#in my minds eye her antennae are Huge and she uses the to help read carved languages | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Behind the Curtain

Summary: harry and y/n go on a date

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, oral, male receiving (so far)

Word Count: 5163 words

A/N: this is essentially a part two to 'under the table'. currently experiencing pre-upload jitters. i’m so nervous to post this. 😬

___

“Y’didn’t have to do this, love,” Harry whispered in Y/N’s ear, his green eyes admiring the golden tassels wrapped around the deep red curtains of the waiting area. His left arm encompassing around her waist, loosely playing with the fabric of her dress as they waited in line to speak to the person at the front desk. Soft sounds blared through the hidden speakers, caressing his ears with classical music that he surprisingly enjoyed.

Y/N rested her freshly manicured hand on his chest. Her fingertips grazed his skin through the unbuttoned material of his dress shirt. The antennas of the black butterfly resting on his tummy coming alive as Harry’s stomach fluttered. Painted lips tickled his ear with a subtle touch and lowly-whispered words, “How else am I supposed to get your cock in my mouth?” Y/N stared at him innocently, purposefully pouting her mouth as she fluttered her long eyelashes at him.

His eyes bulged from their sockets, snapping his head around their vicinity to see if anybody heard her suggestive purr. Sweet Y/N talking so dirtily to him was rare, and so Harry couldn’t help sharp breath of air he sucked in. He willed his cock to stay soft but it still gave a slight twitch in his trousers. The taut hinge of his jaw hardened as Harry pictured how such a pristine looking woman could be so naughty. God, he was so lucky to have her. “No fuckin’ way,” Harry’s voice grated against his throat. The deepness of it sends thrilling tremors up Y/N’s spine. She quickly faced the front, letting the corner of her mouth quirk up at his tortured murmur of her name. “Y/N…”

Harry sighed in frustration as his girl ignored him in favour of expectantly waiting for their turn.

“Hi, réservation pour Styles,” Y/N spoke to the waitress, eyeing him like a vulture to a prey. Harry’s mouth parted open at her accent. It seemed as though her mouth shaped itself perfectly to enunciate the words. “Oui, pour deux,” (Yes, for two)

Fuck. Did she always speak French? Why didn’t he know about this? Harry’s neurons fired rapidly, brows pinching in curiosity and throat shriveling with a rash tightness.

Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail, edges gelled to her forehead in hypnotizing swirls that he often traced with the crown of his finger. The rash juxtaposition of her body lying beside his in their shared bed, virtuously enjoying each other’s company flushing down the drain the moment her gentle hand tugged his behind the curtain of the waiting area. “Allez, Harry!” (Come on, Harry!) She said, commanding him to follow her closely.

Harry didn’t know what to expect from her tonight-- only that she planned to have him writhing in his seat as she let him enjoy the company of her warm mouth. He certainly didn’t expect the semi-private booths so close to each other, separated from prying eyes with thick duvets of velvet maroon fabric. Empty booths showcased a rectangular table with plush seats and portieres tied on the edge of the posts. While on their way to their reserved cubicle, Harry couldn’t help but notice a couple giggling amongst themselves as they exited their table. Y/N gave him a nudge, jutting her chin towards said couple with a glint in her starry eyes.

“Here’s your table,” The waitress greeted with a smile. “The curtains will be drawn closed for privacy if you please. When you’re ready to order, just press the button over here,” She acted her words, pressing her pointer to the golden button merged at the edge of the table. The button flickered twice before suspending in a light glow. “Je serai ici dès que possible,” (I’ll be here as soon as I can)

“Merci,” (Thank you) Y/N nodded in understanding, arms slipping from the confines of her coat. Harry smiled in response, helping the waitress untie the tassels from the post. As soon as the curtains fell, their booth darkened. The luminosity from the general restaurant setting being blocked out. Yellow-hued light from the fixture above their heads spread enough warmth to see each other. The electronic candle in the middle of the dark table flickering as if it was real.

“I didn’t know you could speak French,” Harry’s voice was tight as a knot, lips barely parting to let the words escape. His decorated fingers flickered through the menu distractedly, keeping an open ear to her response.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, I took classes,” She reached over to soothe her palm over his knuckles. They were bruised and purpling from the raucous punches he threw even with the cushion of the boxing gloves. “Pourquoi? Aimes-tu?” (Why? Do you like it?) Her forehead wiggled with humour, earning a chuckle from Harry at her silliness. He didn’t know much of the language but he knew enough. He could say that he liked coffee and, “Oui, je suis allé au cinema avec mes copains et ma famille,” (I went to the cinema with my friends and family)

She threw her head back laughing, starry eyes glinting like a little kid. “You always say that,” Recalling the numerous times the sentence fluidly spilled from his mouth.

He agreed, “Mhm and you never said anything! Thought I was smart until my girlfriend surprised me,” Y/N explained why she never ought to say anything to him--said that there really was no previous circumstance where she felt the need to use it. “I have no idea what you’re saying but you sound hot as fuck,”

“Il y a beaucoup de surprises ce soir,” (There are a lot of surprises tonight) The light atmosphere shifted on a more serious note. Y/N’s tongue peeked from behind her plush, painted lips like a snake slithering its body. Wetting her mouth and smearing it with an irresistible sheen that had Harry feeling dizzy. He bit his own lip, letting the plump flesh whiten with the force. Her accent is killing him. The slow drawl between syllables, the cohesiveness between words as if she considered each appellation with deliberate thought.

“So,” Harry spoke anxiously, unable to keep his body from fidgeting. Y/N hummed in response, thinning her lips inwards. “What are you thinking of getting?” He forced himself to read the options on the laminated paper.

“Something delectable,” She uttered, “savoury,” Fingers flipped to the next page, “maybe something juicy and thick,” Y/N skimmed her eyes over the edge of the log, catching a fleeting glance of Harry’s flushed cheeks. “The braised lamb shank, I think,”

His popped collar tickled the skin of his throat which bobbed with a hefty swallow. Y/N closed the menu, putting it aside so that she could rest her elbows on the table. One palm cradled her chin as she watched him practically sweat in his fancy Gucci suit.

“That sounds. . .great,” Harry felt his eyes droop away, opting to blatantly stare at his girlfriends’ cleavage. Despite the shadow from her forearms, he could still see the crest of breasts, kissing the fabric of her tight dress.

“Yeah? En veux-tu?” (You want some?) Y/N’s heady sigh wisping through the air. Harry salivated at the various images flickering through his head. He breathed out a “yes,” to whatever she just said.

“Really?”

Harry snapped out of his thought, shaking his skull, “I mean no--, wait maybe?”

Y/N chuckled at his keening behaviour, “Calm down, Har. I asked if you wanted some,"

He blew his reddening cheeks, an enlightened hum stemming from his throat, “Nuh uh, I can’t do that. Not when you’re practically teasing me like that,”

“Like what?”

He raised a neatly trimmed brow with the most incredulous expression on his face, “You’re kidding me,” His fingers stretched to play with his rings. Twisting the golden ‘H’ from his digit, back and forth. Y/N caught his actions, briefly letting her walls down in a moment of weakness at the sight of his long fingers doing the most mundane thing ever. “Speaking French? It does things to me, you know,”

Small, thumping noises echoed off of the hollow wood. Fingertips dancing across the surface as Y/N watched him with hooded eyes.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that!” Harry retorted, playfully raising a barrier to his sight.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,”

“ Nothing? Don’t ya’ remember what your naughty lil’ mouth said on our last date?”

Her body perked up in interest, “Hmm, the one where I go on my knees when anyone can walk in?” She bit her lips as he paused. The ring resting on his second metacarpal as he breathed in sharply, a curl flopping over his forehead. “Or having your huge cock so far down my throat that you can’t help but moan?”

“Might’ve said somethin’ about that,”

Y/N shook her head back and forth in mock disappointment, “You shouldn’t think about that stuff, Harry. Anyone can hear you over these curtains and you know very well that you can’t keep those noises in,” She rolled her eyes for effect, reaching for the complimentary glass of water.

His large hand gripped her wrist abruptly, forcing her to look up at him, “I can be quiet if I want to,” Harry gritted his teeth. His ego rubbing against rough edges at her attitude.

“Oh please, don’t make me laugh, H,” Y/N scoffed in response, “mais j'aime les sons que tu fais,” (But I love the sounds you make)

There it was again; the dip in her tone. Harry might not exactly understand what she was saying but there was no doubt in his mind that it was meant to provoke him; to turn him on. He growled deep in his throat that she barely heard it through Tchaikovsky’s movement. “So fuckin’ stubborn,”

She leaned back on the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. “Listen closely. I’m in control tonight, alright?” Y/N stared him down, watching the contemplation washing over his face. “C’est ma nuit,” (It’s my night)

“Cut the attitude, Y/N,” His breath hitched in his throat as Y/N smirked gleefully. Her leg raised to rub the bulge in his pants from under the table which Harry obviously did not expect. Y/N’s heel pressed lightly where she assumed his crotch would be, experimentally dipping the curvatures of his upper thighs. Harry gripped the edge of the table at a spark of pleasure flashing through his whole body when Y/N inconspicuously leaned over to press the button the waitress had indicated. “S-stop that,”

“I really don’t want to, daddy,” She gave him a quick smile. His bleary eyes blinking from being closed so tight--an effort to control himself.

“Y/N, I swear to--,” Harry began to murmur when the curtain slipped open. His large palm roughly grabbing her ankle at the surprise of an outsider’s presence.

“What can I get for you?” The waitresses’ pulled her notepad. The tip of the pen patiently resting on the paper.

Y/N opened her menu, sending a wink in Harry’s direction, “I’ll have the braised lamb shank please,”

The waitress nodded, moving to face her body towards Harry, simultaneously jotting down the order. Harry could feel his heart palpitating in his rib cage. Y/N’s ankle twisting every which way to get out of his vice grip.

“Et toi, sir?” (And you?)

Harry stuttered a response, suddenly forgetting what he chose to eat tonight. Did he even choose anything? Regardless, the closed menu scorned him to open it. But that would mean having to let go of his girl’s ankle. Hesitantly, he raised his hands from beneath the table, flinching the slightest bit as Y/N stretched her ankle subtly.

“I’ll have the uh--,” He pursed his lip at a sudden pressure, “The uh, same,”

“Alright, anything else I can get for you?” A questionable frown was plastered on the stranger’s face at Harry’s strange actions and stuttered speech.

“Une bouteille de rouge, s'il vous plaît” (A bottle of red, please) Y/N beamed sweetly as if she wasn’t doing anything unspoken right below the waitress’s nose.

The waitress disappeared behind the cloth, clicking her pen. Once again, Harry and Y/N were left in the semi-private booth to do as they please. Well, for Y/N to do as she pleased. She established that he wasn’t really the one in control here and he could rest his pride for the night to let his girl have her night of dominance.

____

The night went on easier than Harry thought. Aside from the little fiasco in the beginning, Y/N didn’t try to surprise him with any more affectionate touches after that. He wasn’t quite sure if he was grateful or not because anything Y/N wanted to give him; he would take it.

“No! It ‘juh’ ‘m’appelle Harry’,” (My name is Harry)

He plopped a piece of seasoned meat in his mouth, creasing his forehead, “That’s what I said, innit? ‘Jeh’ m’appelle Harry, yeah?” He quirked a brow, cheek puffing as he chewed his food.

“You need to work on your accent, monsieur,” (Mister)

He hummed, “mm say that again,” What was meant to be a subtle joke incited the beginning of Y/N’s plans. She dabbed the edge of her napkin on the corners of her mouth. The glass of bubbly water simmered against the rim of the flute. Y/N stood up to sit next to him, pulling her dress down to her thighs, scooching her body against the velvet cushion seats.

“Hi there,” Harry greeted, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “What are you up to?” He whispered so quietly that he was sure--even with Y/N’s close proximity-- that she did not hear it.

“Je te veux, Harry,” (I want you) Her pointer tapped her cupid’s bow twice. Harry could feel his heartbeat quicken when her tongue appeared, resting a fingertip right in the middle. She made a show of slathering her digit with her saliva, excessively wetting it as if it were his dick. Heat rose under his clothes. There was a burning desire to run as far away from her as possible but he also wanted to melt in a puddle under her feet. “Ici,” (Here)

That he knew. The word came out muffled due to her lips puckering, cheeks hollowing with an effort from the suction of her mouth. His thumb reached up to graze her bottom lip, now loose from releasing her finger, opting to trace teasing touches on his crotch. “You want me in here?” The pad of his thumb slipped between her lips, resting the digit on her wet tongue just as she had only moments prior. “Will I let you?”

Y/N dipped her head forward, pushing his thumb deeper in her mouth, Sparks of pain lingered on his nerves as she sucked with determination. She rolled her eyes at his question, obviously forgetting who was in charge here, “I’ll take what’s mine,”

“Tu es à moi,” (You are mine) Harry’s hand dropped between their bodies, slumping bonelessly as she gripped his hardening length through his pants, “C'est à moi,” (This is mine) His head fell back on the padded wall, nose wheezing with a vehement sigh.

From the corners of his eye, he could see a slither between the curtains. Workers walking every which way to serve customers, guests walking to their booths. There was no way they could get out of here without being caught. As much as he hated it, Y/N was right. He was vocal in his pleasure. He wanted his partner to know how good he was feeling; always praising encouraging words and releasing quiet whimpers when it felt particularly nice.

A tug on his lower half snapped him out of his worrisome thoughts. His previously half-massed length plumping to its full potential. Blood surged through his dick, deeming his brain useless and lightheaded with excitement. “Fuck, who are you?”

Harry didn’t actually think she would go through with this. Y/N has never done anything as risque before. Except for last date’s escapade under the table where he made her cum with his tongue and fingers, forcing her to stay quiet as he got his cheeks wet.

He breathed in a sigh of relief when the button on his trousers popped open. The zipper followed soon enough. The underside of his dick pushed the metal hinge down. The fabric of his boxers stained with blurts of pre-cum, darkening the grey material with a sticky liquid that Y/N couldn’t wait to have on her tongue. Y/N stared at it with awe while Harry merely panted in disbelief. “Tu es si dur,” (You are so hard)

Harry lifted his hips to allow Y/N to slide his trousers and underwear past his bum. “Huh?” He mumbled, scooting to make room for Y/N as she bent at the hip, still sitting on the seat. Y/N looked into his hazy eyes, too delirious to connect like-sounding words together and translating it; not when her warm palm touched his hard, velvet skin.

“You’re so hard,” She dotted her thumb on the leaking slit, swirling the pad in circles to collect more moisture before swiping her digit towards the crown where the head met the shaft. He was most sensitive in that area and it clearly showed when the slightest graze caused him to shiver and garble out a relieved groan. “Soyez silencieux,” (Be quiet)

Harry glared at her, trying to shake the spots in his vision, “I can be quiet,”

His words fell on deaf ears as Y/N proceeded to wrap the rest of her fingers, one by one, around his girth. Each touch was like a shot of electricity frying his nerves. A moan rumbled deep in his chest, barely able to stop it with a clamp of his mouth.

Y/N chuckled, sticking her tongue to saturate her taste buds with his musky flavour, “Sure, you ca--,” Her words were cut off with an appreciative hum. The vibrations rattled his senses. Paired with the noises she was making, the visual of her kitten licking the pool of pre-cum on his tip, her fingers massaging his engorged dick, and God forbid she stared up at him with hooded eyes like she was the one receiving immense amounts of pleasure.

“Are ya’ comfortable, bunny?” Harry asked, noting the way she looked awkwardly bending to reach his middle. She shook her head just as the heat of her mouth encompassed the head, almost distracting him from his initial question. “Up ya’ go, c’mon,” He muttered. His dick pointed straight to the dim ceiling, jolting every which way as he made more room for her to sit and lay down. She shifted her body, ducking her head nearly under the edge of the table. Her cheek rested on his ferns while he palmed her ass with the way she laid. “How’s that?”

“Meilleur,” (Better)

“Good,” Harry replied. Y/N’s heart fluttered at his sweetness. She nearly had his cock tucked inside the confines of her mouth yet he put her first. He definitely deserves something special for that.

She maneuvered his dick to level with her hungry mouth. Like she did with her finger, Y/N lathed her tongue over the prominent veins decorating his length, insistently pressing her wet muscle against it. Every time she did something she absolutely knew would result in a groan on his end, Harry’s clenched fists gripped her ponytail tighter and dug his fingers on the soft flesh of her bum.

At least he wasn’t making any noise.

Slurping noises filled the booth as Y/N relaxed her mouth, head bobbing back and forth. It irritated her cheek to have his course pubic hair scratching her skin but it was the least of her worries. Harry tried to keep an open gaze shifting between Y/N mouthing at his dick to the gap in the curtain. His heart skipped a beat every time someone appeared to be walking in their direction but then turned away at the last minute. Except a familiar waitress seemed to be walking directly over to them. She was only metres away and Harry wondered if it was worth the embarrassment to feel Y/N’s heavenly mouth for a few more seconds.

“Baby, get up. Someone’s coming,” Harry reached over to grab Y/N’s discarded coat, placing it over his exposed dick and hissing when the fabric touched his sensitive tip. Y/N sat up from her half-sitting position, using her thumb to wipe the rims of her mouth, catching the suspicious stickiness, suckling at the skin and appearing too calm for almost getting caught.

“Here are the desserts you ordered earlier,” The waitress began, curtains waving open a second late. A tray of delectable sweets lay on the cart. Pink and pistachio green French macarons plated delicately on a small plate for them to share. Both Y/N and Harry craved merveilleux (marvellous); a light meringue cake with whipped cream and dusted chocolate shavings. It wasn’t too sweet and it was immensely creamy.

Harry blew out his blushy cheeks, stray curls falling over his forehead as his large hand palmed over his centre; the other hand pinched his lips. His dimples deepened with a slight smile as he tried to act normal.

Y/N started to thank her but stopped to clear her throat, finding that Harry’s thick length was more work than she thought, “Thank you. Merci,”

“Je te veux plus profond,” (I want you deeper) Y/N stated, eyeing Harry’s fist crumpling her coat to cover his length. He was about to ask what the fuck she just said but he found out exactly what she meant a moment later. Y/N tucked her calves beneath her thighs, resting her body weight on her knees under the table. She removed the coat from his lap, revealing his drippy cock.

The flat of her tongue lapped at the underside of his dick, beginning from the base where his tights balls rested snuggly--filled with cum that she wanted shooting down her throat--to the hooked skin of his frenulum, tracing the curved shape before swirling the entire head like a hurricane, ending the focus on the slick surface of his blurting, red tip before pulling off. She bowed her fingers to haul his clothing down further, bunching the fabric on his calves.

Like he did to her, Y/N used the end of her palm to force his thick thighs open, sensually rubbing the muscle. “Ow,” She looked up in concern, finding him smiling down at her, “‘M kidding it didn’t hurt,”

Y/N scoffed, cradling his balls and giving it a harsher squeeze to reprimand him. “Se comporter,” (Behave) He appeared to understand the message.

She left her hand to handle his balls, gently rolling each of them in his sack. Y/N gripped his dick in a way that allowed her to sink lower to press a lingering kiss to the middle of his sack. The unusual spot sent alarming signals to Harry. However, at this point, everything felt like heaven on earth. All he wanted was to release his usual appreciative groan when Y/N took it upon herself to suck on each ball, releasing sparks of pleasure up the length of his dick. Her hand moved to the thick base to hold him steady, alternating the pressure of her fingers around him.

“Bon garçon,” (Good boy) Y/N praised, noticing the way the flesh of his bottom lip was stained white from his baring teeth. She engulfed him in her mouth, shearing half of his length from sight. He breathed harshly, feeling the smooth walls of her mouth caressing his hot skin. Her tongue added stimulation on the underside with dipping, upward licks while the other side rubbed against the ridges of the roof of her mouth. The varying degrees of pressure sent Harry into overdrive.

What did she say? Good boy, wasn’t it? Harry cursed his curious mind from focusing on something aside from the feeling between his legs.

“Yes, I’m a good boy,” He whimpered through a pursed mouth, heavy pants escaping his heaving chest as he slumped lower in his seat. The tip of his dick prodded her throat, producing a choking sound from Y/N and had Harry thumping his fist on the table, clattering the contents.

Throughout his relationship, Y/N had never let his cock past where she was comfortable taking him. The absolute rush he felt from his neurotic tip dipping in what he can describe as the wettest, tightest and warmest place he had ever felt was almost enough to let his ego go and ruin his vocal cords.

“Good boys deserve a reward, right?” Y/N mumbled through his tumescent head, letting the fold of her lips rub his pink tip. She looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, resting her cheek on his quivering knee. “Pass me my glass, please,”

Harry chuckled at her request, sitting up a little so that he could reach across the table for her glass of water. Y/N waited for the inevitable jutting of Harry’s hips as he moved forward, widening her mouth to accommodate his thick length down her throat. She gagged from the intrusion, feeling the head of his cock hitting her pharynx.

“God, fuck!” Harry groaned, hand swiftly gripping her tied hair, holding her position. His elbow rested on the table, resting his forehead on his forearm. The fabric of his dress shirt bunched when his abdominal muscles clenched. She has never taken him all the way before. He clutched the edge of the booth when she pulled off. The cool air hitting his wet cock.

“Droit?” (Right?)

Harry nodded desperately, willing his hips to stick to the chair. “Can you do it again? Please, Y/N. I’m so close,”

Y/N observed his body as much as she could. The lulled lids draping over his hazy eyes; most likely blinking out the white spots from his vision. His coloured lips were glossy with arousal. The apples of his cheeks were stamped a blush red. Sometimes his cheek bulged with the pressing of his tongue in quiet desperation, gazing down at her with admiration planted in his eyes. Other times she looked up; his cheeks were hollowed as he sucked in a deep breath, head tilted backwards with eyes stamped shut.

“Tu es proche?” (You’re close?) Y/N didn’t need an answer. She could tell from the tensing muscles of his thigh. Harry’s knees trying to knock together and the quivering of his hipbones underneath her thumbs, holding him down.

“Oui, proche,” (Yes, close) He mumbled repeatedly, hoping that what he said and what he wished for was the same thing.

Y/N hummed in response, choosing not to answer verbally. Instead, she relaxed her mouth, widening her lips to wrap around his head, massaging the girth until she reached the base. She breathed deeply through her nose, loosening her throat to ease his cock further. Spit dribbled from the corners of her mouth, slick saliva leaving his length wet and warm. She came up with a gasp before engulfing him back inside.

Muted moans were released in the air. Harry’s worries of getting caught were placed at the back burner of his mind. Not when his girl had a mouthful of his cock down her throat; granting him with so much pleasure that only she could give. His eyes rounded when her soft hand-rolled his balls a couple of times. She moaned at the sole feeling of Harry’s fingers digging in her scalp to keep her close while simultaneously lifting his hips the slightest bit to force his cock deeper. Silent constrictions of her throat against his dick filled his ears, choking noises echoed in the booth as Y/N bobbed her head up and down.

It had only been a few minutes when Harry’s low drawl of “I’m coming, baby,”. His voice was tight, tone dropping a few octaves as his tip prodded her throat a few more times. The burning in his lower stomach grew bigger as the pleasure mounted on top of each other, leading him to his inevitable release. Y/N could feel his length swell in her mouth, her palm felt his balls pulsating as it prepared to shoot white streaks in her mouth. She briskly pulled away, emitting a tortured whine from Harry, making grabby hands at every part of her.

Harry’s tip weighted on her tongue, making a show of swirling her organ on his frenulum. His lulled eyes pinched together, mouthing a ‘fuck me’ before repeating his hushed chants of “I’m coming”.

And he did! He could barely keep his head stable on his shoulders, opting to thud against the wall as streaks of white shot the expanse of his dick, painting her tongue with his huge load. Y/N continued to squeeze his balls lightly while the other pumped his base. Harry’s stomach caved in, tensing every part of his body until relaxation took over. Harry watched as Y/N tugged his pants upwards, gently asking him to lift his hips up so that he could pull it over his bum. She carefully slipped his softening length back in his boxers, zipping his trousers carefully and popping his button.

His breathing was calm when she came up from underneath with the brightest smile plastered on her face. She kissed him with passion. And he retaliated with the same fervour despite the lethargic feeling in his limbs, his hands cupping her face tenderly as they both smiled into the kiss. Y/N pulled away first, lifting a hand to stroke his clammy forehead, brushing away the stubborn curls.

“Est-tu bon?”(Are you good?) She asked, staring him with so much love in her eyes. She rested the rim of her glass against her lips.

“Are you kidding me? I’m more than good,” Harry praised, sighing nostalgically at what occurred a few minutes ago. He shivered at the thought of her throat stuffed with his cock which gave a twitch in his pants. “I reckon I could go again in a bit,”

Y/N fixed her hair, looking at her reflection through the shiny silverware to make sure that she appeared presentable, “Just wait till’ we get home,” She reached over to press the golden button with the intention of acquiring the bill, settling it and leaving in the comfort of their vehicle.

“Wha’ d’ya mean?” Harry drew his brows together in interest. Her nonchalant statement leading him to conclude that she had more tricks up her sleeve. She reached over his lap to grab her coat, purposefully brushing her wrist against the newly formed bulge in his pants.

She winked in return, “Patience, mon amour,”

____

longer than i thought because of my dire need to describe every single fricking thing D:<

sorry for any errors! feel free to correct me :)

let me know what you thought!

____

Permanent Taglist: @fangirl-moment-x @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @harrys-kingdom @harrysstyleseyes @calums-sugarbaby @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @littledreamybeth @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @particularnarry @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart @myfangirlworld @haroldssfedora @winchesterwife27 @w0wfxck @arypesanchez @harriemelonsugar @someinsanefangirl @derangedcupcake @bobo-bush @peachesaquari @shawnsnovel @ivegotparticulartaste @adore-you-hs2 @combativehood @simonsbluee @hockeyschmockey @belovedcherry @harrysahottie @adore-you-hs2 @splendidsunsetsx @turtoix @la-cey @harrys-watermelons @softkidinlove

#harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles fan fic

613 notes · View notes

cauls-antique-pepperbox-pistol · 3 years

Text

[SPOILERS FOR THE DESOLATIONS OF DEVIL'S ACRE!! This is an alternate ending of TDoDA. Also trigger warning: suicide]

Hii, if someone remembers me talking about this alternate ending that I already had in mind before even reading TDoDA, this is what I was talking about. Editing all this here on tumblr was a pain oof. This one-shot is hella long, I think I’ve never written this much before. Also my writing is probably not WOW SUPER AMAZING, but I write cause I want to, so like 👌 (besides, I have immensely improved, you don’t wanna know what my writing looked like back in 2018-19) anyway enjoy

He felt like the air was being pulled out of his lungs. No. Like he was getting torn away from himself. Bits of his soul flying into the hands of a girl, her skin glowing brightly from the rest of him. She was struggling to hold it all in, though. Just give it back to me, he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the strength.

He felt himself shrink. It should've hurt, but it didn't. He was too weak to feel pain. Caul caught a glimpse of two familiar green eyes, fearfully staring at him from a distance. Alma. He raised one of his awful hands, wanting to grab her. But he froze as he watched each of his long fingers break off, like wood splits in a fire. He looked back at his sister, panic creeping into him. What is happening to me? His sister wasn't looking at him anymore, though. She grabbed the girl's shoulder, shouted something and nodded and the girl ran off, toward the exit. Everyone else followed and left Caul behind. He felt so tired and empty, he didn't even try coming after them. Emptiness was all there was, just like before. Something was pulling on his legs, dragging him deeper into the pool behind him. Legs. He had legs again. This isn't right.

"Jack." a familiar voice said, not too far away from him. With great effort, he turned to spot the owner of the voice. It was his brother, Myron, embraced by a blue outline, which was slowly fading. But it was all wrong. He was young, a boy, around fifteen years old, wearing a torn suit and hat that were way too big for him. "Mum and dad called for us, Jack!" he said again. "We have to go!" Caul was so tired. He just wanted to give in to the water pulling him into its depths behind him. The ocean behind him. What? The ground underneath him loosened, turning to sand. Wind ruffled his hair. Seagulls seemed to laugh down at his demise. They were at a beach. He gave his brother a confused and helpless look. Myron shielded his eyes with one hand and watched the waves in the distance. "They're pretty far out already!" he shouted over the sound of the wind. "We should really go. They're waiting for us."

"I don't want to." Caul managed to say, but then gasped at the sound of his own voice in surprise. He, too, sounded fairly young. "But we have to follow them, Jack. We have no other choice." Myron said and now he was looking back down at his little brother with a sad expression. And then, right in front Caul's eyes, Myron seemed to rapidly grow older and taller. His expression was saddening more, his face mirroring a horrible and long forgotten past. Then he repeated his words, his voice deeper, bitter and less innocent. "We have no other choice." The seagulls overhead disappeared to make way for a brewing storm and it began to drizzle. Both of the brothers were startled by the sound of thunder, but strangely, the rumbling never stopped. It kept going, until the ground beneath them joined in and shook from the noise, making the sand dance. Caul struggled to keep himself on the shore even more, as the waves grasped him. Myron pointed his face toward the sky. He took off his hat in awe, revealing two antennae sprouting from beneath his hair and brought his hat down to his chest, almost hugging it. He hummed and said, "I don't think this is supposed to happen." A lightning lit up the dark and stormy horizon. "No, we certainly can't go in the water now." Myron said, shaking his head, then turned and looked at something on the dune. He spread his arms as if a dog was running toward him. "PT, come over here! That's a good boy!" In the distance, a bear grunted. That was the last thing Caul heard and the last thing he saw seemed to be the dark clouds falling from the sky, crashing down on them. And then there was nothing. Only the deafening sound of silence. No one else was there. Not even his brother. Only he was. Alone behind his eyes. He had passed out.

[—]

They all woke up to the sound of thunder. Gasping and wide-eyed, they searched the place around them for their friends. "Noor!" Jacob shouted and then a hand grabbed his. "I'm here." Noor said, right next to him. They looked each other up and down, asking if they were okay, coming to the conclusion that, yes, they were alright and that they weren't dead. Jacob carefully and slowly stood up. "We're back." he said. It was Abe's house, its porch and yard, to be exact. "But how?" Noor asked, standing up, too. The bushes surrounding the yard rustled and they both held their breath, in fear of whatever was over there could hear it. But then they heard their friends' voices and then saw each of their heads pop out of the bushes. They came running over to them, shaking leaves off their arms and legs on the way. "I hit the button on the Expulsatator right when Caul appeared!" it was Emma, holding up a little black thing. "We made it!" But then Hugh came running, Fiona hurrying over alongside him, their hands linked. "He's still here. And alive." he said, in between heavy breaths. "Fiona just saw him." Hugh pointed in the direction they came from. "Come over to me, children!" Miss Peregrine called out, her voice wavering. Together, they all backed away to the porch and anxiously watched the woods ahead of them.

They expected something monstrous—a giant ten-fingered hand reaching out from between the trees, greedily feeling the ground for Miss Peregrine and her wards, or a large terrifying face filled with hatred beyond imagination. Instead, a tiny figure rose from behind a bush, then swayed, unsteady on their feet, and fell. It was Caul, exhausted and apparently not used to having real legs again, laying splayed on the ground, only his upper body pointing out of the bush. He groaned as he kept trying to push himself back up, but failing over and over again. "You've got to be kidding me!" Emma said. Miss Peregrine slowly approached him, but soon stopped, in order to still keep a distance. She narrowed her eyes, examining him. He was his old self again. Everything was the same, except for a few tree branches that led off his shoulders and two very prominent ones sprouting from his head, though you could almost call them horns. Red, lightning-shaped scars spread across his body.

