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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years ago

Text

Spawn

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), biting, scratching, breeding, oviposition, dub/noncon, kidnapping, cursing, blood, use of aphrodisiac, interspecies sex (merman and human), mentions of drowning Words: 5579 Pairing: Mer!Bakugou Katsuki x Human Fem!Reader

a/n: I’ve been getting quite a few requests for mermaid breeding. This... is probably not what you were wanting or expecting, so I won’t include anyone’s request here lol. I may write something a little... gentler later on.

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe, @hoefortodo, @sunkissedneptune, @softkatsuki, @marilla-eldriana, @sanurrwrites, @hopeismyhope101

There was something different in that familiar crimson gaze today. You hadn’t thought much about it at first, but now, it stuck out to you as something that should have been a huge red flag. The instant you had seen him glaring at you over the water's surface, you should have run away. You should have called to him from the safety of land, to tell him you really weren’t feeling well and decided to go home. Or that you had some type of rash or injury and didn’t want to get too close to the water? Would he have believed you? Probably not. You weren’t sure of what type of fit he would have thrown if he would have tried to persuade you to come to him or just dragged himself up into the sand to chase you down.

He was strong enough to do that. His upper body strength matched the incredible power of his tail, his arms, and core easily able to lift himself up or drag himself around. If you ran at full speed, he couldn’t get you. Maybe. You couldn’t really think about something like that though right now. The fact of the matter was you hadn’t taken his glare as something menacing. You had ignored the rolling sickness in your stomach, the little voice in your head that told you to flee. Now, it was too late for you to do anything.

You were as happy to see him as you had always been, greeting the merman with a cheery wave and a smile as you stepped into the rolling ocean waters. You hadn’t even made it a few steps into the cool water before he was suddenly at your feet, snatching you by the ankles and dragging you deeper into the water. The impact of falling on your back onto the hard, wet sand knocked the air out of your lungs, and before you could even breathe again, you were struggling to keep your head above water.

He hadn’t dragged you out too far, but right now, the distance wasn’t really what mattered. You were completely pinned down to the sand, his heavy red and orange freckled tail resting over your chest to keep you down. Your legs were in his tight grip, held under the knees, and spread open so his head had easy access between your legs. The rolling waves didn’t affect him at all, but as they came washing over your face, you felt as if you might just drown. It was difficult and painful to find the opportunity to inhale as much air as you could when the tide pulled out, gasping and coughing to try and purge the burning saltwater from your lungs before you were overwhelmed again.

It wasn’t just the water that gave you the feeling of drowning. His tongue, slick and hot against the cold ocean water, was lapping at your cunt eagerly. When he had torn your swimsuit, you weren’t sure. But again, you weren’t sure of anything that was happening to you right now. Why was he eating you out like this? He had never shown any sexual interest in you for the months you had known him. In fact, he hadn’t shown any romantic interest at all. At least, not any that you had been able to notice. Bakugou Katsuki, this fierce and aggressive merman, had originally saved you from drowning while out on a tour boat during vacation. You had been so grateful to him, so you made it a point to come visit him as often as you possibly could. You liked him. But this? This isn’t how you wanted things to happen.

You had fallen for him. You loved him. But, how could you? You were from two completely different worlds. There was no possible way that you could be together outside of close friends, and that was even a conversation you already had.

“There’s no way I’d ever fall for a stupid human like you! You can’t even swim!”

So why was he doing this? Why was he holding you down just for the chance to eat you out so vigorously? If he would have just hit on you a little sweeter, maybe you would have given in to him and you could both enjoy the experience to the fullest. But all of this was for his own gratification, for whatever he felt like or wanted to do with you. It was hard for you to think with the weight on your chest, the water crashing down on your face, and the burning heat between your legs.

God, it was hot. His tongue and his mouth were like fire, sucking and lapping at your clit with such fierce intensity. You knew that you shouldn’t be feeling good, that you should be screaming for help and struggling against him. No one would hear you this far down the coastline, anyway, but the point still stands. You should have been trying. Instead, all you could do was lay there, your nails digging into the slippery scales of his tail, fighting between coughing, moaning, and yelling out in pain.

The longer his tongue ravaged you, the hotter you began to feel. It was so odd, how every nerve in your body was so sensitive. You had sex before, but your arousal never peaked to this level so early on. Why? Why was it happening? Why was he doing this? You didn’t want this. Did you? Of course, you didn’t. You wanted him to stop.

“B-Bak-ack!” You hacked and coughed as water rushed into your mouth the instant you tried to speak, using what little strength you could to push yourself up on your elbows. “Bakugou, please-- please, stop-!” A yelp ripped from your throat as his hot tongue left your burning pussy, his teeth and fangs sinking into the plush meat of your inner thigh. Piercing the skin, the saltwater immediately began to burn the wound, but you still found yourself unable to pull away because of his hold on you. Even the slightest twitch had his nails digging into your skin, and by the reaction he gave from your attempt at begging, he didn’t want you to make a single move.

His tongue ran over the now bleeding bite mark, a low groan rumbling from deep within his chest. He had found something new to taste, and he did so eagerly. “Fuck, you’re so delicious. So sweet and healthy… You’re perfect. I’ve always known you’d be perfect.” His words were almost slurred as if he were a drunken man on a ramble. That was the only way you could describe his actions as if he were intoxicated. But by what?

“I… Bakugou, what-” With a swift change of positions, you were suddenly beneath him, his hand on your throat and entire body weight on you. Before you could even scream or attempt to struggle, his mouth crashed down on yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. The metallic taste of your blood would have immediately made you gag if not for the tight grip he had on your throat, which was only further making you light-headed. You tried to push up against his chest, scratch at his arms, and push his hips off you with your legs, but you couldn’t. There was no energy or strength behind your struggles.

In an instant, everything stopped. Bakugou removed his tongue from your throat, snapping his head up to look towards the beach. Before you noticed what he may have been looking at, you could hear him beginning to growl, a deep and threatening sound that made your stomach twist nervously. What was he looking at?

With his grip still on your neck, you didn’t have much movement, but you didn’t need it. You could hear the voices of a group of people. How far away or what they had seen so far, you couldn’t tell, as the sound was muffled by the water around your ears. The need to protect yourself suddenly burst forth and you screamed out as loudly as your burning lungs would let you, forcing your body to thrash and struggle even as your limbs burned with searing pain. Had you said anything comprehensible? Had they heard you?

They wouldn’t have been able to save you, anyway. You already knew that your fate was in Bakugou’s hands.

In a rush of crushing water, churning foam, and stinging sand, you felt Bakugou snatch you by the right ankle and drag you out further into the sea, not even giving you a moment to take a breath or prepare yourself. You couldn’t open your eyes or struggle, not even as your body was suddenly wrapped tightly in a strong grip. Was he holding you now? Where was he taking you? You could tell that he was moving swiftly, and the incredible pressure building in your ears and your chest told you that he must have been traveling deeper.

I’m going to drown…! My breath… I can’t hold it!

As the burning and painful strain on your body grew more severe, you couldn’t control your involuntary thrashing, pushing against his presence and kicking where you could. It hurt so bad, worse than anything you had ever felt, and you wished that you would just drift off into unconsciousness. That’s what you had heard happened to people when they drown sometimes. Why couldn’t that happen to you? Why were you being put through this?

You felt like you had been underwater for hours, but when you finally breached the surface, your body immediately inhaled a massive amount of air, so quick and urgent that you began to cough violently. You didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t care. All you wanted was to find that sweet relief of air in your lungs and something to secure you to reality. When a rocky surface scraped against your flailing and searching hands, you clutched onto it for dear life, somehow pulling yourself out of the strong embrace of your kidnapper to try and claw your way up the ledge.

Before you could get far, Bakugou’s strong presence pressed up against your back, one hand holding your hip while the other took hold of your neck, constricting and preventing your body from pulling in the air it needed.

Too weak to resist, you finally forced your eyes open, tears spilling down your cheeks and further blurring your vision. As his lips came to press against your cheek, you whimpered and tried to gasp in the air to your aching lungs. “Ba… Bakugou, please, stop! Take me back to shore!”

“I found this cave for us last night,” Bakugou ignored your plea, inhaling your scent as if your fear was addicting. “It’s perfect. No one can interrupt us… You’re safe.”

“I’m not!” You glanced around, trying to take in your surroundings the best you could in the dim light. From what you could tell, you were in a cave, the only source of light being a hole above you where you could clearly see the beautiful blue sky. It was out of your reach, and with no other visible exits, you knew that this was going to be your tomb. “I’m not safe with you!”

“You’ve always been safe with me,” Growling in your ear, Bakugou dug his nails into the skin of your neck, piercing the delicate flesh and making you whine. “Now more than ever. I’ll protect you with my life. You and our spawn. Our children…”

What? That’s… he can’t! All of this was because he wanted to mate with you, to impregnate you and force you to have his children. Was that even possible?

“But… I’m human! You can’t!”

“I want you, damn it! No other female is worthy of me.” Moving his hand to instead tangle into your hair, he pulled your head back roughly, leaning in to run his tongue over the new bleeding scratches along your neck. Instantly, that same heat that you could still feel throbbing in your pussy spread like fire from the wounds, making you tremble from the stark difference of cold water against your burning skin.

What is that…? I… It’s so hot! It feels so good. Is it some type of venom? Or… I can’t think…

Your mind was beginning to grow hazy from the heat, his teeth lightly scraping across the skin of your neck and shoulder the only thing you could feel outside of the fire.

Bite me… Oh god… Bite me! No, no- what am I thinking? I don’t want it!

A trembling gasp escaped your lips as his teeth clamped down on your skin, easily sinking into your flesh. The fire returned with another stroke of his tongue along the wound, but this time, it was so intense that your body began to quiver, panting into the stale cave air. You felt like you were boiling, half expecting the water around you to begin bubbling and churning with your flame. Your sex was incredibly hot and aching, and you squeezed your thighs together just so you could feel something.

You needed relief. Whatever he was doing to you with each bite and lick of his tongue against your skin was driving you completely mad. “What… What are you doing to me? Why am I so hot?”

A low, satisfied purr left Bakugou’s lips as he smirked against your cheek, releasing your hair to run his hands down along your sides. His nails caught and ripped holes into your swimsuit, which had already been ripped apart at the crotch, so it grew looser against your searing skin. “My mate… you’re almost ready for me.” With a light nudge of his nose against your cheek, you weakly turned your head in response, immediately giving into him the instant his lips pressed against yours. You didn’t care about the blood on his lips nor the strange sweet taste that rolled down your throat, making your belly flutter and burn.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t safe. What would happen to you if things went wrong? What was he going to be putting inside of you? He had said children… What did that mean?

You wanted to contemplate these things, to try and focus on the questions bouncing about in your mind, but they slipped from your fingers the instant you tried to hold onto them. Your mind was clouded by nothing but heat, pain, longing, throbbing, and aching. All the fear you had been feeling was only a vague prickle along your spine, but it was nothing compared to the new overwhelming desire.

Both of his hands gripping on tightly to your hips, Bakugou pressed you up tighter against the rocky ledge, the roughness of the jagged surface against your breasts and hard nipples forcing a soft moan from your lips. With the sound, Bakugou released your lips, pressing his own against your ear as he growled deep and low.

“You’re going to be my mate forever. You hear me? You’re mine. You’re my little horny bitch to breed.” As he spoke to you, so dominating and controlling in a way that made your heart flutter, you felt a new presence between your legs you hadn’t noticed before. It was slick with a slimy consistency, with a curved, ridged head and bumps along the long sides that led back to Bakugou’s hips. It was pulsing and twitching up against your sex, every soft nudge to your clit nearly enough to make you come undone that instant.

That’s his cock… It’s so big… How will it fit inside me? It’ll rip me open…!

“Don’t-” You choked out weakly, trying to shift your hips away from him to no avail. “You can’t! That’ll rip me apart-!” Another harsh bite to your neck made you squeal, unconsciously arching back against him and stroking your cunt along the dick still between your thighs. The pain had you squeezing them together around his girth, bringing a deep groan from his chest, teeth still planted in your skin. The longer he stayed there, the hotter the wound became, spreading through your body like the many times before. “Ow, a-ah, that’s hot! It burns, Bakugou, please!”

Instead of responding with words, Bakugou gave a thrust of his hips, stroking his cock along your sex. The instant he ran across your clit, all your restraint snapped like a twig, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you came. Trembling and moaning, you dug your nails into the rocks you were holding on to, spouting whatever words first came to your mind in a jumbled mess.

“F-fuck, fuck! I’m so hot; It’s so hot! I can’t take it! Please, please no more!”

“There’s only one way to make it go away,” Bakugou lapped up the blood on your neck, shifting his hips so that the tip of his cock rested at your still twitching hole. “I have to fill you up, until you’re nice and full of my spawn. Or else you’ll burn until you die.”

