as they came face-to-face with the accursed being. The boards of the vessel beneath their feet groaned and creaked as the frothing sea bearing it seemed ready to dash it to kindling. The air whistled and howled, whipping her hair against her face until she was nearly blinded. And yet, she saw the horrifying shade who faced them, the dark cloud of obsession clouding eyes which might once have been clear and striking as the sons he claimed as his own. He stood taller than the average man, seeming even larger with the wild hair and wide-brimmed, ostentatiously old-fashioned hat atop his head. All his dress was from a more ornate and bygone age, and yet looked gone to ruin rather than impressive, almost mildewed, or perhaps it was a growth of some sort of moss or coral upon his apparel after so long within the sea. Beyond the visible appearance however, the aura of evil power practically radiated from his being, and Emma felt herself draw back before even realizing she had done so.

Pleased with the nightmare impression he never failed to make, Davy Jones chortled in maniacal glee. “Oh yes, I see you there, Princess. Try not to fret overmuch. No matter how brave, they always cower before me in the end.”

She wanted to contradict his words, to call back that Killian wasn’t afraid and that she believed in him, but Emma found her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, speechless and unable to react other than to stare, frozen, until with one last murderous crow, Davy cackled, “You’re both in my clutches, and no hope to escape. Look your last on the world above.”

Then they were falling, plummeting back to the surface with such speed and force that the boat rolled and cracked in two when it hit the water again. Swept underwater and swirled around dizzyingly, Emma fought to retain any sense of which way was up and to break free of the whirlpool ravenously threatening to suck her further down.

Her lungs burned; her rational mind knowing she would have to draw breath soon - and that it would be nothing but saltwater and spell the beginning of the end. She paddled madly, flailing for some sort of light, when suddenly, a solid arm caught her around the middle and pulled her back toward the air at last.

Certainly she had expected for Killian to have somehow reached her, though she couldn’t begin to account for the strength and speed with which she was fished from the drink. However, upon gulping her first sweet breath of air and catching a glimpse of her savior, she found not Killian, but his brother keeping her afloat. Coughing up the water she had somehow swallowed and attempting to speak her thanks, the words died on her tongue at the seeming blank and unknowing countenance Liam bore, nothing like the warmth with which he had looked at her mere hours ago.

“Liam?” she attempted to gain his recognition, even as an awful feeling stole her breath yet again. “What’s wrong? It’s Emma… don’t you remember me?”

Still he made no response, solidifying the frightened certainty that he was under Davy’s control once more and no longer acting of his own volition. Wriggling and kicking to try to break free, Emma found quickly that her efforts were useless. There was no escaping the iron grip he had on her.

Yet, even as her own panic rose to as crescendo, Emma found herself needing to find Killian, to know if he were better or worse off - and already praying that he had not somehow been swallowed by the vicious waves his sire had conjured to claim them. As her eyes flew across the distance, they came to rest on both a thrilling and blood-curdling scene. Her love stood feet planted on the overturned shell of their boat, splintered oar in hand as the only weapon available to him, and waiting as Davy drew near, magically skimming across the tops of the waves, ready to face him once again and for all.

She struggled anew against Liam’s iron hold, but he barely moved; her efforts to free herself having so little effect they might as well not have happened at all. He didn’t speak, though his expression was tormented, torn as if he were indeed in conflict between what he wished to do himself and the command that decreed his actions otherwise. Yet that did not stop Emma’s trying to reason with him, trying to break through. “Liam, please. You know me. I’m on your side, remember?” she pleaded, even as she continued to try to escape his hold. “We want the same thing. Let me go and we’ll help Killian, alright? Look, he needs us.” She flung her arm out desperately, hoping to make him see the real place they should be focused.