Caul was muttering, while glaring at something behind the bushes. Then a voice. "Oh, finally!" it said, happily. "It's over, I'm free!" An older man stepped out from behind a bush, looking a bit worse for wear—his suit was torn and a huge piece of his hat was just dangling from it. His face was shining with relief, though. It was Myron. "I'm finally myself again!" he said and laughed, as if not quite believing his own words. Myron looked himself up and down, touching his face. "Just me and only me!"

"Shut up." Caul said through gritted teeth. "You should be grateful that I was keeping you alive the entire time."

"Grateful?" Myron said, shaking his head, bitterly. "No, never. You put me through hell." In the past days, Myron had been attached to his brother in some parasitical way and had seen all the horrible things his brother did, had shared a mind and body with him.

"You should thank me for lending you all my knowledge. Admit it, without me you would have never made it this far." Myron said, then finally noticed the group of peculiars standing further away from them. At the sight of Miss Peregrine, his eyes widened and the antennae on his head shot up, pushing his hat off. He caught it in time and then smiled, awkwardly. "Alma!" he called out and waved his hand, but put it down again when he saw his sister's confused expression. Myron cleared his throat, apologised and put his hat back on to hide his antennae. Jacob stepped out of the crowd. "What you told me was true." he said to Myron. "You helped us...again. Thank you."

"My pleasure." Myron said with a nod. "I decided that it was the least I could do. But I thank you for finally setting an end to...this." Myron nodded at his brother, who stared at his hands like he'd never seen any before. Caul's eyes got big, as panic crept into him and he realised what had happened to him. "Where'd they go?" he said, his voice trembling with growing rage. "Where did my powers go? Where is my SOUL?!" As Myron tried to answer his questions as good as possible, Caul asked more and more of them. "Where am I?! Why am I not in my library?! I want to go back! BRING ME BACK TO MY LIBRARY!" he screamed, in a fit of anger. He hit the grass with his fists over and over again. "Does anyone happen to have a bit of sleep dust?" Myron shouted over Caul's voice. Murmur broke out amongst the peculiars, searching for Mother Dust's powder. Meanwhile, Caul seemed to be trying to find something, hastily looking around the place. Then his eyes locked on Noor and he got furious, as he remembered the way she was draining his light. "YOU!" he screamed and everyone, including Noor, flinched. "YOU TOOK IT! YOU'VE STOLEN WHAT'S MINE!" And then he tried to crawl over to her, but he still didn't have enough strength to pull himself forward. He wasn't used to being weak again. "I've got some!" Emma shouted. "Here, take this!" She came running toward Caul, held her breath and closed her eyes, and lastly threw the sleep dust right into his face. As a reflex, he shut his eyes and tried to get the dust off with his hands, but breathed it all in in the process. Soon, the dust was starting to work its magic and suddenly Caul's arms got too heavy for him and he gave up on removing the stuff. By then he had stopped screaming and flailing. "Goodnight, asshole." Emma spat. He said, "What...did you..." and then his head dropped down and he was suddenly deep asleep.

Myron stood over him, looking down. "We need to cover him with something, since he...well, he doesn't have clothes at the moment." he said to Emma, who was the nearest to him. She grimaced, disgusted, then turned to Jacob and shouted, "Can you get a blanket from inside?" Jacob nodded, took a step toward the house, but then stopped. "Mr. Bentham?" he said and Myron looked at him. "I think you should come and see where he lived." Myron hesitated for a few seconds, staring nervously. He knew who Jacob meant by he. "Why, of course." he said, eventually. He came over, walking past Miss Peregrine, who locked eyes with him for a moment, her face seeming to say pay your respects.

They entered the house, through the torn screen door. Myron stared at it, a bit shocked. "Was this when...?"

"Yeah," Jacob said. "When the hollow came." Myron suddenly felt uneasy and guilty, as if he had been the hollowgast himself and killed Abe. He hadn't, of course. But he had taken a part of Abraham's soul. If not, his peculiarity wouldn't have ended up diluted and might have saved his life. They stopped in the middle of the living room. "So this is my grandfather's house." Jacob said. He went over to the sofa, picking up a fuzzy blanket. "It's so...simple." Myron said, taking everything in. "I think he liked it that way." Jacob replied.

"He did." While Myron was still fascinated by the four walls around him and its furniture, Noor came up to Jacob. "Is he the wizard guy?" Noor whispered, leaning in to him. "What?" Jacob frowned. "I mean the architect." she corrected herself. "Bentham, right? The one who wrote the list with the ingredients?"

"Oh, yeah, this is him." Jacob said. "He was calling out to you in the library, remember? That was his voice. You just couldn't see him, yet." Noor made an oooh sound, nodding. "Are those antennae his peculiar trait?" she whispered again, as they watched Myron take his hat off in front of a framed picture of Abe. Jacob shook his head no. "I don't think so." Myron had returned from the library of souls, had been exposed to its power, which was the best explanation to his appearance there was.

Jacob showed the blanket to Myron. "Will this be enough?" Myron nodded. "That will be enough. There's not much of my brother to cover, anyway." he winked and smiled, chuckling at his own joke. "Well, let's get this over with." They met with the rest outside. Caul was still laying in the grass, sleeping on his stomach. No one had dared to go near him—for good reason. They had seen him play dead a few times before and didn't want to be tricked again. Only this time, he wasn't playing. Jacob dropped the blanket over Caul and together with Myron's help wrapped it around his body, as if tucking him in. He looked uncannily peaceful, but they knew that he was a monster, that had tried to kill them minutes ago. That was the thing about monsters—they're harmless when they're asleep and don't you dare wake them.

"Some of you will stay here and keep watch over the situation," Miss Peregrine announced. "and the rest will come with me to Devil's Acre to get the home guards, so they can carry my brother to a secure place where the world is safe from him." She went around and listed the ones staying at Abe's house—Bronwyn, Emma, Jacob and Noor, in case there were still powers left inside Caul. "And you, brother." Miss Peregrine glanced at Myron. Before she would leave with some of her wards, Myron had one last question. "Will my sentence be lightened?" he asked, carefully, like a child asking if they could stay up a bit longer. "That's not completely up to me." Miss Peregrine replied, without looking at him. "But if it was, would you lighten it?" he asked again. She gave no answer to that. She was already leaving.

[—]

There he was now. Asleep on the backseats of a car, the movements cradling him, familiar voices talking quietly around him as they drove. Later he was limp in the arms of one of the home guards, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, almost like a newborn. Angry, horrified and disgusted stares of people pierced through him, as he was carried down a street like a trophy. Shouts echoed from both sides, but he could barely hear any of them. Their hatred and anger toward him was justified, but their efforts were for nothing.

Everything got a bit more quiet, then. They went through a long hallway, passing rooms filled with the noise of people using typewriters. The home guard stopped, alarmed, as Caul shifted slightly in his arms, taking a deep breath. He was still asleep and only made himself a bit more comfortable. But he wouldn't be sleeping peacefully much longer. Eventually, the guard rid himself of his duty, putting Caul down in the corner of a padded cell, a place safe for him to wake up in, protecting himself and the people around him as well. Then the guard closed and locked the door behind him, the cell falling into silence.

. . .

. . . . .

. . . . . . . .

He was very slowly waking up, opening his eyes, but closing them again and every time he did open them, the room around him was blurry and spinning. He felt so light, he thought that he was floating. Caul had to think of a song and hummed along to it, swaying his head and smiling, dazed. The song started to distort into a voice, though, many voices and sounds. Someone called his name, seagulls were laughing, waves crashing and thunder bringing down the clouds. Everything was so loud. He tensed up, turning his head from side to side, as if trying to get rid of a nightmare. Keys clattered from outside the door, footsteps on linoleum floor. Caul forced his eyes wide open, gasping. He still couldn't quite see, but it was getting better. His head dropped down and he got a look at his arms. What happened to my arms? They seemed to be merged together, fused into one. He tried to pull them apart, but nothing happened. He panicked as he kept on struggling to get them free. Caul tried to scream, but there seemed to be no voice coming out. What did they do to me? he thought, as memories started to come back. Then his vision sharpened and he realised that his arms weren't actually merged together, not really, that is. Someone had put him in a straight jacket. He grunted, slammed his head against a wall of pillows in frustration. Smooth. There were pillows everywhere. On the floor, on the walls and on the ceiling. And then he realised what this place was. A wave of anger coursed through him, but before it could burst out of him, he pushed it back down. It would only be a waste of energy, so he decided to keep it for later. Caul just sighed instead.

A little window in the door slid open and a pair of eyes appeared in its frame. Caul narrowed his eyes at them, trying to recognise the person, but that turned out to be nearly impossible. "You'll remain in here for a few more hours, until we can be certain you're not posing a threat to us anymore." the guard said. "Where...are...they?" Caul mumbled, finally able to speak again, if only barely. "The ymbrynes asked us to give you the information you need, so that's what I'm here for now—you're in Devil's Acre's jail, you inhaled a large dose of sleep dust, which you're currently recovering from and we imagine you already experienced some its effects." the man said, then stopped, checked a little piece of paper and looked at Caul, who was far from okay as reality continued to crash in on him. "Anyway—" the man began, but then Caul started screaming the names of his siblings. He got on his knees, trying to stand up without his arms, but he just fell onto his side. "If you keep on screaming, we might have to keep you in there for a bit longer." the guard said and at that Caul froze, looking up at the door. "I'm calm now." he said, quickly. Of course, that was a lie. "Far from it." the guard replied. "I'M CALM NOW!" Caul screamed again. "LET ME OUT!"

"You'll only be put into another cell. So, what's the difference, hm?" the guard shut the little window in the door and then Caul heard him walk away.

This is ridiculous, Caul thought. He used to rule over this place. He was the one putting people behind bars. Now, they put him behind bars, trapped him in his own home. Forever.

He managed to push himself back up and then he sat there, thinking. He thought about his brother and hoped he, too, ended up in jail. It's only fair. And he thought about his sister, how he wished his hands would turn back into those deadly claws again and how he could grab her and watch the life go out of her. But he couldn't. He was back at the beginning now. And also at his end.

[—]

In the next few hours, they had to switch the guards several times after they complained about Caul talking too much. Which was true. He told them jokes that weren't funny, sang at the top of his lungs, screamed and pretended to cry, other times cackling for no apparent reason. The sleep dust had stopped working, unfortunately and Caul was testing the guards' mental limits, until they would give in and let him out. "Why not come in and join me?" he said once, slapping the pillows beneath him. Sometimes he'd wink at them, if they were looking inside. "It's so cozy." He was free from the straight jacket now, but hadn't moved cells yet. "I liked him more in that sedated state." one guard would say to the other, both shaking their heads in agreement. Thankfully, there was light at the end of the tunnel and Caul was finally getting a new home; another cell, but with less smooth pillows, a bed and cold, grey concrete walls. He hadn't seen his new cell, yet, though. But he was going to and he was going to hate it.

"You think they'll execute him at some point?" a guard asked another one, who was fumbling with his keys in front of Caul's cell. "I don't know. I thought the ymbrynes got rid of death sentences." said the other. "Either way, they told us to move him to a new cell." Then from inside the cell, Caul's voice blared, causing the guard to drop his keys. "Oh, please! End this nightmare that I call my life!" he wailed and then laughed. "Just kidding, though I'd gladly challenge death again." The guard picked up his keys and sighed in frustration. "You know the drill—you stay in the back of the room, while we enter. We have guns, you don't." he said, while unlocking the door. "Understood?"

"Yessir." Caul replied, snickering. They went in, one of them immediately aiming a gun at Caul, who stood opposite from them, on the other side of the cell. Caul raised an eyebrow. "Still afraid?" he nodded at the gun, grinning. "Just being careful." the man holding it replied. "Ah. Is that so?" Caul said. He made a twirling motion with his hand, then snapped his fingers. The guards stepped back, anxiously looking around, waiting for something to happen. Caul clicked his tongue, disappointed. "Hm, no, nothing. Not even a tiny spark." he was referring to his lost powers and pointed up at his branch-like horns. "That's all that's left, then." He stretched out his arms toward the guards, as if offering them to them. "Take me away, boys." The two men looked at each other, sighed and then the one, who was not holding the gun, handcuffed Caul. "Oh, please be gentle. I'm sensitive." he fake-whined, as the metal rings closed around his wrists. "You weren't gentle with us either." the guard reminded him. Caul thought for a moment, a bit caught off guard by that. "Well—" he began to say, but then the man slapped his shoulder, lightly. "And after all, we're just doing our job." he interrupted him. "Let's get you out of here."

They shoved him toward the door, urging him to walk faster by poking his back with the barrel of the gun. The guards led him through the long hallway, all the while Caul was complaining about the way he was treated. Every now and then he would also peek inside other cells, only to be stopped by the sound of the gun being cocked behind him—a warning. Downstairs, another long hallway awaited them. They had to go all the way through it, the prisoners inside recognising Caul, shouting and trying to reach out to him through the prison bars. Most of them were ambrosia addicts and were begging him for that stuff, thinking that that's the reason he was there. His face was the main symbol of that drug business and to see him was like seeing the light at the end of a tunnel, the sun rising, a god descending to bestow gifts upon them. "Oh, please share some with us, sir! Even if it's just a drop!" one of them pleaded, kneading his hands together like a prayer. But they were already past him. "Not today!" Caul shouted after him, looking back. "Maybe another time!" There wouldn't be another time, though. "Face forward." the guard with the gun growled.

Arriving at the end of the corridor, they unlocked a new door and shoved Caul inside. He stumbled, then caught himself and gaped at the room in front of him. It was almost sad. The room was parted with a wall of prison bars and the cell was bigger than the first one, but no one had really thought of filling all that space. There was a bed underneath a tiny window high up in the wall on one side and a small table and chair on the other. Everything surrounded by a grey floor and ceiling and walls, all with the same shade of grey. Caul hated it, as expected. "Can I go back to the padded cell?" he said, giving them a sweet, but forced smile. "No." one of the guards smiled back at him. "Now get in." Caul groaned, annoyed, but did as he was told and trudged inside. With a gun pressed against his temple, they opened his handcuffs. He massaged his wrists and grimaced in pain. "Why did they have to be so tight?" he asked, glaring at them. "What if you cut off my blood flow? Did you think about that?"

"Don't be a baby." the guard said. "Are you a doctor or something?"

"Yes. Not a certified one, but I would consider myself a doctor, yes." Caul replied, seeming a little offended. "I'm afraid my patients didn't always survive, though..."

"Patients, yes?" the man spat. "You mean innocent peculiars who fell victim to your wicked experiments?"

"That's your way of saying that." Caul said. The guards laughed, one of them patting Caul on the shoulder and said, "Whatever you say, little man." and they went out of the cell, closing and locking the door behind them.

Before they left completely, Caul's eyes got wide and he remembered something. "Is my brother here, too?" he shouted after them. "Myron Bentham?" The guards looked at each other for a moment and exchanged a few words, whispering, then they shook their heads. "His name is not on our list." they replied, shrugging.

This can't be, Caul thought. He gripped the prison bars. "Will he be here?"

"That's up to the ymbrynes." one guard said. "Check that list again. He has to be here." Caul insisted on it, with pressure in his voice. "Fine, but we're pretty sure they only lengthened his exile here in Devil's Acre. Looks like he's better than you." the guard said and then they left, disappearing down the long hallway. "He gets to live in a fancy house, while I'm rotting in here?!" Caul screamed. "He's just as bad as I am!" Caul continued to screech about his brother having attempted mass murder, which luckily failed, but cursed Caul and his followers with seemingly endless agony and insatiable hunger, walking the earth as monsters with contorted bodies. He continued screaming about how Myron had ruined everything, the sound echoing through that whole section of the building, his hatred seeming to never end, but then a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him and he slowly slid down to the cold concrete floor. His lack of powers was still causing him problems. Through the tiny window, he saw faint light outside, the sun rising. And even though he didn't know for how long he had already done that a few hours ago, he felt like sleeping again.

[—]

Smoke was still rising up from the ground, each street and alley having turned into their own little Smoking Street. Houses had been used as punching bags by the monsters the wights had become, whose dead bodies were now scattered across the Acre, some on the burned ground and some dramatically lying limp on rooftops. Their fighting had been for nothing—they were dead, their leader alive, but behind bars and left with no powers. Miss Peregrine and Myron walked down a street, side by side. Both had the same sour expression aimed at the place around them. "You don't seem fazed." Miss Peregrine pointed out. "No. I've seen all of this happen. Saw it through his eyes." Myron said, suddenly disgusted by the recurring memories of it. Ash softly rained down on their clothes and Myron sometimes took off his hat to shake it all off, only to end up getting ash in his hair, too. This was not some leftover of Caul's desolations, though, but ash from houses and other things that had burned during the battle. Lastly, they stopped in front of Myron's house and he gaped at it, sighing in relief. "Your house is one of the still standing buildings." Miss Peregrine said. "It even kept ninety-nine of us peculiars safe for a little while." Myron slowly approached his house, taking off his hat. "When Jack got so close to it," he said, remembering the scene. "I thought it was lost for good." There was still evidence of the havoc Caul had caused around the house—there, where his personal tornado had spun, was a wide and not too deep trench surrounding a part of the house. But the Quilt stopped Caul from moving on to Myron's house. Other than its surroundings, his house seemed to be in top shape, except for some scratches.

The trench was luckily a bit narrower at the front door and Myron simply hopped over it and held out a hand to his sister and with his help she crossed it, too. Myron opened the door and an oh my God escaped his lips. He held the door open for Miss Peregrine while putting a hand on his forehead, not believing his eyes. "I'm home again, actually home." he said. "I didn't think I'd see this place again."

"I must mention that some things have changed, though." she said to him. Myron turned to look at her, alarmed. "What has changed?" he asked, turning a bit pale. "We decided to bring your Panloopticon to good use, for example." Miss Peregrine replied. "Peculiars here can use it to travel to places in an easier way now. Sort of like a main station. I suppose that is its purpose, yes?"

"Yes...that's good to hear. If only I could have been there when you started using it." Myron said, colour returning to his face. "I almost thought you meant the..."

"Wax figures?" she said, sternly and at that Myron's eyes widened, again. "Yes, we gave them a new home and they're currently being watched over and taken care of." Myron looked pained and didn't reply to any of that. He knew what he had done and there were no excuses to cover anything up with. Soon he would have to confront his crimes, but so would his brother, who was the most guilty. From the depths of the hallway, a little man came running, one side of his hair messed up. "Mr. Bentham!" he called out, flapping his hands in excitement. "Nim!" Myron said and laughed, as Nim embraced him in a hug, making him stumble a little. "It's so good to see you again, sir!" he said, barely being able to contain his joy. "I missed you, too, Nim," Myron replied, then patted Nim's back. "but I need to talk to my sister in private now." They let go of each other and Nim vanished back into the direction he came from. They also met Sharon on their way to the library, but he only greeted Miss Peregrine and didn't even look at Myron.

"Nim has helped us, too." Miss Peregrine said, as they entered the big library. "He showed us the copy of the list of ingredients that the wights were using to resurrect our brother. Only that by then, we were a bit too late." The two siblings sat down on the sofa, as if preparing for a harsh conversation. "Percival Murnau." Myron guessed. "It was him, wasn't it?" Miss Peregrine nodded at that and a chill went through her brother. "That's no surprise. I never liked him, he never liked me."

"We thought we had won and that he needed my heart." Miss Peregrine explained. "Which wasn't very pleasant information, either, considering he was still out there, but at least we were expecting him to come back for me. So we thought we had control over the situation." Myron shifted uncomfortably, looking around for something—probably for PT—but he soon stopped, remembering his grimbear wasn't around anymore. In stressing moments, he would always seek comfort by patting and hugging PT. "But you didn't have control over the situation." Myron assumed. "No. We certainly didn't." she said. "It wasn't mine, but Velya Greenshank's heart that Murnau needed—and eventually obtained." Myron nodded, knowingly. Then there was a crushing silence between the two. There was so much to say, but all that was a struggle to put into words. For now, they just silently prepared for the rest of their conversation.

"When he brought his wights to Abaton, I knew it didn't look good for me. Jack somehow robbed me of my newly obtained powers, turning me back to my old self." Myron said, gesturing at himself. "I was weak and they were way bigger and so much more powerful than me. After a few close calls, I ran away into the library and hid there. At this point, they were far too busy training outside and seemed to have forgotten about me."

"Mr. Portman told me that the soul jars he used were already placed there, ready for him to take them," Miss Peregrine said. "and I wonder...did you put them there?" Myron nodded. "Yes, that was me. Luckily, there was still a bit of Abraham's soul left in me. My ability to see and handle soul jars was barely there, but just enough to do this one last deed." he explained and then his expression darkened. "It wasn't long until Jack remembered that I was still trespassing his library—as he would say—and he was far from done with me. And he needed me." Myron took a deep breath and then continued. "He didn't admit that, of course, but when he caught me, I must have blacked out and the next thing I knew was that...I was him. I was still me, but also him. We were connected in some sick and cruel way, merged, forced together to live as one." Miss Peregrine was listening closely now, fingers placed on her lips. "He had complete access to my knowledge on Old Peculiar and other things that turned out to be useful to him, while I had to endure the chaos that was his mind and watch him do all the horrible things he did." Myron said and shuddered, remembering everything. He shook his head, trying to shake off those horrible thoughts. "I wish I could have been there, by your side. Even before all this happened. There is so much I regret—" Miss Peregrine stopped him, not wanting to confront all this again at the moment. "I know, Myron, and we will get to those regrets soon," she said. "but I want you to know that...despite everything I'm still glad you're back here with us. I don't think I can entirely forgive you, but you're still my brother." Myron nodded, understandingly, smiled subtly—while his sister wasn't—and then he awkwardly cleared his throat and stood up. "Well, I better go and see Nim. He's been waiting for me for months now after all." he said, then went over to the door and before he left, he waved at his sister. She waved back and thought to her herself, it hasn't been like this in over a century.

[—]

"We checked again and he's not on the list." a guard said, already tired of the following argument. "WHAT!" Caul barked, jumping up from his bed. "You're lying!" He stomped over to the wall of prison bars, gripping them, as if wanting to break them. "Show me! I want to see it!" he demanded. The guard drew in a deep breath, turned the paper with the list on it around and showed it to Caul, at a safe distance, in case Caul tried to snatch it from him. With his eyes narrowed, Caul scanned the paper, working it over for his brother's name. Of course, he found many names but Myron's name. "This list must be a fake!" Caul protested. "In fact, you just wrote it while you were apparently gone to get the real one. Yes, you thought you could trick me and play a joke on me. You think you're so fucking funny, hm?" The guard blinked at him, probably barely following Caul's rant. "But you know what?" Caul said and picked up a chair, then threw it at the opposite wall and yelled, "I'm not someone you play jokes on!" The chair broke apart into several pieces and was now scattered on the floor at Caul's feet. "Wow, that's badly made." he mumbled. Caul picked up one of the chair's legs and pointed it at the mess he made. "This could be you." he warned, his voice low, trying to sound threatening. "Sure." the guard shrugged.

Caul sighed and tossed the chair's leg over to the rest of it. He shuffled back to his bed and let himself fall down on it, defeated. "This isn't fun." he whined. "We'll be handing out meals soon. Maybe you'll find some fun in that." the guard said. Caul's head shot up at the word meals. "Do you have souls?" Caul asked, smiling. "We had plenty of them, you know. I'm sure you kept some after you scavenged my fortress. It's okay, you can admit it."

"No, we just hand out bread and water." Caul cursed silently and his head dropped back down. He heard the guard's footsteps getting quieter, leaving the room and entering the hallway. He felt like shouting something after him, but figured it wouldn't be worth it and that it wouldn't lead to anything. Caul stood up on his bed on tiptoes and watched the street outside through the tiny gap in the wall, which they just barely called a window. The sky was gradually darkening, the sun saying its last goodbyes to Devil's Acre's smoking ruins. I did this, Caul thought to himself and a sudden pride and joy shot through him as he saw his desolated home, but that was soon interrupted by familiar voices of people walking down the street. He squeezed his face into the gap, eyes wide and spotted Jacob, Noor and what appeared to be a floating pair of pants—Millard. They've ruined everything. He got angry again and decided to get their attention. "HEY!" he screamed and they all flinched, staring into his direction. Caul gripped the metal bars in the window. "You think you defeated me, think it's over, don't you?"

"Well, didn't we?" Millard said. "You look very defeated if I'm being honest."

"Oh, this is only temporary! My strife will never end, I will never end! But yooouuu will, children!" Caul sang, but at this point even he wasn't sure about that anymore. Then he addressed Jacob, knowing he'd always been able to scare him. "And especially you, Jacob, know that. Nothing ever really has an end." Jacob backed away, a little caught off guard. Before he could talk back, Noor squeezed his hand. "Come on, guys." Noor said. "That's all just crazy talk." They were about to leave, when Caul screamed at them again. He hit his fist on the wall, cursed when he hurt himself and shook his hand, trying to get rid of the pain. "Damn you!" he cried. Noor rolled her eyes, reached her hand up into the air and stole the light from the street lamps around them. But as she did that, Caul noticed a blue light emitting from underneath his shirt and he gasped. It seemed to float out of him and he began to feel even weaker than he already did. No, no, no. He tried to grasp it, which failed, of course, for he wasn't a light eater. But then it suddenly seeped back into him, right when Noor was finished with what she was doing outside. Caul clutched his chest, as he watched them walk away. "My soul," he breathed. "it's still there. A little bit of it." There was, indeed, still a bit left in him. A part Noor couldn't eat, a part as thin as a string close to snapping, keeping him alive. But it held no powers.

During the next days, Caul got so bored, he started playing imaginary chess with the guards and cheered every time he won. He always won—because he was the only one playing. Other times, he would even flirt with the guards, only to be rejected or ignored. Again, they often had to switch the people guarding him because of that. "Who would date you?" one asked, laughing. "Oh, I know someone who would and who was dating me," Caul replied. "but he's DEAD!" And so Caul would also scream and cry sometimes, still mourning his downfall in one moment, only to break out cackling and going on about how he will escape in the next. He would always claw at the tiny window—which he would never fully reach and never fit through—to get outside. After realising he wasn't able to do that, Caul would break down crying again, then come to accept his fate and play jokes on the guards like he did before. This went on and on, over and over again. A cycle of mental torture for both the guards and Caul himself—if there was anything left of his mind to torture.

Days later, it finally had an end, when they dragged him to court and confronted him at a trial. At first, he didn't appear to be bothered much by everything around him. On the contrary—smirking, he leaned back on his chair and rested his legs on the table in front of him, arms behind his back, handcuffs around his wrists. The ymbrynes told him to stop that, though, so Caul brought his legs back down and rolled his eyes, muttering something about, "I'm not a child anymore." Two guards were by his side, whispering warnings to him. His siblings were there, too; Myron sitting opposite from Caul with his sister next to him, his antennae waving around, nervously. Miss Peregrine had her hands folded together and was glancing over at the other ymbrynes, waiting for the trial to start. In the course of it, Caul proudly confessed to everything they accused him of, even revealing other horrible crimes the ymbrynes did not know about—such as what he did to his brother, Myron. As soon as Caul mentioned that, everyone's eyes locked on Myron and he sank down on his chair, colour leaving his face. Caul gave him a sinister grin and mocked him, but then an ymbryne interrupted Caul. "I'm sure your brother can speak to this without your help, thank you." she said, coldly, and then she addressed Myron, nodding at him. "Mr. Bentham?"

"Yes, er..." Myron sat back upright and cleared his throat. "I do actually...have something to say to this."

"Of cooouurse he does..." Caul said, quietly and rolled his eyes again. Someone shushed him. Myron pushed back his chair and carefully stood up, his hands shaking. His eyes were scanning the table in front of him, anxiously. "As we all know, I am quite guilty as well. Very guilty, actually." he began and slowly raised his head. "Yes, I have worked together with my brother, even after I noticed that something was off about him. Yes, I did try to murder him and his followers back in 1908. Yes, I also lied to Abraham Portman about what I would use his soul for. And yes...I even forced my healer to turn peculiars into living statues with her dust. To that there is no explanation nor justification, I know this."

The court room was quiet, even including Caul. He was playing around with a few leaves that were growing on his horns, barely listening to what was going on around him. Myron continued, glaring at Caul. "But, your honour, if I may...my brother, Jack Bentham." he said, his voice becoming louder and Caul immediately turned his head to look at him. "My own brother tormented me, enslaved me, tortured me. He did not spare Alma, either." Myron gestured at Miss Peregrine. Some ymbrynes nodded, others were writing something down. "There's still something else we wanted to address..." said an ymbryne, looking up from her notes. "And it's your list of ingredients. We know now that you purposely mistranslated mother of storms to fool the wights, which did not work. But out of everything, you chose mother of birds and we would like to know why. You could have put an important ymbryne in danger, maybe even your sister." Myron looked down at Miss Peregrine in regret, then he nodded, remembering. "Yes, that wasn't right." he said. "I was angry and I shouldn't have done that."

"He was angry!" Caul laughed, his voice sudden and loud, startling everyone in the court room. "You know who was angry, too? ME! Is that your excuse, Myron?" Myron ignored his question and just went on. "All I wanted was to put an end to my brother. I knew about the prophecy for a long time and when I realised that Jack was a part of it, was meant to become this king, this monster, I tried everything to prevent—"

"But you failed!" Caul shouted and cackled. "You can't stop prophecies from coming true! Destiny will always find a way! Think, Myron, think!"

"I would love it if you didn't interrupt me." Myron said, calmly, but there was pressure in his voice. Caul rolled his eyes. "Blablablah...would love it if you didn't interrupt me...blablablah." he muttered, mocking his brother. "Jack! This is serious!" Myron yelled, slapping the table. "We're in the midst of a trial!" Caul looked around, grinning. "Really?" he said, sarcastically. "Oh, you're right! We really are!" He laughed. Myron threw his arms in the air in frustration, then put a hand on his forehead. He sighed. "I can't believe this is happening."

Miss Peregrine tugged on his sleeve, asking him to sit back down. He did, eventually and buried his face in his hands. "Already giving up?" Caul was giving his all at mocking his brother. This might be his last opportunity, after all. "Remember what I said about how your will is weak? This is what I meant!" Miss Peregrine was whispering something to Myron, who then shook his head—I can't do this—and she nodded at the other ymbrynes, signalising them to end this. "I think we're done here for today." one of them said. "NO!" Caul screamed at them, then kicked the table. The guards immediately held him back from causing any more damage. "MYRON, LOOK AT ME!" But his siblings were already being led out of the room. Caul wanted to get up, to run after them, but the guards were stronger and kept him down on his chair. He struggled and screamed bloody murder, until a guard cupped a hand over his mouth. But Caul only licked his palm and gasping, the guard quickly pulled his hand away again. Caul laughed at that, but then continued screeching, demanding to be let go. "He needs to sleep again!" an ymbryne shouted. Two men, wearing gas masks came in through the big door, one of them holding a white little bag. They rid the current guards of their duty. One put a hand on top of Caul's head, while his other hand gripped his shoulder, pushing him down. The second man opened his bag and poured white powder onto his hand, which Caul immediately recognised. "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN!" he screamed, panicking. The one with the powder forcefully planted his hand on Caul's other shoulder and carefully brought the powder closer to his face. When his hand was above Caul, he sprinkled it onto him. Still yelling and struggling, Caul involuntarily breathed it all in, then coughed and sent out a cloud of white dust. Again, Mother Dust's powder was working perfectly and quickly. Caul was able to slur out some last words, but they were almost unintelligible. The guards let him go as his head dropped down and he went limp on his chair.