“I-I don’t want them-!”

“You do. Don’t you want to feel better?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll love having me inside you.”

“It’ll… feel good…”

“So fucking good…-” Without waiting for your response, Bakugou began to press himself into you, the head of his thick cock slipping in. The stretch as he vanished inch by inch into your clenching pussy was unlike anything you had ever felt, his girth making you breathless. But it was unlike what you had expected. There was no pain, only an intense pressure and feeling as if you were full all the way up to your throat. By the time he had bottomed out inside you, you had cum again, just the feeling of him pressing against every inch of you enough to push you over the edge. With a low groan, Bakugou dug his nails into your hips, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “Yes, you’re nice and ready for me. My little mate… so obedient.”

Your mind was blank to everything but the heat and his overwhelming presence inside you. The sensitivity of your body was heightened to the point that you could feel every ridge, every bump and groove of his cock. As he gave his first slow roll of his hips, pulling all the way out to the tip before plunging in again, you immediately lost all control, craving nothing but the pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t take it! Fuck me, please! Use me! I’m your mate, I want your spawn, please-” Your encouragement immediately set him off to fuck you at a faster pace, slamming into your cunt. Your voice was something that you couldn’t restrain, screaming, moaning, and begging for him to use you.

“Yeah, that’s it! My filthy little breeding bitch. Tell me who you belong to!”

“Y-you! I belong to you! I’ll be yours forever- you can use me whenever you want!”

“You’ll never resist me again?”

“No, no! Never!”

As the pleasure began to build rapidly, you rested your forehead against your arm, your eyes rolling back and unable to stop the drool that dripped down your chin, your mouth permanently open with the most lewd sounds you had ever made. He was using you like a sex toy, fucking you at his own pace and indulging completely in his own pleasures. You didn’t care what he did to you at this point, how many scratches marked your back or how much blood you had lost to his bites. All you could think about was him and his cock inside you.

You were unsure how long he fucked you like this, but after your third time cumming, he gripped you by the neck and pulled your upper body back. His presence inside you had your hips arched up in perfect position for him, and he didn’t stop, not even as he growled into your ear.

“Take them all into your hot and precious womb… With this, your body will never be the same for any other man or creature. You are mine. You will be mine forever.” With a few final thrusts, Bakugou came to a stop, buried so deep inside of you that you could feel your cervix stretching uncomfortably. At first, all you could feel was a growing heat, coating your walls and making your core tingle relentlessly. Your clenching and tense core began to pulse with your rapid heartbeat in a way that was new to you, allowing you to relax in his grip. Although your mind was still aching to rid yourself of the fire, whatever was happening to you now loosened your anxious, aching muscles.

Then came the first egg. About the size of a tennis ball, it passed through Bakugou’s cock slowly, only taking a moment to squeeze into your cunt. Gasping fearfully as it continued to slowly move closer, you gripped onto Bakugou’s hand that was around your throat, finding that you were unable to feel your legs enough to try and kick him off. “N-no, no! It won’t fit- a-ah!” Leaning your head back with your mouth and eyes wide open in a silent scream, you were unable to stop him as he lightly bucked his hips into you, urging the egg further down his shaft. With each light thrust, it moved deeper and deeper, stretching you open. When it finally reached his tip, Bakugou gave a grunt as he snapped his hips roughly into yours, bringing forth a scream from your throat as you came hard from the pressure of the egg breaching your cervix into your womb.

The waves of your orgasm helped to pass it through, your eyes rolled back as it passed. There was no pain, but you could feel the new presence in your lower belly, tucked safely inside of you.

Releasing his arm, your hands slid down to caress your own belly, pressing into your lower abdomen lightly. You could feel the tip of Bakugou’s cock inside you, and your light pressure made him growl in your ear.

“Watch it, my pet.”

“I… I want to feel it.”

The next egg coming through was just as blissful as the first, bringing you to orgasm as you kept your fingers pressed into your body. You could feel it this time against your fingertips, bringing a smile to your lips as you bit down eagerly onto your bottom lip. Never in your life had you imagined such pleasure would be yours, to be used and adored by a creature in such an intimate way.

It was heaven.

Eight more followed, bloating your belly. Whatever numbing he had done to you had spread to your stomach, so your muscles were relaxed enough to take on the new presence inside you. You felt full, as if you had eaten an incredibly large meal, but there was no pain. Still, that burning need of satisfaction was ravaging your body. It hadn’t gone away like he had promised it would. Was he not done with you?

Removing his cock from your ravaged body, Bakugou flipped you over to face him, resting you back against the side of the ledge. With a weak grip, you kept yourself up with your legs around his waist, your arms resting limply by your sides. For a moment, you just stared at each other, giving you time to observe his brilliant and handsomely fine features. He was perfection, from the blonde fluff of spiked hair atop his head, to flawless skin, to muscular frame that had you swooning the first time you had met him. He was so gorgeous, and all the sudden so… gentle.

With your new position, he found the opportunity to caress your swollen belly, running his hands along your skin as he gazed down at your form through the clear, rippling water. It was such an odd look to you. Was it longing? Love? Or was it just pride in the work that he had done here, filling you up with his eggs and making you submit to him.

Did he even care about you at all? Or did he just care about keeping your body to use as he pleased?

You were pulled from your stupor of staring at him as his hands traveled up to your breasts, taking hold of the remnants of your swimsuit and ripping it apart. The fabric discarded off to the side, Bakugou leaned in to kiss you again as he squeezed and massaged your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Your mouth opened for him with a moan, allowing him to kiss you as he pleased.

That sweet taste filled your mouth again, making you writhe and wrap your arms around his neck in discomfort of the spreading fire. Your body began to ache again, digging your nails into his skin as you moaned and panted against his lips, which refused to let yours go. Then, without a word, you felt the familiar blunt presence of his cock at your twitching hole, slipping into place like he was simply putting on a glove. You trembled against him as you tried to moan, begging against the kiss for him to let you breathe with any little moment that came your way. He didn’t. He continued to kiss you, to bite and nibble at your lip and your tongue, his sharp fangs piercing the delicate flesh when he was a bit too rough.

“You’re so delicious,” Bakugou groaned against your lips, glaring into your gaze as your fierce need for pleasure grew more severe. “I never want to stop tasting you.”

“I-I want to be done… Bakugou, I want to stop-” A squeak escaped your lips as he dug his cock deeper into your cunt, a new presence making itself known as it slithered up along your clit and against your pelvis. It was just as slimy and wet as the cock inside you, but it was smooth, pointed, and not quite as thick. You wanted to look down between your bodies to see, but you were too distracted by his smirk, his tongue dancing across his blood-stained lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

In that same moment, the new appendage that you couldn’t identify began to press against your cunt, beginning to enter you along with his cock. As you were stretched open, you clutched onto his shoulders, gasping and choking on your attempts to breathe. “N-no, wait-!” Clenching your eyes shut, you pushed back on his chest, but your weak body was no match against his overwhelming presence. “Don’t- not both! I can’t!”

Sighing in satisfaction as his hand slid up your body to grip the hair at the back of your head, Bakugou pressed his lips against your cheek, his smirk only growing wider. “You can! I would have only done one at a time, but you’ve just been so naughty fighting against me like this. I have to teach you a fucking lesson, that your body belongs to me.”

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t fight anymore! I won’t!” Tears began to stream down your face as he forced both of his dicks into your cunt. If not for the fire within you that begged for pleasure and the still relaxed muscles from the eggs, you knew that you would be in severe pain. There was none. No, the pleasure is what was driving you mad. You couldn’t take it. It was going to make you go crazy if he kept this up, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him moving.

When he finally began to thrust into you, it rocked your body so hard with pleasure that you couldn’t even find the air to scream or moan. All you could do was lean back against the rocks, not even able to feel the scratching against your back as he pounded into you, hard and deep. Head leaning back, you were sure that you must have had an insane look on your face, with your eyes rolled back and a wide, pleasured smile on your lips. But you couldn’t help it.

It was amazing. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel his cocks inside you forever, to be fucked and bred at every chance you possibly had. Nothing could ever compare to this bliss, not even achieving your wildest dreams. Your body was going to belong to him. Your soul was going to belong to him.

This wasn’t right.

How could you give in like this? How could he break you so easily?

It didn’t matter.

“You like my dicks inside you, huh, my pretty mate?” Bakugou hissed in your ear, pulling your consciousness to the front just for a moment.

“I-I love… I love them. So good! Bakugou-”

“-No. Katsuki.” He purred against your lips, watching as your face contorted with your oncoming orgasm.

“Yes… Yes, Katsuki!”

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“I’m yours, Katsuki! Fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck, I can’t- I can’t hold it! I can’t!” Your entire body seized up with your release, clutching onto him tightly. With his final few erratic thrusts, Bakugou let out a heavy groan, digging his cocks as deep into you as he could. You could feel his hot release into you, the second dick pulsing and coating your walls. What was more, you could feel the very tip of it dug into your womb, filling you up directly with his cum to join the eggs. You couldn’t believe that you could feel it all so clearly, your body so sensitive and yet so in tune with his that it had seemed you were familiar with this.

You weren’t, of course. As he removed himself from you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, all your energy felt like it left with him and you collapsed forward, head against his chest. You couldn’t feel him caressing you. You couldn’t feel his fingers tenderly stroking your hair. All you could feel, as the fire within your core began to vanish, was an overwhelming sense of shame. What had you just done? What had you just been forced to do? None of this was right. You shouldn’t be here.

Those things you had said to him… you didn’t mean it. Did you? Did you really want to belong to him? Were you really going to just lay down and accept that this was it?

“[Name].”

Jumping at the sound of his voice, you timidly sat up, looking up at him in fear as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. Too scared to talk, you waited for him to continue, not even wanting to blink in fear that he would react badly. Though, his expression was quite soft, his crimson eyes glancing over your face with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“I… yes.” You could barely find it in you to speak, the words coming out as a choked whisper. Why did you say that? Of course you weren’t okay. You were scratched up, bitten, bruised, and filled with eggs, for fucks sake! Why weren’t you yelling and screaming at him?

“Here.” Caressing you carefully, Bakugou moved you both over to a different ledge, carefully lifting you up to sit on it. “There’s a blanket and other things there for you.”

Sitting there with your legs dangling in the water, you slowly wrapped your arms around your swollen belly, beginning to tremble from the cold. “O… okay.”

With a frustrated grunt at the fact that you neglected to move, Bakugou hoisted himself up onto the ledge, sitting beside you and reaching back to snatch the blanket he had mentioned. “Damn stupid woman, you need to stay warm!” As he draped it around your shoulders, you couldn’t stop but flinch away from him a bit, tears still streaming down your face in fear. “Why are you scared of me?”

“I don’t… want you to hurt me anymore.”

Bakugou gave the back of your head a gentle stroke, letting his arm rest around your back. “You got it all wrong, moron. I don’t want to hurt you. Your wounds will heal quickly because of my venom… And being sore won’t last, you’ll be numb for a while.”

“You act like you’ve done this before.”

“... We don’t need to talk about that. It doesn’t fucking matter. You’re all I care about, now. I’m going to protect you.” Bakugou caressed your cheek, turning your head to look up at him. “I don’t just go for random women. I picked you for more than just your body. You should rest…”

His final words were more of a command than a suggestion, and with that gruff growl in his voice, you listened. Scooting back towards the pad of blankets he had set up on the ground, you used the one around your shoulders to first dry off the best you could, before shuffling under the others. It was warm and oddly comfortable, but you expected that you’d find even a bed full of needles comfortable with how exhausted you were. As you settled down on your side, you watched Bakugou as he slipped back into the water, vanishing beneath the surface and leaving you alone in the cave.

With the silence, more tears began to flow down your cheeks, running your hands up and down along your swollen belly as you craved the warmth of the sun and the cheeky grinning merman you had loved just yesterday.

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Crown For Two {3}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes, Slow Burn, Tease, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 7.2k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride continues. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a reminder, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Slightly Interactive***

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Chapter Three

-Y/N-

When you opened your eyes again, your head felt a lot different. It wasn’t spinning. It didn’t feel congested, heavy, or muddled. You saw everything with clear eyes, alert eyes. Glancing around the room, you took in your surroundings like it was your first time, though you were sure it wasn’t. Closing your eyes, you tried to remember everything that had happened. You remembered walking through the streets, taking pictures, and even watching the locals go about their business. You also remembered going into a bar and drinking that god awful drink.

When you remembered seeing Henry’s face, you couldn’t help but smile. Your conversation played over and over in your head and how easy it was to talk to one another. Even his smile and goofy laugh had you snuggling deeper into the plush bedding. He was definitely attractive. All of a sudden, the accident flashed into mind. You’d been struggling with the wind and the snow and couldn’t see not even two inches in front of you. The pain of being hit was absent. It was like it happened so fast that you were out cold before your pain receptors could adequately translate it.