Liam’s gaze did move to his younger sibling for a moment, and Emma’s heartbeat quickened at the longing she saw in the elder brother’s countenance; the aching need to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and fight together for something good and true once more. But then he jerked his gaze from the scene of impending conflict once more, muttering to himself as if to drive home a point he would not have himself forget. “Not yet, not yet,” his lips were moving as he repeated it almost like a mantra. “Must wait for the opportune moment…”

Puzzled, Emma worried that she had heard him say that very phrase before, when cautioning them that Davy would choose the opportune moment to strike. All she could take from that was the fact that he woudln’t release her and hadn’t yet gone to his brother’s aid was that his father did have him under his command. Yet, Liam also looked far from peacefully mindless; he might be under duress, but he was aware and hating every second of it. Even as she was in danger from him, even as every fiber of her being clawed to get to Killian’s side and help him any way she could, her heart still broke for Liam.

“You can beat this, Liam,” she murmured fervently, trying to catch his gaze and ceasing in her struggles to rest her hand over his much larger one in solidarity. “You’ve fought him this long, hang in there a little longer.”

Something sparked in his gaze at her words, something Emma didn’t fully understand - and yet, it gave her hope. It was conscious and alive, and truly him, not Davy holding his mind captive. Had she gotten through? Had he already broken free? Then what was he waiting for?

Both of their attention snapped back to the battle sides drawn before them once more at the taunting voice of Davy Jones. “Come now, boy. You had to know you would lose to me. A mere mortal - and with something so precious to lose. Join me, part of the ship and crew that sails forever, scourge of the sea. You’ll have power, your birthright, your brother with you again. Plus, as you can see, Liam holds my ace in the hole. We’ll see your princess safely to shore if you join us. Refuse and fight, and she becomes one of us as well.”

Even at a distance, Emma could see the rage in Killian’s eyes at the demon’s words - the threat to himself already known, but unwilling to stand for the threat to her. He glanced their way only briefly, but it was enough for Emma to see Liam give the tiniest jerk of his head to the side, an unspoken denial to whatever Killian had asked with his look. “Opportune moment,” she heard him vow in a whisper once more as he held his younger brother’s stare for a resolute second longer.

Then Killian whipped back to face their sire once more with a defiant glare and what could only be called a battle cry. “Never!” he snarled, fire in his eye and retribution in his bearing. Though Emma could do nothing but watch, and though the dire situation seemed completely unchanged, she was galvanized by her love’s certainty, believing that he would prevail. Whatever had passed between he and his brother, it had been the final push he had needed.

With a roar of vengeance, the taker of imperiled souls surged forward, Emma’s gasp swallowed by the howling, churning elements at his command swelling along with his ire. As certain as she had been mere moments ago that Killian could stand firm, she was terrified that she was about to see him consumed, and the rest of them with him. Still, just as Davy’s huge bulk and accompanying wave towered over her sailor, ready to cascade over his head and bury him in the rolling depths, Killian released another feral howl and charged forward himself, meeting his villainous father head on. Boldly welding the broken spar of the boat before him, he stabbed with a force Davy could not have reckoned on, sinking the jagged tip of the wooden stake into the monster’s chest.

For a horrible beat of time, their foe appeared unfazed, and then it was as if he began to deflate, then shrink - as if no one had managed to strike such a blow before, and his defenses were not actually equal to the task. Lurching with outstretched hand to grasp either Killian or his weapon in a final strike, there was suddenly an explosion so loud it seemedd to shake the very atmosphere. A blinding flash of light radiated from where man and monster grappled to the death, then darkness fell - equally blinding - and Emma was suddenly adrift. No longer held, unable to place anything in the black night that had suddenly engulfed her, she paddled to stay afloat, and seemingly alone. Lost and completely at sea.

Bobbing aimlessly on the surface, it was hard to tell how much time had gone by, or how far she had been carried by the waves. The huge crests and white caps had receded, leaving it a gentle rise and fall that Emma was in no danger from, yet she could not feel that all was well until she understood what had happened, where she was - and where Killian was as well. Trying she might to strain and peer through the darkness however, she couldn’t make out any recognizable landmarks; nothing but the waves surrounding her and buoying her up. It was as if she had gone from the center of battle to being the only person left on Earth or sea, the silence and dark felt so immense.