[—]

He'd been staring at the blank wall, tucked into a blanket on his bed, only his head poking out. Caul had slept through most of the dust's effects and was now just laying there, thinking about nothing. He rolled onto his other side and flinched when he spotted his sister sitting on a chair behind the wall of prison bars. He sighed. "How long have you been here?" he asked, his voice raspy. Miss Peregrine consulted her pocket watch. "For twelve minutes and twenty-four seconds." she replied. Caul propped himself up and groaned as he slowly sat up on his bed. He had never looked so miserable as he did in that moment. "Why are you here?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her, then widened them as he looked at a bright spot on the floor. He followed the beam of light, that was casting it, up to the window behind him. It was daytime, but what time exactly? "What time is it?"

"Three in the afternoon." Miss Peregrine said. "You're going to ruin my sleep schedule if you keep on doing this to me." Caul complained. "You probably won't need a proper sleep schedule, since you will stay behind bars for forever." Miss Peregrine said. "And it's up to you if we have to put you to sleep over and over again. It was for your and everyone else's well-being."

"Forever? In here?" Caul didn't seem particularly surprised, though. "Yes. That was your punishment." his sister replied. "We didn't get to tell you at the trial." Caul shortly laughed, even sounding a bit hopeless and shrugged. "Fun. Speaking of the trial, why wasn't Miss Avocet there?" Miss Peregrine hesitated at first. "She died." she said. "She died the night you surrounded Myron's house. Since one of us had been killed, we had to put an extra amount of energy into the Quilt and that became too much for her."

"Oh." Caul only said and stared at the floor. They didn't say a word for a while, as if holding a moment of silence for Miss Avocet. As much as Caul despised the ymbrynes, Miss Avocet especially, he had never imagined the day she would die for some reason. She had been in peculiardom for such a long time, that she seemed too old to die.

"I brought someone with me today." Miss Peregrine said, breaking the silence. "He's waiting outside." Caul's head went up, a smile filling up his tired face again. "Is it Myron?"

"No, he has had quite enough of you." Miss Peregrine said. Caul's face dropped and he crossed his arms, tapping his foot, annoyed. His sister stood up and went to get the person she brought with her. She came back with a tall young man with jet-black hair, who cautiously and slowly walked in. Caul grinned from ear to ear. "Ah, Jacob Portman, peculiardom's hero! What a delight!" he said and finally found the strength to get out of bed. Jacob approached the prison bars and locked eyes with Caul. "We need to talk." he said, his face serious. Caul hopped over to him. "Of course, of course. Whatever it is, I'm all ears, it can be anything!" Caul said, beaming and he sat down on the cold floor, tailor-fashion. He looked up at Jacob, like a child, eagerly waiting for him to continue. "What do you know about my grandfather?" Jacob asked. Miss Peregrine offered him her chair and he sat down on it, while she stepped away to the door, but still watching them from a distance. "Ah, Abraham." Caul said, sighing. "Still on the search for things you don't know about him?" Jacob nodded. "A wight's hollow you sent took him away from me, killed him, after all." he said. "I didn't get to ask him much."

"Oh, right. I forgot." Caul shrugged and laughed a little. "Maybe you should have done that before he died, then."

Idiot. Anger crept into Jacob. He turned his head to check on Miss Peregrine behind him—she was examining the doorway—and then he leaned forward, getting face to face with Caul's stupid grin. "Did you know when your parents were going to drown themselves?" Jacob whispered.

Caul's grin vanished and his face tensed up, eyes wide. That touched a soft spot. "Don't ever bring this up." Caul hissed back. "Then let's have a proper conversation. Speaking to the male, remember?" Jacob said, giving him a fake smile. Caul shifted uncomfortably and sighed. "Jesus, when did you become so bold?" Caul said, actually seeming a little hurt. "Fine, I'll tell you what I know about Abe. Where do I start? Oh, yes! He was a piece of shit, who had too much pride, which got him killed in the end. I kind of miss him. But thankfully you remind me so much of Abe! It's like he's right here, in front of me, glaring at me. Just like he always did and like you are doing it right now." Jacob got up from his chair. He was giving up on talking to Caul. "This is pointless." Jacob muttered and turned to leave, but then Caul jumped onto his feet and one of his arms shot through the prison bars, grabbing Jacob's wrist. Jacob was pulled backwards and stumbled, hitting his back and head on the cold metal. Caul's other arm came for his neck and put him in a chokehold. "Pointless, hm?" Caul hissed into his ear. "Was it pointless for you to come into this world, too?"

"Let go!" Jacob yelled and tried to struggle against Caul's grip. Miss Peregrine rushed over, alarmed, but by then Jacob had already wrenched himself free. Miss Peregrine protectively led him away from her brother, who was watching them with flashing eyes and a devilish grin. "Hey, I wasn't done, yet!" Caul shouted, but Miss Peregrine shook her head at her brother and then they left and Caul was alone again. He tried shouting after them one more time—"You're just like him, Jacob! A copy of Abe, nothing more!"—and hoped the echo would take his voice far enough to reach them, but then he heard a heavy door slam shut further back in the building, telling him that they were really gone.

Later that day, Miss Peregrine came back to see her brother again, without Jacob this time. She went in and caught Caul standing on tiptoes on his bed, looking out the tiny window, grumbling something to himself. What or who he saw outside was Myron walking down the street, arms linked with Nim. He was laughing about something his servant just told him. They were happy and free—and Caul wasn't. His grip around the prison bars tightened. "This traitorous, arrogant..."

"Is there a problem, Jack?" Miss Peregrine asked and at the sound of her voice, Caul spun around, almost falling off the bed. For a moment, he only stared at her, then pointed at the window. "Why does Myron get to live his best life out there, while I'm trapped in here?!" he complained, like a little child. "Oh, he is facing his consequences, don't worry about that." Miss Peregrine assured him. "He's just not as dangerous as you are."

"Not dangerous?" Caul said. He held two fingers above his head and wiggled them. "Have you seen those things on his head? He looks like he came from outer space!" Miss Peregrine raised an eyebrow at Caul's branch-like horns. "What—oh, fine..." he said and groaned, when he noticed what she was looking at. He sat back down on his bed and wrapped the blanket around himself like a cocoon, putting on a grim expression. "Why are you even here, if you could be out there with him?" Caul grumbled. "I am talking to him quite often, actually. He has told me many things about your time together and—" Miss Peregrine began, but was interrupted by her brother shortly after. "Oh, boo-hoo! Poor Myron was enslaved! Poor Myron was tortured! Poor Myron got his legs broken!" Caul wailed, mockingly and rocked back and forth. "I was stuck in the body of a hollowgast for a few years, Alma." Miss Peregrine nodded. "Yes, I know." Caul sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't care about that."

"I do," Miss Peregrine said. "but unlike you, he tried and is still trying to better himself."

"We both know that even if I showed any signs of becoming a better person I'd still stay in here, so what's the point?" Caul muttered.

"Yes, that's true. Sometimes you can't get out of a situation, but you can make it better. That's what we always did, back when your forces were lurking behind every corner." Miss Peregrine replied. "Think about it." And with these wise last words, she left the room. Little did they know, that this was the last time they talked to each other. Caul stared down at the concrete floor, where a few shrivelled leaves lay scattered. Forever, they had said, he would stay behind bars forever. Why don't they just kill me? Another, last leaf fell from one of his horns, joining their dead friends. He was just like them. The life had gone out of him, his horns had gone naked. I am become death. His own death.

Over the course of that week, Miss Peregrine hadn't visited him again and Caul's condition worsened. He barely said a word to the guards anymore and usually just sat on his bed, boredly scraping his horns up and down on the wall. Which was good for the guards, since it made their work much easier. However, when Caul started to refuse the bread and water they were giving him, they reported his behaviour to the ymbrynes, who told the guards not to force it onto him if he didn't want it. With each day, Caul became paler than he already was and looked more and more tired. He didn't even look out the window and complain about people walking down the street anymore. Sometimes Caul would trudge over to a corner and stare up at a spider on the ceiling and after that, he'd crawl back into his bed—and that would be one whole day for him.

Eventually, he stopped getting out of bed entirely. Funnily enough, the guards actually spoke to him voluntarily now, but he never really answered. Maybe he would nod or hum in response sometimes, but that was it. Rumours were spreading quickly among the guards—you think he's going to die soon? I mean, look at him. Looks like a corpse—and they were right. Caul was slowly and quietly dying. And it wasn't long until he would finally meet his end.

At the end of that week, Miss Peregrine came back to see him, knowing that apparently he was refusing to drink and eat, but not knowing how bad it already was.

She slowly walked in, trying to be quiet, since Caul appeared to still be sleeping, though it was the middle of the day. A ruined sleeping schedule, she thought. Like he said. Miss Peregrine approached his cell and decided to wake him up. "Jack." she called out. No reaction. Then again, a bit louder, "Jack." Still nothing. She narrowed her eyes at the blanket wrapped around him. Is he breathing? No, it wasn't moving up and down. "Jack?" she called out again, nervously, her voice rising. And then she was yelling. "Jack! JACK!" He was sleeping, yes, but in a different way. In an eternal kind of way, getting pulled deeper into a state he could never return from. He had finally given in to the death that he was always able to evade for so long. A blue little string of light swirled out from his nose, floating up and out the window, into the open street—a soul leaving its host. Miss Peregrine cupped her hands in front of her mouth in shock, her eyes wide as she stared at him. She rushed out to get the guards.

#tdoda spoilers #the desolations of devils acre spoilers #the desolations of devils acre #caul bentham #myron bentham #alma lefay peregrine #jacob portman #noor pradesh #mphfpc

16 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's A Change in the Weather) - Chapter 31

Read on AO3.

Notes: Finally! I meant to have this up yesterday but I was having some technical difficulties and then life kicked me in the face. But here it is, a nice light-hearted romp before the heavy chapter, which will also be a monster length wise, so be prepared. Also, if you’re enjoying this, please share the love. It would mean the world to me.

Sebastian drives with the top down all the way to Red Hat. He’d been considerate enough to warn Kurt ahead of time so he wouldn’t spend too much time fussing with his hair. Kurt already had a look in mind since the moment he found out they were going, so this news wasn’t well received. But he rolls with the punches, managing to throw together a style that comes across as attractively disheveled - morning-after-bedhead with a twist of reluctant apocalyptic superhero. On the up side, not having to sculpt his do ends up being a huge time saver. And Sebastian being Sebastian knows how to adjust the windows of his car with the top down so that Kurt doesn’t get buffeted too badly by the wind.

That move adds stock to Sebastian’s boyfriend cred.

The drive to the amphitheater is magical - the night air that whips over their heads warm and fragrant, the sky bursting with stars, and relatively smooth sailing for the first leg of their trip. Sebastian had created a playlist of Airiel Down’s hits for them to listen to, but they end up forgoing music altogether to relax in companionable silence. Sebastian’s right hand finds and holds Kurt’s left above the gear shift, and they remain that way for the entirety of the drive.

The second leg of their journey ends up being a bit rockier.

The pulsing beat reaches them from over a mile away. Fingers of multicolored search lights stretch to the sky, welcoming them from the highway. Kurt gets swallowed by deja vu the second he sees those lights in the air, and excitement washes over him. Traffic into Raleigh is hellacious and, in the end, parking scarce, but it’s worth it. The vibe coming off Red Hat is electric. It hits them before they get anywhere near the amphitheater. And even though Kurt is heartbroken for Julian, he’s grateful that he offered them these tickets. Kurt wants to make it up to him, but the only way he can think to do that (the only way he’d agree to, that is) is if he could pull Cooper out of a hat, make him keep his promises.

And make Julian Julian again.

Sebastian and Kurt foot it from the only lot with valet parking that had space available down to the venue. They did find a spot closer, but it was on the street, and would have only given Sebastian’s Mustang a foot of clearance front and back.

Sebastian balked.

“Do you know how many people are going to be walking by here, intoxicated, carrying keys, phones, and God knows what else that might scratch my paint? Not to mention the spot seekers who won’t pay any attention and might take off my rear view mirror. Nu-uh. I have no intention of putting my baby in any danger,” Sebastian had said, putting a protective arm around Kurt’s waist and squeezing tight. “Not even for prime parking.”

From the parking lot, it’s a stretch of the legs to get there, and also a bit of a dance - swarms of people migrating up and down the street, stopping Kurt and Sebastian’s progress every five feet. The stop and go gets frustrating after awhile. But before Kurt knows it, they’re waiting in line, watching the opening numbers by way of a gigantic flat screen positioned behind the stage for the people stuck in lawn seating. Kurt turns in a circle, getting a lay of the land. He sees a hotel across the street - a Sheraton or a Hilton, some chain establishment. The drapes on each window are pulled open with guests sitting in front of the glass, enjoying the music from the comfort of their rooms.

‘That’s the way to do it,’ Kurt thinks enviously. As much as he enjoys a night out, he envisions being in one of those rooms, watching the concert from beneath the covers of a king-sized bed, perhaps using the music as a backdrop while he and Sebastian make love with the curtains wide open. Or right in front of the window, kneeling on the carpet, holding on to the drapes for leverage, hot skin pressed against the cool glass as Sebastian takes him from behind.

Would people notice them and call the police? On the average Wednesday or Thursday possibly, but not during an event like this, with everyone’s attention focused elsewhere. There’s a chance there is a couple doing the exact same right now. Kurt wouldn’t know. Even with an unobstructed view of the windows, he’s hard pressed to zero in on any single one.

That fantasy is not like anything he’s ever wanted before - more exhibitionist than he would have been comfortable with at the beginning of summer. But now - who knows? He’s game for pretty much anything. He’s been aiming to mark items off his bucket list, but maybe he should consider adding a few things, too - things that will be possible because he has Sebastian to do them with.

Once they get through the main gate, Sebastian and Kurt breeze past the line of people trying to buy last minute tickets. Sebastian gets his phone screen scanned by the guard manning the turnstile and voila.

They’re in.

The place is packed. There are still seats available but they’re difficult to pick out due to the sheer amount of bodies filling the rows. Not a single person is sitting down - everyone on their feet, hands in the air, moving to the music. An usher offers to help them find their seat. Sebastian tells her that he’s familiar with the layout and, to Kurt’s surprise, she lets them go off on their own. Sebastian finds their seats, or seems to find the general location, and leads Kurt down the row to the center.

Kurt had really been hoping for an aisle seat. He isn’t a crowd person. He doesn’t like germs or bacteria, and human sweat teems with it! He’d stretched his boundaries at that bar in Columbus, too fascinated by the flesh on display, too intrigued by Sebastian’s promise of a boozy good time, one where Sebastian acted as designated driver while Kurt got his buzz on. But this is different. This is that crowd of half-dressed, writhing bodies times ten! Aside from the people bouncing around them, getting way too close by accident, the temperature soars about twenty degrees immediately.

They have excellent seats, a stone’s throw from the front with a clear view of the stage. Kurt focuses on that, and on the music, on the beat humming through the cement floor, drumming its way through his body.

He focuses on Sebastian, standing so close, they may as well be fused together, a single entity swaying and grinding in time to the music.

But even with Sebastian’s body pressed against his, Kurt finds himself having a hard time letting go, feeling like a pinball caught between bumpers: his incredible boyfriend to his left, and a woman to his right who has never heard the meaning of the word restraint.

His mind takes a turn back to the hotel across the street, those open windows, and the people on the other side of them, doing whatever with this music as a soundtrack. He wonders what Sebastian would think if he suggested they watch the rest of the concert from a rented room and put his fantasy into action.

Odds are, Kurt feels, Sebastian would be willing - and eager - to oblige.

“How are you enjoying yourself?” Sebastian asks, lips hovering close to Kurt’s ear. He wouldn’t need to ask if they were standing chest to chest instead of chest to back. If Kurt’s hips were flush against Sebastian’s, he’d have an accurate indicator of whether or not Kurt is enjoying himself.

“Great!” Kurt tilts his head back, hands cupped over his mouth so he doesn’t blow out his vocal chords trying to be heard. They are his instrument, after all. “I really like it!”

“Really? You like this kind of music?” Sebastian asks, smiling as if Kurt’s enjoyment is a personal triumph, which leads Kurt to believe that Airiel Down must be one of Sebastian’s favorite bands. Kurt has never heard of them before, but when he gets the chance, he’s going to hop onto YouTube and download every single of theirs he can find.

“Apparently!” Kurt replies, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t think this would be your speed.”

“You underestimate me, Sebastian Smythe!” Kurt says slyly. “For I have many speeds!”

Sebastian chortles loudly at that remark and Kurt blushes. It sounded different in his head. A lot different.

“I only have one complaint,” Kurt continues.

“And that is …?”

“The woman next to me keeps elbowing me in the arm! And she has sharp elbows!”

Sebastian looks past Kurt at the woman in question, bouncing up and down, limbs flailing, without a care in the world. He grabs Kurt by the elbow and shimmies him away, moving him to his other side as he peers over the crowd towards the stage, eyes sweeping the amphitheater from end to end. He must see a solution to Kurt’s problem because his face lights up.

“Come with me,” he says, taking Kurt’s hand. “Maybe I can fix that.”

“You’re going to cut off her elbows?” Kurt asks hopefully.

“Even better.” Sebastian pulls him through the crowd the way they came. It’s tight, but eventually they stumble out into the aisle without too much more elbowing and race straight for the stage. When they get there, Sebastian positions Kurt between himself and the barricade separating the audience from the stage.

Then he starts jumping up and down with his arms in the air like a lunatic.

“Wait! What … what are we doing?” Kurt asks. “Am I missing something?”

“I’m flagging down a friend. Hey! Hey, Viola! Vi! Down here!”

From where they’re standing, Kurt can see four hands on this end of the stage - three men and one woman, all wearing dark jeans and black t-shirts with Airiel Down printed in white letters across the front. The woman Sebastian seems to be hollering at has on a pair of enormous headphones with no less than three antennas sticking out the side. Kurt’s father owns a pair of BOSE noise canceling headphones that don’t look half as intimidating as these. When Kurt borrows them, they block sound so effectively, he wouldn’t hear a 747 if it came crashing into his bedroom.

He doesn’t see any way that she’ll be able to hear them.

Sebastian does, however, manage to grab the attention of a security guard - a mountain of a man with more head than neck - who frowns and walks their way.

“Uh … Sebastian …” Kurt tugs on his boyfriend’s sleeve. “I think we’ve been spotted!”

Sebastian glances down the barricade and spots the guard coming toward them. He’s not rushing, so he obviously doesn’t consider them a threat.

“Nah. Don’t worry about him.”

“But I think he has a Taser!” Kurt points out nervously.

“He’ll have to catch us before he can use it!”

“Believe it or not, that doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence!”

“Relax! I’ve got this under control!” Sebastian bends his knees and jumps higher, windmilling his arms over his head while he’s airborne. Kurt doesn’t see how making an ass out of himself means he has things under control. But seeing as luck is a way of life for Sebastian, it does the trick. When the woman spots him waving frantically from behind the barricade, she smiles wide, teeth gleaming unnaturally from the UV lights. “Hey! Sebastian! Let them up!” she calls to the guard marching their way. “Let them up!”

The guard, nearly upon them, seems to have no problem switching gears last minute and moves the barricade a sliver to let them pass.

Kurt, getting an up close and personal look at what is - yes - a Taser, has a mini heart attack.

“Oh my God!” she squeals. “Long time, no see!” She motions to a staircase that leads to the stage, greeting Sebastian at the top with open arms.

“I’ve got good reasons,” he says, hugging her back. He bumps Kurt’s hip with his own when she lets him go. “This is my boyfriend, Kurt.”

Smiling brown eyes land on Kurt and look him over. “Wow!” She offers Kurt her hand to shake, gives Sebastian an approving wink. “Very nice! Nice to see you finally using your charm and sense of humor to land you a man with class.”

Kurt decides there and then that he likes this woman. Not because she called him a man with class, which was nice, but because she described Sebastian as charming, and with a sense of humor.

She didn’t mention anything about his money.

“That tends to happen when you grow up and come to your senses,” Sebastian says bashfully.

“Word. So, you guys look a little beaten and battered.”

“You might say that.” Kurt rubs his arms, knowing he’ll be covered in black and blues tomorrow - bruises he’ll need to explain to everyone he encounters if he doesn’t want them to think his boyfriend covered him in head to toe hickeys. Which he might if they’re going to speculate over his sex life unsolicited anyway. Too bad Rachel isn’t here, he thinks. The jealousy in her eyes would be delicious.

“You guys through mixing with the rabble?” Viola asks.

“You know it,” Sebastian says.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang in the wings for the rest of the concert. Here …” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out two stickers, taking the liberty of affixing one to each boys’ thigh before Kurt gets the chance to complain about the catastrophic effects of adhesive on his jeans. “These’ll keep security off your back. They’ll even get you back stage after.”

“Thanks a bunch!” Sebastian says. “ I knew you’d hook us up!”

“Anytime. Look, I’ve got to get back stage before intermission. If I don’t see you later, it was nice meeting you, Kurt.”

“Likewise,” Kurt says.

She jabs a thumb in Sebastian’s direction. “Keep an eye on this one. He has a tendency to get lost.”

Kurt watches her hop behind the curtain, disappearing in the cover provided by a nearby fog machine, thrown by the poignancy of her parting remark. He turns to his boyfriend gazing out across the stage with a look of genuine joy on his face that leaves Kurt speechless.

“What?” Sebastian asks, sheepish when he catches Kurt staring.

“Of course you would know the stage hand of a professional rock band.”

“No, Julian does,” Sebastian defends. “They went to Berkeley together. From what I hear, they bonded over Nueva Cancion, small batch craft beers, CBD gummies, and the trammels of having a broken younger sibling. The only contribution I’ve made to this friendship thus far is knowing Julian … unfortunately.”

“That’s apparently enough in the circles you run in.” Kurt chuckles. “But I would have thought you’d be just as famous. You know, your name and number written on bathroom walls from here to the space station ...”

Sebastian’s expression changes, becomes muddled, every default expression he has scrolling by on his face, trying to land on an appropriate one. When he can’t seem to settle, he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his shoes, still trying to choose.

Kurt doesn’t know why, but he feels like he needs to apologize. They’ve exchanged jokes back and forth like this before, but this one … it landed differently. “I’m sorry. I insulted you, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not that,” Sebastian says, shaking his head with a look in his eyes like even he’s trying to make himself believe that that’s not what he feels. “It’s just …” Kurt watches Sebastian’s lips move, trapped between words. “I’m not ashamed of who I am, and I’m not going to apologize for who I was, but … I don’t want you to see the Whore of Babylon every time you look at me.”

Kurt wants to tell him that he doesn’t. It’s simply a fall back joke. The two of them have tons of them. It’s not even one of the crueler ones as far as Kurt is concerned. It’s never bothered Sebastian before …

No. Kurt can’t say that. It bothers Sebastian when Julian calls him that. It bothers him a lot.

“Who do you want to be?” Kurt asks, taking Sebastian’s hand and moving closer, as impossibly close as he can until he becomes Sebastian’s entire field of view. “Who do you want me to see when I look at you?”

Sebastian loops his arms around Kurt’s waist, threading his fingers into his belt loops. He holds him tight and leans back, lifting Kurt off the ground a couple of inches, grinning when Kurt yelps and squirms. “I want to be yours. Just … your man. Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend, and that’s all.”

“Just Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend?” Kurt repeats with a laugh when he tries to touch the ground and Sebastian refuses to put him down.

Sebastian rolls his eyes up, stares contemplatively at the flashing lights overhead while he swings Kurt back and forth, only the soles of his shoes brushing the floor. “How about … Kurt Hummel’s sexy ass boyfriend?”

Sebastian sets Kurt down, but Kurt doesn’t move from his boyfriend’s embrace. They rock there, swaying side to side, reminiscent of middle-school kids at their first official dance, even though the music being performed doesn’t support their rhythm, pounding like a short-circuiting jackhammer locked in a metal box. But Sebastian’s arms around Kurt’s waist transport him to a different plane of existence entirely, where the crowds down below and the band on stage become nothing but static.

Sebastian’s lips brush Kurt’s forehead and he wonders if Sebastian knows, the way he seems to know about everything, that forehead kisses are one of his weaknesses.

If he didn’t know before, he definitely figured it out.

“Noted,” Kurt says, tilting his chin up to capture Sebastian’s next kiss with his lips. “I’ll look into having a shirt printed up.”

***

“Okay, so … uh … that there’s Ursa Major.” Sebastian points to a series of stars up and to the left above their heads. Kurt squints in that direction, trying to make out an outline of a bear in the group Sebastian indicates. If he unfocuses his eyes, he can kind of see it. He can also see a pig, Mario’s go-kart, one of Rachel’s carousel horses, and that girl from The Grudge. “And that over there is Ursa Minor. And those three stars in a line all together, that’s Orion’s Belt. That makes this whole section of sky …” Sebastian holds up his hands, framing between his thumbs and forefingers the portion of the heavens they’ve been staring at “… The Capricorn Sky.”

Kurt turns his head from its resting place on yet another of Sebastian’s Dalton sweatshirts, folded in a square on the windshield of his Mustang. Kurt wasn’t too surprised when Sebastian suggested they lie atop his hood and stare up at the stars when the easier and more practical option would have been to put the top down. After all, Sebastian literally jumped on the hood of his father’s Aston Martin - a memory that still haunts Kurt, causes him considerable pain when it flashes behind his eyes. However, being his baby and all, Sebastian did add the caveat that if Kurt scuffs his paint, he’ll be paying to have it buffed out.

Kurt retaliated, saying he could buff it out himself no problem wearing nothing but a tank top and Sebastian’s old gym shorts, and that if Sebastian was a good boy, he’d let him watch.

Sebastian agreed to those terms, but he had a difficult time climbing up on the car after that.

“Really?” Kurt asks, partially skeptical.

“Kurt …” Sebastian looks at him, intelligent green eyes brimming with mild hurt at Kurt questioning his authority on this subject. But then his mouth splits into a grin and he laughs. “How the fuck should I know? They’re stars! They all look the same! Big balls of gas thousands of miles away that some drunk asshole on a ship hundreds of years ago claimed made pictures and I’m supposed to remember them all? This is just what guys do. They look up at the stars and identify shit.”

“I don’t!”

“Well …” Sebastian says, waving his hand in a vague gesture.

“Wait … what’s The Capricorn Sky then? Did you make that up? Because that sounds like a limited edition Starbucks drink.”

“It’s the title of a book by Colly Campbell. Not my usual cup of tea, but it was decently entertaining.”

“Damn.” Kurt shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I was impressed, too. Smart guys get me hot, you know.”

“Well in that case, I actually do know a few constellations. The popular ones … big dipper ... little dipper … Pauly Shore …” Sebastian slides closer while Kurt’s laughter fades.

“Trying to save face, Smythe?”

Sebastian’s smile is bashful, smooth around the edges. Though Sebastian’s smiles haven’t held their razor edge for a while. “Maybe a little.”

“And how do I know you’re not putting me on again?”

“Because I have an app for it.” Sebastian reaches into his pocket and pulls out his iPhone. He swipes his finger over the screen, searching through his apps until he finds the one he’s looking for. He raises his phone, focuses on the darkness, and takes a shot of the night sky. Then he shows it to Kurt.

“Wow.” Kurt moves the image with his fingertip, reading the names of constellations as the app identifies them. “Now that’s impressive.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“Five bucks says this app was developed by a twelve-year-old.”

“You’re probably right.” Sebastian selects a hyperlink in one of the sections and scrolls through the details. “Oh hey - according to this, you can’t see Orion’s Belt in the sky over North Carolina at night during the summer. Good to know.”

Kurt giggles, the fact that Sebastian wasn’t just wrong, but nowhere near the ballpark, makes his fronting even more hilarious.

Something gooshy hits Kurt’s forehead and he jerks upright. He scans the area around them in a mild panic, looking for anyone who might be lurking nearby, throwing things.

After the concert, they roads out of Raleigh had been cluttered with cars, turning the highway into a parking lot in both directions. Sebastian suggested they go for a drive, hang out for a while until the traffic died down. He took them to another one of his thinking spots high atop a hill with nothing else for miles around - no lights, no houses, and (since they had to drive over a gravelly road at 2 miles per hour to get there) no easy way down if they get ambushed by wild animals. Or vagrants.

Or homophobes.

But Kurt hears nothing, sees no one. Not a single shadow against the black. Another wet splotch hits him on the head from straight above and he glares at the sky. “What the …?”

“What’s up, babe?”

“I think …” Kurt wipes at his forehead and stares horrified at his hand in the dark “… a bird pooped on me!”

Sebastian switches on his flashlight app and aims it at Kurt’s head.

“Ah! God! Bas!” Kurt screeches, shutting his eyes and squeezing them tight “Are you trying to blind me?”

“Yup. That’s the goal. You’ve uncovered my brilliant plan. I’m trying to help you, you walnut! Now hold still.” He takes Kurt’s wrist and re-aims the light down at his hand. “I don’t think …” He leans in close, examining the wet spot. “It’s not bird shit. It’s just water. Probably from one of the trees---” Sebastian jumps, scooting back as if poked. He, too, looks threateningly up at the sky before wiping the back of his hand down his cheek. “It got me, too!”

The next drop pegs the hood of the car, darkening the paint. Those four drops are the only warning Kurt and Sebastian get before the skies open up and a deluge starts, water pummeling the ground and the car around them, the roar deafening.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Sebastian grumbles, sliding down the hood, then rounding to Kurt’s side to help him. “Get your ass in the car quick! If you get drenched, I’m not letting you in!”

“Nice,” Kurt remarks, though it doesn’t go over his head that Sebastian helps him first, opening his door and ushering him inside before he races to his own door. Kurt follows Sebastian with his eyes, biting back a smile when Sebastian hits a wet patch, slides three feet, spins in a complete circle, and then, thrown off track, starts running the wrong way. He finally makes it to his side of the car, throws open the door, and ducks inside as lightning splits the sky overhead. The interior of the car glows white as they stare at one another, breathing hard. The thunder that follows rumbles for close to a full minute.

When the noise dies down, they burst out laughing all over again.

“That happened fast!” Kurt says, pointing in wordless ridicule at Sebastian, who’s twice as soaked as Kurt and looks like a drowned rat.

“Yeah, it did. Jesus Christmas!” He gathers up the edge of his shirt and rings it out onto the floor mat. “Who ordered up the tsunami?”

“Don’t say that!” Kurt presses wrinkled fingertips to Sebastian’s lips. “After everything that’s happened to us on this trip, you don’t want to tempt fate!”

“So true!”

Kurt doesn’t pull his fingers away for Sebastian’s mouth, and Sebastian starts kissing them one by one. When he reaches Kurt’s pinkie, Sebastian takes him by the wrist and presses a kiss there, too, traveling up to leave another one in his palm.

Kurt’s heart skips, every muscle in his body reacting, sparking off with tiny fires one by one by one. Water drips from the hair at the nape of Sebastian’s neck, rolls down his skin to the collar of his tee. How that isn’t absolutely driving Sebastian crazy, Kurt doesn’t know.

But Jesus, he’s sexy when he’s wet!