You bolted up as the words “prince” and “your highness” echoed in your head.

“Shit, he’s a prince.”

You rubbed your forehead, then pinched the bridge of your nose. Of course he is, you thought. Why would you meet some normal person in this clear fairytale country? Leaning against the headboard, you chewed your bottom lip, beginning to wonder about several other things. One of them was your exchange in the bar. He clearly knew who he was. You were not naïve when it came to the attention of men. There was evident flirting going on.

“Was he trying to charm me into being some royal conquest?”

Before you could think on the topic any further, there was a knock at the door. You sat up straighter while trying to figure out the right way to sit. You lied back casually but decided that was too casual. You then straightened your back and took note of how your breasts were accentuated thanks to the proper posture.

“Too much,” you whispered, slouching again.

The knock came again.

“Ma’am?”

Shaking your head, you sighed and said, forget it. You had no idea how to answer, so you said the first thing to come to mind.

“You may enter.” You didn’t know why you decided to add an uppity British accent. Slapping your hand to your head, you shook it, already tired of your own shenanigans.

When you looked, it was the doctor you’d seen the night before.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

You gave him a polite smile as he approached with his black doctor’s bag.

“How are you feeling today. Better, I hope.”

“Much, thank you.”

He nodded, then placed his bag on the bedside table.

“How did you sleep? Any pain?”

“No—well, not severe pain. I’m just mainly sore.”

Dr. Alfonsi. nodded. “You can take aspirin for those aches. They should subside in another few days, as will the bruises.”

You nodded again.

“May I begin my examination?”

Giving him a demure smile as permission, he approached and began doing all the things a doctor would at the beginning of any appointment. He took your blood pressure, checked your reflexes and your temperature. He examined your eyes, listened to your heart, followed along with your pulse and respiration, all the while taking diligent notes on his phone that he held in the breast pocket of his white coat.

Ten or so minutes later, he closed his bag and then brought over one of the chairs in the room. Once he sat, he softly clapped his hands together.

“And that is that. I am pleased your vitals are appearing better and better. Are you feeling the return of your strength?”

“Not really,” you confessed.

“As I explained yesterday, I had concerns from the results of a few blood tests I did. Did you know that you have several vitamin deficiencies?”

Your eyebrows quirked. “Uh—n—no. I didn’t. What do you mean?”

“Well, in an effort to provide a most comprehensive recovery plan for you, as I do with every patient I see in the royal family and elsewhere. I ran a full panel of tests and came back with several alarming finds. You have a deficiency of vitamin B12, Vitamins D, and E, you’re severely low in Iron and Folate. Have you ever been diagnosed with Anemia?”

Your head swarmed with all the words and letters he’d just flung at you.

“Uh—no. I don’t think so.”

“I am diagnosing it now.”

You watched his mouth move as he explained the dangers of the deficiencies and listed the symptoms one would expect, which all coincided with what you’d felt on and off for some time. The explanation seemed to go on and on. With every word Dr. Alfonsi. spoke, your breathing sped more and more. He must have seen the terror on your face because he reached out and took your hand.

“It’s all right, dear. Though it is not as soon as I would have liked, we caught it. we now know that there is a serious problem.”

“I—I didn’t know. I mean, I guess I’ve been busy these last few months and on the go, but—I never--,” you trailed off.

“Calm down. It’s easy to fall behind on our health, but it is important we catch up. In order to do that, you’re going to have to make some changes.”

“What kind of changes?”

“Lifestyle and occupational. You’re going to need to change your diet, incorporate the therapies and medicines I will be prescribing, as well as taking it significantly easier than I suspect you have in the past,” Dr. Alfonsi explained.

“Taking it easy? What exactly does that mean?”

“Well, I mild cases I’ve seen in my years, I’ve recommended a month of strict relaxation along with what I’ve said before. That meant decreased hours at work, perhaps a sabbatical, bed rest until the patient begins to regain strength to prevent chances of falling and bone breakage.”

“Bed rest?”

“Yes, and that’s just for mild cases. Your case, I’m afraid, is a lot more serious. While I recommended it for others, for you, I would have to insist.”

You sat up, giving him a look that said he was crazy.

“I can’t go on bed rest. That’s not just decreased hours; that is complete incapacitation,” you protested.

“I can understand your alarm, but that is how serious your situation is, ma’am.”

“God, please stop calling me ma’am. My name is Xari.”

“Ms. Xari,” he corrected.

Several moments passed in silence. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yeah, you hadn’t gone to the doctor in almost two years and didn’t take multivitamins and oftentimes forgot to eat, but you worked out, ate your greens—sometimes, and experienced plenty of holistic activities throughout the world. You had no idea you were in this bad shape.

“Do you understand what I am saying, Ms. Xari? If you do not make drastic changes for the foreseeable future, you may not see the blooming of spring flowers.”

Your jaw dropped. He was laying on pretty thick, but it was working. You were alarmed. Sighing, you rubbed your forehead.

“What exactly do you suggest then?”

“What you’re doing now, bed rest. I will communicate with the staff your dietary needs for the coming weeks as well as instructions for your medication--.”

“Wait, hold up. What? You don’t mean for me to stay here, do you?”

Dr. Alfonsi looked at you as if you were missing a few screws.

“Yes.”

You flung your hands out. “Nope. Absolutely not. I can’t stay here.”

“Why not? I am more than sure the prince would allow you to remain here until you are fully recovered, especially seeing it was his highness’ royal car that hit you for us to discover your ailments.”

“No. I can’t stay here. I don’t—I’m a stranger to these people. I am—there’s no way. I can’t ask him or anyone here to wait on me.”

Dr. Alfonsi smiled. “I understand your apprehension, believe me, I do, but it is unnecessary. I have known the prince since he was a child. He is a kind man and would never dare turn someone who is in need and sick away. You will be safe here.”

Hearing how highly he spoke of his prince piqued your curiosity. It could have been one of those things where one’s subjects loved them so dearly they had not one bad word to say about them, or one’s subjects fears them so much that they didn’t dare utter one negative thing about them. You wondered which was the real story. Perhaps a little in the middle, you thought.

Sighing, you leaned your head on the headboard, still adamant you didn’t want to stay here.

“I have a life to get back to. I’ve already been here for two days too long.”

“Two days?”

The question in his voice had your head snapping to him. You cautiously opened your mouth to speak. “Yes,” you squeaked.

“No. I’m afraid it’s been more than two days. It’s been a week since you’ve been here, Ms. Xari.”

Your eyes bugged, and you instantly began searching for your phone.

“What are you looking for?”

“My things. Where are my things? My phone?”

Dr. Alfonsi looked around the room then walked to a large wardrobe before he came back with your purse. You unintentionally snatched it from him, digging through it for the desired object. Once you had it, you discovered it was dead.

“Fuck.”

You began trying to get off the bed, but as soon as you stood, you dropped back to the bed, your legs unable to hold you.

“I would caution against doing too much too soon. I’m impressed you were able to attempt an escape once. I doubt you’d be successful a second time.”

“I need my charger. Where are my things? I’ve been off the grid for a week. I have family, people who will worry. I need—need--.”