Eventually, the repetitive motion of the gently rolling swells soothed her into a doze, her eyelids fluttering closed. Despite her concern for her beloved lieutenant and her occasional unconscious paddle to stay upright, after all she had been through, Emma succumbed to a restless sleep.

~~***~~

Her eyes didn’t open again until her feet drug across rough stones, having finally been carried into the shallows and touching the rough bottom not yet become sand. She jerked back into awareness with a gasp; alarmed and not at all sure where she was. Blessedly, when she looked around herself, Emma could see once more - the endless horizon stretched out before her streaked with peaches, yellows, and pinks as hte sun rose over the ocean. Even more relieving, at her back she could see rocky, deserted coastline. Devoid of people or buildings, but land all the same.

She struck out for the shore, gladly swimming toward the land that was nearer than she could have guessed. Was this Misthaven yet? Had she been carried elsewhere as she drifted and slept? There was no way to know, and she found she didn’t even care in comparison to simply getting out safely. If only she knew where Killian was…

She had barely scrabbled out upon the rough, sandy beach, feeling water-logged and half alive and at a lost for what to do, when she heard her name called over the water. “Swan!” the moniker that only he had ever used, an affectionate shorthand between the two of them, hit her ears with the welcome impact of beautiful music.

Turning, her mouth fell open in awe at the sight of him rising out of the water with otherworldly grace - as if right in his element (which, in truth, he must be). There was an ethereal glow about him, gleaming from his dark hair and the tips of his rather pointed ears, outlining his strong arms and slender waist as he emerged from the deep, sent back to her on the tide once more. “Emma” he repeated, voice low and ragged with emotion though relief and joy showed across his face. “We made it, Love. He’s gone and we’re still here!”

Unable to hold back any longer, as impossible as it was to believe, when he opened his glowing arms in welcome, standing in the ankle deep water, she felt tears of joy spilling over as she cried out his name on a sob and ran to meet him.

Feet splashing through the shallows, the slap of her skin against the near-velvet texture of the wet sand as the water splashed up with each steps, Emma was laughing and crying all at once as she gained speed. The exhaustion and defeat that had dogged her mere moemtns before completely gone at the sight of his smile. She hit his arms in a flat out run, bowling them both over and into the water again, witha yelp of surprise from Killian, a laughing tangle of limbs.

She was kissing across his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, anxious to press her lips to every bit of his skin, having feared that he had finally disappeared where she couldn’t follow. Pulling back fro only a second as he tangled his fingers in her wet hair and cradled the back of her head in his palm, she tried ot splutter out enough words to make sense. “H- how is this possible? How did you - How are you here?”

Killian chuckled, a low, comforting rumble that vibrated from his chest to her palm where it rested over his heart. He licked those gorgeous lips, parting them to answer her, and suddenly she couldn’t stand not to be kissing them for even a moment longer. The explanation could wait.

Surging forward, she captured that luscious mouth with her own, just barely murmuring, “Never mind… it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Killian might have been taken aback by her enthusiasm at frist, but he recovered admirably. Pushing back, his tongue entered the fray in a delicious bid for control of the kiss, which she ceded, humming in pleasant abandon as he rolled her to her back in the sand and surf, breaking lightly and pleasantly against their bodies. Hovering over her, his eyes sparkled in enchanting glee, and he had the audacity to lick his lips as though she were a delicacy laid out before him. “Emma, my love,” he breathed hoarsely, lowering his ips to graze along her collarbone, licking and nipping in a way that made her squirm with blissful anticipation. “We’ve made it home.”

“Mmm,” she tried to answer, but the wordless sound was all the confirmation she could muster with her body humming pleasantly from his attentions.

“We should go to your parents, Love,” Killian suggested, though half heartedly at best. “Let them know we’re alive.”

She nodded, but made no move to go anywhere, merely sinking her fingers into the muscles of his forearms, gasping and arching toward him in supplication as his nose pushed aside her wet and slightly askew bodice and that wicked mouth latched onto the flesh it had been covering.

“Later,” she finally managed breathily, having all she could do to hold on for dear life to him. “We have all the time in the world.”

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