Kurt counts each drop as it hits the forest green fabric to keep from tearing off his own clothes and begging Sebastian to continue those kisses over every inch of his body. Not because he doesn’t want that, but because with everything on this trip, he’s trying to make this moment last. But when Sebastian sits fully up again, Kurt can’t help himself. He leans forward, bringing his mouth to Sebastian’s neck, licking up the drops with the tip of his tongue before they can make it to Sebastian’s shirt, moving up to his hairline to catch them before they even fall.

“God, Kurt,” Sebastian moans when Kurt’s tongue flicks along the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Can we …?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, reaching up to start undoing the buttons of his own shirt.

“You … you didn’t even let me finish,” Sebastian stammers, wasting no time following suit and peeling off his own wet garment. “How do you know what I’m …?”

“Were you going to ask if we can fuck?” Kurt snorts when Sebastian startles as if he’d slapped him across the face.

“Uh … possibly …”

“Then the answer is yes. Do you have any objections?”

Sebastian’s stunned expression melts into a conniving grin. “Not. A. One.”

Sebastian launches himself over the center console and into the back seat, grabbing Kurt’s arm and tugging to get him to follow. Kurt starts kissing Sebastian before he even makes it over the gear shift, kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his pants before he’s anywhere near a seat.

“Do you have a towel?” Kurt mutters when his knee hits leather.

“For what?” Sebastian mumbles against Kurt’s neck.

“For your seats.”

“We’ve already gotten the seats wet. They’ll dry. They’re leather … made from cows … and cows get wet.”

Kurt snickers. For a boy who acts so edgelord regarding his sexual prowess, Kurt quite enjoys the fact that lately he turns into a bumbling fool when he gets excited.

“That’s not … mmph … that’s not what I mean. There are ways of baptizing your seats that don’t involve water, Bas. Things that will crust in the seams … leave stains...”

“Oh. Right.” Sebastian laughs. “Okay. Just … mmph … try not to splooge all over them, will ya?”

“Don’t worry …” Kurt grunts, shifting his weight and adjusting his balance to give Sebastian easier access to his body. It’s a tight squeeze, a bit of a juggle, but once he does, once Sebastian preps them both and gets there, slides in and finds the right spot, Kurt almost loses control of his legs. “If I do,” he says, his voice breathy and needy and begging for Sebastian to move for crying out loud! “I’ll detail it for you.”

“Detail?” Sebastian repeats, his voice just as shaky, just as needy. “You know how to do that?”

“Of course I do. As it is, your baby … mmph … looks like it’s a bit overdue.”

“Bite … your … tongue,” Sebastian snaps, punctuating each word with a particularly forceful thrust. Kurt gasps as Sebastian adopts a slow rhythm, shuts his eyes to fully absorb the sublime pull of it. “I take excellent care of my baby.”

And there he goes again, making another remark that can be taken two ways.

“You have leather seats. They need going over with a horse hair brush … a rub down with Maguiar’s and a microfiber towel … polish your trim with some Aerospace Protectant …” Kurt’s voice begins to fade, lost in the ebb and flow of Sebastian’s body working into his own. “A-and when this vacation is over, I’m dying to hit those wheels with some non-acid cleaner and a bottle of tire shine. I’ll make it … make it look just like … black glass …”

“Oh God …” Sebastian’s body shudders, the hand that had reached around and found Kurt’s cock going still before it began. “That’s … that’s it. I just came.”

Kurt’s face snaps back over his shoulder, desperate to check if Sebastian is lying. Either he’s an incredible actor or no, he’s not. “What!?”

“I’m … I’m done,” Sebastian says with an embarrassed chuckle.

“You have to be joking! Please, tell me you’re joking!”

“It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t talk cars around me.”

“But you don’t know anything about cars!”

“True, but the way you sound when you talk shop … oof!” Sebastian lowers his forehead to the curve of Kurt’s spine and shivers. “It’s really erotic.”

“OhmyGod!” Kurt groans. “Sebastian! You ass---!”

“All right, all right. Hold your horses.” Sebastian rolls gingerly to one side. Holding Kurt against his body, he takes him with him, balancing to lie down carefully on the back seat while staying buried inside his boyfriend. “I guess I can go a little longer.”

“How very gracious of you,” Kurt growls, allowing himself to be manipulated, lifted and carried like a half-naked rag doll. Sebastian settles his rear into his seat, scoots down a hair with his back against the inner panel, then positions Kurt in his lap. The change in angle and in depth has Kurt seeing stars, brighter and more brilliant than the ones outside.

It’s not the easiest position in the world for Kurt to move in, but he suspects Sebastian has something else planned.

“What do you want me to do?” Kurt asks, moaning when Sebastian slides both hands down his body to his groin - one wrapping around Kurt’s cock, the other reaching further down to caress his balls.

“Just stay like this and let me touch you.” Sebastian moves both hands in different maddening directions. Kurt reclines against him, and Sebastian starts to buck up slowly. “There you go. How’s that? Do you like that?”

“Y-yes,” Kurt replies, limp in Sebastian’s arms, shuddering with each roll of his hips, each pass of his hand.

“What do you like about it?” Sebastian presses with kisses to Kurt’s temple.

“I like lying on you like this. Being close to you …” This isn’t dirty talk. It’s conversation. Sebastian wants to know how he makes Kurt feel. They could have this conversation anytime, but doing it now, in the midst of making love, feels intensely intimate. Extremely sensual. “I like feeling your heart beat against my back, your skin against mine, and your hands ...” Kurt swallows hard.

“What about my hands?”

“They’re just so … sure. So talented. So … so … mmm fucking good at this …”

Sebastian presses more kisses and a smile to Kurt’s skin. “Anything else?”

“We’re not rushing. There’s no race to the end. Oh God …” Kurt’s legs trembles when Sebastian’s hand on his cock speeds up, but the one on his balls slows down. “I want to stay like this, just like this, and listen to the rain. How long do you think we can stay this way?”

“How long would you like to stay this way?” Sebastian asks. There’s a whine in it. He may be the one in the lead, but he’s not necessarily in control. He’s becoming fully hard again, but he’s oversensitive. But he fights against that to give this to Kurt.

To satisfy someone other than himself.

“Forever? At least till morning. Can we watch the sun rise this way?”

“I’ll do my best. But there doesn’t only have to be a round one. I can make you cum … let you have a breather … then start all over again … keep going … and going … and going …”

Kurt thinks about being locked against Sebastian’s body with his boyfriend inside him, all over him, caressing him, kissing him, making him cum all night long. “That’s … good to know,” he whimpers.

Sebastian can’t competently kiss Kurt on the mouth in this position, which is the only thing Kurt doesn’t like about it. But Kurt will rectify that later. Watching the rain fall outside the window while Sebastian makes love to him reminds him of his fantasy from before - of being in a hotel room, making love in front of a window with the curtains open.

That would have been fun, but this is way better.

He feels like he’s floating, being carried on a tide, the wind and the rain rocking the car adding to his sensation of weightlessness in Sebastian’s arms.

Sebastian changes speed again, changes direction, bucks up harder and faster at odd intervals, then stops to let Kurt simmer. “Do you like that, baby?” he whispers in a broken voice as Kurt’s legs and arms become restless, hands grabbing for whatever they can touch and hold, reaching behind to thread into Sebastian’s hair and gently tug. “Do want me to keep doing that?”

“Yes … please, yes …” The change in pet names from babe to baby flips switches inside Kurt’s brain, lighting him up from the inside like the forks of electricity dividing the sky. Sebastian’s thrusts remain shallow but they pick up in pace, and his hand, traveling leisurely from the base of Kurt’s cock to the head, matches it. Kurt tries to move his hips, help Sebastian out, but that’s met by Sebastian’s hands stopping in their tracks.

“Uh-uh-uh. None of that,” Sebastian teases. “I like you at my mercy.”

“Sebastian …” Kurt says, a plea and a warning all at once.

“Now you stay still,” Sebastian says into Kurt’s shoulder, his hot breath tickling Kurt’s skin, “and I’ll give you what you want.”

Kurt swallows hard, lies still, but that’s not his first instinct. His first instinct is to argue, to say he’d like to be an active participant in this act of love that they’re sharing thank you very much! But there’s nothing wrong with taking every once in a while without needing to give.

Or being helpless with someone you love.

Good things do come to those who wait, and Sebastian had said that Kurt was a good thing.

Sebastian starts up again when Kurt gives him no indication that he’s going to move, going as excrutiatingly slow as possible to begin with, probably to put Kurt in his place. Kurt clears his mind, lets the frustration in his body take a sidebar as he concentrates on the rain. The floating sensation comes back as the wind picks up, seeming to mirror Sebastian’s movements. Or maybe Sebastian is the one doing the mirroring, linking his stroking, his thrusting to the rhythm of the weather.

Sebastian is the first to signal how close he is to cumming by moaning Kurt’s name.

“Kurt … oh, God, Kurt … you feel amazing, Kurt …”

“Sebastian,” Kurt murmurs, taking advantage of the only body part he’s apparently allowed to move. “Sebastian …”

“Yes, Kurt …” Sebastian moans, voice changing, not entirely his own but an amalgam of what he’s doing, who he is when he’s around Kurt. “Say my name again. Please …”

“Sebastian … Sebastian …” Kurt chants, first out of request, but then over and over until Sebastian’s name doesn’t sound like a word anymore. But it’s not just a word. It’s the word, the only one he can think of, one he starts crying as his fighting not to move makes him cum harder than he ever has before. And when he’s done cumming hot over Sebastian’s hand, he keeps saying it, his throat dry with it until it is literally the last word on his lips.

“There,” Sebastian pants, shivering bodily as what’s left of his second orgasm evaporates into Kurt’s body. “I hope that made up for me finishing early.”

Kurt smirks. “It was … acceptable.”

“Acceptable, huh?” Sebastian says, and Kurt can hear him smirking, too.

“Yup.”

“A-ha. Well, I know me,” he says, retrieving his wet tee from the floor to clean them both up with, “and I’m excellent.”

“If you say so.”

“How do you feel?” Sebastian asks in a softer, less teasing tone, one that sends the liquid warmth of a long, relaxing orgasm pooling in Kurt’s stomach shooting out to the rest of his body.

“I feel …” Kurt rolls his head to look up over his shoulder at Sebastian “… radiant.”

Sebastian drops his head, giggles into Kurt’s neck. “Jesus Christmas, Kurt! We’re not in a Jane Austen novel! You could use a normal word like good … excellent … bitchin’.”

Kurt snorts. “Bitchin’?”

“It’s a word!” Sebastian giggles again, offering up no excuses for his horrendous vocabulary.

“I’m sure it is. That doesn’t mean we should use it,” Kurt counters, which makes Sebastian giggle more. Kurt removes himself from his boyfriend’s flaccid, overworked cock, rolling onto his side to face him. “Sebastian …”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why me?” Kurt asks, inching closer, lips ghosting Sebastian’s mouth, enticing him to answer.

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asks, rising to the bait of a kiss … then another …

“I mean, of all the boys you could have chosen for your ruse, why me?”

Sebastian stops kissing Kurt, which Kurt had been trying to avoid. Sebastian rolls his head on his shoulders and huffs into the air, as if this question is beneath him. Or so far behind them, his motives don’t matter. “I told you. My dad …”

“I know what you said,” Kurt interrupts gently, sliding down Sebastian’s body to rest his head on his shoulder. This may not be the time to ask, but he can’t shake what Charlotte said … He chose you for a reason. So why won’t Sebastian tell him what that reason is? “But I’ve always found that a little difficult to swallow. How in the world was I the first person that came to mind? You go to Dalton Academy. There has to be tons of boys from prestigious families with more impressive pedigrees than me. Boys that you could stand better, that you wouldn’t have to fight …”

“Fighting with you is half the fun,” Sebastian says, clicking his tongue.

Kurt gazes at him, eyes imploring. “Tell me the truth, Sebastian? Please?”

Sebastian sighs, fingers fidgeting, tapping against Kurt’s spine. Like he’s playing a piano, Kurt thinks for a second time this trip till he it dawns on him. No. Like a violin.

“You’re right. There’re a lot of boys at Dalton from so-called prestigious families, with money and connections and yada yada yada. Boys who’ve been after me since I enrolled in school, who watch me everywhere I go with disgusting moon eyes. Boys who would do anything I ask them to with the snap of my fingers.” Sebastian stops tapping, his fingertips moving to Kurt’s cheek, paving feather light paths down his skin. “A lot of polite, vanilla, cookie-cutter Dalton boys. But there’s only one Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt sighs, part frustration, part flattery. “Are you ever going to explain it to me?”

“Maybe.” Sebastian plants a kiss on Kurt’s forehead, his lips coming to rest there. “I just … need to decide how.”

“You could always start at the beginning? Stop when you reach the end?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and kisses Kurt again. “Where’s the fun in that?”

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt

28 notes · View notes

makomori · 4 years

Text

FOUR | OBSERVATIONS

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She’s recovering from a nasty breakup and he’s reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua’s drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It’s the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

TWO | FAMILIARITY

THREE | INTRODUCTIONS

Length: 3.5k words

Yua goes in to event planner mode while Wakatoshi assesses Rui-kun's skills. And an innocent gesture throws both parties off balance.

If someone makes you feel, let them. | Reyna Biddy

Step one: Get Rui-kun to practice with one of the best wing spikers in the V.League.

CHECK.

Yua tried not to look too satisfied with herself, but that turned out exactly how she thought it would. Well, maybe not exactly, but it was close. A big part of her job was facilitating meetings between two parties and setting up this pepper session was no different. In fact, it was easier because she didn’t have to read between the lines with Rui-kun and his Wakatoshi-san. They loved volleyball and that more than enough for them to connect.

After Wakatoshi-san left her to practice with an almost-bouncing Rui-kun, Yua placed her overcoat and backpack on the sidelines. Good thing she decided to wear her favourite pair of stretchy, high-waisted jeans and a black t-shirt; she’d be bending and twisting to get the net set up properly. Plus, stretchy meant she could eat whatever she wanted without feeling guilty.

Two of her closest friends at Date Tech were managers on the volleyball teams, so she often got roped into setting up and cleaning up whenever they needed extra help. And by the looks of things, Shiratorizawa’s equipment wasn’t too different from she was used to dealing with.

With a little, “Hup!” she carried one pole across the gym, placed it upright, and did the same for the other. Next, she hooked the cord on the wheel at the top of the pole and adjusted its height before looping the end in the crank box. Once she used the crank to get one side somewhat level, she dragged the net to the opposite pole and repeated the process until everything was taut. The last thing she had to do was secure the bottom corners of the net with the loose strings.

Step two: Set up the net.

CHECK.

Satisfied, she walked to the back of the gym to examine her handiwork. Nice and even. Not bad, considering she hadn’t set a net up since high school. Hopefully, that would hold up for their three-hour practice. But the more she admired her handiwork, the more she felt something was missing. Ah, the antennas! They were laying close to the equipment closet, so she nearly missed them.

“Ushijima-sensei!” Yua called. The tall man looked over at her briefly before receiving Rui-kun’s strong spike. She grinned. His swing had become more powerful since the last time she saw him play a year ago. She couldn’t wait to see him spike freely in a game.

His sensei remained unfazed. But he said something to Rui-kun that she couldn’t hear. But judging by the look of pure joy on her nephew’s face, she guessed it was a compliment. She walked over to them, partly because she was nosey and wanted to hear what they were talking about, and because the sensible part of her sent a reminder that it was rude to yell a question to someone you had just met from across the gym.

But the selfish part of her wanted to see the Adlers’ Left Cannon in action.

Wakatoshi-san was certainly a fearsome individual to behold when he was on TV and constantly spiking the shit out of the ball. But he was softer in person. She meant it when she said he was sweet. The look of amazement on his face was priceless; he probably didn’t hear that too often. But her respect for him deepened as she heard him speak to Rui-kun about dealing with failure.

Learning to bounce back from something that didn’t work out was invaluable lesson not only volleyball, but in life. She knew that because she was trying to bounce back from having her heart broken. She didn’t know how her recovery would turn out, but that would be a problem for her future self.

Yua decided to watch them pepper for a bit before she asked about setting up the antennas. Wakatoshi-san was just a bit taller than Tak-kun, who towered over her five-seven frame at six-foot-three. The sleeves of his white warmup sweater were rolled up and she did her best not to ogle at his leanly muscled forearms and obnoxiously large hands while they were speaking earlier. But she didn’t feel guilty about giving him a once over because he did the same to her. She was used to clients scrutinizing her and passing hard judgements, but she didn’t sense any of that negativity from him. Only curiosity. Which, in turn, made her curious about him.

Now, his face resembled what she saw on TV. Sharp angles and a singular, driven look in his dark golden eyes. He was barely out of breath, which was impressive because she was certain that he’d been practicing on his own for at least forty-five minutes before they arrived. And while most people would be easy going during a pepper session, he was purposeful and meticulous. None of his movements were unnecessary or wasted. The boys would certainly be spoiled if he decided to stay on for the season.

Wakatoshi was highly aware of Yua-san’s presence the whole time she was working on the net, and he was surprised at how fast she completed its setup. She moved with ease and confidence, and he once again had to stop himself from staring, this time at her curvaceous form. She said that her brother was a player, which could explain why she was so comfortable in this setting. Hm. If sensei was still having trouble finding a manager, Yua-san could be a solid option for the position. However, he was troubled because he was always focused where volleyball was concerned. So, trying to maintain his concentration while she watched him from a few feet away was difficult.

He was used to being watched by thousands of screaming people when he played in huge arenas, so he couldn’t figure out why one person’s attention was so unsettling. But then again, he didn’t know very many people like Yua-san. He felt the urge to show off in front of her, which surprised him because he wasn’t a flashy player. He needed to do something to draw her interest back to Rui-kun.

Yua, ignorant of his swirling thoughts, finally asked, “Should I set up the attack antennas, too?” She knew that the antennas were mandatory for official games but wasn’t sure if Saitou-sensei wanted to use them during practice. Wakatoshi-san surprised them both by catching the ball. He turned to Yua and she raised her brows slightly, a questioning look in her eyes. She almost laughed because could feel Rui-kun pouting because she knew he was having a great time peppering.

“Not yet,” he rumbled in that ridiculous baritone. Yua fought the shiver that raced up her spine. He sounded more attractive in person, too. “I can set them up before the practice game.”

“Ushijima-sensei, did I do something wrong?” Rui-kun’s earlier thoughts of rejection crept back, but he was relieved when his coach shook his head in the negative.

“No, Rui-kun, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m happy to see that your form is solid overall.” The teen’s face lit up at his sensei’s compliment. “Now that the net is up; I want to see what your spikes look like. Yua-san, do you mind helping me with this drill?”

Rui didn’t need to be told twice. He was at the attack line before his sensei or aunt could blink. Wakatoshi chuckled. If the rest of the boys were half as energetic as Rui-kun, he and Saitou-sensei would be run into the ground before the end of the day. But that was always a good problem to have. Passion for the game was necessary for a healthy team.

“How could I say no to that energy?” Yua laughed as they walked to the net. Wakatoshi-san pulled the ball hammock along so they wouldn’t have to run for the ball every time Rui-kun spiked. “I haven’t seen you play in a year, so let’s see how much you’ve improved.” When she stood beside Wakatoshi-san in the setter’s position, she was once again reminded at how short she was. Actually, no, she thought with a huff. He was just absurdly tall.

“Sensei, Yua-chan can set for me! She’s really good!” Wakatoshi-san tried to hide a knowing look and grin, as if Rui-kun’s admission confirmed something he thought about her. Her eyes narrowed but she decided to let that go for now.

“Rui-kun!” She protested with her hands set firmly on her generous hips. She scowled up at Wakatoshi, and he thought she looked charming even though he felt ferocious energy coming off her in waves. “Wakatoshi-san, I’m not a player. I’ve been Tak-kun’s pepper partner since we were kids, but I’ve never played in an official game.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes gleamed playfully. “This isn’t an official game. Just a drill. If you set, I’ll be free to observe Rui-kun’s approach and attack. Even if your set isn’t perfect, I can see what he needs to adjust and make suggestions right away.”

Step three: Set for Rui-kun in front of the Ushijima Wakatoshi.

CHECK?

Yua could tell he was enjoying the position she was currently in, because she was having a hard time denying his logic and Rui-kun’s pleading face. She chewed on her bottom lip for a few moments before deciding. “Oh, all right,” she sighed, shooting the two of them a mock glare. “But only because it’ll help you improve.”

“Don’t worry about the set; I’ll do my best to spike it!” Rui-kun stood a few feet behind the attack line, his body already set for an approach. Yua smiled at him, thankful that he was trying to make her feel better. Setting was the last thing she thought she’d be doing today. And in front of a professional, no less. She’d just have to treat it like all those times she practiced with Tak-kun in the backyard. No biggie.

“Set the ball high, and about two feet away from the net. That will give him time to adjust his approach if he needs to.” Yua blinked and followed Wakatoshi-san’s outstretched hand when he pointed to the spot in front of her. She didn’t realize that he had bent down to her level because she was so focused on getting the first set right. His voice, close to her ear, was deep and reassuring. It helped calm her down. He then stood to his full height and tossed the ball to Rui-kun. “It’ll be easier to set if he tosses to you first.”

“Is this your first time coaching, Ushijima-sensei?” She asked teasingly as he positioned himself just off the court, right on the attack line. It was the best place to observe Rui-kun’s technique. She rubbed her hands together before shaking her fingers out a few times.

Wakatoshi nodded. He hoped that he was doing a decent job at imparting the advice his coaches had given to him in the past. “It is. I’ll most likely be coaching after I decide to retire, so this is good practice.”

“You had me fooled,” she joked, lifting her arms in a setting motion. Her hands were positioned just above her forehead with fingers curled, shaped like a ball. Not bad. “With your tips, I feel like I could set in a game right now.”

“Yua-chan,” Rui-kun piped up, a whine in his tone. “Are you ready?” He was itching to hear what sensei had to say about his spiking technique.

She shook her head and clapped her hands once. “Sorry, sweetheart! I’m ready now.”

Wakatoshi had his arms crossed when Rui-kun tossed the ball to Yua-san. She concentrated, positioned her hands for the set, and used her arms and wrists to send the ball almost perfectly to the spot he indicated for her. His attention then shifted to Rui-kun so he could assess his approach properly, but by the time he turned, the teen was already soaring through the air.

Rui-kun’s right arm positioned high, with his elbow above his ear. His left arm was outstretched but quickly came down to his side as he used that momentum to propel his right hip and shoulder forward. His hitting arm was relaxed when his right elbow drove forward above his head to start his swing. As a result, his right hand was loose, and bent fingers opened naturally from the intense acceleration. His now-open hand connected with the ball just above his head, and a deafening crack echoed through the gym.

Wakatoshi’s eyes widened when the ball careened straight down the line and landed with a satisfying THUD on the other side of the court. He gaped at the teen who had just landed in front of him. A near-perfect line shot at his age? No wonder sensei wanted him on the team.

“Ah, gomen!” Rui-kun exclaimed, jogging backwards to reposition himself behind the attack line. “That was out. Let me try again!”

“Rui-kun, that was amazing!” Yua couldn’t believe that he had improved this much in a year. From what she could tell, his vertical increased by a few inches, his mid-air form was cleaner, and his swing was faster and harder. She looked over at Wakatoshi-san, who’s sharp eyes were filled with approval.

“Well done,” the ace declared with a nod. “But curl your fingers down a bit more. You’ll be able to send the ball to the back corner next time.”

Rui nodded energetically and caught another ball before tossing it back to his aunt. She set a bit higher this time, so he slowed his approach before swinging his arms back and leaping into the air. When his hand contacted the ball this time, he made sure to curve his fingers down. The ball landed snugly in the back-left corner, just like sensei said it would. After landing, he immediately turned to his mentor with unbridled excitement in his eyes.

Wakatoshi smiled and nodded again. “How did that feel?” He knew all too well about the satisfaction of landing a solid kill. Rui-kun’s instincts were strong. He was able to adjust and execute a subtle instruction quickly. Of course, there was always room for improvement, but he liked that Rui-kun was immediately willing to try again after his first spike was critiqued. Some players stayed stuck in their heads for too long and that hindered their ability to improve. He knew that firsthand.

Rui-kun stared at his right hand. The force of the hit was still vibrating in his palm and fingertips. “That felt amazing, sensei! How did you know that all I had to do was curl my fingers down?”

“Experience,” Wakatoshi chuckled. “But that comes in time. I have a feeling your skills will increase greatly during this season.” Perhaps he’d talk to sensei about taking on another assistant coach. It was good to be around young players who were hungry to learn as many skills as possible.

Yua smiled as the two of them talked in detail about the approach, with Wakatoshi-san occasionally demonstrating and positioning Rui-kun in front of the net. Both looked comfortable and relaxed in their element. This is what she was missing in Tokyo. Work had her moving at such a fast pace that she didn’t have time to experience genuine human connections. She worked with people all the time but got lost in the fray more time than she could recall. And the longer she watched her nephew learn from his idol and now mentor, her heart was happy that she was able to experience this with him.

Moving to Sendai was a good choice. And maybe her road to recovery wouldn’t be so bad after all.

By the time Saitou-sensei arrived at 12:40, Wakatoshi-san had made several adjustments to Rui-kun’s form. Yua quietly stepped away and made sure that the rest of the equipment was in place for the start of practice. Her nephew was quickly absorbing everything taught to him, and she knew that he’d be practicing non-stop when he got home. She couldn’t wait to meet Saitou—

“Konnichiwa!”

Yua turned at the kind voice and smiled. Saitou-sensei was tall, though not as tall as Wakatoshi-san, and sported a buzz-cut and glasses. “Hello, sensei. I’m Nishimura Yua. It’s nice to meet you.” She bowed. “I hope you don’t mind; I brought Rui-kun early so we could warm up, but we luckily ran into Wakatoshi-san.”

Sensei brow furrowed. “Nishimura?” He murmured. Then his brows raised. “Are you related to Takeshi-kun?”

“Unfortunately, he’s my brother,” Yua laughed. “He’s a middle blocker at Waseda now. And he’s always told me that you’re his favourite coach.”

Saitou grinned at the Nishimura likeness. From the dimples to the mischievous glint in their eyes. “I used to see you in the stands at our games. Tak-kun said you were his biggest supporter.”

“Not by choice,” she groaned. But her tone was light. “It’s just the two of us, so we ended up becoming involved in each other’s hobbies.”

“That’s never a bad thing,” Saitou chuckled. He was glad to hear that Tak-kun was doing well in Waseda. They had won the Intercollegiate Championship three years in a row.

“I agree,” Yua said, her eyes misting slightly. She missed her brother. “I learned a lot from watching games with him or whenever we’d pepper together.”

“I hope he can come up to visit. It would be nice to catch up with him.”

Yua hadn’t seen Tak-kun in a few months, so she was excited to catch up with him, too. “I’ll let him know; I’m sure he’ll be able to come up soon.”

Saitou nodded and looked over at Wakatoshi-san and his young charge. Rui-kun was currently working on his vertical with Wakatoshi-san watching him intently. “I’m excited to work with Rui-kun. His instincts and awareness are incredible for his age.”

Yua’s heart warmed at the compliment. She only had a glimpse of what her nephew was capable of. She could only imagine the player he’d be by the end of the season. “Thank you for giving him the opportunity. I know he’ll only get better with you and Wakatoshi-san training him.”

Before Saitou could answer, he saw some of the players walk through the gym doors. He bowed quickly to Yua. “Ah, excuse me. More students are arriving. I hope to see you again soon, Yua-san.”

Yua nodded and waved at him. She started walking toward the net, hoping to say goodbye to Rui-kun, but he dashed past her, yelling excitedly at his friends who had just arrived. She shook her head. That energy was all Tetsu-kun. She moved toward the sidelines, remembering that’s where she left her overcoat and backpack before she set up the net. But she frowned when she didn’t see them there.

“Allow me.”

Yua looked to her right and saw her overcoat suspended in mid-air, ready to be worn. She glanced up and saw Wakatoshi-san standing next to her, patiently waiting for her to loop her arms in the sleeves. A blush crept up the back of her next when she saw him flick his eyes up and down her body. She might have just broken up with Kaz, but she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t find Wakatoshi-san attractive. She turned and slipped her arms in the coat sleeves, grateful for the brief pause.

Before Yua turned to face him, he ran his fingers across her shoulders, smoothing out any creases in the back of her coat. She bit back a gasp. His touch was strong, sure, and her skin tingled through the thick layer of cloth. When she did turn, he held out her backpack, which looked even smaller with his long fingers wrapped around the straps. She stared at his calloused hand briefly before taking her bag. Their fingers brushed, and her eyes widened when pure energy raced from his fingers and up her arm. She pulled back, startled. His face mirrored her expression of astonishment.

What the hell was that?

They stared at each other for a few moments, oblivious to the growing level of noise in the gym. Yua couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking, but his dark golden eyes were stormy as he tried to process what happened.

One thing was certain; something irrevocable had passed between them.

Yua was the first to break their standoff. His eyes were too intense for her right now. “Can you tell Rui-kun that I’ll pick him up by 4:15? I know it’ll take some time to clean everything up.”

Wakatoshi-san held her gaze for a bit longer, and she found herself holding her breath again. Slowly, his eyes softened. When he finally spoke, she was relieved to hear the playful lilt return to his voice. “Things would go faster if you came back early to help.”

Yua scoffed and squeezed her fingers tightly around her backpack. “I-I think you’ll be able to handle that without me, Ushijima-sensei.”

He tilted his head and smiled. Yua decided then that a smiling Wakatoshi-san was more dangerous than a serious Wakatoshi-san. “I’ll let Rui-kun know. See you later?” Her stomach flipped at his hopeful tone.

“See you later, sensei.”

#mywriting #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima #ushiwaka #ushijima #wakatoshi #ushijima x oc #ushiwaka x oc #haikyuulovestory #haikyuu #hq!!#hq!! x oc #@kurosiee #kurosiee #THIS CHAPTER GAVE ME BUTTERFLIES!!!!!!

7 notes · View notes

thewildwaffle · 4 years

Text

Abduction - Chapter 31

I had scheduled this to be posted this morning but had accidentally set the wrong day, so I hope no one thought I was just pulling an April Fools Day joke and not posting it at all. I was thinking of posting a joke chapter (maybe a few paragraphs long) but I thought of it too late and my brain just doesn’t want to work anymore right now. Maybe later though.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

***

Jebannuck nudged his food with the blunt end of his utensil. He hadn’t eaten since he’d first woken up, and it was now late in the cycle. He just couldn’t find any interest in the sauteed parteem stems right now.

His humans were leaving today.

“Are you just going to push those around your plate forever, or are you actually going to ingest them?” Simmo pestered him from across the table. Since being released from the medical ward, Simmo had been granted restricted clearance aboard the Rock Base. It was actually quite restricted and only granted after a few threats (mostly from the humans, but some from Jeb about reporting the illegality of their attempt to remove her from Demfar’s care without authorization earlier.) One requirement to Simmo’s freedom was that she was to always be accompanied, and if she wasn’t with Mike or Wenona, she was usually with him.

Jebannuck looked up from his uneaten meal at her. Her compound eyes stared back coolly. He sighed. He really should eat, but his stomach felt too tangled up to hold anything. He grunted and pushed the plate across the table to her. Her antenna flicked as she looked the food over. After a moment, she speared one of the stems with her claws and slid it into her mouth.

“These are better when they’re not cooked,” she managed to say between bites. “Makes them mushy.”

Jebannuck nodded half-heartedly as he rested his chin on his hand. He wasn’t sure why he felt like this. He should be happy. Mike and Wenona were going home, back to their normal lives before they were abducted. Back to Earth where they could get help and get their lives back together.