Your chest pounded so fast you could barely catch your breath. As you struggled to get a full breath, you began to panic. Dr. Alfonsi was to you on the other side of the bed in seconds, checking your pulse and instructing you to breathe slowly and deeply. You would if you could and wished you could shout that to him. Before you knew it, darkness was all you saw.

~~~~~~~~

When you opened your eyes, you were again tucked in the bed, but you were now hooked up to an IV. You took a deep breath and noted the heaviness that resided in your chest. Groaning, you slowly sat up. Once rested against the headboard, you remembered your mission. Your phone. Kicking off the covers, you used the rolling IV rod as if it were a cane and stood on wobbly legs. After a full minute, you began moving though every step you took felt like you’d fall to the floor.

What should have taken you seconds took minutes. The steps proved to be more challenging to maneuver with the IV stand. You searched the room, but you didn’t see your luggage. That was when you saw your phone plugged into a charger on the nightstand to the left of the bed. You wobbled toward it then quickly unlocked it. Feeling yourself shake even more, you used the wall as your brace as you scrolled through. You saw the bounty of missed calls, unanswered messages, and emails of alarm. As expected, everyone was worried to death about you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You found your sister’s number and dialed it. It didn’t ring; instead, it went to voicemail. Your frustration was evident as you knocked over the small glass figurine on the bedside table. You ignored the shattered pieces and grabbed the IV pole, ready to walk out of the room in search of your things. Once you opened the door, your jaw dropped, seeing another luxurious room similar to the bedroom but decked in different colors.

You took one then two steps, and your knees gave out. Before you tumbled to the floor, you heard a shriek and your name being shouted; then you were in someone’s arms. You looked up into blue eyes that were framed by long lashes and thick eyebrows.

“Are you all right?”

You snorted. “We have got to stop meeting like this,” you teased with a soft smile. It was a smile Henry returned.

“I cannot make any promises.”

Henry then lifted you into his strong arms and carried you where you’d just come from. As he held you, you couldn’t help but glance over the side of his face that was perfectly in view. If you thought his jaw was chiseled to perfection before, now—you were certain there was not even one flaw about it. When he placed you back in the bed, he hovered over you for a few seconds. They were seconds that felt like minutes, especially with the intensity you saw in his eyes.

“Xari.”

Tearing your eyes from his, you glanced to your left to see Anika, your sister.

“Nika!”

She leaped onto the bed and scurried across to you, then threw her arms around you.

“Oh my god. What’re you doing here!? How’d you get here?”

“I’ve been so worried! I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Relief filled you, and you found yourself relaxing a little more.

“I don’t get it. How are you?”

Anika pulled back with a wide smile on her face. She looked up, bringing your eyes to the man who still stood beside the bed. His arms were crossed across his chest, and a soft smile decorated his lips.

“Him. He’s how I’m here.”

You were still confused, and you knew your expression showed it.

“I couldn’t reach you. I called and called and no answer. A few days ago, I got a call back, and it was the prince,” Anika began giving you a wide-eyed look when she said, “prince.”

“Henry, please, I insist.”

Anika smiled and actually giggled before she continued. “Henry. He explained everything and kept me in the loop with your condition. Because of that damn storm, I couldn’t get here. He ended up sending the royal jet for me once the storm passed enough to bring me here, so you’d have someone with you.”

Wow, you thought, letting all she’d said register. He’d done a lot. You slipped your eyes to him and found them on you.

“He’s been very kind, Ri,” Anika added.

You were speechless. What were you supposed to say? Clearing your throat, you said the first thing you thought of.

“Thank you.”

Henry nodded and held your gaze. “It was done for you alone and with you in mind.”

Well, shit, you thought, unable to take your eyes off of his. After a few moments, you heard Anika clear her throat, and it was Henry who looked away first.

“Right. I was bringing your sister here for you to see. Now that you have her, I will give the staff instructions to see whatever the two of you will need for your stay.”

“Uh—about that. It won’t be necessary,” you piped up.

“Excuse me?”

His intimidating aura increased, making you feel like a disobedient little whose daddy was about to punish her. At that comparison, you had a quick thought about whether or not he was a vanilla prince or one with plenty of shades of grey. Straightening your back, you held your head higher.

“While I appreciate all you’ve done for me thus far, it won’t be necessary for you or your staff to fuss over my sister or me any longer. We’ll be leaving.”

Henry cocked his head to the right, then tightly clenched his jaw.

“Is that right?”

“Why are we leaving?”

Ignoring Anika’s question, you decided not to look away from Henry feeling a challenge in how he looked at you.

“According to Dr. Alfonsi, you’re in no shape to be going anywhere.” He nodded to your IV pole for emphasis.

“I will stay at the inn that is in town or a hotel.”

“Nonsense. It was my fault you were hurt, and my responsibility to rectify the damage and harm I have caused.”

“He’s right, Xari. It’s his fault, and you should let him accrue the expenses,” Anika voiced.

“Nika!”

“What! He’s a prince, Ri. He got it,” she replied a little under her breath but still loud enough for him to hear.

“I must agree with Lady Anika.”

Anika snorted and laughed. “I’m definitely not a lady.”

Henry smirked at her then quickly looked back to you. “I must insist you remain here. At least until Dr. Alfonsi has given you the seal of good health. I am afraid if you were to go anywhere, something would happen to you, and I would not be able to forgive myself.”

You studied him for a few moments, taking in the expression on his face as well as the tight clench of his jaws. Your eyes moved down to his still folded arms and the muscles that bulged because of his stance. He was definitely overwhelming like this, and though you hated to feel like a bother, you suspected that here was the best place for now. Glancing to Anika, she gave you a stern eye that said, “just give in already.”

Rolling your eyes, you nodded. “Fine, but only until I’m well enough.”

“If that is your wish, just know you are welcomed here for however long you wish.”

“My goodness, such a gentleman. They sure breed them differently here, huh sis.”

Henry smiled, then glanced at Anika. “Everything is different here in Brexendor.”

“I bet,” Anika finished.

“Since it is settled, I will proceed to advise the staff. Dr. Alfonsi has already given several strict dietary orders as well as health orders. If there is anything you require do not hesitate to speak it. Lady Anika, I have already instructed a bedroom be prepared for you, but I will instruct it be as close to your sister as possible.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, then looked back at you. “I sincerely hope you feel better soon.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I am afraid I have quite a lot to do today. By all means, though, feel free to go where you please. My home is yours, ladies.”

With that, he curtly bowed his head then walked toward the door. Before he walked out, he stopped.

“Oh, Xari, try not to escape again. I cannot guarantee I will always be there to catch you.”

You saw the hint of a smile on his lips and instantly knew he was teasing you.

“Somehow, your highness, I suspect you will magically appear at the mere hint of a faint.”

He chuckled to himself then walked out, closing the doors behind him. Once alone, Anika wasted no time.

“Holy fucking shit, he is hot as fuck!”

You snorted and laughed as you relaxed into the bed.

“Wonderful censor you have there, Nika.”

“Fuck censor.”

“Well, that last time I said fuck here, I was looked at like I was the most uncouth Neanderthal. I suggest you keep your fucks to a minimum.”

Anika bounced you. “Will you be able to keep your fucks to a minimum?”

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

Anika rolled her eyes. “Whatever! The air hasn’t even gotten a chance to come back down from the sweltering levels your guys’ flirting raised it to.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me! There was no flirting.”

“Yes, there was, and it was not on your side alone. He was flirting with you too. What in the world is going on? I need the whole story without even the smallest detail left out.”

You sighed then proceeded to tell her the whole sordid tale. As instructed, you didn’t leave anything out. You even told her about that exchange between you and Henry before you walked out of the bar. At the end of story time, Anika had a huge grin on her face.

“What are you grinning at?”

“You. Leave it to you to get whisked away by a prince and have him fall; for you in record time.”

“No, no, no. Falling? Nika, you’re imagining things. He hasn’t fallen for anyone. He’s a prince, for crying out loud. They don’t fall for anyone, let alone some commoner. Have you never watched The Crown?”

Anika snorted and dropped to the bed at your feet.

“First of all, The Crown is whack. Second of all, this is not England. This place is fantastic. It’s like some Hallmark country where everything is beautiful, quaint, and perfect. You smiled and bit your bottom lip, agreeing fully.

“Third, I was sitting right here, listening to your banter. I think he could totally fall for you if he hasn’t already.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring everything she was saying. Anika loved to play matchmaker, though you hated every time she did it.

“You’re practically in his bed. We just have to get you there.”

You rolled your eyes again, shocked at how quickly she’d gotten there. “Okay, down, girl. According to this doctor, I’m falling apart, Nika. Any bed I’ll be in for a while is this one.”

“Well, now you have me here to encourage you to lap up the luxury and hospitality of his highness the prince of Brexendor. Get the fuck outta here!”

The two of you laughed loudly. This situation you’d found yourself into was the most ridiculous one either of you could have ever begun to imagine.

A few hours later, you found yourself alone while Anika settled in her room. Another knock sounded at your door. Being unable to open it yourself, you instructed them to come in. Once the doors opened in walked a beautiful girl about your age with long black hair and features similar to Henry’s. In your head, you suspected she was a family member. She smiled sweetly as she approached you. When she was by your bedside, she dropped onto the mattress.

“Hi.”

You returned her warm smile. “Hi.”

“My god, you are beautiful.”

You snorted, then pinched your lips together, trying to suppress your laugh. She was insane. You looked the worst you’d ever looked.

“You’re being kind. I haven’t showered in a week and only today got to comb my hair. You’re being very, very kind.”

She giggled but still looked genuine.

“I’m Jemma,” she said, holding her hand out to you. Once you took it, and instantly noted how soft they were.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I have been trying to get here to introduce myself, but Henry told me to stay away so you could acclimate. Otherwise, I would have been here much sooner.”

You smiled and assured her it was fine.

“How are you doing?”

You shrugged. “I guess I’m okay.”

She didn’t look convinced and took you in for a few moments. “I’m sure my brother has brought all the best doctors for your care and has thought of everything that would ensure your comfort. With that treatment, I expect you to make a full recovery in no time.”

“Brother.”

“Yes. Please tell me you did not think I was his girlfriend or something of the sort.”

She looked disgusted, which made you laugh.

“No. I suspected a family member. So you’re a princess.”

Jemma rolled her eyes as she sighed out as if she was already tired of the conversation.

“Yes, but I promise it is not nearly as glamourous as you’re thinking. The only nice thing about it is the diamonds, everything else, eh.”

You smiled, already liking her. she gave off an air that said she didn’t take herself seriously and even liked to have a bit of fun more times than not.

“The staff is all abuzz with news that you will be residing with us for the next few weeks. Henry has told them to cater to your every whim, and because it came from him, everyone is in a tizzy over it, prepping to ensure you are at your most comfortable,” Jemma explained.

“What. No, that’s not what I want at all. They don’t have to go all out.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. then everyone will think I’m some prissy thing who likes to be waited on when that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Jemma took you for a little while, then took your hand and squeezed it gently.

“Not to worry, Xari. I assure you no one will think that.”

You sighed then tried to forget it because it was too late to change whether or not they thought it. You were sure everyone was already whispering about you and Anika, the two Americans who’d somehow found their way into the palace.

“Also, we are not as gossip centered as other monarchies. I promise,” Jemma added, raising her hand as if to swear it.

When she sensed you relaxed, she proceeded to ask a plethora of questions about you, ranging from where you were from to what you did and the all-important if you were single. You felt like you were on a modern-day “Who Wants to be Friends With a Princess” tv show. With every fact, you revealed she revealed a similar one and so on. After an hour, you found that you had plenty in common, something that was shocking for you.

When Anika came back, the party really stated. Your laughter picked up, as did the stories that Jemma revealed about royal life. Those stories prompted Anika to tell stories of life as a commoner in America as she called it. The only thing was her stories we mainly all about partying, dating, and men. With each story, Jemma’s eyes widened, and you felt like slowly Anika would end up corrupting her.

“Nika, stop. You’re going to have her on an episode of Princesses Gone Wild,” you joked, which had both of them in stitches on your bed.

“I will have you know that I am not some innocent wallflower. I know things,” Jemma countered.

You couldn’t help but laugh loudly. Just the way she said that told you she didn’t know very many things. That was when Jemma proceeded to list the names of the men she’d dated, a list of three men. Anika was the one to ask the nature of these relationships, to which Jemma said she knew in great detail the kind of underwear each man wore. You lost it right then and there, dropping onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

Exhaustion caught you off guard, dampening the mood of the night. Jemma assured you that she’d keep Anika company and show her around to give you time to take a nap. After thanking her, the two women walked out of your room, leaving you to silence. Once the door closed, it opened again. this time it was the woman named Audrina.

“Good evening, ma’am. Is there anything I can bring you?”

“No. I’m all right.”

She nodded, then closed the door leaving you again. You quickly drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~

-Henry-

He’d never met anyone quite as beautiful as you. he remembered when you’d walked into the bar and sat down beside him like you were right where you were supposed to be. You had no idea that the bar was empty because it was closed for him to be there, had no idea that he was not some ordinary citizen. He liked being a no one, especially if it meant he could sit there with you all night. He remembered wanting just that. If his phone hadn’t run, if he’d had more time, he probably would have tried to hold your hand. If he’d had more time, he would have gotten himself into an even bigger predicament than he was now—attracted to a woman he knew better than to touch.