He suspected he felt this way because… well because…

He exhaled and leaned back in his seat. Simmo, who was still munching away quietly, eyed him curiously.

“What’s with the long face?”

Jeb looked up. He raised one eyebrow. “Long face?” He brushed his chin with to make sure nothing was wrong he hadn’t noticed. “Does my face look different than it usually does?”

Simmo’s eyes suddenly shone bright, smug that she knew something he didn’t. “It’s a human expression. Mike told me a few so I would better understand conversations on Earth. It means, ``Why do you look so sad?””

Jeb’s hand dropped back down to his lap as he frowned.

“I’m… not sad.”

Simmo growled.

“Why would I be sad?” Jebannuck countered. “Today is a happy day. Mike and Wenona are finally going home, it’s what they’ve been trying to do for partecs now. I’m glad for them.”

Simmo studied him for a moment. “You’re going to miss them.”

Jebannuck opened his mouth automatically to respond, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. Before he could make up his mind though, he was interrupted by a loud voice from the other side of the cafeteria.

“Well if it isn’t Jebannuck Sefra! I hear you’re back from the dead!”

Jeb looked to the source of the voice. A large, hairy, red biet was strolling in followed by two squifra. He recognized them.

“Biet Tungs Arku, is that really you?”

“In the fur!” Tungs laughed and as she approached the table. She gave Simmo a side glance before sitting down. The squifra joined as well, side fins up cheerily, but giving the Montauk plenty of space.

“We would have come to visit you earlier,” Tungs continued, “but we’ve been busy with finalizing the repairs on our ship.” “You’re still on the ESS Butel?”

“Still am. So is Burrek here,” she motioned to the shorter squifra with a mostly green-colored skin patterns.

“Good to see you Burrek,” Jebannuck nodded respectively. Burrek had served under him while stationed on the ESS Butel as the Chief of Security. They didn’t get along amazingly well, but kept things cordial enough to do their respective jobs. He had been promoted once Jebannuck had transferred to the Gladius.

“I’d like to say it’s been quiet since you left, but, well, we’ve added another human to the crew, so you know it’s probably good you got out when you did.”

“What do you mean?”

Tung and Burrek shared a look with each other. “Well, it’s no secret you weren’t a huge fan of Humans Derrek and Carl, and then you go and get marooned on a Death World and then held hostage by the Burnti with two of them. Just you and them, up close and personal.”

Simmo made a loud set of clicking noises with her mandibles. Tung gave her a quick glance and ammended, “and a Montauk.”

“I heard they’re going back to Earth today,” Burrek added. “That must be a bit of relief for you. Well, at least for a while. I’m sure humans will be officially integrated into your crew soon. Most ships in the fleet have a few.”

“Poor Jebannuck,” Tung laughed, “Try as you can, you just can’t seem to escape them huh? Oh, Burrek, do you remember the time Human Derrek pulled that prank on ol’ Jebannuck?” She bowed over with laughter, her voice seemed to shake the air around them. “It was so funny, and Jebannuck was so mad! Oh!” She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. “Oh. It must have been hard for you. After I mean. You thought you’d gotten away from humans and then had to go through all… that ordeal. That must have been hard.”

She waited for an answer, but none came.

“Jebannuck?”

Still nothing.

“Hey Jeb,” Simmo pushed aside the rest of the plate of parteem stems and stood up, “it’s almost time for that meeting. We’re going to be late.”

Jeb looked up, confused but relieved. “Biet Tungs, Squifra Burrek,” he nodded politely to the other squifra he hadn’t been introduced to, “I must accompany our friend here. It’s been… a pleasure to run into you. Safe travels and infinite horizons to you all if I don’t see you before we leave.” And he stood up and followed Simmo out of the cafeteria.

They walked down the hall for a while in silence before Jeb turned to Simmo. “I wasn’t aware we had a meeting.” “We don’t. I could tell you were getting upset.”

He stopped. She stopped.

“Upset?”

She blinked her compound eyes silently at him.

“What do you mean. Why would I be upset?”

Simmo flicked her antenna, annoyed.

They stood there, staring at each other in the almost empty hall. A few couriers hustled past them, trying to get their packages delivered quickly as well as put some distance between themselves and the Montauk. Jeb’s frown finally broke and he sighed deeply.

“Back there...I was reminded… when she talked about… I used to be so… but…” He groaned at himself inwardly. There were very few moments in his life where he ever struggled to find words. Two of them now were when he was talking to or about Mike and Wenona.

Simmo just stared at him. “They changed you.” She sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Seems to be what humans are good at.”

A smile played on the edge of Jeb’s mouth. “They’ve changed you a lot too.” Simmo sneered and tossed her head.

Jeb couldn’t help but let the smile completely spread across his face. “Come on, they should be getting done soon. We should go help make sure they’re ready to go.” He started down the hallway, looking back slightly to make sure she was following. “You’re really set and determined to go with them?”

Simmo scoffed. “Verses what? Staying here stuck being babysat by you the rest of my life? No thanks.”

Jeb didn’t want to get into it with her that she did have other options. She knew that. She’d made up her mind already and no force was going to stop her, and he wished her the best. He smiled to himself. Friends with a Montauk. Simmo. He really did wish her the best on the human home planet.

“Earth it is then.”

*** * ***

It had been two years. That’s what they're called here. Two sets of 365 local planetary rotations to orbit the local star.

Whoo-hoo.

Simmo smiled smugly to herself. She was getting pretty good at human phrases. Whoo-hoo was a very fun one, albeit too energetic for her tastes to use unironically. It was much more fun to use it with sarcasm. And oh, did she enjoy sarcasm. It’s not solely a human thing, but they did have it down to an art.

With a final tug, she finished ratcheting a bolt into place. There. That should do it. This stupid bucket of bolts should be ready to fly now. It had better be, she’d spent a good chunk of this past month working on the dumb shuttle. It was an older model, but her new employers, Near Star, hadn’t phased it out, much to her chagrin. She would fix one thing only to find two more problems with it.

She wiped a bit of oil and grit off on a rag as she stepped back. Her thorax ached, but she felt satisfied with the job. She’d just need to test it to make sure everything was good to go. The next part of her job was less satisfying. Paperwork.

She threw the rag onto a desk and walked around the shuttle, stretching and admiring her work.

A thought struck her. Life was crazy. It was a thought she had a lot, but it felt really poignant today. Life is so fluid, it could just change shape and alter course as if on some whim. She was proof of that. Life had been rough to her, then full of adventure. It gave her a family, then treacherously stole them away. It left her desperate, injured, captured, then decided to gift her peace and quiet, with new friends and family, a quiet life with simple tasks to do and a home on a death world of all places.

She had had a good year living with Mike and Wenona. She had learned a lot. She met world leaders, ate the sweetest foods she’d ever had before in her life, nearly baked to death in the desert, and swam in an ocean. Well, she didn’t really swim. She waded in it a bit to appease Mike before getting the heck out of the water. She had read up on what lives in there. Flargin’ monsters of the deep, that’s what. It was also huge, and way too salty. It terrified her on a primal level, though she’d never admit it.

Her phone rang and pulled her from her mental meanderings. She went to fetch it from her cubby. It was a primitive thing, even by human standards. Their newer phones that were more “smart” mostly used screen interfaces that did not cooperate well with her exoskeletal, sharp hands. This one folded in half and had soft buttons for her to push.

“Hello?”

“Ahoy Simster!”

There were only two beings in this plane of reality that would ever be permitted to live after calling her that, and only one ever did it regularly.

“What do you want Mike?”

“Well, I was just wondering for no real reason, but have you heard anything from the Galactic Confederation lately?”

“I hear what’s in the news. That’s it.”

“They… haven’t contacted you or anything?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all? No incoming messages, or phone calls, or… did we ever help you set up an email?”

“Mike, I’m at work, you want to maybe get to your point?”

“Well I just think it’s weird you haven’t heard anything yet is all!”

“Mike.”

“Well, I guess it only has been an hour. Well, almost an hour. I’m just so excited! I’m not going to spoil it though, but if you don’t hear from them by the end of the day, I just might. I’m going to be back in Arizona in about two days.”

“Two days?” Simmo caught that part with a frown and held the phone a little closer to her tympanal to make sure she was hearing alright. “I thought your training went on for another two weeks. What do you mean ‘two days?’”

There was a rustle and Mike’s voice on the other side went a little garbled, like he was covering the speaker while yelling something to someone. When he got back on the phone, Simmo could almost hear the stupid grin on his face. “Listen Simmo, I’ve got to go, but yeah, I’m coming back day after tomorrow. They’ve got something new and it’s big. Like, big big!” “Well it sounds awful already,” she grumbled.

“Hey, let me know if they get in touch with you or not. I’m not doing it without you, or, you know without you being able to chose to or not. I mean, no hard feelings if you don’t want to.”

“Mike, you’re making less and less sense the more you talk.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry-love-ya-got-to-go-BYE!”

And with a beep from the little speaker, he was gone.

She folded the phone and put it away with a hiss. What, by all that is bright and shining, was that all about? Shaking her head, she started back toward the shuttle with it’s keys to give it a test run when her comm device went off. It was set up similarly to the ones used by the Galactic Confederation (who had probably traded the technology with Earth a few years ago). It was supposed to be set in the local network within Near Star, but it did also have access to the planet-wide internet. She pulled up a holographic screen and read through her messages.

The newest one was from an external source. It was from the United-Earth Space Embassy’s Galactic Confederation Relation’s office. Her hand hovered over it for a while. What could be so big?

It was a fight inside her mind. On one part, she was nervous and weary. The Galactic Confederation did not hide their disdain for the Montauk race as a whole. What could they possibly want from her? She had found a place to call her own here on Earth, and had somehow started to think of it as home. Life was quiet, but after everything she’d been through, quiet was good. It was more than good. Earth had welcomed her as a hero who had helped save two of their own. All her needs were met, she had want for nothing.

And that, the other side of her mind countered, was part of her problem. Life was good yes, but it was quite sedentary. Her whole life, ever since her second molt, had been on the move. It was a matter of survival then, but it became a part of her. For every shuttle she repaired, she imagined herself boarding it and taking off through the stars.

The problem was she had nowhere to go. No one to go with. Mike and Wenona were her hive now, and they were on Earth.

This was home.

But at the same time, she felt so restless.

She dropped the hologram and paced next to the shuttle. Her mind kept going back and forth like a match of that one weird human sport Wenona’s little sister kept trying to get her to play.

“What am I doing?” she muttered to herself. “I don’t even know what they want. Mike said something about me making a choice,” she pulled the hologram back up. “I should probably find out what decision it is that needs to be made before I go driving myself crazy like this.”

With just a small pause, she opened the message and browsed over all the flowery pomp and circumstance of the first paragraph. Frewan, these people could never just get to the point, could they?

Then she found it- what had gotten Mike so excited. She read it and re-read it to make sure she was understanding it correctly.

This was big.

***

Next Chapter

#abduction #jebannuck #simmo #i wasn't going to do another Simmo chapter but she's grown so much i had to #humans are weird #humans #space orcs #space #aliens #writblr #original writing

59 notes · View notes

morizukorn · 4 years

Text

Aspiring Heroes Chapter 3 is out!

Hey everyone! I just want to apologize for not posting any updates about my fic here in Tumblr for a long time, I’ve been on a messy schedule this month that’s why, making time for simple things is getting difficult, but I really wanna make up for it and by doing that, I already uploaded Chapter 4 in just two weeks compare before, every 2 weeks is probably will be my schedule for this Fic, I can’t assure though, it depends on how school will treat me lol. Anyways Chapter 3 is out! Hope you guys will read :)

Rating - T

Title - Aspiring Heroes

Genre - Action, Fantasy

Summary - A girl born with a powerful quirk sets foot in the most prestigious school for hero training to be a hero.

Preview: Chapter 3: Quirk Apprehension Test

Ikoaru Akamine's POV

After sensei's pumping words, everyone had a massive buildup on their faces. The Quirk Apprehension Test is about to start, we moved on from the softball throw test for now as ordered by Nezu-sensei.

First Test: 50-Meter Dash

A 50-meter line is vertically drawn on the ground, both sides are to be used by two students each, separating them from each other, not necessarily to race but to add intensity for both players as they will run the whole 50-meter line with the use of their quirks. Spectating in the side is a robot proctor and next to it is Nezu-sensei, while all of us line up for our turns.

And so it begins...

First of all, Eizo positioned himself on the starting line along with another classmate as his competitor.

"On your marks, get set..." the robot proctor said in a high robotic voice.

Before the robot proctor even said the final word to commence the start, Eizo's right eye glowed in full red. "Boost..." he whispered, looking straight still.

"Bang!" The robot proctor emitted and the two students started running.

Eizo's right back leg immediately turned into a rocket thruster, without even a second to waste the engines quickly fired up and Eizo accelerated up through the finish line. "3.27 seconds! Holy! That was so fast!" the robot proctor shouted.

Wow! Eizo really is a robot...

"I'm sure that gave Sensei some impressions," Eizo said as he calms himself down, his formed thrusters on the back of his leg reassembled, shifting back to his normal leg.

Niikura Eizo

Quirk: Half-Cybernetic

His left side is a normal human body while his right side is a cybernetic body that gives him the abilities of a robot. He's a cyborg!

Note: Eizo is still considered as a human being for his intelligence is human, not artificial.

"Impressive Eizo-kun, just don't scare us with your eye, It's like your trying to kill us," Sensei jokingly commented.

"M-my eye... I didn't mean to! Sensei this is just me being serious, forgive me for scaring you all!" he apologized, bowing many times while covering that glowing red eye.

Eizo's seriousness made everyone laugh especially Mei. "You're taking this too much, Eizo," Mei commented, tapping his metal back.

"At least I got 3 seconds, I'm the highest," Eizo competingly replied.

"Congrats! But I'm not here for the competition. I'm here, for other things..." she smirked before walking on the starting line along with another classmate as the competitor.

"Okay! This test needs some flavor!" Mei shouted.

She then unzipped the back part of her PE uniform, which for some reason hers has one, revealing her back which has a colored scaled pattern attached to it like she has a tattoo, delicately attached on her soft skin, looking very smooth. Everyone wasn't ready for what she's about to do.

Nezu-sensei was about to call her out but the scales then pulled themselves off from Mei's skin, unfolding as it reaches out to her uniform, forming her butterfly wings. All of us were stunned. Her wings are aesthetically beautiful.

"Wow... So that's what I missed when she helped me at the cafeteria, it's so pleasing in my eyes..." I whispered, it's like I'm hypnotized.

Meanwhile, Eizo just stares at it apathetically.

The test starts. "On your marks, get set..." the robot proctor said.

Mei flutters herself from the ground, her antennas immediately gave her the wind signal, preparing her wings for a takeoff...

"Bang!"

As the robot proctor projected the starting sound, Mei vigorously swung her wings, giving her a boost in the air, continuously gliding with her wing spreading fully, it's like she wasn't even consuming energy, her wings do all the work until she reached the finish line.

"5.36 seconds!"

Mei gracefully dropped herself down and gave us all a wink to our surprised faces.

"Kumei Chou"

"Quirk: Butterfly"

"She has butterfly wings, antennae, her hands are sticky and her tongue also acts as a proboscis which can stretch up to 2 meters, basically she's a human butterfly!"

Everyone was so pleased with what Mei has shown that everyone was fangirling over her. Suddenly it's my turn because almost everyone who was on the line went to Mei, I put myself on the starting line, and unexpectedly out of all people, the other competitor is Shizue and he still has that cold face as he prepares himself.

Are you serious!? Damn it, Mei, why do you have to steal everyone's attention and leave me with this one; nonetheless, this is an opportunity to strike back. But wait! What will I do on this race...? Do I even know how to use my quirk!? How did I even use my quirk yesterday?

"On your marks, get set... BANG!"

W-wait!

With no other choice, I started running. I tried my best to release something from my hands as I moved but there's nothing, meanwhile, Shizue's running with his hands spread behind his back, releasing a blast of his flame quirk, gaining a big boost from the impact while I just run as fast as I could.

"5.13 seconds!" the robot proctor announced as Shizue reached the finish line.

And he finished first...

"6.56 seconds!" the robot proctor announced as I stepped on the finish line.

6.56 seconds... Did I do well...?

"I did well... Right?" I heavily sighed, looking around, everyone seems to be minding their businesses, good thing only a few heard my results...

Second Test: Grip Strength

Each student is tasked to grasp a hand-held device that will measure the force of their grip in kilograms.

"OK... Huuuurghhhh!" I gripped the device with much force that my hands can release, receiving small pain as I clutch intensely, after a few seconds, I looked at the hand-held device and my force is just 52.0kg.

I really should work out more...

"Woahhh, 450kg!" a classmate suddenly cheered.

"Wow! You're like a gorilla!" Mei praised.

450kg! Is that even possible?

I looked to where the noise is coming from and saw the student who just grasped the device which made everyone from the class seem impressed and to my surprise, he really is a gorilla wearing glasses and his huge hands are literally near on crushing the device.

"But... I am a gorilla..." the gorilla student replied to Mei awkwardly.

Third Test: Standing Long Jump

Students are tasked to clear a long sandbox with the use of their quirks.

Once again, Mei took the spotlight. Using her wings, Mei floated in the air as she jumped with much control, not even worrying about any mistake as she levitates freely, securing a pass on the assigned sandbox for the test.

Mei has wings which is an instant win for her, so lucky...

Another classmate followed up, a girl with an intimidating aura placed herself on the starting line, bending her knees in preparation before she vigorously let all the stored power out, jumping so high from where she was standing, no doubt she cleared more than the required distance of the sandbox, she stayed in the air for some time before landing like a badass superhero.

There's no way she just flew like that...

Finally, it's my turn and the pressure is on, I bent my knees then jumped from the starting line with my hands spread on my back, hoping my quirk will react again so that it can boost me towards but...

"1, 2, 3, go! Heeeeeeeeeeya!" but nothing happened, I just landed within the sandbox, hitting my butt hard on the ground.

"Owww..." I whimpered.

This is so embarrassing...

Fourth Test: Repeated Side Steps

The students must move between three lines by one to the other fast.

A student whose face is covered by the hood of his uniform took first, he prepares himself for the test without even removing his hoodie, and from the darkness inside of it, his eyes glowed in red, and in a blink of an eye, he quickly sidestepped all the three lines, his hood didn't even fall off.

That's possible!?

Everyone was speechless and amazed at him but he didn't give any response and just walked out. And same as before there's nothing special that happened on my turn.

The test continued with Distance Run, Seated Toe-Touch, and Sit Ups with each of my classmates getting their chance to make their quirks shine. Nothing happened for me, I'm getting very stressed about all of this.

What should I do...? Why is it not working!?

I looked at the palm of my hands then tried doing any hand technique I know, getting more desperate as I try to make it work.

"You do know that's not how it will work..." Nezu-sensei said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Sensei you're here! I'm sorry..." I said, never expecting him to express his concern.

"During the entrance exam, your performance was different, please don't fall behind, Akamine-chan," he said before he left.

Sensei saw me during my entrance exam...

"Ikoa-chan!" Mei suddenly called, along with her is Eizo.

What's with everyone appearing out of nowhere!?

"Sensei was talking to you, Ikoaru," Eizo mentioned.

"Yeah, it's about my quirk, you guys shouldn't worry about it," I replied.

"Oh, actually we noticed that too."

"I think everyone did. The truth is, I don't know how to activate this quirk of mine, I don't even know what it is called or any stuff about it..."

"Didn't you just used it on Shizue yesterday?" Eizo curiously asked.

"No, It just trigger by itself, I was begging at that time... Maybe it's because I'm being pressured at that time that's why I triggered it like an emergency or something..."

"I find that weird and questionable, most kids will get to discover their quirk by the age of 4 and then they will just get used to it as they grow. If I may ask, how did you passed the exam, Ikoaru?" Mei asked.

"I don't know honestly, I don't remember... Shizue told me yesterday that I didn't even do anything at the entrance exam and yet I'm here..." I answered.

Both of them gave me a puzzled look.

"Okay look, today is just our second day, there's more time, don't beat yourself up," Mei said.

"Mei's right, don't overthink too much about it and just be yourself," Eizo added.

They're very concerned, I'm glad they care.

"Thank you... Don't worry, I will do my best!" my mood has lifted as I deliver a smile, they both nodded happily as they saw my sudden change of expression.

Finally, everyone had finished the current test, moving on to the final one. "We will now be having the final test, I'll give you a short break then we'll start!" Sensei announced. Everyone then replenished themselves. It's the final hurdle, I can feel everyone's solemnity.

I need to keep up!

Final Test: Soft-ball Throw

Students are required to throw a softball as far as they could with the use of their quirks.

Firstly, Shizue blasted the ball through a form of an explosion from his flame quirk, relying more on the impact of it, the ball reached a farther distance as expected.

"205.3 meters!" Sensei announced, looking at the device he's holding.

Next, Eizo's elbow is the part that turned into a thruster this time, the engines of his thruster boosted with much control, Eizo did 360-spins as he moved before throwing the ball from his grasps, giving it a much bigger momentum that resulted in him scoring a longer distance.

"401.6 meters!"

Other students also showed their best way of throwing the ball with their quirks, until finally, it's my turn. I walked through the circle, feeling calm as I can be, I felt Sensei's observing stare and my friend's internal cheer for me as I reached the center.

Everyone brought out the best of themselves, I want to show them what I can do as well...

"Good luck, Akamine-chan," Nezu-sensei said, giving me the ball.

I grasped it and closed my eyes, giving all my focus onto the ball, hoping that my quirk will work this time just like yesterday. A second passed and I've regained my confidence, I'm ready to show what I can do...!

Full Chapter Links:

FFN- Aspiring Heroes Chapter 3

AO3- Aspiring Heroes Chapter 3

2 notes · View notes

winryofresembool · 5 years

Text

Edwin fic: Coffee Shop Reunion

Summary: a cockroach attacks Winry and Ed is there to protect her (sorry I just can’t write a serious summary for this one) Coffee shop AU/modern AU

A/N: Yes, I know, the most cliched AU ever. But I’ve never written one before and I had a lot of fun with this, so I regret nothing! Who knows, MAYBE if you guys like it, I may write more, but I won’t 100% promise anything (committing to LCMTI back in the day was a Lot and I’m not mentally in a place where I can promise I’ll manage to write regular updates). But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and please, please, review because it has a HUGE power in motivating me!

Genre: general? Bits of drama and fluff

Words: 1700+

Warnings: cockroaches :P (May also be known as Kimblee)

ao3

...

It was just another annoying, busy day at the coffee house for Edward Elric. It was only midday but he had already broken 2 cups, almost lost his temper at 3 customers who were either being rude or taking too long in deciding what they wanted to order while the line started getting longer behind them, and nearly told his boss he was quitting. He was glad he hadn’t done that, though. He really needed the money and being realistic, he knew finding another job wouldn’t be easy for someone as young and inexperienced as him. His brother was still in the hospital and someone had to pay the bills… If his good for nothing dad dared to show up one day, he had no doubt he’d punch the old man right in the face, he thought. Ed was dragged out of his violent fantasies by a new customer, one he didn’t remember seeing before. If he had, he was sure he would remember.

The customer was a young woman, around his age, Ed estimated. Her long, blonde hair was tied on a simple ponytail, and her blue eyes were measuring him as if wondering why he was working in a place like this. She was pretty, but Ed noticed that unlike many other girls that visited this coffee shop, she didn’t pay a lot of attention to her looks. Her mechanic overalls were covered with oil and she also had a tiny oil smudge on her face.

The girl must have noticed Ed’s distraction, because she asked sharply: “Hey?! Do I get service here?”

Ed was going to apologize, but something about her tone set him off. He was already frustrated because of the earlier, so instead he blurted: “What do you want?”

“I may choose another coffee shop the next time if this is how you treat customers…” The girl growled, her eyes gleaming angrily. “But anyway, I’m in a bit of a hurry so a cup of espresso and a sandwich would do. Please,” she added sarcastically.

“Coming,” Ed mumbled and started making the hot drink. One side of him wanted to add salt or pepper (or both) into the drink but he refrained from doing that, knowing this girl would surely complain to his boss, and he was already close to getting fired as he was…

Finally, he delivered the girl’s order (after procrastinating as long as he could without being worried about her attacking him for it) and proceeded to serve other customers. He was still glancing at her from the corner of his eye every once in a while when he was carrying something to that direction. Even though he hated to admit it, something about that girl had raised his curiosity. First of all, she was looking at a map. Not from some phone app, but an actual printed map. Who used those anymore besides older people? It also meant she had probably moved in recently, not yet familiar with this area, Ed concluded.

Second of all, he noticed her having a med school book on the table. A mechanic and a doctor? That sounded like a fascinating combination to Ed, who was studying chemistry and who could have also used a mechanic for his prosthetic leg. But they had just been rather rude to each other, and he wasn’t the type who would go to her and say “Oh hey, sorry about earlier, what would you say if you and I tried to get to know each other better?” So he decided to give up and try to get his mind out of that topic and focus on other customers.

A few minutes later, a dark haired man who reminded Ed of a cockroach arrived into the coffee shop. Something about him made Ed’s neck hair rise a bit despite him ordering and paying just like any other customer would. For a while the man seemed to be contemplating where to sit, and to Ed’s annoyance he found just the seat he wished that man wouldn’t leave alone – next to the blonde girl.

“Is this seat taken?” the man asked, but he had already put his coffee on the table, indicating he wasn’t going anywhere even if she said no.

“Uh, I guess it isn’t…” The girl said unnecessarily, the man already sitting when she finished her answer.

“Good. What’s the name of my pretty companion?”

The girl wondered if she should have felt complimented or annoyed, but she chose the latter. “I’m Winry.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he asked: “What are you reading?” nodding towards the girl’s book.

“Just something for school… Sorry, but I’m a bit busy here,” she took the book and tried to focus on reading it, but that wasn’t working. The man was still staring at her.

“Could you please stop watching me like that?” Winry finally said when he hadn’t moved his gaze from her for at least 3 minutes.

“What, can’t a man look at a pretty girl?”

“No, not when I don’t even know you, yet your stare screams ‘I own you’,” Winry answered honestly, trying to keep her voice calm even though it was getting hard.

“Excuse me?” The man started to lose his cool. “I have to look at something and you happen to be right in front of me.”

“Yes, because you sat right there on purpose. There are plenty of empty seats in this café yet you chose that exact spot,” Winry pointed out. She wasn’t wrong; the rush hour was already over and there weren’t that many customers around currently.

“So? It’s a free world. And you said I could sit here,” he kept insisting.

“I did not…”

“Excuse me?” Ed, who had noticed the raised voices, finally interrupted them. “Is there a problem here?”

“No,” Winry said, not wanting the rude barista to meddle in. She could handle that stranger on her own. However, the older man told Ed: “Yes. This woman said I wasn’t allowed to sit here even though it was a free seat.”

“I think that’s because you were bothering her,” Ed snarled, giving the man a glare that could have probably killed a weaker person.

“I was just sitting here!”

“Try being stared at like that for 5 minutes and then tell me if it was ‘just sitting’. You were looking at her like she’s an object!” Ed growled, each word getting more threatening. “Listen, dude. I give you two options. Either you leave her alone, or I will call the security. Or remove you from here personally.” Ed may not have been tall, but he looked like a man who stood behind his words, so the raven haired man decided to listen to him, even if just this one time. He did mumble something about Ed’s boss, though, as he passed him.

When he had left the scene, Winry spoke: “Thanks. Though you wouldn’t have had to.”

She sounded mildly defensive to Ed, to which he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow with annoyance.

“Oh OK. Well, the next time someone tries to harass you, I’ll just leave you to handle it on your own.” He grunted and turned back to go and serve other customers.

“Wait. Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean, I appreciate your help.” Winry said quietly and gave Ed an ashamed look. She hadn’t meant to snap like that.

He took a couple of steps back towards her, his face now worried.

“Does that kind of thing happen to you often?” he asked with a lot softer voice than earlier.

“Uh… it wasn’t the first time,” Winry admitted. “But I am from a small town so it is a bit different there…”

“I’m sorry that some of us can be such idiots…” Ed shook his head, looking like he genuinely meant it. “And sorry about that earlier, I was being quite an asshole too. It’s been a rough day…”

“I guess we all have those sometimes…” Winry sighed.

“Sorry if I’m prying but can I ask where you have moved from? You see, I’m from a small place myself, moved here after my mother’s death…” Ed wasn’t sure why he mentioned that to a stranger but for some reason it felt right, like he had known her way longer than 5 minutes.

“Oh, I’m from Resembool”, Winry noted, “You probably haven’t heard of it, it’s just a small village. I moved here only 2 weeks ago.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Ed exclaimed. “I’m from there too…” The puzzle pieces started connecting in his head. “Wait a sec, I think… I think I know you. You’re Winry Rockbell, aren’t you?”

“I am, but how… Ed? Edward Elric?” Realization struck Winry as she took in the barista properly for the first time. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize that antenna, you still have it,” Winry started laughing. In reality, Ed’s golden eyes were what had given him out, but she wasn’t going to tell that to him, not yet anyway.

“Oh, nice to see you remember my antenna,” Ed said, smirking. “It’s like my trademark at this point.”

“I remember one time when our teacher was annoyed by it and tried to press it down without success,” Winry smiled at the memory.

“I still haven’t forgiven that old witch…” Ed said, pretending to be angry. “But anyway…” Suddenly he seemed a bit awkward. “I know this may feel a bit fast especially after what just happened… But if you ever want someone to show you some places here or anything… I could be interested in doing that.”

“Well, as long as you know that if you act like that creeper just did, I WILL kick your ass.” Winry smiled mischievously. “But sure, I’d like that!”

She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from her bag and gave it to Ed, who wrote his phone number down on it.

“If you don’t want to contact me, that’s fine,” he noted, “but in all honesty, some change would be nice for me too. The coffee house life can be pretty dull sometimes…”

“I believe you,” Winry nodded. “We’ll see what’s gonna happen this weekend! But I think you should go back now, there’s quite a line there.” She referred to the customers waiting to be served, and Ed realized with embarrassment he had stayed talking with her much longer than planned.

“Oh. Right. But maybe I’ll see you soon!”

“Yep, maybe.” Winry winked at him before collecting her stuff and leaving the coffee house.

#edwin #edxwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #fullmetal alchemist #my fics #coffee shop au

38 notes · View notes

septembersung · 5 years

Text

I said I wouldn’t do it, but here I am, posting another chapter of Generations!

Please understand that this draft is, while scanned for typos and basic coherency, a genuine “rough” draft - what a block sketch is to the final painting.

If you’re enjoying these and want more, please also know that I am putty in the hands of praise and feedback.

(Chapter One here.)

Chapter Two

Meadowlark Farm stretched across four sections in central Kansas, more than two thousand acres of plains, rolling hills, riverbanks, stubborn cottonwoods, irregular ponds, and the occasional dense stands of timber. The old family farmhouse stood close to the middle of the property, near what had once been a river but was now a seasonal creek, in a particularly fine grove of cottonwoods. In high summer, the waxy leaves shimmered wildly in the slightest breeze, like a flock of dragonflies or a shoal of fleeing fish.