Slowly he looked over the features of your face and took in each detail. He pressed the elements of your face to his memory so he could call on them when he was alone, buried in work. A sigh escaped him as a lite feeling filled him. It was an unfamiliar one. He wanted to touch you. It was an urge that was so strong he almost couldn’t overpower it—almost. He balled his fist and sat back in the settee beside your bed, trying to ignore the feelings that washed over him.

“Remember yourself,” he whispered before he looked back to the work he’d brought with him when he’d decided to pay you a quick visit.

This quick visit was an hour ago. When he found you asleep, he should have turned around and left, but he couldn’t. He intended to sit here for a few minutes, ten tops, but he still had yet to tear himself away. He mustered what was left of his control and focused on the screen before him and tried to write his speech for the new world bank’s upcoming opening.

This was one of his father’s pet projects, and he was filled with pride to see it to fruition, but also it made him miss the man more. Sighing, he closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples. Every time he thought of his father in the last few months, it brought him added stress. It was this stress that prevented him from sleeping longer than four hours a night.

“Christ,” he whispered.

“Are you all right?”

Jerking his head up, he saw you awake with your head still atop the pillow. You looked like a dream, or perhaps his best nightmare.

“I am sorry. Was I too loud?”

“No. I um—just happened to open my eyes.”

You slowly sat up, allowing the blanket to fall from your chest to your lap. As you adjusted yourself, he moved his laptop to the other side of the settee.

“You didn’t answer me, though. Are you all right?”

A smile tugged at his lips, but he fought it. “Me? Should it not be me be asking you that?”

“Can’t we ask each other?”

He studied you for a few moments, then nodded. “I am fine.”

“Liar.”

His jaw dropped, half shocked you would go there. There weren’t many people in his life that would dare.

“I take it no one calls his highness a liar,” you teased.

“You take it right. Maybe Jemma or my mother on occasion and a few of my friends but not many.”

You smiled, then shrugged. “I call em’ like I see em.’”

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Pray tell, what gave me away to make you insult me so?”

Your smile widened before you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, bringing his eyes right there. He adjusted in the seat he sat and waited for you to continue.

“Your eyes are red, under your eyes puffy, and one doesn’t just say Christ to say Christ.”

You had him there. He pushed his fist under his chin and continued to watch you.

“So you are implying I look bad.”

You smirked then, and he picked up the change in the air.

“I mean, I’m sure I look the same as you. So take comfort in that.”

A chuckle escaped him. “So that is a yes; I do look bad.”

You looked at him but didn’t answer.

“I will take that as a yes on my part. however, regarding you, you look far from bad.”

You snorted then laughed, and it was the most shockingly endearing sound. It wasn’t a laugh he would hear from others in his company. Their laughs would be all dignified, but yours was genuine. It was also downright terrifying, but he preferred it.

“Now I know you’re a liar. I look absolutely disgusting. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but I haven't showered in a week.”

He pinched his lips, hiding his smile. You looked so uncomfortable admitting that.

“Oh my.” He placed his hand over his mouth as if the fact mortified him.

You pinched your lips.

“Please tell me you have at least brushed your teeth.”

“Today was the first day in just as much time.”

Again he put his hand over his mouth and widened his eyes for emphasis. “Appalling.”

You snorted again, and the delightful laugh came back. This time the laugh looked to encompass your entire being, and you glowed. When your laughter subsided, you dabbed at your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. He held out his handkerchief to you. When you took it, you used it to replace your fingers.

“Thank you.”

When you finished, you inspected the fabric, then looked at him.

“You must like your women disgusting to still be here.”

He shrugged.

“How are you feeling?”

“After that nap, I’m feeling well.”

That made him happy.

“Are you feeling well enough for some dinner?”

“Uh—I was told I’m to stay in bed.”

“Yes, Dr. Alfonsi has informed me and the staff as well. That is why--,” he began before walking across the room to the door.

Once he opened it, the staff rolled in three carts filled with platters, trays, and bowls of plenty. Once the carts were parked, he thanked the staff and let them see themselves out.

“Dinner is served.”

The look on your face said you didn’t know what to say, so he uncovered the treys finding the menu items he’d chosen for the meal.

“I was not sure what you liked, so I had them bring all of it.”

He took up a plate and brought it to you. It took a few moments for you to take it, but you did. That was when he went back for his to sit back on the settee.

“Also, do not feel as if you have to eat ladylike for me,” he began.

You took up your fork and shoved an overflowing fork full of mashed potatoes into your mouth, letting a small glob rest at the side of your mouth.

“What was that, your highness?”

That was all it took for his attraction to turn to yearning.

The two of you ate in silence for the most part. He asked you questions to get to know you better, and every new piece of information he found out only made him like you more and more. When you spoke about your career, he heard the passion in your voice, and it spoke to something in him. It had been a long time since he’d been around anyone who was genuinely passionate about the things they enjoyed. It stirred something in him, something he wasn’t quite ready to uncover.

“I am sorry that I did not tell you once we met who I was.”

You paused with your fork in your mouth.

“It’s okay. To be real, why would you reveal to a stranger your secret identity. That’s like Clark Kent walking around in his incognito glasses with an S on his chest. It defeats the purpose.”

“Clark Kent. Superman.”

“Yes, one of my favorite superheroes.”

A soft smile spread across his face before he nodded.

“What’s yours? Wonder Woman?”

He scoffed, then shook his head as he stood and approached the carts, ready for dessert. It wasn’t the Strawberry Cheesecake he truly desired, but it would have to do. When he returned to his seat, he placed your plate in front of you and sat.

“It’s Wonder Woman, huh, or maybe Poison Ivy, ooh, Catwoman.”

He sat there patiently, letting you list them off. He couldn’t help but wonder why those were chosen.

“Before I answer, can I ask why you chose them?”

He saw the mischievous glint twinkle in your eye as your lips quirked up into a smirk.

“Oh, this, I must hear.”

“No reason. They’re just seen as the most desirable by fanboy standards,” you responded while rolling with your eyes.

He suppressed a chuckle to put a piece of the cheesecake into his mouth.

“So?”

“None of those.”

“Oh, please do enlighten me,” you quipped.

Resting the fork on the side of the dish, he responded. “Nubia and Storm.”

He sat there and thoroughly enjoyed watching the emotions wash over your face. Shock was the first, then disbelief, and finally awe. Now you sat there assessing him as if you thought he was pranking you. He was not. You opened your mouth to say something, and he stopped you before you did.

“I suggest you do not repeat it. I assure you I am not.”

Your eyes darkened right at the moment you sucked your bottom lip back into your mouth. Losing his train of thought and head for control, he put another piece of the cake into his mouth, licking the back of the fork. Your eyes lowered to his mouth and your teeth sunk into that delectable bottom lip. If he were a weaker man, he would have tossed the plate he held to the side and been on you in under five seconds, but he was not a weak man. As future King, weakness had no place in the monarchy.

Weakness was not an option until he saw you put the fork in your mouth to mirror his actions, only your tongue swirled around the teeth of the fork in a way that made his pants instantly too tight. Christ, help him.

He cleared his throat and changed his position on the couch to one that would hide your effect.

“Interesting. I didn’t expect those,” you stuttered.

“What did—what did you expect?”

You shrugged and toyed with the fork against your lips. “Something else, but I’m pleasantly surprised.”

Your eyes met again, and the temptation he felt was somehow more than he’d ever felt. He wanted you. He’d wanted you since you cursed about how disgusting the drink was at the bar. The only thing was, this want had shifted.

“I am happy it is pleasantly.”

Again your eyes lingered, and he wanted nothing more than to give in to the heavy cloud of temptation that filled the room.

“What’re you working on?”

He cleared his throat again and straightened himself. “Uh—a speech. One of my father’s projects premiers in a few days, the first since his um—” he cleared his throat again. “Since his passing, and I am going to be the one to cut the ribbon on it.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Keeping his eyes turned downward, he nodded. The sincerity in your voice touched him. “Thank you.”

The silence between you stretched for a few seconds before you spoke again.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The speech, um—I do not know. It just does not feel right.”

“Want me to take a look?”

“Do you have an aptness for speeches?”

You placed your place to the side and adjusted your posture.

“Not speeches in general. I do have a knack for words. I’ve spent the last few years writing about the places I’ve gone in such a way that makes people want to go there themselves. I might know a little something, something.”

He smiled, put the plate beside him, and leaned forward to hand you his laptop. He watched as you read through the few paragraphs he’d already written and wondered what you thought of it. Every lift of your brow or nibble of your lip had him more and more curious as to the thoughts in your head. After a few minutes, you nodded.

“This isn’t bad. You sound like you’re on a good roll.”

“No critique?”

“How about you leave me with it for a day or two, and I’ll have some notes. Or, you could give it to your royal speechwriter.”

He chuckled. “What makes you think I have one of those?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “Hello, this is a monarchy. I am sure the monarchy employs people to make sure their dear prince is always PC.”

You were right.

“I think I would rather leave it with you,” he replied, making you smile in the process.

“Okay. I’ll knock your socks off then.”

“You already have,” he said, standing to take your plate.

He tried to arrange the empty plates, dishes, and classes on the carts in a way that wouldn’t have them falling once they were moved.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

He turned in time to see you wobbling toward him, clutching the IV pole with one hand and a plate with the other. He saw your knees buckle and wrapped you in his arms, taking you to the bed in the process. With you underneath him, he couldn't deny how right this felt. Your breathing was heavy, your eyes bright and chest heaving. The way you were looking at him made his next move the only possible one.

He brought his lips toward yours but right before he claimed them, he hesitated. The tiny sliver of space between your lips made it easy to feel the literal electricity that sparked between you. He was so close, but so far, and he wanted to get closer. The fact that you didn’t look as if you objected to this made his blood bubble with desire even more than it had hours ago when he first walked in.

“I apologize,” he whispered before he pulled away from you with whatever ounce of strength he had remaining. He stood before you then held his hands out to you.

“Let me help you.”

You placed your hands in his letting him hoist you up. He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you back to the side of the bed you’d been this entire time. When he eased you down, he spread the blanket over you and assured you were comfortable. Being sure to keep his eyes away from yours, he turned to his things and gathered them.

“I will let you get some rest. If Dr. Alfonsi found out I were here preventing that, he would give me a stern talk.”

“Thank you for this,” you said.

He took his laptop from your bed and nodded. “I will email it to you.”

“You have my email?”

“I am head of this country; I have multiple resources at my disposal,” he replied, smirking at you. Your smile said you fully understood his meaning and knew he was teasing. You understood him. Yet another thing to like about you, he thought. He quickly averted his eyes then gave you a slight head bow.

“Good night, Xari.”

“Good night, your highness.”

He walked toward the door and poked his head out to instruct the waiting staff to remove the carts. The walk back to his room was filled with several stops as he thought to go back, but when he realized he couldn’t, he carried on his way. He’d never been filled with so many conflicting wants and thoughts before, and he suspected as the coming weeks stretched, this would be just the tip of the iceberg.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

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#crown for two fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #black fanfiction #royalty au #henry cavill au #christmas fic #cheesy christmas fic

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memes-in-a-half-shell · 3 years ago

Text

Business AU - Working Late, Part 7

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

sdfsfdgdfgf

^^^^^ my actual thoughts after writing this.

There was no denying that he was still thinking about that Saturday night. The feeling had been extraordinary. It’s been some time ever since he felt like this, but there was also something more. And he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

First thing he did on Monday when getting to work was to lock himself in his office, his thoughts empty as he repeatedly drummed a pen against his desk, his gaze hardly focusing on anything. He did call for someone though at some point, taking this waiting time as an opportunity to collect his thoughts into something comprehensible.

Some knocks were heard at the door, a single “yes” escaping Donnie, an approval for the newcomer to come in. Next came into view another turtle adorning a red do-rag, this one much more massive when compared to the bespectacled mutant. It was none other than Raphael, the muscular terrapin a rare sight in the building as he was often more out to meet clients than stuck behind a desk.

“What’s up?” he started, closing the door behind him. “I’m on a tight schedule, so it better be important.”

Raph did frown a little as he noticed his brother’s composure, the purple clad mutant’s eyes speaking volumes.

“I, uhm... I need some advice,” finally said Donnie.

“What kind? A client’s giving you troubles?” added the other, taking a seat.

Donatello tsked, quickly waving that query away: “No, I know how to deal with those. ... It’s more of a personal matter. A... relationship one.”

Raph’s eyes widened a little, then relaxing his stance with an amused smirk.

“Well, well, well... back in business, I see? I thought that receptionist situation would keep you out of the market for quite some time.”

“Oh please, that girl was crazy. I’m just glad she moved out of the city. ... It’s been more than a year, I’ve moved on.”

“What’s the matter then?” added the red clad terrapin. “You forgot how to socialize or somethin’?”

Donnie quietly chuckled, leaning back in his chair, then thoughtful.

“Oh no, I’ve been socializing, alright... I just don’t want to fuck it up, you know? Things have been going so well now and on this last Saturday we took it a lil’ further-”

“How much further?”