The house itself rested against a little rise in the land, looking out sedately over the fields, with one basement corner, the original cellar, built into the hill. Two ancient limestone fenceposts still marked the end of the patchy gravel driveway, half taken over by dandelions. Huge clumps of pampas grass marked the rutted drive. The house rested easily in the shade of tall elms and cottonwoods. Part of the original limestone foundation remained, ringing three corners of the original square ground floor. Seen from the side, where the driveway ended in a field of stubby buffalo grass, it looked regular enough, a typical nineteenth and twentieth century farmhouse in peeling white paint. Walking around the curving front porch revealed an extra wing, built on at a diagonal angle, which stuck out like an injured bird testing the wind with its good wing. The attic, a huge airy room above the original second floor, winked back at the sun with many small square windows.

Back of the house, in the triangle between the west-facing end of the house the northward-thrusting angle of thew the new wing - over a hundred years old and still it remained, in family parlance, "the new wing" - a little kitchen garden grew half-wild. Wide, smooth stepping stones marked the short path from screen door to the little plot.

Beyond the new wing, in the true backyard, children's playground equipment dotted the slope. Mismatched swings hanging from chains and ropes attached to rusting A-frames and weathered wooden beams swung gently in the perpetual Kansas breezes. Slides and monkey bars glinted in the hot sun. Chickenwire separated the play area from an enormous rectangular garden, already overflowing with produce, heavily over-planted, and exuding fragrant herb smells with every gusty breeze. The land ran down a gentle hill towards a dense growth of timber and a long, enormous pond.

Not too near the pond, several mismatched outbuildings hunched in what could not quite be called a cluster. Like a crowd trying to pretend it is not a crowd, each person too embarrassed to stand too close to anyone else, they held a swath of ground to themselves. A huge, two story barn with its paint long gone, worn to a brownish grey. A nearly shiny Morton building, not quite new but startlingly contemporary. A hay shelter, with rusted slanted roof. A skeleton barn, with just a few peeling boards left here and there, it's empty roof frame stretching over antique machinery. And a solid, unremarkable little shed, red boards dulled to maroon, covered in a patched roof of mismatched shingles topped with an enormous handmade antenna. The double front doors stood ajar and a solid-looking padlock hung from the wide-open latch, hanging casually open.

Beyond the swings, the big garden, the outbuildings, and the pond, the land fell sharply away to a creek bed. It was low in this high, dry summer, and nearly still. The banks, crumbled where the grass gave way to clay, ran with little wavering along the crease where hill met plain, until they met the little woods to the east. Cropland stretched out beyond the creek to the north. Near the trees, but enough to be shaded by them except in earliest morning, just on the north side of the river, lay the old family burial ground.

It had not always been meticulously tended, but in Leah's lifetime the oldest headstones had been somewhat restored, the most egregious weeds removed, and this summer, even the grass had been recently mowed.

Anna-Lucia knelt at her mother's headstone. Martha Addison, beloved wife, mother, sister. May 8 2005 - August 15, 2070. RIP Et Lux perpetua luceat eia.

The thick granite headstone with its neatly cut, clear letters stood in line with several others, some so weathered and faded as to be hardly legible. After a moment, hand resting on the sun-hot granite, Anna-Lucia sat down and crossed her legs, shoulders slumped, hands folded in her lap. A few brown rosary beads hung between her fingers, but her mind had drifted into wind and dappled light and the hum of insects and the sound the tall grass made bowing again and again to itself in the gentle, incessant breeze. Time passed but she did not know it. Then -

"Here you are!"

Anna-Lucia started badly as a sun-blind silhouette loomed over and dropped down suddenly, throwing two strong arms around her shoulders.

Dazed from the bright light and her unintentional reverie, it took Anna-Lucia several stunned seconds to process the small hands with many rings, the flyaway, unevenly cut dark blonde curls, the lavender perfume.

"Liza!" she gasped out at last, returning the hug.

In the sixteen months since she had seen her sister, Liza's choppy curls had grown irregularly long. Her wiry arms were sun browned and stronger than ever.

"Oh, I have missed you, little sister," Liza sighed affectionately, giving her one last squeeze and sitting back, stretching out like a cat on the warm prickly grass. It was an old joke between them; Liza, the eldest, was as petite and youthful as their mother had been; Anna-Lucia had her father's bigger bones and had nearly always been mistaken as the oldest.

Trying to shake off the sun-daze and afternoon grogginess, Anna-Lucia found she had no words - just a huge, cheek-splitting grin, and a few irrepresible tears in the corner of her eyes. She gripped Liza's shoulder and squeezed. Liza smiled back, but her eyes were tired and new care lines were etched there.

"You didn't tell me you were coming," Anna-Lucia said at last, when the silence had stretched so long it began almost to feel like another dream.

"No one knew. Not even me, until forty-eight hours ago. I fully expected to miss this year's reunion and be stuck on the beat 'til Christmas."

"Lots to report in Rome?"

"I've hardly been there - they send me all over the EU. That's the great thing about this job. Catholicity is a small operation with big dreams. I'm really the only full-time culture reporter they've got, so I have my pick of assignments. There's enough for three of me and three Giovannis besides."

"I still can't believe they get away that name."

Liza grinned wickedly. "Oh it's caused a few misunderstandings, but the reporter credentials, and the kinds of bylines I'm racking up, set them straight pretty fast."

"I hardly know anything about your job - you've sent three letters, Liza. Three, in a year and a half."

"Sixteen months, thank you very much." Liza hesitated. "It's - changing, over there. Letters aren't as... in vogue as they used to be."

Anna-Lucia looked at her sharply. "You're joking." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, pushing away the lingering brain fog and reminding herself she was still not certain what privacy remained at home. Take nothing for granted. "I mean, nothing's more fashionable than retro, right? Where would the elite be if not at the height of fashion?"

Liza shrugged, an airy show of unconcern belied by the downturned corners of her mouth, as she reached into her bag, tossed carelessly on the ground next to her. "Whatever fires their rockets, I guess. It's pages, now. Personal pages to orally deliver messages."

Anna-Lucia felt inside, somewhere, that this was more important than she grasped, than her sister let on, but the sun had been slowly cooking her for more than an hour and Liza was pulling out of her carelessly dropped bag a thick wad of cream-colored envelopes addressed in a trailing scrawl she knew very well.

Her heart leapt. "You saw him!"

Liza shook her head, and she was pale under her tan. "These came through the postal service."

Not, Anna-Lucia registered distantly, the post office.

"That's how I found you out here, actually. I got in not twenty minutes ago and went in looking for Dad, and Grandma immediately sent me out here." Her eyes conveyed that Leah had warned her, too, they could not speak completely freely in the house. "These are all addressed to him."

Anna-Lucia stared at her. "Just to Dad? Not even one for me? Or you?"

"I tried to tell you." Liza held out the letters. "Check the dates." Swiftly, Anna-Lucia tugged the rubber bands off the thick stack and they uncompressed in her hands, spilling over her lap. Each was labeled, F1sh, followed by a string of numbers she recognized as an encoding of month, year, and - something she couldn't decipher. Location, probably.

"A year ago? The most recent one is twelve months old?"

"One's only seven."

"You've read them?"

Liza frowned at her. "I take my job seriously, Anna-Lucia."

"I'm sorry. Stupid question." Mechanically, Anna-Lucia gathered the letters back up and rebound them. "So you've had no news."

Liza just looked at her.

Understanding began to dawn, and Anna-Lucia did not like it. "That's why you came home."

"We need Uncle Kevin's address book."

"No news at all? Seven months and nothing? Not a single person knows where he is or what happened to him?"

"Will you help me find Dad?" Liza pleaded, glancing down at her watch, a slim, chic, old fashioned ladies' analog. "He needed these... yesterday."

Anna-Lucia felt as unmovable as the headstones beside her.

"Please, Anna-Lucia. I don't... I can't tell him alone."

Liza stood and held out a hand. Anna-Lucia grasped it and was hauled to her feet, stiff, half-asleep limbs complaining and uncooperative. She heaved a deep breath, involuntarily, as if she'd been swimming underwater. Their little brother had been missing for at least seven months, and no one had heard a thing.

"Dad's in the new shed."

#the next great american space novel #my writing life

11 notes · View notes

magmasliveblogs · 5 years

Text

1.02

it is the third day of this, and the third chapter of this lets read has arrived!

to recap, in the previous chapter the first floor of the inn erin found was cleaned by erin and she leveled up and gained skills, which have not been explained yet.

It was nighttime.

However, despite the late hour one figure moved restlessly around the room. A young woman. Her progress left a trail in the dust as she walked around the room. She paced from wall to wall, muttering to herself. Then she tripped over a chair.

“Ow.”

Erin brushed dust off her pants and t-shirt in disgust. Well, her clothes were officially dirty now. Parts of her t-shirt were burned black, and her jeans had been cut by the Goblin’s knives. But that wasn’t important at the moment.

“Did I just level up?”

yes i think it is pretty safe to say you did level up, also as i have said before, she is in one sorry state

“Right, right. Let’s recap. I’m in another world which is actually a video game. And there are monsters in this world and I can level up by doing stuff. I even get skills and when I do, a voice in my head—no, more like a thought appears that tells me I’ve accomplished a task.”

She nodded to herself.

“Yep. Makes complete sense.”

…

“Like hell it does!”

Erin screamed and kicked a chair hard enough to send it flying into the air. The chair landed with a tremendous crash which was satisfying to hear. Less satisfying though was Erin’s foot, which had hit the chair hard enough to jam every toe.

yeah i dont think kicking a chair was the best course of action. fun fact though, when Aragon kicks the helmet in the twin towers movie, his scream is because he broke his toe!

After screaming in pain and hopping around a bit, Erin sat at one of the tables and cried for a while. It wasn’t that she liked crying or did it a lot. It just helped at the moment.

After about ten minutes of crying, Erin finally started sniffing and choking back tears. She felt better, but quickly hit upon another problem when she went to wipe away her tears and snot and remembered there wasn’t any tissue paper nearby. So she used the rag.

The wet, disgusting rag. But it was better than her shirt. And after that, Erin sat, staring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounded her.

“I’m tired.”

That was the last thing Erin said before she fell asleep.

an exhausting first day in the life of our protag, erin. lets hope tomorrow brings if not joy and happiness, at least a chance to use the bathroom,

The next day hit Erin in the face. She groaned and sat up, head aching. Her neck felt twisted, and she was sore from lying on the floor. She still would have slept in longer if it weren’t for the sun and her stomach.

Hobbling around, Erin looked at the bright daylight streaming through one window.

“This is why drapes were invented, you know.”

Windows. These ones had no glass or curtains. They were square holes in the wall, but they did have shutters. Too bad Erin had chosen one of the open windows to nap underneath.

ok yeah her stomach really needs some food

“I’ll die here if I don’t find something to eat.”

So she opened the door. It wasn’t courage that made her do it; just the will to survive.

The day was so bright that Erin was blinded for a moment. She walked outside, shading her eyes. And then she stopped. Because a thought had struck her suddenly. Something she had realized but not taken to heart before.

“This—really is another world, isn’t it?”

not going to clog my post, but suffice it to say the realization hits her like a truck

The plains stretched on and on without pause—

Or did they? Erin stopped as she started to pick out small details on the horizon. Far, far in the distance between the mountain range and the rising sun she saw what looked vaguely like buildings. Was there a town out there? Or a village? A…city?

It was impossible to tell from where she was standing, but the sight of that gave Erin hope that she wasn’t alone in this world. However, just the thought of travelling that far on her empty stomach was impossible so she kept looking.

yes lets fix the issues of hunger and bathroom breaks before taking a hike

“Are those…trees?”

Erin squinted. There was a small collection of trees in the distance, nestled in one of the valleys. They were trees, weren’t they? Erin felt they looked off—until she realized she was looking down at them from her vantage point.

It was surreal to feel herself looking down on a forest, but that was the only answer she could think of. It looked like there was a small – well, relatively speaking – valley to the east filled with trees. It didn’t look too far away, and if Erin looked closely she could see small specks of yellow and blue on the trees. Fruits?

food located! now to get there

That was the plan. It was the plan right up until Erin found herself walking by a huge rock.

There was nothing too important about the rock, except that it was more like a boulder, a gigantic mound of stone rounded at the top and like a small hill. It was twice as tall as a normal person and just as long across. In short, it was a big rock.

Erin ignored it at first, except to look at it and wonder if climbing on top of it would give her a better view. But she was hungry, so she walked right past the rock. It was that which saved her.

ominous

As she put the large boulder behind her, Erin felt the whoosh of air and a terrifying loud crack right next to her ear. She jumped, turned around and screamed. Just as quickly she ran as the second pincer nearly took her head clean off.

The thing that had been hiding underneath the rock lifted it up off the ground and scurried after Erin as she ran screaming. She spared only one glance over her shoulder, but that was enough. She ran even faster.

Two large, long pincers made out of a dark brown chitin were poking out from beneath the rock as the crab-monster scuttled towards her. It had lifted the gigantic, hollow shell enough so that Erin could see countless crab legs tearing up the earth as it propelled itself along the ground.

Oh, nonononononononono—

lets hope she can get away from this crab without injury

“What…the holy…crab?”

Erin could only gasp and clutch at her side. She felt like her legs were about to fall off, and her lungs were about to burst. She was also lightheaded, but she really didn’t want to sit down.

Instead she forced herself to keep walking. It hurt. Everything hurt. But she was still alive, crabs or no crabs.

and she does! nothing like a good run in the morning to get one awake

Erin tried to smile. Her legs ached, but eventually she got her breathing back under control. And even better, she was at her destination.

“Is—is that a tree?”

Erin gaped up at the strange plants before her. They were probably trees. They had bark, leaves, and fruit. But in each aspect they were slightly—off.

The tree in front of her was thin and squat. Well, squat for a tree. It was still about ten feet tall, but its trunk looked far too narrow to support its weight. And not only that, but its leaves were huge.

“It’s like a palm tree, but with branches. And blue fruit.”

fun fact: palm trees irl are technically a type of grass! also lets hope these fruits arent overly deadly

Erin’s shouts of frustration echoed in the small valley. She tried to grab the branch again, but she couldn’t even pull herself up anymore. She screamed in frustration, grabbed at her dirty hair, and then kicked the tree.

The entire tree shook slightly with the force of Erin’s kick. The leaves trembled, and the blue fruits moved—

And one fell to the ground.

her battle with the tree was fruitless until this moment, where it bore fruit! lets hope its edible

“Um, shouldn’t there be some kind of announcement?”

No response. Erin kicked the tree again and picked up another fruit.

“[Mysterious Blue Fruit acquired!] Dun dun dun dun!”

…

After a little bit, Erin put her head in her hands to cover her blushing face.

“…I hate this world.”

this isnt your grandpapies text based rpg

Slowly, Erin stood up and brushed the seed vomit off her clothes. That did nothing to get rid of the smell, though. Then she picked up the pieces of the seed’s core and hurled them as hard as she could against one of the trees.

“I hate this world!”

sadly it looks like the seed core isnt edible

After a while her stomach began to growl again as the smell from the seed pod dissipated in the morning air. Hesitantly, Erin grabbed the second blue fruit and brought it to her lips. This time she bit into the outer skin and chewed. The texture was unpleasantly rubbery and tough to chew, but thankfully it was edible. And what was more—

“Wow. This tastes really good!”

That was the remark Erin made after she’d consumed eight more of the blue fruits, all in rapid succession. The seed pods she left untouched on the ground, but she happily devoured the outer rinds, stripping an entire tree clean before she was finally full.

but it looks like the rest is! i bet the core is dangerous to consume though

Groaning with satisfaction she sat back against the tree. She felt good. Sticky, smelly, true, but good. The day was fair and warm, and with her stomach full and the soft grass beneath her there was only one thought on her mind.

Bathroom.

and the initial issue is brought back! no one around so this should be easy

A few seconds later Erin felt refreshed and happy. Her stomach was full, other parts were empty and best yet she was alive.

“Now, how am I going to get back past that crab rock-monster?”

Erin’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought and her heart began to pound in her chest. But an idea struck her as she looked at the countless seed pods on the ground.

i see erin had similar thoughts as i did,

Erin caught the rock-crab crawling towards her stealthily. In just a few seconds it had covered nearly twenty feet. She stared in horror as it reared upwards.

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick—

The rock-crab began its high-speed shuffle towards her. Two enormous claws and a pair of dark antennas—or were they eyes? – curled up from underneath the rock.

Erin stepped back, half-turned to run, and remembered what was in her other hand. She took swift aim and threw the seed pod she had been holding.

and the dice shall roll, will this half bakes plan work?!

Bullseye. The seed core smacked the rock-crab right in the antennae and burst into a shower of pulpy liquid. Even at this range Erin could smell the toxic odors on the breeze.

If she was honest, Erin didn’t know what she expected. Pain, or shock from the rock-crab maybe. She’d nailed it pretty good on the antennae and she was sure that hard to hurt. But still, it wasn’t as if the seed cores were that heavy. She expected the crab to recoil, and maybe get scared off by the scent at best.

What she didn’t expect was for the crab to freak out and start smashing itself with one of its claws. It was panicking, frantically scraping away at the spot she’d struck it with the seed core, ignoring the damage it was doing to its own antennae. At the same time the rock-crab was making distressed sounds.

It sounded like the loudest cricket in the world, only a lot deeper and echoing out from beneath the rocky shell the crab was wearing. That was enough to make Erin back up until she was back among the trees and the crab was barely visible.

Even after she’d gone a ways she could still see the crab doing an unhappy dance as it tried to scrape off the seed pod fragments.

“Huh.”

Erin scratched her head.

“Well, it’s good to know they hate fruit.”

and we have found that this bug rock type is weak to grass! or poison...

“Gobliiiiiiiiins!”

The green skinned monsters stopped and stared as the young woman screamed and took off running at top speed. But they followed her doggedly despite the insane speed at which she sprinted. These Goblins had learned to hunt other species, and knew that Humans panicked easily and grew tired. They’d catch her as soon as she slowed down.

…Assuming she ever slowed down.

adrenaline is a powerful thing

It was evening. The sun cast long shadows across the plains. All was silent. Aside from the screaming rock-crab smashing itself in the head and the screaming human, there was no sound in the world.

All was calm.

A single figure sprinted across the grasslands. She was running as fast as she could. Behind her a group of squat creatures followed. It was nearly dinnertime.

Erin Solstice, age 20. A young girl—woman from Michigan with a casual interest in video games and a deep obsession with strategy games. Her hobbies include snowboarding, watching Youtube videos, playing chess, shogi, go, etc. She dreams of one day becoming a professional strategy game commentator.

Currently—

Running for her life.

and we have backstory! a random midwestern girl get transported to an unknown world. at least it wasnt involved with any tornadoes! plus that strategy game stuff might come into play eventually. also hey, commentator, similar to what im doing right now!

will our protag get back to the inn? will we find out if that truly was a city she found? will erin ever truly find a way to deal with this goblin problem? these are questions that will be answered eventually

see ya’ll tomorrow, hopefully. i dont post assume i have been captured by rock crabs and forced to cook goblins for them

#chrono

2 notes · View notes

poppibranchlover · 6 years

Text

The Queen and the Butterfly II: The Witch’s Curse - Part 12

This story is a sequel to “The Queen and the Butterfly”.

The story: Poppy offers Branch some cupcakes with butterflies in it which turns out to be mysterious. When the two Trolls eat them, they got transformed into butterflies themselves and realize that the cupcakes were actually cursed by an evil witch! Now they must try to find the witch who made those cupcakes and get a cure to get themselves back to normal, while encountering obstacles in the process along the way.

You already seen what had happened in Part 11. Now get ready for Part 12!:

Branch sniffed the chocolate scent, following his nose. The delicious smell was overwhelming to the butterflies’ powerful noses. He fluttered to a giant piece of chocolate cake, adorned with chopped nuts in the back of it and a cherry on the top!

“Whoa!” Branch said, thrilled. “Is that a chocolate cake, with nuts in the back of it! Oh, it smells so good!” He sighed and took a big sniff at it. It is indeed smelling so delicious!

Poppy flew to the side of the cake and told him “Yes, it smells really good! I made this specially for you!”

Branch knew what that really meant. Poppy just wanted to give something really special for him by giving him this piece of chocolate cake! He turned to her and said “Poppy, that’s so nice of you to bring all these food for me, especially this yummy cake, yesterday! I’m starting to get more hungrier than ever!”

“Oh, thank you, Branch!” Poppy said, smiling at his compliment. “Cakes always make you happy!”

“Even Fluffleberry cakes make me happy too, right?” Branch whooped. “But I also like chocolate cakes like this!”

He licked his lips, knowing it is the time to celebrate by eating this huge sweet treat. He gazed at the chopped nuts and added “In fact, I want to get my MOUTH FULL OF SOME OF THESE!!!”

“Go ahead, Branch!” Poppy told him. “I made this for you!”

Branch opened his mouth wide and dug his whole face into the nutty part of the cake, gobbling as he began eating it from inside. Poppy laughed as she watched him disappear into the inner crusty part of it.

CHOMP!!! CHOMP!!! CHOMP!!! CHOMP!!!!

As soon as she can no longer see Branch anymore, she could hear him chomping and munching happily from inside the cake. It looked like a giant playground for a small bug. She fluttered around it to hear any signs of Branch. From inside the cake, he was enjoying himself because he loves to eat this enormous cake that Poppy made for him.

“Branch?” Poppy asked, calling out his name. But Branch didn’t answer. He was still eating and eating and eating and eating so much of it that the cake started shaking as he was devouring it. Poppy giggled when she heard his muffled chomping and nibbling of the crust of the cake. It was quite a little funny to see him act this way.

Poppy fluttered to the top of the cake, with the cherry on top. She looked around to see if Branch wasn’t really going to pop out of the cake suddenly. But she knew he was still eating from inside it, like a hungry mouse eating from inside a big chunk of cheese. She tried not to laugh as she fluttered forward to the stem of the cherry...

SPLAT!!!

“Hi, Poppy!” A male voice startled her suddenly. It was Branch, suddenly popping out of the cake to greet her. Surprised and amused at this, Poppy laughed. “Oh, Branch! You’re so hilarious!”

“I know!” he said proudly. His face and wings are smeared with chocolate frosting because he was eating in the inner part of the cake and the cherry was on top of his hair. “I love this cake so much! It’s so delicious! I’ve never been so happy like this in my entire life!”

Then he noticed the cherry on his hair and he shook it off. He held the stem of it in his mouth and offered it to Poppy.

“Mind if you eat this?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I’d love to!” Poppy said kindly. “How sweet! I’ll take it!”

She fluttered to the stem of the cherry and held it with her mouth. She fluttered to the corner of the cake and let go of its stem there. She landed on it and began to eat. Branch also did the same and the two little butterflies ate the rest of the cake, gobbling and munching happily.

CHOMP!!! CHOMP!!! CHOMP!!! CHOMP!!!!

Surrounded by so many food, Poppy and Branch were in ecstasy!

Later, the entire picnic basket is littered with so many remains of eaten food. Poppy and Branch were now lying on the corner of it, having eaten so much of that chocolate cake. Their stomachs were swollen with all the cake chunks they’d devoured. Their wings are almost covered with chocolate frosting as well.

Branch sighed happily as he settled himself on his back to take a rest from all that eating. “You know what, Poppy?” he said. “I’m starting to think being a butterfly is great!”

Poppy let out a burp. “Right back at ya, man!” she told him. “I knew you’re getting it well!”

“Yeah, I can’t eat anymore! I’m so full!” Branch replied. For all this time, he knows what it feels like to be a butterfly; a small tiny bug with beautiful and pretty wings! And now, it seems like he was getting to know how it’s done!

Then Branch tried to sit up while his stomach was getting more bigger and stretched his wings, which they are still covered in frosting. Some of it almost flew to Poppy’s face, and she licked some of it. She flew closer to one of Branch’s wings and he stared at her in confusion.

“Uh, Poppy?” he asked. “Why are you going near my wing like that?”

“There are a few stains on it,” she told him. “I’ll lick them up for you!” She flew closer to his wing, but Branch shuffled backwards, nearly refusing this approval.

“I don’t think so. I can handle this-” Before Branch could even finish, Poppy opened her mouth and licked some chocolate frosting on the top corner of his right wing! He tried not to laugh but he couldn’t help it! It tickled him even harder that he burst out with laughter.

“Poppy, hey! Hahaha!” Branch laughed as Poppy continued licking the frosting off his wing. She proceeded to lick out some of the frosting from the other wing and he continued to laugh. “Poppy, hahahaha! Stop that! You’re tickling me! Hahahahahahahahahaha!”

After a while, Branch’s wings are finally clean and bright. He fell to the ground on his back, still laughing from Poppy’s constant licking. She even laughed along with him as well. After all, butterflies are always happy indeed!

“I like being a butterfly now!” Branch whooped through his laughter. His wings flapped up and down quickly while he said this.

“Me too!” Poppy said. “Now that we’re butterflies, life is gonna be a lot sweeter!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t see it either until we got turned into one, but now here we are!”

“Okay...”

Branch silently laid on the ground for a moment...until a realization hit him like a bell. He immediately sat up and looked around the basket. He just realized that in the middle of their eating, time has passed so fast. He wondered why they took a long time to know the culprit who had turned them into butterflies in the first place.

Branch sighed and stared into space. He stared at his wings and antennae, feeling that they were now a part of his whole body since yesterday. More of like...he did managed to fit in like a real butterfly himself. His antennae stood on end as he sensed around the basket. It was all a mess, food remains and crumbs everywhere. Some of the food have Troll tooth marks in it.

Then he turned to the left. Despite his full tummy, Branch leaped up and flew toward the lid.

He carefully opened it using his hair on his way there and fluttered out of it.

After that, he turned towards the butterfly cupcakes still resting beside the picnic basket. He glanced at them closely and carefully. His eyebrows formed a frown in his face as he began to think.

Why are these cupcakes not ordinary? he thought to himself. After Poppy brought them here from that stupid hermit, we didn’t know it was sort of a work of witchcraft!

Wait a minute! he thought suddenly, panic engulfing his mind. Witchcraft?! Why did I think of that?

It was true. Witchcraft wasn’t really that common in the Troll universe but to this day, it seemed weird. To Branch, witchcraft was dangerous, in which everytroll needs to fend for themselves from this type of danger. Of course, he had read everything about this in one of his research guides in his bunker.

Without wasting another second, Branch flew to one of the cupcakes and pulled it by the wrapper away from the basket so he can examine it.

What made these type of cupcakes turn us into butterflies? he thought in his mind. He had previously read the Warning! note on one of them that claimed the cupcakes contained side-effects that transform a victim. He glanced at the vanilla frosting, the candy butterflies and the Warning! note on the wrapper. Branch had read that note before and he knows what is the cause of this problem.

He continued flying around the wrapper of the cupcake right before he stopped by some smeared pink frosting on the other side of it! There are carvings of encrypted words in it from just behind the frosting.

Branch examined it closely, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he tried to read the word carving. But it was no use because there was pink frosting covering it. He must think of the words etched in this cupcake wrapper.

Then he used his hair to sweep out the frosting, nearly covering some of his hair with most of it. He flicked the frosting out of his hair as hard as he can.

After that’s done, Branch tried to read the carving again. But he noticed some specks of dust covering it. He growled with frustration. Not another time to clean this!

But he had to give it in. So he whipped his hair to the dust and scraped it off the carving gently, trying not to ruin the ink of the word carving.

Once the dust started to loosen from the wrapper, Branch turned to the back and flapped his wings quickly, fanning some of it away. However, some of the dust went straight to him and he coughed a little. His wings sparkled as he flapped them harder.

Soon there were no longer anything that is covering the word carving. Pleased at his business, Branch began to examine the carving carefully, using much strength to think about it.

His antennae twitched as he sensed the mysterious carving. Branch read it aloud:

Made by:

Chrystelle

Chrystelle? Uh-oh! Now Branch have finally figured the creator of these cupcakes! His hair and antennae stood on end and he grew terrified, muttering to himself anxiously “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening! This couldn’t! It can’t be!”

The cupcakes that Poppy had bought yesterday were somehow completely cursed by that hermit whose name was Chrystelle! But how could a hermit magically turn Trolls into many different creatures like a work of witchcraft?

Poppy came out of the picnic basket to check on Branch, who was shaking and breathing heavily with nervousness. She asked him “Branch, what’s going on?”

“I am trying to find out who made those butterfly cupcakes!” he explained. “I read from the wrapper....”

“About the Warning! note?”

“No! Something else!” Branch pointed to the carving with his wing, showing Poppy the words “Made by: Chrystelle” on the wrapper. “I know her!”

“Know who?” Poppy asked. “May I try to help you with that?”

But Branch had fluttered off to his bunker’s bedroom, yelling “Gotta get my research guide!”

Poppy fluttered up from the picnic basket. “Branch! Where are you going?” she cried. “You’re not telling me who made these cupcakes, are you?!”

“Sorry! Can’t talk right now, Poppy!” Branch called back to her. “I gotta go to my bedroom!”

Poppy watched in dismay as he fluttered away from the living room and through the corridor, hoping one of his research guides would explain something about Chrystelle.

To Be Continued...

Stay tuned for Part 13!

#dreamworks trolls #poppy and branch #poppy #branch #butterfly #butterflies #butterfly poppy #butterfly branch #butterfly cupcakes #fanfiction #the queen and the butterfly 2 the witch's curse #chocolate cake #picnic basket #cupcakes #magical cupcakes

6 notes · View notes

bluerosesburnblue · 6 years

Text

Liz Liveblogs Bravely Second: Chapter 6, Part 2/2 *FINALE*

Well, nothing left for me to do now. I guess it’s time we finally hunker down and beat this game. I started this liveblog series on January 14, 2017 (July 23, 2016 if we include the Demo) and now, almost two years later, we finally see the end (layer) of Bravely Second

Before we get to the actual story I’d just like to say that I currently have five level 99 Apparati hanging out at Fort-Lune. FIVE. Jeez, somebody share something else for a change! This is why I share any Redshirts, Urchins, Goldies, or Turtle Doves I see! It’s also why I hate it when games make you rely on communication features for 100% completion. Stop that. It always goes poorly

Well, regardless. There’s a certain fairy waiting for... well, not us, but someone down at Norende Chasm and I intend to finish what I started. You got me into this series, Anne! You did this to yourself!

Feels weird to be back at the first ever dungeon in the series. I don’t know if it’s new for this game or if it’s always been there, but if you look off the edge of Norende Ravine you can see a river flowing at the bottom, beneath the fog. And “Dungeon of the Nature” is a great scene-setter, as always

This Party Chat is certainly something. Tiz is just reminiscing about being back and how as kids they were told to stay away due to monsters, but of course everyone played there anyway. And then when Norende was swallowed by the Chasm, he raced through here to see it with his own eyes, and there met Agnès, who would change his whole world. And they came back, again and again in each world. Finally, this was the path they took to the end last time. The place they went to reach the Dark Aurora to chase down Ouroboros. Norende Ravine is the most visited spot in the game in terms of plot, and you’d think it would get old but it doesn’t. “How many more times... will we walk down this road?” And Edea replies “As many times as we have to! Until we’ve wiped away those terrible memories once and for all! [...] The next time we walk down this road, it’ll be to visit the new Norende Village - the one you helped rebuild!” I never expected the game to bring up the Norende Village... minigame, I guess you could call it? I’m so glad they did, and I’m so glad that Magnolia and Yew declaring that all four of them would visit it together is what cheered Tiz up

...I didn’t realize I had 99 X-Potions? I guess my healers have just been really good so far

Oh Aaaaaaaaanneeeeeeee~ Guess who’s heeeeeeeere~ I’m gonna straight up kick your ass for what you did last timeline! And, presumably, whatever you were up to last game!