“We kissed.”

“Bro, that’s nothin’.”

Tension was broken for a moment, both brothers snickering. That did help Donnie and calmed his thoughts a little.

“Who is it though?” next asked Raphael. “Someone working here or... ?”

“She’s a project manager for our creative team. She got here from Montréal a couple months back and we met one night by pure coincidence as we were both working late. Her name’s Véronique, but I call her Vee.”

“Oohh, already on a nickname basis, now that’s a feat,” teased the other.

“Please, she asked me to call her like that on the first night we met.”

“Ay, you know I’m just pokin’ some fun at you. ... What’s the matter, then? Why aren’t you talking about that to Leo or Mikey?”

“Because,” started Donnie. “Leo would try to dissuade me into pursuing this relationship, and Mikey well ... you know him. He’d say: ‘Invite her to my place and have her swim in the pool. Girls love pools!’,” mimicked the purple clad mutant. “... You know he’d only want that so he can have a look at her as well. I ain’t having none of that shit.”

Raph laughed once again, acknowledging those statements.

“And, to be frank,” added the bespectacled one. “I value your judgement. You get straight to the point and that’s what I need right now.” He leaned foward a little on his desk, hands joined. “So my concern is; what should I do next? We have interest for one another - we openly expressed as much. We obviously have a good chemistry together... but how do I know she’s the one? ... She feels different from anything, anyone, I’ve ever been with before, may it be in terms of relationships or not.”

“Easy,” shrugged Raph. “Have sex with her.”

“Raph!”

“I’m serious! ... You wanna know if she’s the one? Show yourself vulnerable before her. If there’s something more between you two, it’ll click.”

Donnie sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing them in slight annoyance.

“Okay so what, I just have to sleep with her, no strings attached? I hope you’re not suggesting for me to force myself upon her.”

“Hell no, stupid. I said be vulnerable, not a psycho,” frowned the red clad mutant. “Look ... you wanted my opinion, there it is. I believe in deep connections, and if right now you’re already feeling something special between you two, I don’t see what’s bad about wanting to explore that and see if there’s truly something more. ... Also, people can fuck for the fun of it, I hope you know that?”

Donnie exhaled sharply, half of a smile next on his lips: “I suddenly regret asking for your opinion, but I do see your point.”

“I’m sure you can be a gentleman about all of that.”

“My brain turns to goo whenever I’m with her. I try not to show it, but damn... I don’t think she’d get to that point though, I don’t know...”

“As long as it naturally gets there, that’s what matters. ... Those things are felt, Donnie. I’m not saying to rush it, but rather to not be scared.”

The purple clad one conceeded, lowkey admiring his brother’s wisdom about the matter. He finally rose from his seat, inviting Raph to do the same.

“Alright, I won’t take more of your time. You’ve given me enough food for thought.”

“‘Bout time, I have to go Uptown, I’ll be late ‘cause of you,” Raph teased, playfully nudging his brother’s shoulder along the way.

“Har, har, very funny,” added the other, opening the door so both could exit the room.

As they were about to say their goodbyes, a voice rose, followed by the light clicking sound of hurried heels against the floor.

“Donnie, good timing!”

Both turtles turned their attention to a woman coming their way; Vee. She was holding a pile of documents, already taking some apart and then handing them to the tall terrapin when she was next to him.

“I’ll need you to sign some of these before Wednesday. Some designs for an upcoming project need an approval and I thought you’d be the best for that task. And I- ...” She stopped, finally noticing the other mutant. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Absolutely not,” smiled Donnie, properly holding the documents now. “We had just finished our small meeting, actually.” He gestured the woman to his brother: “Raph, this is Vee, our newest project manager addition.”

The red clad turtle grinned, extending his hand to the human in a proper greeting.

“Ah yes, Donnie mentionned you a couple of times.”

“Oh dear, I hope it wasn’t in a bad way,” lightly laughed Vee, shaking Raph’s hand.

“I would never,” reassured Donnie gently, his free hand instinctively resting at the small of her back.

A faint blush appeared on the woman’s cheeks, next adjusting her hold on the documents as her handshake with Raph ended.

“Not to be a party pooper, but I’ve gotta run,” she said with a smile. “I have a lot of stuff to hand out. Have a good day you two!”

She made sure to cross Donnie’s gaze before walking away, wanting to express her small longing to him. As she was back on her way, Raph did not hesitate to follow her frame, judging her for a moment. He finally looked back at Donnie with a look of approval.

“... Brother, you got taste.”

Donnie only replied by hiding his face with the documents he was holding.

***

Raph had said to not be scared, but Donnie couldn’t help still feeling that way. A part of him wanted to spend every moments with Vee, but on the other hand he didn’t want to appear too clingy or demanding. Gotta savor it like a fine wine, he’d try to reason. ... But frankly he just wanted to chug the damn bottle.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and so far he had only exchanged some words with her on Monday, then Wedneseday when he handed her back the approved documents he reviewed. Then he’d retreat to his office and think. And think. And think.

A ping from his computer got him out of his reverie, noticing a direct message notification.

His heart skipped a beat, his lips forming a thin line as he thought about what to answer.

Hey, wanna bang? Gosh, he felt dirty thinking about that... Keep it natural, Donnie, you don’t have to think about that for now. See where things go from there, naturally.

ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION. ABORT!!!! He felt so goddamn cheesy after sending that.

If it were up to him 100%, he’d get on his feet right this instant and sweep her off to anywhere she’d want to go. But he tried to keep it cool:

You’re the best one so far...

More like I’ll be lying down on the floor, a blushing mess. He couldn’t erase his smile, rereading again and again this conversation. He’d definitely have to think of something!

***

Later in the afternoon, as people were finishing their day, Donnie had reclused himself back into his drawing room, continuing some work on the Lowline plans. He was so focused that he did not hear Vee come in, the woman calmly making her way to his position.

“Hey...” she started softly, leaving a hand on his shoulder.

Donnie gasped, his hand holding a pencil jerking and leaving a long mark on the paper. Both froze, eyes wide as they witnessed the horror.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you that much!” apologized Vee, already on the look out for an eraser. “Here, let me help you with that.”

“No it’s alright. I, uh...”

Donnie’s sentence died as the woman was now hunched close to him, already removing traces of that nasty mistake.

“I could’ve done it. I...”

His voice was hushed, having a hard time to keep focus on Vee’s movement, prefering to look at her features instead.

“I ... I could do it,” he added.

Vee slowed her movement, finally looking at Donnie.

“Do what?”

He paused, his heart drumming in his chest.

“This...”

He delicately placed a finger under Vee’s chin, not even needing to move much in order to bring them both closer for a soft kiss. The woman was surprised at first, but she quickly melted, not even denying that she had been craving the feeling as well since that Saturday night... She dropped the eraser, her hands prefering to trail along the mutant’s scales. As they broke the kiss to breathe, Donnie brought her closer to his sitting position, Vee now standing inbetween his legs. No words needed to be said, this sudden electrifying feeling passing through them. The terrapin’s hands couldn’t get off of her, either lost in her hair or tracing her back. The more they joined in a kiss, the more they wanted to be closer. At some point the turtle acted on instinct as he rose up, his hold on the woman’s hips as he laid her against the inclined drafting board. The paper crinkled underneath, but he gave no care in the world about that. Their kiss was heating up, a low pleasured churr rumbling in Donnie’s chest as he stood close to Vee’s core, feeling her desire as strong as his.

The distant sound of people talking and laughing, still around and about to exit the building, brought them both to a stop - looking at the room’s entrance, as if afraid someone would pop in at any second.

Both were lightly panting, their smiles shy after what happened. Donnie took that moment of grace to study Vee’s features, gently brushing away some wild strands of hair off her face. He straightened his stance back up afterward, helping the woman back on her feet.

“Welp, and here I came only to wish you a good evening,” chuckled Vee, adjusting her clothes.

“I’m sorry,” added the mutant in a similar tone.

“Don’t be ... I liked that.”

She rested her hands on his chest, slowly rubbing the fabric of his shirt over his plastron.

“I can’t stay late tonight, but I won’t prevent you from doing so. ... Just don’t stay here too late though.”

“No promises.”

“Please, don’t overwork yourself,” softly pleaded Vee.

“Don’t worry...” he reassured with a smile, a hand cupping the other’s cheek.

They added one good evening kiss. Nothing more, nothing less. A pleasant omen for feelings to come...

((Part 8))

#it's-a-moi #business au #dammmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnnn #usual sorry if there's mistakes #I need to go to bed right now #BUT I COULDN'T STOP WRITING FSDJFHBSDBFBSDHFBSD

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tokoyamisstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Betrothed - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 3: Blood

Summary: While treating Illumi’s wounds, you learn something about his past.

Warnings: Well...blood. Mentions of past abuse. Choking.

Words: ~1800

Story Masterlist

“You could at least try to relax when you’re at home, Lumi.”

As usual, every muscle on Illumi’s body was tensed as he shifted around on the small wooden chair, his upper half completely bare.

Running your hands over his delicate skin, you couldn’t help but humming happily while opening the first-aid-kit.

Lumi.

That nickname wasn’t really creative, you had to admit. Yet there were still many thoughts connected to it.

How it sounded a lot like ‘Luna’, for example - the latin word for ‘moon’. Illumi pretty much had a moon face anyway.

A wet and warm feeling on your fingertips got you down to earth again - it was your husbands blood, steadily running down his whole back. Quickly, you got a gauze pad to absorb it and started working.

Had it come to you fancying him that much that you already lost yourself in daydreams?

The deep cut on his shoulder would most likely leave a scar, no matter how well you’d treat it. Yet what bothered you more was the fact that he had acutally tried to hold the gap together with his way too big needles.

“Sorry...” you whispered as you tugged them out of his flesh, but he wouldn’t even flinch.

He insisted it was fine, and you knew that he was used to the pain. But he could still feel it, even if his face remained as cold and calm as always.

God knows what’s going on in his head...your husband was very hard to read, actually.

But you knew he wasn’t just a puppet for his family. Illumi had some thoughts of his own, and you burned to get through to him.

The flesh wound was still bleeding, and since it hadn’t been properly closed in hours, you needed to clean it first. “I’m so sorry” you repeated, pouring some disinfectant into the cut.

“Stop apologizing.” The way he emphasized the words made him almost sound irritated.

“B-But I-”

“You’re assisting me as I demanded, so there’s no rational reason for you to say something like that.” It were moments like this that made you think Illumi actually tried to calm you down - the best he knew how. Through choosing his words wisely.

After the bleeding stopped, you began stitching up the wound while your husband was still sitting as if frozen in place.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel more pain than necessary...” He was used to way worse. You were well aware of that fact, and yet-

“Y/N.” Hearing your name escaping his lips, you immediately got attentive. “Is that the reason you’re holding back while sparring with me?”

For a long while, the room fell completely silent.

Because both of you knew he was right.

“I see.” Before you could even think of an answer, Illumi jumped up from his chair, running his hand over your handiwork. “Thanks for the bandage.”

Oh god, he was preparing to leave again. Maybe forever this time.

Soon, he’ll tell his parents you were unfit for an assassin’s spouse - too soft and weak.

Death was a bearable punishment for your shortcomings, but simply being thrown out like a toy one has grown tired of?

How pathetic, being afraid of conseqences you now only imagined. Knowing very well that empathy was considered futile in this environment.

And yet you were shocked it came that way, only because of you speaking your mind.

“Illumi, wai-”

He cut you off right there, turning around with his hand reaching for your neck.

Illumi’s aura had always been intense, laced with a bloodlust that seemed like it was imprinted on him at his very birth.

You’ll never get used to seeing him like this.

“Are you scared?” he asked just before his fingers wrapped around your throat, repeating the question at your lack of reaction. “Are you afraid of me?”

Slowly but increasingly, the pressure on your neck began to become discomforting, making you wince a little.

Yet your look wouldn’t falter, rather decided taking on a staring contest with him.

“I’m afraid of you leaving me.”

Just like that, he retracted his hand.

The look in your eye gave it away. Every word, every syllable you spoke was true.

Even Illumi could tell just how much genuine affection they held - and he wasn’t immune to it either.

You cleared your throat and he only now realized just how much force he had used on you. Yet instead of apologizing as would be appropriate, he decided on continuing his interrogation.

“Why?” Illumi croaked, sounding a little bit broken. Hewasn’t able to speak any more, still baffled at your statement.

To ever think you could caught him off guard with such a simple sentence - but even through his poker face, you could feel his mind racing.

You sighed quietly, nervously tapping with your foot. “Do I really need to repeat that? It’s embarassing...”

No answer. Instead he stared you down even more intense.

“I like you, Lumi. This is my home, and I feel happy when I’m with you. Simple as that.”

Finally, he gave in to his exhaustion and took a seat on the sofa, with you following him closely after.

No matter what might follow, right now he needed some time. That much was obviously. So you just try to share your calming aura in silence.

You knew that puzzled expression way too well.

He’d put it on whenever something went past his comprehension, like when you once asked him about thinks he enjoyed or his dreams for the future.

“You look so sad...” you had once commented at an old photo of his. If you had to guess, he was about 4 years old at the time it was taken.

“Dunno” he tried to avoid further conversation back then, “Can’t remember.”

Just how often did you want to tell him that it was wrong? That his parents - no, his whole family - was full of sociopaths, and that they had stained his innocence through their wrongdoings and overeagerness?

And yet you had always kept quiet in the end.

Because you knew what it meant to him. The last bit of his sanity would probably break down if he knew all of the pain he had endured was wrong and abnormal.

Yes, their bonds were sure strange ones: They manipulated and harmed each other, all for the sake of the greater goal and the continuation of their bloodline.