How predictable that we’ve come to stop you? Do you know what we’ve done since I found out you were here? You had every opportunity to disappear and didn’t! What, have you just been sitting here for a week? I think you’re the predictable one

Also, nice demonic cloud cover. I’m really feeling the glowing red mass underneath these near-black stormclouds

“Your master? But the kaiser is... Denys is gone...!” Bold of you to assume Denys was actually in charge of anything. I thought it was pretty obvious he was out of his depth when Anne mentioned her master and even Denys was confused by it

Hm. “Lord Providence, ruler of the Celestial Realm!” I’d heard that name thrown around before I even started playing the game, but “ruler of the Celestial Realm” is new. Given that his name means “God’s protection,” I guess you mean ruler as in “a deity” and not “a high ranking political figure”

Man, at the angle her head’s at, Anne’s hair protrusions really do look like antennae. It just hasn’t been obvious before I got this angle on her

How the hell is Providence supposed to enlighten anyone if they’re dead, Anne? That’s dumb. Your master’s dumb. Death isn’t enlightenment, it’s just death.

And Providence got all upset that the Moon people were killing his Ba’als, so he sent Anne to deal with it by destroying the moon. But screw that plan! There’s a Celestial shortcut right here! But you know, if something can get from the Celestial Realm to Luxendarc, then I don’t see why the opposite can’t be true, too

And, well, shoot. If Providence is the “ruler of the Celestial Realm” then we couldn’t have Ouroboros getting in! So Anne had to deal with Airy. Or rather, have us deal with Airy. And then she had to get someone to summon the Holy Pillar to take out the moon, and found Denys. Both games have all been thanks to her manipulations. Man, fuck Cryst-Fairies

“Hold it right there! That’s my brother you’re talking about!” You tell her, Yew! Rip her a new one! I’ve got your back!

Fuck, she did the same thing to Denys that she did to the player at the start of Bravely Default. Read us like a book and played to the key aspects of our personalities. Denys’s sense of duty and idealism, the player’s sense of duty and determination to see things through... hell, it’s almost like she read into my completionist tendencies and knew I’d do dumb shit like grinding to max level and job levels and getting the best equipment. Ouroboros didn’t stand a chance once that was thrown into the mix

“Why, he was even ready to kill his own precious little brother for his ‘duty.’” Can I take the use of “precious” as confirmation that it was actually a hard choice for him? Because Denys isn’t here to defend himself and never did get around to talking about it when he was here

I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word “dupe” used as an adjective. Most people go with “dope.” You’re weird, Anne! You’re weird and also a huge bitch!

“Denys died to save this world...” Is he actually dead though!? Like, no seriously, is he? Or is he just stuck in a situation that he will probably die in? Because one of those is potentially fixable in a sequel. ...actually, maybe both of them are fixable in a sequel. Situation’s unclear at the moment

“When Lord Providence descends, Luxendarc as you know it will be completely and utterly destroyed.” If he descends. If.

Yeesh, Anne, cool it with the shade! I know Denys’s kind of an idiot, but you don’t need to say it every other line!

Oh wow. Whoah. This... everything on screen is gorgeous right now? The glowing blue and gold bits on Anne’s final form, the translucent pink butterflies in the background against a starry night sky... yooooooooo. And I thought Airy’s final form was pretty

“Wicked Flight” is still a better boss song, though. Heck, the music right now isn’t even as good as Anne’s last battle theme, and it’s just a remix. I think removing the Spanish guitars and replacing them with a wailing rock guitar really does the song a disservice

That T-pose looks real dumb, Anne. Knock it off

It’s really fascinating what she says here. Humans are born without purpose, so they spend their lives lost and weak, constantly searching for something to live for. She, however, was made with a specific goal in mind, and always feels fulfilled because of it. And I don’t think she’s entirely wrong to observe that human beings spend so long looking for acceptance and purpose, and that the struggle to find some is central to most people’s lives. Heck, I don’t feel like I have a purpose most of the time. But I think, until I find one, if I just keep trying to do good then it’ll be enough. And the good thing about being born without a purpose? You get to find one you like, eventually

Cryst-Fairies are created by the gods to serve them. Anne is the older sister, but never really cared much for Airy, since Airy served someone who would destroy the Celestial Realm, where Anne’s master resided and controlled. Which... I suppose leads me to believe that they were created by different entities, and yet all Cryst-Fairies see themselves as siblings, regardless. Maybe it’s because they’re made of the same stuff? Like a half-sibling thing? Where one “parent” is the magical essence that they’re made of, and the other is the god that used it to create them?

Did Airy even know she had a sister? Like, was she even aware Anne existed? I don’t think she ever, once, mentioned her

Man, this game has a weird theme of “older siblings attempting to murder their younger siblings for a cause”

Oh, good. She can set someone’s max HP to 1. And she used it on Edea. Because even at level 99, Edea has to die at least three times per fight

I don’t think she expected Quadruple Meteor Rain Yew, though. That’s what you get for shit-talking a Geneolgia’s family

Oh. She didn’t even revive. Nice

Funny enough, Anne, Yew learned that secret technique after I knew you were here. So, you know, you had plenty of time to avoid that

If Lord Providence is gonna be here any moment now, then he is really taking his time meandering down the Celestial shortcut

Oh, geez! Altair, don’t sneak up on me like that! Holy shit, the sound of his voice startled me

There’s no need to apologize for Providence using Vega to create the Ba’als. You’re both just victims of an uppity god. Though, as a Celestial, I don’t suppose you have any info on your supposed “god,” Providence?

I love how on the same page Yew and I always are. Altair is family now, of course we’re gonna save Vega. Even if none of us know her, she’s special to Altair. And family of our family... is as good as family, too

Ahahahahah! “Yeah! We’re going to crush a god!” Never change, Edea. We’re upgrading from Ba’al Busters to God Crushers!

Altair just called them “my children”! Team Dad! Team Dad! Team Dad!

“Come, Yew! Let us deliver our pièce de radicchio!” ...let us deliver our piece of leaf chicory? Excuse me? Is that supposed to be like “Let’s serve Providence a bitter meal he’ll regret eating?”

Altair, normally I can at least follow your vegetable proverbs, even if they fall flat, but that one was really... uhhhhh?

So the evil fog in the Chasm is a sign that the Dimensions are in flux. “A holy battleground and an angel’s descent. A chasm of darkness and a glimmering ship.” Would that be the Ouroboros fight, or whatever Sylvie was prophesying about?

Clear the mists and reveal the path to the Celestial Realm. Hey, can’t all of us summon Hresvelgr right now? Can we get him to blow it away?

Ah, we’re using Agnès’s pendant, which can connect people between various worlds. It’s already a spacetime anomaly. Neat! I love it when they use lore, especially something like this, which has been established since the start of Default!

And now they pray, with the help of the pendant, to lift the fog. It’s not enough, so they call Agnès to pray, too! It’s still not enough. Yew cries out for help, for anyone to give them strength. In other games, I could see this leading to a pan-out where everyone in the world prays with them...

But here, they just need me. Time to mash “X” like the good old days and clear the clouds away for my favorite team

Aaaaahahahahahahahah. Ahahahaha! Oh. Oh god. So they use the 3DS camera to put your face in the Chasm once the clouds are cleared but oh man. Oh nooooo, that angle. That was not a good look. At all. I started laughing so hard I had to put my 3DS down. Ohhhhhh. Oh man, that’s a heck of a look for the first time the party gets to see my face. Imagine the first time you get to see your spirit guide and it starts cackling and the connection dies for a few minutes. I’m sorry, guys! I’m really - ahahahaha - really sorry!

I do adore how the Bravely series utilizes the fourth wall. The Celestial Realm is (or is at least based on) our world, and every time they depict it (so, this scene and the Ouroboros fight in Default), they use the 3DS camera. The player is every bit a real character in this game’s universe, and they do a hell of a job merging the two using existing elements of the 3DS hardware

God, nope. Still can’t look at it. It’s like a fun house mirror in there! I get that it’s supposed to be at the bottom of the Chasm, so that’s the angle it’s at, but it looks freaking funny!

I’m glad you’re all so focused on Vega and none of you are reacting to my mug plastered at the bottom of the Chasm. It’s still there, even after the cutscene

Oh. I know that place. That’s the background of the Snowcap Ba’al fights. Welcome to the Via Celestio, path to the Celestial Realm, altered based on Vega’s memories

And I guess Altair is going to explain what each Ba’al represents as we go though, which he’s only willing to tell us because we’re all pals now

Ba’al vi: Snowcap - Represents the day that Altair and Vega met, with ski lifts as its background. Altair was vacationing at a ski resort, and sat next to a young woman on the chair lift. They got stuck up there when the weather got particularly bad, and Altair noticed how scared she was, so he picked a flower from one of the trees their lift stopped near (good reach, buddy) to cheer her up. Despite that moment, though, Altair never got her name, and never saw her again before his vacation was over

Oh, don’t be so cheeky, Magnolia. “Though some might say giving a flower to a girl you just met might be a bit forward.” It worked on you, didn’t it?

So, I guess Altair and Tiz are going to be switching back and forth for this dungeon. And Tiz is conscious when Altair’s in control, since he heard that? That’s existentially terrifying

The glowing gold platforms, surrounded by the already very pretty Ba’al fight backgrounds makes for a gorgeous area... but I’m not feeling the music at all. It’s way too dramatic, with blaring sounds, militaristic drums, and weird wind ambience. I get what it’s going for, since this is the final dungeon and should be suitably intense, but it’s really incongruous with the location’s aesthetic, and also doesn’t fit the emotional tone of Altair nostalgically recounting his life together with Vega as we go to free her spirit. Something like this would fit better in a final dungeon like the Dark Aurora, where we were in an unearthly void on our way to the Infernal Realm. I know I mention “Dungeon of the Nature” a lot, but I really wish the Via Celestio music was more similar to that than, say, “Tower,” which is the music they used for locations like Eternian Central Command, like what we got. I’d actually have really loved if the music here was just Altair’s theme, but with the larger, orchestral sounds of “Dungeon of the Nature.” Something melancholy and soft, but no less grand. Altair’s theme played on piano, but with chimes and a string backing track

I actually don’t like “Tower.” At all. I think it’s probably the worst track in the game. It’s just so dissonant, and I turn my sound off every time I go into a dungeon where it’s playing

Alright, kids, it’s been fun, but you’re gonna have to turn off Obliterate for a sec so we can get those last three Catmancy skills

Okay, I don’t get Luxendarc sometimes. You kids have ketchup and baseball, but Altair had to explain what skiing was? You mean to tell me someone figured out how to make a specific type of tomato-based sauce and independently came up with the rules for baseball, but no one thought to tie planks to their feet and slide down a snowy hill with them on? Seriously, guys

Yew asks everyone what their plans for the future are. Edea says she’s gonna help with the Eternia-Orthodoxy peace talks, so she and Yew will probably still be working together. Tiz just wants to retire to Norende at age... 19? I mean, I don’t really blame him. He did die several times and kill multiple gods. I’d want a break, too. And Magnolia feels she has to return to the Moon and finish helping everyone there recover. Yew is disappointed. It’s a hard position to be in, you know? He loves Magnolia and will miss her dearly, but he also knows how much the people of her home mean to her and he would never come between her and them

Ba’al v: Urchin - Represents the day Altair and Vega met again in the spring, when Altair was transferred to work at the place Vega did, with its background being the rainy exterior of an urban office building with a couple that occasionally passes by, sharing an umbrella. There are little flower gardens, and a city skyline can be seen in the distance. As Altair tells the story, we see silhouettes of himself and Vega acting it out. Or at least, I assume it’s them, since “Altair” looks a lot like Yew in an ankle-length trench coat and “Vega” is just Magnolia’s researcher costume. Altair was an extremely successful scientist, but his superiors grew jealous of his skills and transferred him to a remote, less prestigious location. Altair was so distraught to be there that he ran right out into the storm. Right into acid rain, due to severe pollution in his homeland. Unbeknownst to him, however, he had been transferred to the very place Vega worked, and when she saw him run out, she followed him and offered to share her umbrella. Altair muses how this means that at the time, Vega must have remembered their first meeting on that ski lift, since it became a Ba’al, and he chuckles quietly to himself. Fate, indeed

So the last room had little snowy trees peppering the walkways, and here it’s rainy streetlamps and road signs. God, I love the visual design here. And now that I’m not fighting the Ba’al, I can get a better look at the gorgeous backgrounds

Ba’al iv: Goldie - Represents Altair’s first date with Vega that summer, where he confessed his growing love to her, with an absolutely gorgeous background of a Japanese festival. Lanterns and trees surround a single torii as fireworks go off in the sky above. The appearance of Goldie comes from their attempts to play the goldfish-scooping game they have at Japanese festivals

This is all coming across as so incredibly sad. Altair loved Vega with all his heart, but it sounds like he didn’t even really realize how much she cared for him until right now, where he’s seeing exactly what memories she treasured. And is seeing them twisted and used against the both of them

And Edea’s noticed something else. Meeting in the snow, sharing an umbrella, goldfish scooping... Yew and Magnolia have been unintentionally reliving Altair and Vega’s romance. No wonder he’s so adamant that Yew confesses sooner, rather than later. Altair knows how this story ends

Our little set dressings this time around are floating lanterns. I’m actually surprised there aren’t mini fireworks bursting around them

Most of the enemies in the Via Celestio don’t add a heck of a lot to the lore, but one does: the Spartan. It’s the final variation of a specific type of automaton we’ve been seeing throughout the game, that Altair comments on every time they show up. Turns out, Altair invented them to be caretakers for the Celestial Realm! They uh... I don’t think they did that great a job, but it’s the thought that counts!

And the Bestiary entry is basically “Okay but how do rocket punches and optical camouflage... help? With caretaking?” “I dunno! But isn’t the technology awesome?” Altaiiiiiiiiir

Ba’al iii: Apparati - Represents the struggle Altair and Vega faced together as they tried to continue their research despite the improper equipment and poor funds afforded to them, enhanced by the depiction of the interior of a laboratory with static-y, crackling monitors all over in the background. If we’re following the pattern, then the falling leaves and bare trees outside the window indicate autumn. Vega really kept Altair’s project going, by sneaking restricted data out of the archives for him and coming up with creative solutions whenever he hit a mental block. And when their hard work paid off and Altair’s hypothesis was accepted as scientific fact, then he knew he was absolutely in love with Vega, the woman who supported and aided him and who constantly encouraged him to be his best self. He was a different, better person around her, and he knew it

“If attraction is gazing into one another’s eyes, then true love is setting those eyes on the same shared goal... or so my theory goes.” I can’t say I have a lot, or really any, romantic experience, but this is something I believe strongly. A romantic partner is someone whose skills and personality differ from yours, but also complement yours, and yet who strongly value the same things you do. If you can’t agree on what’s most important to you, then you can’t connect on a deeper level. And I’m not saying, like, find someone who thinks exactly as you do! Because that’s not healthy. But find someone who you can agree on the important things with

Also, love that Altair distinguishes between “attraction” and “love” because they’re very different things, and I so often see people conflate the two

Seriously, guys, leave Yew alone! He’s 16 and this is his first foray into romance. That’s scary and overwhelming!

And there’s bookshelves and stacks of books with desk lamps on top littering the pathways

Ba’al ii: Redcoat - Represents the night that Altair proposed to Vega over dinner. Honestly, this is my favorite Ba’al fight background. It’s just a very pretty, snowy, city skyline with a tall tower and a suspension bridge in the center, but there’s something so beautiful about how simple it is and the shade of light blue they used for it. Altair describes it as a holy night, and since Redcap is a demonic Santa hat tangled in lights, I can only assume he means Christmas. Poor Altair, however, couldn’t afford a wedding ring. Their program funding was awful, after all, and what they gave him for personal pay, he spent on more research to make up for what they didn’t give him. Vega told him she didn’t mind, but he still felt incredibly guilty about it. They married with a small ceremony, and Altair eventually bought her that ring... right before the trip to Luxendarc that tore them apart forever

Altair tells everyone not to despair, since he lived a good life and had goals that he truly believed in that he knows he gave his all working towards, and I can’t help but think back to Anne’s speech about purpose. Altair isn’t technically human in the Luxendarc sense, he’s a Celestial, but he managed to find his own greater purpose and it made him stronger

“You must all live your own lives as well. Have courage! Be brave enough to default on the expectations of others!” WE DID IT BOYS, PACK IT UP, WE GOT A TITLE DROP. In all honesty, though, I love what the games say the symbolism of each title is. To “Bravely Default” is “to have the courage to go against the expectations of others” and to “Bravely Second” is “to have the courage to try again,” and by doing each of those can you get the best ending in each game, further enforcing their message (even if I thought it was a little botched in Default. You're supposed to be going against what Sage Yulyana says... by following Airy, who you were going along with from the start, so there’s really no “courage” involved. Gameplay-wise you never actually disobey anyone, because you completely obey Airy, though I suppose you still have to disobey Sage to an extent, who you trust more at that point)

Tiz has a point, too. Maybe Altair is content with the life he had, but it’s still not fair for all of his efforts to be rewarded with his and Vega’s suffering

Our road-markers in this room are banquet tables with a nice Christmas dinner on them. I was hoping for Christmas trees, but that’ll work, too

Seems like this is our final Tent Event. Magnolia’s cooking is fantastic as always, but the stress is getting to Edea. She’s so worried she can barely even eat, and Altair’s story has really shaken her. Of course it would effect her the most. She knows better than anyone what it feels like to be separated from someone you love across time and space. They’ve packed the leftover food for sandwiches. They’ll eat when they’re ready. One more megalixir, as a gift from our fox friend who I notice found his way into a dimensional rift, and we’re on our way

The final room is a straight bridge, adorned with roses, candles, and floral archways. The background is a church on a hill, blossoming trees on either side and doves soaring across the sky in the background. Ba’al i: Turtle Dove. Altair and Vega’s wedding. This one doesn’t need an explanation from Altair. Just one last save point between us and the end. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve somehow gotten in here, too, Adventurer.

“This is it... our final battle!”

“Let’s do it!”

We’re in a chapel, with nothing but soft wind. Unlike the silhouettes of the Ba’al backgrounds, this is undeniably physical. And gorgeous. Very Baroque in its architecture

Vega’s voice is so much softer than I imagined it would be

I thought she sounded familiar. It’s Eden Riegel, who also voices Anne, so her range is commendable. For those curious, she also voices Iris in Final Fantasy XV, Devola and Popola in NieR and NieR Automata (I think what tipped me off was how similar her Vega and Popola voices are), Marie in Persona 4: Golden and its spinoffs, and Estelle in Tales of Vesperia. And those are just the ones I recognize! Her older brother is Sam Riegel, also a voice actor of renown and player on the D&D show Critical Role, which exclusively stars voice actors. Sam’s great, and probably one of the funniest people on that show. Good to see Eden’s doing great work, too

I guess the thing of note, though, is that she is NOT the voice who narrated the ends of Chapters 1-4 as I had suspected. Her voice is decidedly softer and not British. But if that wasn’t Vega, then who?

She’s so lost in her despair. She’s begging Altair to explain why he left, and why he didn’t come back. She won’t even listen to him explain that he tried, that he died and just couldn’t make it back

Someone told her the wrong meeting place to meet Altair that day. The reason she wasn’t on the ship was because someone didn’t want her on the ship

Ohhhhhh I did not like the voice distortion on “Why didn’t you protect me? Why didn’t you keep me safe!?”

Fuck, Altair? Altair! He just collapsed screaming with black and purple mist coming off of him. Black and purple mist that just formed a robed raven-faced humanoid with the worst voice distortion I’ve ever heard

Hey, are you Providence!? Get off of my weird vegetable-proverb spouting friend, jackass!

I can’t tell if that’s Vega’s voice layered under Providence’s or just another feminine voice. Could be Anne’s, too, since they’re both Eden Riegel

Also, Providence’s theme is pretty great? It’s got hints of the Ba’al music boxes, with a one woman wail in the background

“I’ve never tasted anything so exquisite!” Were you eating her despair? Of course that’s all she was to you. A food factory. And the sadder and more hopeless she got, the better for you, right? God, you’re like depression made physical. I’ve always wanted to punch the concept of depression

She’s held on for so long because she desperately hoped to see Altair one more time. And you used it against her!

And you saw Luxendarc, the world that was intended to be her safe haven and the place Altair was, and decided you were going to use her to power its destruction to break her further by making her feel guilty. What did she ever do to you!?

Okay, two things. One, you’re a fucking dick and I’m gonna strangle you with your own ribbons. Two, the T-pose doesn’t look any better on you than it did on Anne

That’s my boy! “We deny you because we are mortal! [...] our emotions, the memories we create with others - good or bad, this is all we have! I deny your right to claim them for your own!”

“I’m done letting you use the hearts of our friends as your personal plaything! We’re gonna send you flying to the edge of time and space!” Crush a god, Edea! This jackass has no place ruling anyone

Oh, Tiz. “He might be goofy on the surface... uh, like a cantaloupe? But inside is a sweet and sensitive soul! He’s suffered long enough, Providence! It ends today!” This is as much for Altair and Vega as it is the safety of Luxendarc. But, like, I am especially going to kill you for what you did to Vega. No one deserves God Depression

“Nothing is ever hopeless! It’s never too late, you’re never too weak to fight for what you truly believe in! I believe in a world ruled by hope, not despair. And thanks to my friends, I have the courage to fight for it!” Bravely Second, Magnolia. Bravely Second

Oh, poor baby. The light hurts your eyes? Shut them and make it easier for me to end you

That fight background is awesome! We stand in a grassy field, surrounded by telephone lines. A city skyline in the distance. A freaking GALAXY in the sky, with red-violet clouds. And this music is perfect. So perfect! Grand orchestral scores, with sections of electric guitar and lo-fi beats, all held together by sweeping chants. Holy shit, Providence may look pretty dumb, but this fight’s oozing style

What... so Providence can force a party member to do do his bidding? Like having Magnolia try to strike Yew down. That’s not great, but your first instance of doing so is using my healer to attack. And I’m supposed to be scared of you!?

Get him down enough and he starts consuming Vega’s energy to heal up 10,000 HP every few seconds. Fucking rude. Altair’s so upset he took over Tiz and is screaming for Vega... who can hear him. And she’s fighting back! All Altair had to do was tell her the compass was completed and their dreams could come true and her hope reignited!

This ass can still cast Doom, though

OR HE CAN JUST SAY “YOUR LIFE ENDS HERE” AND WIPE THE PARTY. God... dammit. Like, actually damn this god. What a dick. This is what I get for trying to have Yew conserve his MP. Chainspell Meteor Rain is prepped for next round, bitch

I could easily skip replaying this scene, but I wanted to watch my kids trash-talk Providence’s ideals again

God, I forgot to take Obliterate off of Tiz AGAIN. I know it won’t ever work and it’s just wasting a slot right now. I’d still die laughing if it worked, though

That can’t be the end. This is a JRPG, there’s at least one, probably two more forms coming. And come on, you only drop 980pg? What, are you a broke god? What an ass

Vega’s pink soul seems to be freed, though. And Altair’s spirit finally leaves Tiz, his color being blue. They’re really cute together, even if they are just floating, colored orbs

Is... is Tiz gonna be okay, though? Altair’s soul was kinda fueling his... everything

We shouldn’t keep them, though. I think it’s time for both of them to move on. Gonna miss ya, Altair. I know I’ve made fun of you in the past, but I’m glad you were part of this journey

“Keep your hearts like chamomile!” Just had to get one more in there, huh?

I’m so glad Vega’s here to make sense of this. “Chamomile is said to grow best and strongest when trodden on, you see.” So learn from our hardships, and continue to grow ever stronger. Stay stalwart in the face of adversity. Can do, you crazy, crazy Celestial man. Can do

Oh, so I have Vega to thank for your absurd produce tirades? She started the proverbs to get him to eat vegetables. Jeez, Altair, you sound like my dad. The man’s in his mid-50s and still refuses to eat any vegetables but corn and peas. Which SUCKS because I LOVE vegetables, and we only get to eat a bunch of ‘em at family dinners if he’s not around. I had a vegetable burger last night and it was GREAT

“And eat your vegetables.” YEAH, THANKS. I will! Somebody get me a carrot right now! (I’d get one but I don’t feel like peeling one at 9:30 at night, which is when I’m typing this)

Awwww. Altair finally ate vegetables once he got to Luxendarc because they reminded him of Vega

Yew should confess to Magnolia, WE GET IT. Let him figure out his own emotions! Stop pressuring my boy!

Bye, you two! May your afterlife together hold only the best!

Ohhhhh that’s what happened. Okay. So when Providence used Mandate of Heaven to have Magnolia attack Yew, she wouldn’t actually do that on her own. I had to make her do it, and because I didn’t in the set timeframe he used Divine Punishment to wipe the party. I totally misunderstood what was happening there, since Magnolia had negative BP and couldn’t move, and the very next turn was when I triggered the mid-boss cutscene with Altair. The second time I simply killed him on the turn after he cast it on Tiz, so it didn’t matter. That’s a very bullshit tactic and I am eternally grateful to Meteor Rain Geneolgia over there for ending the fight in a timely fashion

WAIT. Remove Obliterate from Tiz, genius. And heal. Trust no one

Hahahahaha okay, yeah. Yeah. I was expecting a cutscene before round two, and I’ll admit the harsh cut to the screen-shattering battle intro when I tried to leave the room made me jump a bit

This is what I saw a screenshot of before I played the game. Before the game even came out in English, even. I was looking up Airy’s sister after beating Default, because I saw the art of the Kaiser and Anne, assumed she was Airy’s sister, and wanted to know if she had a name. Saw the line “Anne works for Providence” and a low-res picture of Providence and clicked out immediately, but was left with the knowledge that the final boss was a purple pyramid named Providence. Seeing it now, there’s so much more to it than I remembered

We cut to the sky, a brilliant blue galaxy that the party is floating in. Magenta clouds adorn the top and bottom of the screen, and from them semi-mechanical, semi-organic looking hands of magenta and black descend, fingers wiggling. An inverse pyramid comes out of the cloud, and the gigantic eye in the center opens and glances around manically. An inverse Eye of Providence, that grants only poor fortune

Tiz, you should know better than to think this was the end. Ouroboros had, like, two forms and five phases

Providence’s voice is distinctly feminine now. And now that he’s unchained from Vega... there’s no internal fight to hold him back

“Who is it that controls you?” *Providence’s eye looks directly at the camera* What? What? I’m his aunt/mother figure/big sis/etc.! And I’ve done a hell of a job keeping him alive, thanks. I don’t see you standing against that Meteor Rain for long!

Man, what is up with this naming scheme? The hands are labeled Providence B and Ab, and the pyramid is labeled Providence Aa

O-oh? Providence can use its own Bravely Second while I’m in the menu? It... did barely any damage, but that’s startling

He’s pulling a *redacted character* Undertale and I will not stand for this! (I actually super love Undertale and I’m excited that Bravely’s pulling the same meta nonsense in battles that the final Genocide run fight of Undertale did)

I... You’re talking to me? Me, Liz, the person sitting here. I... look, I know these kids don’t actually know who I am, that all of the affection I have for them is one-sided. I know my poor decisions have gotten them hurt on occasion. Would you rather I have never played the game? What would that have gotten them? Sometimes you have to struggle for a resolution that benefits everyone, for a good resolution. I will never regret getting Tiz out of that Chasm. Or saving Yew from Denys. Because all of those kids standing there deserve a happy ending and I want to see them get it!

“Persist in this battle, and Yew and his friends will only feel more pain.” Said in a tutorial description box. Look, I want Yew Geneolgia to be happy, okay!? I’m gonna get him a good end! If I stop he ends up stuck in the Via Celestio for eternity! I’m getting him and Tiz and Edea and Magnolia home and you. Can’t. Stop me.

“Isn’t it enough? How much more must they suffer to satisfy you?” Ideally, none! I don’t want to see them hurt, but I want to see them fail to save their world and lose everyone they love even less. Tiz is gonna retire, Edea’s gonna be Grand Marshal, Magnolia’s home is gonna be safe, and Yew is gonna make a new family legacy that he can be proud of! That’s all I want out of this!

You think you can make me feel bad by treating me like I’m just here for the gameplay? Because battles are fun? Joke’s on you, I don’t really care about gameplay! I’m here because I love these kids and I want to spend more time with them! I want to see them grow and find their happy endings, and they give me hope that someday I can find one of my own. SO FUCK OFF

You aren’t my god, bitch

It... means you can cause screen and audio static? Hey, idiot, I do that to myself, accidentally

You don’t control me! You control my input device at best!

Stop that. Stop making my kids hurt each other. I’m not the one who wants them to suffer, that’s clearly you. I would never have the game play at normal speed. 4x or bust

Despair? Oh, this isn’t despair. I’m just fucking pissed. Sorry. I don’t really get sad when there’s a target to take my anger out on actively taunting me

Yeah, fine, just boot me to the start screeeeee-NO. Hey. NO. Take that cursor off of delete. I’ve accidentally deleted save files before don’t do that! Mmmmmm every button just makes it go closer to “Delete All” come onnnnnnn. I will replay this game over if I have to, Providence! I’ll be back in another two years you can’t stop me

I don’t want to press the button. I know I have to. I know the game devs couldn’t possibly be so cruel as to actually erase the files. Not to constantly bring this fight back to Undertale, but it didn’t get me when your save file got “deleted” at the end of a neutral run. It’s so much worse in this game when you have to press the button multiple times and inch it ever closer to delete, knowing full well that the only way to avoid it is to give up and turn the game off

...I hope the game, like, records how long it takes me to finally press that button. I’m just making entries here to stall at this point

Changed into pajamas, went to the bathroom, and messed around with the current timed quest in Hogwarts Mystery for a bit and they still want me to press the button, huh?

...fine. Supposedly there’s a shield that you can only get if you play through the whole game on Hard (EDIT: Nope! The wiki was wrong again) so I’d have to go another round, anyway. Do it, Providence. I dare you

JUST LET ME PRESS “NO” YOU WIGGLY FINGERED BITCH

Yew! Yew, buddy, I’m trying!

THANK YOU MY PRECIOUS BOY. I DID NOT EQUIP YOU WITH A SWORD BUT THAT WAS STILL BADASS AND I’M SO PROUD OF YOU

Ahhhhh! Orchestral version of his theme! I’m actually crying I love this boy

“There’s someone who’s been here, supporting me, all this time.” Yes, hi! Hi, kiddo. You’re great! You’re so wonderful. You probably didn’t see me wave at you when my face appeared in the Norende Ravine, but you’re awesome and I’ve never been prouder of someone

“I’m fighting for you, too!” And I want you to be happy! (I’ll be honest, having Yew talk directly to me is really powerful. I just wanna, like, poke the screen where his hand is and high-five him. Best boy)

YEW GENEOLGIA LOVES ME MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD DOES

Nope, I’m actually crying. Hahah. My favorite character thinks I’m cool. That’s a hell of a self-esteem boost

“It’s your will, and mine! We’re in this fight together!” Always, buddy. Whenever you need me

He used the letters SP from the title screen to activate the hourglass. That’s so smart I love the nerd kid

Yeah, Agnès, I love you guys! I’ll always come back to defend your world, even if just to see you again!

Janne. Janne, I really do not like you. Please shut up. Your encouragement is just making fun of me for helping Yew? Wow. Okay. I see you’ve learned nothing

At least Nikolai is grateful for me giving even the empire’s people a second chance

You know what, Minette? I’m glad you’re happy. I hope you get therapy! But a new dad is okay for now

Bella is... smiling? AND HELL YEAH, MAN. I’ll keep fighting for you, Cú! Some conceited eyeball ain’t gonna stop me!

Norzen you-you had glasses this whole time? Wow, I could not tell from a distance! Sure, cloud grandpa. Stars. Yes

Aimee did you and Angelo... really do anything? A’ight, sure, I’ll save your romantic future

Yeah, I can make it as if Providence never existed, Geist. “‘Cause this is our world, right? And you were a part of it, too!” Yeah, I was, Rev. Thanks, kid

So the screen shattered and... DENYS! Hey! Hey someone grab his ass right now! Someone save Denys please he’s right THERE!

“Promise me... that you will watch over my brother. Farewell, my friend... and thank you!” You deserved so much better, Denys. Sorry it doesn’t seem like saving you is in the cards right now. The second I can, I will. Then we can look after Yew together!

My emotions hold power... OH I’M PRETTY SURE BOTH MY RIGHTEOUS ANGER AND LOVE OF YEW TRANSCEND TIME AND SPACE. That’s MY BOY!!!

...oh shit he’s out of MP uhhhhhhhhhhhh

Thank god I never use items and had Elixirs

Get. WRECKED. Singlehandedly. By Yew Geneolgia triple-casting Meteor Rain after Tiz and Edea took out the hands

Also, I didn’t mention, but the music for this fight does exactly what I adored in “Serpent Eating the Ground” last game: most of it is clearly the boss’s dramatic song (already really great, as mentioned in Providence Round 1), but then partway through it cuts to remixes of each party member’s Special Attack song, melded together into one flowing number that completely overrides the Boss’s sound, in a musical indicator of our triumph. There’s some of the main theme of the game, in a sense, I guess you could say representing the player. And I think I heard a bit of Denys’s boss theme in that section. Fitting. He did send me back to the party, after all. And this section only starts up once Yew cuts through Providence’s manipulation, furthering the sense of triumph as the party actively overrides Providence

Well, that’s that, huh? Everyone’s back on Luxendarc, the path to the Celestial Realm is closed, and Altair and Vega have finally moved on together. Seems... there’s not much more I can do for you guys, huh?

...where’s Tiz?

Nonononononnooooo I knew he wasn’t gonna be okay without Altair. No, come on. Tiz, you can’t do this to me again! He just wants to retire

I... should we hang up on Agnès? I don’t know if I want her to watch this. Can’t we just shove me into Tiz again? I can keep the game running until my 3DS’s inevitable complete destruction

Y-y- ...I see. Vaguely British female voice? It was you all along, my Adventurer friend. Or should I say, miss Narrator? By what strange trick of fate do our paths cross anew?

No, Magnolia! She clearly knows... something. And I can tell she’s more than what she seems. How else... could she have made it into the Via Celestio on her own?

I can’t watch Tiz go comatose again. If you’ve got a way to save him, do it already

“But what is a soul? But the embodiment of our wishes, dreams, and desires.” Ummm... the metaphysical culmination of a person’s being? I’ve never quantified a soul before

Fill Tiz’s body... with the dreams needed to bind his soul. And uh, Yew? Yew. Is dumping the hourglass sand on him the best idea?

Oh. That’s how you ended up in those dungeons. You can just open warp gates. I see.

And she handed the hourglass to Tiz in the past... on his way to the Norende Chasm, where we first got the ability to use it in Default. And she was wearing green. I can’t for the life of me remember if she ever wore green in Default, but it wouldn’t surprise me given the amount of sequel nods there were in the international release. What, do you just change into green when you go to the past so your past self knows what’s up?

So ideally, we now have an hourglass with two games, or two and a half years’ worth of dreams in it

Did you create a time loop where the hourglass didn’t exist until Tiz had it and won’t exist after, or did we have two hourglasses and never notice?

Where would that even be hidden on Tiz’s body!? He was in a medical jumpsuit! ...oh, ew. I really hope it was in his pants legs and not... elsewhere

Oh, good, Agnès has it. Whew. Crisis averted

And the Adventurer finally introduces herself. A long, silver-haired woman named Deneb. One of Altair and Vega’s old friends. And, most importantly, probably another Celestial. Possibly the last one alive on Luxendarc

*Great Distance starts up for one last go* Run Agnès! Run with all you’ve got!

Credits are rolling. Let’s see those happy endings we all worked so hard to get

Nikolai is back in the priesthood, preaching to the New Crystalguard, of which Janne seems to be a member. I’m happy for Nikolai, still mad Janne never got over himself, but we can’t win ‘em all. Best of luck, gents! Call me in a few years when Janne has finally grown up

Bella and Cú are just walking around in... Eisen? Ah, well. They’ve got each other. Hope they find a home that accepts horsemen. And I owe you a two a special thanks! The Spellcraft and Triple Wield abilities carried this team, and the Yew Meteor Rain strategy couldn’t have happened without it!

Norzen is back to teaching, and Rifa and Pudgius are glad to have him there

Minette’s happily sailing with her new dad and his cat in his little rowboat. Remember what I said! Therapy!

Aimee and Angelo... did not set up shop in Gathelatio. Or they just haven’t moved locations yet. Pancake business is booming either way (You guys should seriously move, though. If more adventurers find out that Obliterating Chompettes is some of the best experience in the game, they’ll just loiter outside your shop all day and scare away customers! Customers that I’m surprised you even have at the deepest spot in a high level dungeon. ...maybe that’s the actual problem with your current location)

Geist and Rev are... standing around posing in the old seaside shack that was sold to Profiteur? He’d better not have gone back on his deal after I defended him like that!

Aw, Lotus is teaching Sakura to fly the Rubadub. I’m glad those two were with us through this journey

And Great Distance fades out as Agnès arrives, no more distance between her and Tiz any longer

“Good morning... Agnès.” Don’t ever scare us like that again, buddy. Happy retirement

*Great Distance back for Round 2* And now we’ve got the party epilogues!

The new Grand Marshal of Eternia contemplates what to do next, her second-in-command Alternis at her side. When faced with a conflict between two factions, Edea decides she has to go herself, because if anyone can make them see eye-to-eye, it would be her. And I believe her. Alternis declares that he would go to the ends of the world for her, in a way that makes you question whether it was Ringabel or not. Given the way Edea looked forlornly down at her feet, I’ll say “not,” making this a bittersweet end for her

With the peace talks over, Agnès has resigned as Pope, leaving everything to the Matriarch and new Vestal, Sylvie. No longer a Vestal, she has no reason to cling to the surname of those wed to the Crystals, Oblige. No, she’d rather be Agnès Arrior. And now she and Tiz are engaged and planning to move to Norende as farmers. I’m happy for you kids! Enjoy retirement with your sheep. You’ve both earned it

Music fades out again as we cut to Magnolia in the Buster Ship, musing about how wonderful Luxendarc was. Yew races to where he first met her... but her ship is already blasting off back to the Moon. And a ballad starts up as Magnolia walks up to him after he laments that he never confessed. That confession is as awkward as I hoped it would be. And then Magnolia winks at the camera (hi!) and muses about how love really can transcend time and space. Turns out, people on the Moon only tell their true names to the person they wish to marry... and she just whispered something into a very red-faced Yew’s ear. Cute! Just remember he’s 16. Give him a few years to get his bearings, Magnolia. I have no idea how old you are, but maybe take it a little slower. Best of luck, you dorks

One final shot. The Geneolgia mansion foyer, but this time Foundar’s portrait is gone. Now it’s a portrait of Yew, Tiz, Edea, Magnolia, and Agnès eating dinner together... with Denys standing behind them. This is the real Geneolgia family. The one that deserves to be celebrated.

And there goes my name in the credits. Thank you, Bravely Second team. It was a hell of a time and a hell of an undertaking. Almost two years since I started this liveblog, and it evolved rapidly from just a few reactionary bullet points to a full on analysis/reaction. And I’m really glad I did it. I’ve gotten to talk to some cool people thanks to this, and I hope they enjoyed the ride as much as I did!

I really wish I could stick around, kids, but I guess that’s just not how games work. Just let me know if you ever need me again, and I’ll be there. And this time maybe it won’t take me two and a half years to get to it. I’ll do my best!

One final scene, post-credits. Ringabel narrates that they found “the third key,” The Sword of the Brave, to a Vice President over a hyperrealistic shot of the moon

And now we have the final, true New Game+. I love the sparkly little border on the cleared file. But, hey, this isn’t the end yet! The Bestiary isn’t complete! We’re still missing items! And it’s all thanks to the three postgame dungeons! ...but I won’t bore you with that unless there’s demand for it

That being said, there’s still going to be one more update! I plan to do one final retrospective on this game as a whole. What it did wrong, what it did right, and my overall thoughts on the experience. I understand if that’s not everyone’s cup of tea, though, so for those who won’t be joining me, I hope you had a good time reading and thank you for spending the time to look at my ramblings on games I like. For those joining me for the retrospective, thanks for reading! Until next time!

#bravely default #bravely second #liz liveblogs bravely second

10 notes · View notes

petersvibes · 6 years

Text

promises - peter parker

description: (y/n) and peter don’t have much time, but they always seem to make it for each other.

song: promises - aly & aj

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader (she’s an avenger)

warnings: maybe swears? y’all know the deal i’m 16 and the world is about to explode

author’s note: to anyone reading this after late april - maybe this isn't how everything would go. i don’t know. i can't see the future. just enjoy reading. and for the people reading in the future - including future me - *margot robbie voice* suck my dick

The mirror in the room is easily the biggest Peter’s ever seen in his life, and as he stares at himself in it, he puffs out his chest a few times. This suit is somehow even more comfortable than the last, but the shape is completely different: his small Iron Spider has been replaced with a larger design, its purpose not fully known to him yet, but that’s a conversation with Tony Stark for a different time. Spider-Man brought out a confidence in him he never knew he had - he can still remember the sense of purpose he felt when he put his first one on back in Germany - yet in this suit, with the threat of war looming before him, he feels like the terrified fourteen year old version of himself that never walked out of that science lab freshman year.

The only thing that could help, he decides, is you. While Peter had been analyzing himself at every angle. You had been in the other room for a little over ten minutes now, but Peter is still growing anxious. The two of you don’t have enough time, as Mr. Stark carefully articulated a little while beforehand, so he is desperate to see you. He walks away from the mirror, cracking his knuckles and bouncing up and down as he walks towards the back of a leather couch, taking a seat there and letting his leg shake. I can do this. He thinks, chewing on his bottom lip. We can do this.

With the sound of a doorknob turning, the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck erect and his eyes snap towards an opening door a few dozen feet away. Your head is downturned when you walk towards him, because you’re focused on how your new suit fits around your legs, and it’s only when you hear an audible gasp leave Peter’s lips do you look up, a happy look on your face. “How do you think it looks?” You ask, tugging lightly at your sleeves. You stop in front of him, a bright smile spreading across your face as you watch as his coffee colored eyes wander around the expanses of your figure. You raise your eyebrows, “Peter?”

Peter’s eyes dart back to yours, a blush creeping up his cheeks when he notices the sparkle of childlike excitement behind them. “Just,” He places his hands on your biceps, unable to stop himself from giving you one last once over, “Wow.”

You shake your head playfully, reaching out to rest your hands on his lower back. “What’s got your jaw dropped?” You ask, blushing at the thought that his arose because of you.

Peter clears his throat, leaning back a little in an attempt to appear at least a tiny bit cooler. “You look very pretty.” He says, drawing you in a tiny bit closer.

You shuffle your feet against the floor, glancing down for a moment at Peter’s chest. The new design is cute, you decide, as the large spidery design glistens in the sunlight and seems to hug his figure perfectly. “You look very shiny.” You comment, stroking the tensile material with your thumbs. “I like it.”

He chuckles, and so do you, but in the moments of silence that follow, you know neither of you are thinking of how the other look. Instead, the initial excitement you shared from seeing one another, from seeing your suits, is replaced with the wave of heart straining anxiety with the thought of what these suits are to be used for.

War. You’re going to war. Maybe next week, maybe today, or maybe minutes from now, you and Peter could be dead. For the years the two of you have been, well, whatever you are, you’ve thought about the moment where Tony or any one of the other Avengers would call upon you, and now that it’s here and you’re in the new suits and there’s a giant stationary ring hanging over Manhattan, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re terrified.

Peter looks back up and resumes his slightly solemn smile, determined to see one of your radiant smiles spread across your face. “Did you see the guy-”

You gasp, “The huge blue guy? I thought I was hallucinating for a second!” Your mind flashes back to the moment where a man (an alien man might you had), double your size had brushed passed you a few hours ago in the hallway, followed by a beautiful, but emerald colored woman and her other friends. “And there was a freakin’ green lady? And another girl with like, mantis antennae-”

“-And that other Peter, space lord guy, you do like me more right?” Peter raises his eyebrows, biting back a grin.

You roll your eyes, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth in a weak attempt to stifle your giggle. “Of course I like you more.” You say, the brightness in your voice starting to fade as soon as you look back into his eyes. You watch as Peter’s eyebrows start to furrow: you hate it when he frowns, and he’s already developing little wrinkles because of it. The hand that left his waist wanders between the two of you, and Peter takes it fervently, interlacing your fingers and squeezing as tightly as possible. He clutches your interlaced hands to his chest, close enough that you can feel his heart beating rapidly against the back of your hand.

“We’re really in deep shit aren’t we. We’re really fighting something big?” Your eyes move between the sight of your bound hands and his eyes, which are doing exactly the same thing.

“Yeah.” Peter nods. Then, he moves his free hand up from the side of your arm to the side of your neck, his thumb swiping gently on your cheek and jaw bone. His touch, although characteristically warm and soft, sends what feels like shock of electricity surging through every nerve of your body. He ignites you in a way that he will never be able to understand, and although you would gladly take the safety of his bedroom over the danger of a battlefield, you’ve decided that you will never stop fighting for him.

“We’re going to be okay.” You say, your voice as steady as you can possibly make it. Peter watches as you nod to yourself, emitting something resembling confidence. “We’ll make it out, and Tony will make it out, and Steve and everyone we care about.”

You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince Peter or yourself.

“We’ll be okay.” Peter affirms, but his voice slightly quivers. He moves his fingertips to brush your hair behind your ear, his barely regulated heart calming as he starts to focus on your facial features that he adores the most. He gasps internally with every blink you take, where your long lashes brush ever so delicately against the high points of your cheeks. The fury in his belly is stirred when you bite the plushness of your bottom lip, and when you lean into his touch seeking nothing more than his comfort, he swears he can feel himself falling deeper in love with you.

Like you read his mind, you start to speak. “I’m in love with you Peter.” Your voice cracks slightly when you say his name. “I can’t remember if I’ve told you before.”

Peter chuckles, immediately recalling a conversation you had a few days ago (every time you’ve told him you love him is permanently engraved in his memory) but flushing red with fondness nevertheless. “I’m in love with you too (Y/N).”

Peter takes his time to kiss you after that, to savor the softness of your mouth as it moves against his. You give a light squeeze to your still entwined hands and whimper quietly. “I’m scared.” You mumble, your breath fanning lightly against his lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won't. I won’t leave you.” He murmurs, bumping his nose against yours and pecking the corner of your lips. You sigh, melting your lips against his once more.

“You promise?”

This time, Peter’s voice doesn’t waver. He nods, pressing his lips to yours for what you pray isn’t the last time.

“I promise.”

148 notes · View notes

p4radise--city-blog · 6 years

Photo

Verbal language in the type of hissing, growling and also meowing (in most its diverse forms) are common ways in which your kitty communicates with you. After being roommates for some time, you can start to understand what she's communicating. Non-verbal cat frame words, nevertheless, could be trickier to decipher given that as animal parents comprehend well, cats are notoriously sly & be expecting you to read their kitty-cat minds.

Because they are such expressive creatures, cats can convey a great deal of emotion without expressing anything at most. It is not hard to lose hours of your life looking at fun, crazy images of cats which are cute published on some of the innumerable sites out there. Many of said images are captioned with what their pet parents think the cat is trying to inform them. Ensure that you pay close attention to the non-verbal cues of her, there are a few ways to figure out what it is your kitty is trying to tell you.

EyesLong-haired white, brown and black cat with huge yellow eyes stares forward.

As the old phrase goes, "the eyes are the window to the soul," and this's definitely applicable to kitties. As Vetstreet points out: "Your cat's eyes help see the story of her inner state." It is quite common for cats to sit down and gaze, deep in consideration, for extended time periods. Maybe she's contemplating the great mysteries on the world, or daydreaming about her favorite toy mouse.

If her pupils are normal (which is, not dilated), feel comfortable that your feline friend is casual and ready to chill. "When your cat is located at so much ease, she may make eye contact," Vetstreet carries on, "and can hold the gaze for a while before looking away in a nonchalant manner or even blinking softly." You will usually see this mild, sometimes heavy-lidded appearance after your cat's received a satisfying meal, and just before she drifts above to sleep.

The shape of a cat's eye likewise can reveal a lot about her inner thoughts. Similar to the human friends of her, the eyes of a cat will widen wide with shock, a behavior that shows she is on high alert. In case she narrows her eyes and they are dilated, be careful because trouble is on the way. Pupils dilate when adrenaline kicks in, as well as in relation to cats, it means she is set pounce, encounter, dominate or even almost all of the above.

Ears

Whether rounded or perhaps pointed, a cat's ears essentially are antennae directly wired to the emotions of her and tuned into the world around her, all thanks to their ability to move independently, that comes with her impeccable hearing skills. "A cat up to three feet away from the origin of a racket is able to pinpoint its location to within a couple of inches in a mere 6 one hundredths of a second," describes Animal Planet." Cats also should hear audio at great distances - 4 or even 5 occasions farther at bay as opposed to humans." Your furry buddy's amazing, unparalleled ability to hear what you can't could conjure worries about odd happenings across the home, but almost certainly, she is enjoying the floor creak several rooms away.

If your cat's ears are in "airplane mode" - that is, flattened out on the edge, or maybe even behind her - she's stressed, irritated or frightened. This's a fight-or-flight mode, so be prepared for either action. You might see this behavior, for example, whenever your kitty is brought to a new man or animal. Flattened against her head, her ears reflect an even more harmful or perhaps intense emotion, but this position also can reveal that your cat is frightened. Either way, do what you are able to to remove her safely from the situation.

And what do the ears of a happy cat look like? Why, says PetMD, of course, a smile, with "ears turned up and to the side." Now that is one cute look!

Tail

Backside viewpoint of orange striped tabby cat with curved tail

Possibly the most intriguing and mystical instrument of all of the cat body language would be the tail. A cat's tail is able to transform into many, many different positions, all of which are indicators of a wide range of feelings. When the tail takes the form of a question mark or perhaps a hook, for instance, it means that kitty is looking for fun and wants a little playtime! A tail which stands straight up would be that of a warm and friendly cat, too.

But in case you notice your cat's tail hanging minimal (unless it is a breed characteristic, like with the Persian), look out: The solution to "What is my cat trying to express to me?" is "there's anger brewing." When the fur on your kitty's tail rise up on end, sometimes called the "Halloween tail," you've a mad cat on your own hands. "If you come across your cat's tail puffed set up because of its fur standing on end," says Klikk her, "that would mean she's afraid or angry and is trying to appear larger and more dominant." If you realize you are in this particular scenario, experts recommend that you continue to be calm yourself and do your best to remove your kitty with the tense situation.

A content, happy cat will curve the tail of her around the stuff she loves the most, including her family pet parent's leg or maybe a cat sibling, and she will cuddle up with her own tail for comfort and warmth.

Stance

Orange tabby cat extending on the back of its

As tiny and as muted (most of the time, anyway) as they are, domestic household cats will help make their presence known. When your cat wants the attention of yours, she'll go to great lengths to acquire it, including knocking your glass from the kitchen table or perhaps plopping down to go for a nice, long catnap on your laptop keyboard. In these cases, you don't have to ask, what's my cat trying to inform me? It's noticeable what she wants: lots and attention of it.

It is precisely this kind of posturing, even thought, that provides an indication of what's going on in her smart feline brain. Along with vocalizing the needs of her and wants, a cat will do non-verbal maneuvers to speak with you, the pet parent of her.

An arched back after a good night's sleep is part of your kitty's stretching routine, but in case it is accompanied by gentle "head butting" against your arm or leg, it's a clear indication that your fur baby is looking for one-on-one time that includes a great deal of pets. However, the arched-back-and-puffed-out-tail model of the "Halloween pose" suggests that your cat is feeling furious, intense, or frightened. An extremely frightened cat also is going to do the sideways walk if she's taken aback by an unhealthy surprise.

A cat that is on the ground and exposes her belly is around one of 2 tricks. In most instances, she assumes this vulnerable place to demonstrate the trust she thinks in her pet parents, showing you that she is aware that you understand she really loves you and feels secure with you. You'll see her do this while playing with her favorite toys, too.

However, a cat additionally is going to lay on her back while goofing off with other members of the family members, be they man or perhaps pet, therefore be ready for your apparently subdued kitty to go up instantly and "attack" you. Additionally, this position frequently is used when cats are rough-housing together. Although it can escalate quickly, it is usually all games and fun.

Deciphering cat body language needs close observation and determination, but the pay off is worth it. Finding what your cat is attempting to inform you results in clear communication and a better connection with the beloved pet of yours. Understanding the non-verbal communication of her is going to help you know when to provide her more attention and when she only wants her space.

1 note · View note

virtual-crisis · 6 years

Text

⭐Alpha Centauri⭐, part two [Or, local jackass procrastinates once again]

I’d be waiting for reprimands, but let’s be honest, only a couple people were actually waiting for this. Let’s hope that number goes up so I can actually be chastised for how long the next part’s gonna take!

Part One

Next Part

My Patreon [and by extension, Alyssa’s]

Days passed of not much happening. Yeah, I know, this story starts in a boring time of the year for me. But I needed time to show you what life is like for me—the context surrounding my situation in life—or at least, before the week of… The party.

No, it’s not my birthday party, nor was it some huge event like prom or what have you. It was a house party thrown by one of the college’s sororities out in the suburbs surrounding Quincy.

Tyler and I chattered with eachother about which cheerleader’s idea it was to invite us—both, since Tyler was also on the cheer team. Honestly, she only joined because it’s in her nature: being an envy demon, she gets extremely jealous of others, and when she heard of my passion for the attention cheerleading would bring, she just HAD to join. Like, literally had to. The captain threw a fit at her wanting to join while so ‘out of shape’, but holy shit, the stuff she did to convince her, I just… It’s better I not elaborate.

“I hope they’re not gonna have champagne, I hate that stuff.”

“What, a drink you don’t like? I thought those didn’t exist.”

“I’m a foodie, not an alcoholic.” Tyler spat.

I rolled my eyes as we entered the sorority house. The football team were playing beer pong against the cheerleaders living in the place—with a couple trying to intentionally throw the game to get on the girls’ good sides, while the rest were sweating hard about how much better the girls actually were. A couple of the girls had invited real nerdy classmates from their major classes, who were lurking around the sitting room with phones and laptops. A few preps were talking it up in the living room, in which Tyler quickly joined to take charge of the conversation by subtle force. Overall, it was typical college cliques being typical college cliques.

Normally, I’d be amidst the cheerleaders jeering about the opposing sports teams of the month or something like that, but it was late at night. I sat in the kitchen, mulling over whether or not to drink an alcoholic drink or not, since it’d be problematically sedative in the event of me wanting to stay. I could’ve had something caffeinated, but of all the bad odds, I was allergic to caffeine. Nothing life threatening, but I’d be pretty badly sick for multiple days after having it.

“Hey Z-Quill, what’re you doing over here still? Make up your mind, jeez.” Tyler teased as she came by for her fifth helping of spaghetti.

I rolled my eyes, letting my head loll over to the side. “Shut up, I’m exhausted…” I grumbled.

Tyler stopped, glancing around at the others in the room, then waiting for them to head out before sitting next to me. “...Too tired? You oughta head on home then.”

“What, on foot without you? I need someone to carry me.”

“Hey, if you’re not too tired to walk, you oughta get home before you are. If you fall asleep here, it’d just… Well, I don’t wanna deal with that, okay.”

I lifted my head and looked Tyler in the eyes. She looked genuinely concerned, unlike usual. I sighed, slowly pulling myself to my feet. “Fine, fine… If I don’t call you within a couple hours, ping my phone.”

“And what if you’re not at home when I do?” Tyler said. She and I referenced a locational app me and Nate used with her, Paula and our parents: when pinged from a connected user, they’d be notified as to our location, since Nate and I tended to… Need that.

You’ll find out why soon.

I headed out with my bag over my shoulder, eating a burger from the party. The sun had just disappeared past the skyline, and twilight was steadily giving way to night. At some point I stumbled into a wrong turn on one of the back roads—but given the situation, it was probably a lot better that I wound up following a dirt trail into the woods and getting somewhat lost from my intended path.

“Odd place for one to go to take a nap.”

My eyes, previously half-closed from fatigue, opened wide, and I turned around. Behind me stood a guy in his mid-20s, wearing a sports blazer and with a duffel bag slung over his back. He was dressed as a member of the sports team from the university, but I did not recognize him—and when you’re a cheerleader for a school, you learn every face of every athlete you advocated for.

“I’m… Not out here to sleep,” I said flatly, “I’m on my way home.”

The guy maintained a blank expression—a stern poker face, with only his brows showing any hint of emotion: determination. “Not here for a nap in the dirt?”

I furrowed my brow. He said that intentionally. “Nap in the dirt”. Dirt nap. Dead. This wasn’t some guy tailing me to ask something or a psycho rapist. It was a lot worse.

A lot. LOT. Worse.

“Odd—you seem the ‘out in nature’ type.”

“Guess you’re not good at reading people.” I said, turning back to walk a decent pace faster.

I heard a… Supernatural sound. I glanced over my shoulder to see the source…

He’d pulled his duffel bag off his back. It had transmuted into a bow with an eye-straining glow about it, and a quiver of equally glowing arrows that remained on his back. His eyes quickly adopted a similar shine as he nocked an arrow and drew the string, staring as dead-eyed as ever at me.

I shrieked in fright, ducking away to the side as I felt a surge of energy fly past me, vibrating the air through me like a forced shudder. The arrow hit what I assumed was a tree, causing a loud hissing sound and a collection of tiny, anguished screams—little bugs in its trunk, dying slowly and painfully to what the arrow was made of: pure, holy light. I was being attacked by an angel from Heaven, and he was aiming to kill.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” I cried out, breaking into a run. The initial wave of energy from the arrow combined with my now-active adrenaline started to give me a headache.

“God will not allow your kind to flourish in this age!” the angel called after me. I thought in spans of split seconds what would happen if Tyler—rather, Chialer, her real name—had been attacked instead. The angel was obviously equipped to hunt demons, but she was a volatile one in a fight, surely, given her pure form being made from a radioactive material.

As for me, I still had static running along my back. The arrow must’ve disrupted… A balance in my… Body, let’s say. It was… Well.

My shirt tore in two long strips down the back. Holographic strings of energy wavered behind me like banners tacked onto my ribcage, before solidifying… Into a large, black and white-spotted pair of moth wings.

Another arrow flew by my face; it would’ve likely pierced my skull if I didn’t have a poor enough posture to be stumbling side to side as I ran. The pores on my face and neck flared, bristling with fluff that grew in.

My body was deteriorating, losing the human aspect to it. I won’t lie to you: this whole time, I haven’t been human. This fur and wings were meant to be my appearance. The compound eyes that my socketed ones [quite literally] bugged out into were returning to their norm.

Yes, I’m… A demon, like Chialer.

Okay, so maybe I was misleading and vague, implying I wasn’t with how I spoke about her. But you have to understand, monotheistic religion DOES want my kind vilified by all. The sheer fact you’re reading to this sentence shows that I’m doing a good enough job for this not to drive you away.

I stumbled over a raised tree root as a second pair of arms stretched and popped the seams of my shirt’s sleeves. I yelped in alarm, curling up in a ball to try and roll a few feet. Luckily, the speed I’d been leading him along, the angel couldn’t stop before falling over me.

I scrambled back to my feet, looking down at myself, then quickly throwing off my shirt before my head’s changing shape would prevent doing so. With antennae on my head, and a thick coating of deep violet fluff around my neck and chest, I was definitely becoming more insectoid than human now. The angel looked up as he grabbed for his bow, making a forced gag in disgust.

“I thought you fuckers were supposed to be paragons of nice or some shit?!” I sputtered.

“We are!” he hissed, getting back up. “And YOU are an embodiment of all that is unholy and corrupt!”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m an embodiment of sloth, you piece of shit! Do you not get that humans aren’t infinite wells of stamina?!”

“There’s a difference between resting and lazing!” he spat, drawing his bowstring. I seized up, jumping to the side. As he released the arrow to follow my movement, I dropped to the ground like a ragdoll, effectively psyching him out.

I used my now-four hands to quickly put myself back on my feet. The spots on the front of my wings sparked, static crackling between them. “Yeah and there’s also a difference between ‘love thy neighbor’ and ‘kill based on prejudice’!” I shouted.

Common demon tactic- use angels’ means against them by confronting them with their own ethical shortcomings. Most of God’s ‘soldiers’ were infamous among my kind for having a black-and-white view of things.

The angel scoffed, pulling out a shortsword from a covert sheath on his shin. Six feathered wings flapped out behind him as he lunged at me. I gritted my teeth. The static stopped around my wings, and the spots all widened: white spots on black wings became reverse-dilated eyes, fur retracting into them so not to insulate focused arcs of lightning that shot from them onto the angel. He screeched gutturally, stunned with far more voltage than any taser would be charged with.

I turned and started running as he dropped to the ground again. He’d reflexively dropped his sword, and clearly that was metallic enough to be electrified for a few moments.

Like I said, I’m an embodiment of sloth- a sloth demoness. A small part of me leans into the sin of lust, but it’s insignificant for my… Biology, I guess you could call it. My body stores energy like a battery, and releases it slowly through normal… Processes. Slowly happens by me being idle. Sitting around, watching TV or playing games, something sedentary. When physical activity gets involved, it starts to strain my body.

Adrenaline is a last resort system for my body. If it’s active… Let’s just say it’s like a surgeon delicately opening your skull. And punching you in your exposed brain. Repeatedly.

I took a deep, strained breath as I ran. I could hear the angel shout in annoyance as he fumbled with the sword, and a fortunate part of me insisted on looking back every few moments in case of more arrows. Fortunate, since one soon came flying through the leaves, luckily several feet off to the side of me.

My wings fluttered behind me, but there was no chance of me getting away by flight. Physical exertion aside, that angel had to be trained to track the likes of me. I clenched my four fists for a moment. No way I could take that thing in a fistfight, let alone try to disarm him.

Another arrow flew past me. I turned around abruptly, holding up my hands to the sides of my head. As the angel skidded to a stop on the dirt, drawing another arrow, my fingers crackled with electricity. “Take another step closer to me and I’ll put myself to sleep.” I hissed.

The angel scoffed, narrowing his eyes. “You say that as if it’s a threat.”

I sneered wildly. “Short-term memory loss? I’m a sloth demon. Not gonna end well for you.”

The angel attempted to loose the arrow at me. I quickly ducked under it, smirking at him as I stood up straight again. “Gonna be that way, huh? Heh. Can’t say I’ll miss you.”

The static on my hands flared, arcing to my head. In a moment, the voltage electrified my neurons just right to make me lose consciousness.

#Alpha Centauri

6 notes · View notes