That was probably how criminals beyond redemption desperately try to cling to their last bit of humanity - through the only people they can trust and be close to: Other murderers.

But at least you wanted to make him learn how to feele truly loved: For what he really was, and not only his obedience or achievements.

Right now, however, his elbows were resting on his knees, he was bent over and holding his chin with his hands. That position made it even harder for you to read him.

“I trust you with my life” you said without the slightest hint of hesitation in your voice. “It belongs to you ever since the day we married.”

Illumi cocked his head upwards, empty orbs staring holes into you.

“They think I’m a monster.”

Huh?

Usually, Illumi isn’t really a man of many words. That fact should change tonight.

“I heared them talk” he began explaining as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “About regretting training me so harshly. I was their first child, more like an experiment at how to raise an even more powerful assassin.”

You nodded in silence, trying to signalize him that you were listening - and that you cared.

So he kept on. “I’m the reason my brothers were allowed more freedom. Having the right to feel and think on their own. And now Killua has left us. If I hadn’t been a failure, they would’ve trained him stricter.”

He blamed himself, thinking he was responsible for being a failed experiment.

Dear god.

“Mother said she’s afraid of me. I was 10. Everyone else at the family at least bear certain, acceptable emotions. She said I’m dead on the inside and it freaked her out.”

Every single word of him shot needles into your heart, tears already filling the rim of your eyes. You grabbed the fabric tight, trying to hold yourself together for your sake.

“Illumi...”

You knew from the very second that many things were haunting that poor man’s conscience - but what he had just confided was just hard to bear.

In an attempt to comfort him, you instinctively shuffled closer until there was no gap between the two of you. It was an awkward closeness, but soothing nonetheless.

“It’s okay” he spoke in a tone that was unfamiliar soft for his standarts. “I understand how you all feel. I may not be able to emphasize with any feelings, but I can intelectually comprehend them.”

“Now cut it out!” This time it was you disrupting him, through a soft poke on his already injured shoulder.

"That’s bullshit and you know it. No person is absent of all emotions. You just shoved them into the back of your head and tried to surpress them. With your kind of childhood that was probably the only way to survive without completely losing it.”

His eyes shifted between your face and the place where your shoulders would touch, soaking every word like a dry sponge.

“And you do care about your family, right?” Well, how couldn’t he? It was the only way of mimicking normalcy he could pretend to have. “You’d do anything to keep them safe.”

“I just don’t get it” he murmured as you softly caressed his hand. “My allies are usually also mass murderers and psychopaths. But you are almost perfectly normal.”

Normal? You were an assassin too, goddamn it!

“Most would describe you as a very kind and sympathetic person. You should despise or at least fear me. They all do.”

“Not everything has to be logical, Lumi. I don’t think it makes sense either, but I also doubt that you’re a bad person. You’re much more of a victim.”

“Is that so...” That question sounded more like he was highly doubting it.

Just now you were realizing how slumped he was leaning back on the couch. That whole conversation had probably drained his energy reserves more than any mission ever could.

“Rest now, dear.” Carefully, without alerting him, you wrapped your arm around Illumi’s head and gently led him to your lap. “We can talk later.”

Much to your surprise, your husband would slowly close his eyes, swiftly drifting into sleep at hearing the steady beating of your heart.

“I’m sorry for frightening you, Y/N” he whispered those last words barely audible, fingers squeezing the flesh of your thigh ever so slightly.

“You didn’t. You never do.”

___

If you want to get on the taglist or get removed from feel free to ask! ♡

@roseburry-jam @food-cures-all @oprah-winfriess @ullinic @sun-and-moon-elfingsmeme @chocolateislovr @sapphic-ghoul @coco724 @jessiejunebug @yukiwins @weflyinfluff @readlatersnowy @gibk @spasmodicterror @djgirl66 @pweeenis @trblsicheng @theromaniangirl @cluelessmxnd @s1sterofthemoon @spasmodicterror @note-reblog @tamxixxx @orophaea @frankenduffy @cinnamon-beans @8-ash @cherryyongs @destructive-memories @patheticgay69 @sappyisyourpappy @sadferalgremlin @selca11 @itsfakearies @djgirl66 @rizawantspizza @g-creevan913 @oprah-winfriess @actressania @rolo-at-midnight @slutforpapawise

Feedback is always appreciated!

#Illumi Zoldyck #HxH #Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #Illumi x Reader #Arranged Marriage AU #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert

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sybilmarlowe · 4 years ago

Note

Ooh!! A modern headcanon of DoffyxViola in Miami! They're married! Oh and Law stays with them while his god-father Rosci is in the Navy for long months! Have fun with this!

For this HC I’m gonna modify Law’s age a bit, since in the comics he’s just 3 years younger than Viola and it wouldn’t be fun XP so everybody has the same age as in the series except for him who’s 10 yo.

I also ended up modifying a bit your request (the story takes place in a week and not in months) because I came up with a nice idea and it worked better like this... hope you don’t mind!

- being the head of a huge company in New York (don't ask me why is it so canon he'd be a manager if he lived in our world XD) may be very stressful and, after a whole month spent working almost without a break, Doflamingo decided to finally take some time for himself... and his wife.

- He’d been married to Viola for 4 months now, but, shortly after their honeymoon, business had increased and it’d become harder and harder for him to spend time with her.

- She was a very sweet and comprehensive person, but Doffy felt guilty anyways, she deserved much more!

- That night he went back home with a huge bunch of roses for his wife and a bottle of the finest wine

- “Violet, we have to celebrate!” “What is it, Doffy? Was your business particularly good today?” “Yes, but... what I want to celebrate tonight is the beginning of a very special week. A whole week for just you and me”

- Of course, even the “celebration for the beginning” was quite fun itself, but it was nothing compared to what Doffy had planned for his wife for the following 7 days... - The morning after they were already on a plane to Miami: Doffy had a beautiful attic there, right above the sea, with a stunning view... the perfect place to spend some time with Viola.

- Some very special time just for the two of them, finally, far away from New York, from work and from any kind of bothering...

- ...or maybe not.

- They were just entered the appartment, Doffy holding Viola bridal style (he loves to be theatrical, that's a matter of fact), when his phone suddenly started ringing.

-“I have no intention to answer, it must be someone from the company who forgot about my directives...”

“I don't think so, my love, that's your personal phone. Answer it, it can be something important”

- Seeing the name on the screen almost made him swear.

- “Rocinante! What is it!? Didn't I tell you I was going to finally spend some time with my wife this week?! I really hope you...”

“You're in Miami, right?”

“Yes, but...”

“Great! My flight is making a stopover there in 15 minutes, I have to move abroad for 6 days for a meeting with the Navy Admirals and I couldn't find anyone to look after Law!”

“You're not listening, are you!? I told you I'm in Miami because...”

“Law is here with me, I've already called a taxi which'll drive him to your house. You're staying in the attic, I guess... Have you other properties there?”

“Rocinante! I told you...!”

“Thank you, bro! I owe you a favour!”

“Rocinante! You...! I can't believe, he just hang up on me!”

- Doffy had never been so angry in a while, but Viola was giggling “Come on, your brother's stepchild is a good boy, it won't be so bad to have him around!”

- Not even half an hour later, Law arrived the attic accompanied by one of the building's doormen. He had nothing else with him than a backpack and a portable console.

- “Alright, kid, your room is on the second floor”

“Can I play on the couch over there?”

“Of course you ca...”

“You can, dear!” Viola talked over her husband “You're with family here, do as if you were home!”

- That was just the beginning of the end. Law was indeed a good kid but he was... a kid! He spent hours playing videogames in the living room (which, of course, was the best room of the attic) and running around pretending to be his favourite hero, Sora. He also read comics while walking sometimes and once he almost broke an expensive flamingo sculpture!

- Ok, Viola actually hoped for the sculpture to be broken, but Doflamingo was faster in catching it...

- No dinners for two, of course, Law felt lonley eating alone in his room as “uncle Doffy” suggested (and Viola would have never allowed it)

- As any 10-years-old child, Law woke up early every morning and asked to go to the beach, but eventually he always stayed under the beach umbrella reading his comics and lamenting it was too hot.

- At night... well, he played his videogames or watched tv without minding his step-uncles' room was just next to his. And at the same time Viola and Doffy weren't actually allowed to do whatever they wanted for the same reason.......

- But the bottom was touched one evening when Doffy finally managed to be alone with his wife at the poolside on the terrace. Law hadn't been around for the whole afternoon, so he thought he had decided to stay away in his room for once.

- It goes without saying, he was wrong.

- All of a sudden, Law run into the terrace and... he slipped.

- He fell violently in Doffy's lap, causing his chair to broke and his drink to... fall all over a very perplexed Viola.

- “Look what you've done!”

“I didn't do it on purpose, it was an accident!”

“Go to your room! Now!”

“Ehi! You can't say me wat to do, old man!”

- That was enough.

- Doffy now looked totally calm and incredibly scary “If you don't get out of my sight immediately, I'll make both you and that idiot brother of mine regret having brought you here”

- Law widened his eyes in terror, he hesitated a couple of seconds and then run away. He was crying.

- “I... I'm sorry, Viola, are you alright? If only that kid hadn't... ”

“Doffy, don't you think you just overdid a bit with him?”

“What!? Did you hear him? I can't stand that arrogant spoiled child anymore!”

“Spoiled and arrogant child? He reminds me so much of someone else... He just wants to catch your attention! After all he lost his parents not so long ago... he needs a family”

“I really don't know how a woman like you could have chosen a man like me, really... you're even too gentle!”

“But I'm right. Now go talk to him, he looks up at you if you haven't noticed! Be a good uncle for once!”

- He followed Viola's advice, he reached Law in his room and talked to him as a real uncle should. It was strange at the beginning, but somehow it worked.

-“I didn't mean to bother you and aunt Viola... I promise I'll lower my videogame's volume and be careful not to bump into your sculptures anymore... even if they're horrible.”

- For the first time, Doffy simply laughed.

- The following three days were good. Yes, that week hadn't surely been as Doffy had planned, he barely managed to stay alone with his wife... but being uncles was not so bad!

- “Let me just ask you a ting, kid... why do you always ask us to bring you to the beach if you don't even approach water? Couldn't be you can't swim!”

“Honestly, uncle... I don't...”

“Well... neither do I!”

- Rocinante reached them on the 6th day to bring Law back home with him. When he asked if he had acted well, both Viola and Doffy answered he was a very good child. Viola also added he had to be proud of such a good son and Rocinante struggled not to cry.

- They stayed for dinner and left that very evening.

- “Remember, brother, I owe you a favour!”

“Oh, you can bet I will!”

- And, in the end, husband and wife were finally, truly alone.

- “We still have this night and a whole day for us, Doffy, aren't you happy?”

“I'd have prefered this all to be very different, but...”

“You seemed to have fun with Law in the end, uh?”

“I can't say the contrary... he's a smart kid, after all. But I really hope it'll be a while before we'll have to look after children again!”

“Mmh... eight months is enough?”

“Eight months... WHAT?!”

“You get it well, love. I'm pregnant!”

(Sorry for the long wait, dear, I had a to work a lot lately xAx but I managed to write this in the end! Hope you like it!)

#One Piece headcanons #doflamingo x viola #viola one piece #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #law #trafalgar law #donquixote rocinante #corazon

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cruelfeline · 5 years ago

Text

The Hordak Bleatings Masterpost

The new and improved Masterpost! All of my ridiculous bleating in one place! Now with categories to allow you, dear friends and neighbors, to better marvel at the utter nonsense I get up to in my spare time. It shall be updated every so often/when I remember.

some of these categories may overlap or perhaps not be perfect; I tried; there was... a lot

Enjoy!

Biological/Medical Musings

A Fairly Comprehensive List of Hordak’s Clinical Signs

I Wrote Too Much About Hordak’s Arms

And Then Someone Asked About His Elbows So Voila

Someone Else Asked About His Eyes

Yes; I Did Measure Hordak’s Ears via Fuzzy Math; You’re Welcome

A Brief Word About Dentition

Some Sad Thoughts About Clone Lifespan

I Like to Headcanon that Clones Have Naturally Different Eye Colors

Counting Hordak’s Ports

Thinking About Terrible Ways Prime Could Institute Biological Control

Doing Very Fuzzy Math And Wondering Just How Young Hordak Could Be

Spending Way Too Much Time Figuring Out Whether Hordak is Left or Right Handed

Why Tiny Food is Probably Ideal for Hordak (a joke ask I essentially took Seriously)

Discussing Hordak’s Temper

Considering Whether Hordak Needs Oxygen

Discussing Whether Prime and his Clones are Genetically Identical

Hordak in Relation to Other Characters

Entrapdak

Hordak Can Get Close to Entrapta Because He Needn’t Fear Her

Discussing Entrapdak Age Discourse

Bit More Regarding Hordak’s Maturity vs. Entrapta’s

Hordak Didn’t Manipulate Entrapta… But Catra Did

Assessing that Unfortunate Moment When Hordak Snapped at Entrapta

Further Assessing Hordak Snapping at Entrapta by Noting When He Doesn’t

On Hordak’s Wardrobe Change

Entrapta Shushing Hordak is One of My Favorite Interactions

The Entrapdak Scene Was Also One of Self-Love

I Really Like How Entrapta Talks to Hordak About Failure

Hordak Tells an Actual Lie and Succeeds

Entrapta’s and Hordak’s Social Differences Help Them Connect to One Another

I Would Have Appreciated A Scene Where Entrapta Learns About What Happened To Hordak

Hordak Takes Strength From Realizing That Entrapta Came For Him

Hordak and Entrapta Just Like One Another, and I Enjoy That

There is a Huge Difference in How The Alliance and Hordak React to Entrapta Being on Beast Island, and it’s Jarring

This is Mostly About Catradora But Kind of in the Sense of Why Entrapdak is Better, so Here it Goes

Entrapta Didn’t Teach Hordak How to Love; She Taught Him How to Be Loved

The Soup Scene is a Condensed View of Why Entrapdak Works in Light of the Rest of Hordak’s Arc

Hordak and Entrapta Search for One Another Alone, and it Makes Me Sad

I Love How Hordak Scooches Over for Entrapta to Join Him on his Throne

Catra

The How-Catra-Manipulated-Hordak Masterpost

Watching Catra and Hordak Switch Roles in Season Three is Fascinating

Hordak and Catra’s Low Points Indicate Their Core Problems

Did Hordak Abuse Catra? Did She Abuse Him? The World May Never Know

Comparing Hordak and Catra in Terms of Consequences and Agency

Hordak and Catra’s Apparent Ages Likely Affect How People Judge Them

Why Doesn’t Hordak Subdue Catra?

Losing and Regaining the Will to Fight is Another Hordak/Catra Parallel

Sometimes I Wish The Show Would Focus Less on Catra and More on Hordak

Why Catra Besting Hordak Isn’t As Satisfying As Catra Besting Shadow Weaver

Hordak Exhibits Some Level of Trust in Catra Even in Season 2... and She Betrays It

The Difference in How Hordak and Catra Handle Relationships followed by Why They Are Like This

Some Brief Words on the Differences Between How Hordak and Catra End Up Driven to Destruction in Season Four

Musing About What I Actually Would Accept as “Hordak Abusing Catra”

I Think It’s Kind of Funny that Some Expect Catra to be Suspicious of Hordak Post-Canon

Two Scenes That Look Distressing Side-by-Side

Discussing How Catra and Hordak Start Off as Parallels but Later Deviate Due to Character Differences

Adora

How Adora and Hordak End Season Four Differently

Hordak and Adora Parallels

I Wonder if Adora Recognizes Some of Herself in Hordak

Other

This is Actually About Shadow Weaver, but Compared to Hordak, So…

Hordak Doesn’t Seem to have a “Rule the World!” Moment (compared to Shadow Weaver)

On Hordak’s Weird Interactions with DT

Watching DT Circle Hordak is Interesting

Let’s Compare the Circling Scenes, Shall We?

What Wrong Hordak’s Arc Teaches Us About Clones and Hordak

Wondering if Hordak Actually has Control Over the Etherian Horde (could he have stopped the war?)

Prime

There Is A Huge Difference In The Standards Prime And Hordak Hold Others Two Versus Themselves

Hordak and Horde Prime Handle Their Own Vulnerabilities Quite Differently

The Difference Between How Prime and Hordak Use Anger

The Moment Prime Touched Hordak’s Face is the Moment I Truly Knew That Something About Hordak’s Backstory was Very Wrong

Clone/Origin/Prime-Related Sadness

The Clone Thing

More Distressed Bleating about The Clone Thing

Hordak’s DMV Photo Disturbs Me

Hordak Isn’t Actually an Idiot About Disease Transmission

On Hordak’s Bodily Autonomy, or Lack Thereof

How Much of Hordak is “Hordak?”

I’m 99% Certain That Hordak Sucks at Lying Because he Literally Couldn’t

You’d Think Hordak would Think Things Through, But…

Hordak isn’t Really Proud of “Hordak” (with a bonus Adora mention)

Hordak Provides Excellent Fridge Horror

Hordak’s Behavioral Pathology Isn’t Actually Pathology

So! That Purification Ritual was Really Something

Despite Erasure, Hordak Remains Himself

The Clones Are Essentially Trapped By Prime And It Upsets Me

I Get Annoyed That The Clones Aren’t Discussed More By Our Heroes

Again, I Wish The Show Acknowledged The Clones A Bit More, Wrongie Edition

Wouldn’t It Be Swell If Prime Really Did Manage The Clones Like Livestock?

It’s More Emotionally Poignant That The Clones Are Individuals Rather Than Drones

Prime’s Doctrine Ensures Hordak Blames Himself, and it’s an Awful Control Measure

Hordak Probably Isn’t Dumb for Using Uninsulated Cables; Rather, Clone Sadness is in Play

Why I Can’t See Hordak and the Other Clones As Colonizers (unlike Prime) (also a whole convo thread)

Thinking About Clones and Self-Care

Each Clone Will Have to Realize That They Were Victimized

Wondering if Horde Clones Might Feel Anxious Sleeping Alone

Why Prime Might Encourage Some Autonomy in His Clones (spoilers: for cruelty)

Completely Arbitrary Classification of Clones Post-Prime!

Prime is an Actual God to the Clones and it is Terrifying

Canon Plausibility of Blanket Burritoing Horde Clones!

I Appreciate That, Despite Their Devotion, the Clones are Portrayed as Legitimately Suffering due to Prime

Catra and Adora have Happy Memories; do the Clones?; does Hordak?

Morality/Punishment/Redemption Related

Morality is (sadly) not a Universal Thing

Don’t Talk to me About the Reset as “Proper Punishment”

Why Hordak Doesn’t Just Become a Good Citizen

I Think About Hordak’s Choices a Lot

Hordak as an Abuse Mimic Rather Than Pure Evil

Looking at the Horde Child Soldier Thing From a Certain POV

Emotional Support is a Necessary Part of Healing

Hordak Was Forgiven Without Redemption, And I’m OK With That

Hordak’s Arc Speaks Directly to People who were “Raised Wrong”

I Wonder if Hordak Would See anti-Princess Propaganda as Propaganda

Semi-Intelligent Plot/Story Observations

Hordak’s Portrayal is a Function of Character Lens

Hordak Gets Very Legit Development in Season Four

She-Ra Isn’t a War Drama and Here’s Why

Hordak Suffers From a Distressing Lack of Agency

Hordak is a Weirdly Unenthusiastic Lord

The Season 4 Finale Reframes Hordak’s Vulnerability

Untangling Hordak’s Backstory in Light of What We Now Know

Why Hordak Getting Possessed is Narratively Good

Hordak’s Rebellion and Subsequent Possession Essentially Summarize His Story

There Are Big Differences Between Hordak and Prime’s Etherian Wars

It Is Pretty Unlikely That Hordak Would Have Pulled The Portal Lever

It Occurred To Me That Hordak May Initially Ignore FO’s Tech Because It’s Just Really Old

An Assessment Of The Villain Intro Cards, Focusing On Hordak

I Think It’s Silly To Blame Hordak For Everything - Especially When Considering Prime

Literally Just a Thread Explaining Why Hordak is Sympathetic

Some Words On Exactly How Terrible DT’s Reveal Was For Hordak

The Escalation of Hordak’s Situation is Really Something

An Anon Asks a Normal Question and I go on a Tangent About Hordak Compensating for his Inability to Innovate via Entrapta and Catra

There are Monumental Differences Between the Galactic and Etherian Hordes in Terms of Brainwashing and Agency

Thinking About Why Chipped Etherians May Not be That Sympathetic To Clones After All

Random Bit of Logicking About Why Hordak Calls the Princesses a Rebellion

Figuring Out Why I Find Hordak So Much More Sympathetic Than The Princesses

Brief Musing on How Hordak Might Face Antagonism From Both Sides Post-Canon

Hordak’s Story Touches on the Concept of the Imperfection of Authority

Someone Asked Me if I Found Hordak’s S5 Arc Satisfying

Discussing Whether Or Not Hordak Planned on Leading Anything After Conquering Etheria

Taking Apart an Abysmal Twitter Take Because It’s Fun

Talking About Prime’s Clone Troops v. Robot Troops

Talking About Hordak’s Emotional Age

Hordak’s S3 Backtory Being Part-Delusion Helps Emphasize the Inequality in Attachment Between the Clones and Prime

A Few Not-So-Nice Acts Hordak Commits That I Find Justifiable

Random Headcanons of All Sorts

Stupidly Cute, Pointless Headcanon #3825 (ears covered)

Stupid Pointlessly Cute Headcanon #4853 (yawning, with appropriate artwork)

Stupid Pointlessly Cute Headcanon #2938 (snoring)

Stupid Pointlessly Cute Headcanon #1423 (REM sleep)

Stupidly Cute, Pointless Headcanon #7845 (blushing)

Random Hordak-Related Thought #2935 (forearms)

I Like to Think That Hordak Does Cute Things in his Sleep

I Like to Think That Hordak’s Eyes Dim While He Sleeps

Literally Me Just Having Emotions

Thinking About the Stress of Maintaining His Image in the Horde

Why Hordak’s Trauma is Particularly Disturbing To Me (compared to Catra/Adora)

Catra Overcomes her Fear of her Abuser; Hordak Does Not

All of my Emotions over the S4 Finale

Hordak’s Goddamned Smirk Lied to Me

I Have Feelings about Hordak’s Enforced Self-Care

I Need Hordak to Know that He is Loved

Hordak Goes Pew Pew and It’s Cute

Watching Hordak Lift Things Makes Me Smile

Hordak’s Unreasonable Expectations Make Me Sad

Please Just Let Hordak Rest

A Sassy Post About People Complaining the Hordak and Catra are Forgiven

All My Words About That Hordak/Adora Scene

Hordak Taps the Asphyxiation Lever With Two Fingers And It Makes Me Happy

I Wonder If Individuality Felt Blasphemous To Hordak

Please Don’t Stab Clones In Their Ports, Thank You

Hordak Clasps His Hands And It Makes Me Anxious

Hordak Shaming Catra Mimics the Purification Room And It’s Disturbing

Watching Hordak Give Up Is Heartbreaking

I Worry About Hordak Handling Anxiety

People Being Considerate of Hordak Makes My Heart Smile

I Wonder If Magic Was Frightening to Hordak at First

Thinking About Hordak Progressing in Terms of Self-Care

Prime Never Calls Hordak by Name, not Even Once

Just Being Sad While Realizing the Sort of Life Hordak had to Look Forward To

Strange Fic-Like Things No One Should Read

Please Consider: A Concept Masterpost

Hordak Practices Eyerolling

Imp Hacks Up The Worst Color of Hairball

#hordak #masterpost #entrapdak #this post fills me with an exquisite mix of pride and abject horror

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mortuarybees · 5 years ago

Photo

Exclusively For People Made Feral By “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

The kind of fanfiction I enjoy is the kind which requires me to take a decompression breather every paragraph or so because I’m repressed and tenderness is physically painful. i want there to be yearning and pining and brooding and ultimately, intimacy: fics which embody the mortifying ordeal of being known, as well as the reward of being loved in the end. So here are the fics I’ve read that satisfy this requirement, or in some cases are just extremely tender, in no particular order, with a quote that made me absolutely wild, as well as a few things that aren’t fic

another soul to cling to by strawberry_bee/my best friend @femmeaziraphale

Crowley is born a run of the mill angel. There is only one catch though. He is given a prophecy by God to be the first and only angel to fall in love. That's clearly off the table when he falls from Heaven though, right? // in progress and the only in-progress fic on the list but it is Too Good and also i have a direct line to the author and they will finish it

“Do you promise to stay still if I turn out the lights?” Aziraphale asked.

“The dark is a demon’s favorite place to be,” Crowley joked, feeling the urge to make light of the situation. He rather felt like he was being taken on a jaunty little date, human skulls included just to woo a demon in the right sort of way.

“Quiet, foul fiend,” Aziraphale said, snapping his fingers again. They dove into darkness, and before Crowley could find some sort of clever quip, he felt Aziraphale’s arms about his waist. His brain turned to mush, the only thing he could think of being ‘oh, so this is love’ before he felt Aziraphale’s lips brush gently against the edge of his mouth.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, before pulling away. Crowley reached out blindly, coming up with nothing. He turned to the entrance, spotting the outline of Aziraphale as he ascended. Crowley leaned against a wall, hand resting against the forehead of a skull.

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza:

So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.

It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

“I love you, do you see? Not for work. I’m - I suppose you could say I’m in love with you, to use a human phrase.”

Crowley went very still. Aziraphale withdrew his hands and folded them primly in his lap, moving back to their more customary distance. “It’s quite alright that you don’t love me,” he hurried to add. “It doesn’t change anything. I just wanted you to know in case... Well, anything could still happen with our superiors, you know? Neither side is probably very pleased with us at the moment.”

Crowley stared at him over the rim of his sunglasses, looking rather stricken, and he was making an odd, creaky sound like a strong wind through a poorly-sealed window. The mostly-empty wine bottle he’d been holding slipped out of his loose grasp and clattered to the floor, wine drops spattering on the hardwood. “Aziraphale,” he said finally, voice ragged, “what the fuck are you talking about.”

a home at the beginning of the world by stereobone (explicit)

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me." // okayokayokay there’s Meaningful Interior Decorating and a couch metaphor and like the fact that they actually goddamn brought That Quote into it...unacceptable

"My dear boy," Aziraphale says. "You could have said something."

"But we never do that," Crowley says.

He's back to worrying at the fabric of his trousers.

"Besides," he says. "Didn't want to go too fast for you."

Aziraphale feels something swell in his chest, and it feels all encompassing. Like love and heartbreak at the same time. Like being back at the Eastern Gate watching Crowley slither up to him for the first time, question everything while Aziraphale himself was trying not to. He's spent so long, too long, telling himself he could never be ready for this. He reaches out and grabs Crowley's hand, stops him from worrying at his trousers any further.

the nuances of ‘together’ by mirawonderfulstar

Everybody in the whole world can tell Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple. Everyone except, apparently, Crowley.

“Oh, don’t look like that, my dear.” Aziraphale said airily. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“It’s—that’s not the bloody point.” Crowley exclaimed, his feelings from the last week finally coming to a head. “Why do people keep assuming we’re together and why do you keep letting them?”

Aziraphale froze, a forkful of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. He looked like he’d just been slapped. He was focuing very hard on a spot over Crowley's shoulder and his eyes seemed rather wet. Crowley felt a panic begin to slither up his throat, constricting his breathing. He wanted very much to say something, anything at all to make Aziraphale stop looking like that, but he had no idea what.

a culmination of miracles by prettydizzeed

Crowley has chronic pain, and six thousand years later explains that to Aziraphale. I adore the small intimacy of Aziraphale asking him to print him articles about it so he can better understand, and their characterizations, and it seems so much like an exchange from the book I’ll likely have difficulty remembering it isn’t canon in the future, which I’m fine with.

“I don’t read books,” Crowley corrects. “The occasional article, well, maybe.” He figures he’s going to need to extend as many olive branches as he can find, so he adds, “Some of them help. Sometimes quite a lot, actually.”

“Could you—would you print some for me?” Aziraphale asks. “I’d like to understand better.”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, looking at him as long as he can bear. “I’ll do that.”

the hour/the spot/the look/the words by planethunter

Crowley watches Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it spurs a realisation. // fuck guys it’s literally about the hands and perfectly captures like nothing else does the feeling of watching Pride and Prejudice (2005)

One of his hands rests over the other, the tips of his fingers cold. He watches as Darcy takes Elizabeth's hand, gentle, like handling a bird, their fingers curling over each other's. He mimics the gesture with his own hands, brushing his fingers over one another. Slowly, slowly closing them to a grasp. Opening them again, brushing his knuckles with his thumb. He continues, back, and forward, watching with mild fascination. The sensation relaxes him, like a trance, and he only feels some sensation building inside him when it had risen so high that he had to sigh to release it. Now his hands lie still, holding each other limply. He releases them, letting his fingers brush past each other on the way. When he looks up, the television had cut to adverts.

covet by mirawonderfulstar

pining aziraphale and an amazing confession scene that i absolutely adore.

Aziraphale, little good though it did him, wanted desperately. He wanted with an urgency that scared him. He wanted wine, and cocoa, and the occasional tea. He wanted gravlax with dill sauce, and Pappardelle Bolognese, and those awful little iced biscuits they had at Tesco at Christmastime. He wanted dinners at the Ritz and long walks in the park and late nights in the back room of his shop. He wanted Crowley. Fervently, achingly, he wanted Crowley.

a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian

5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse.

Crowley has a system in place for dealing with moments like these. He developed it sometime in the fifth century, when it became clear that the thoughts and feelings the angel inspired in him weren’t going to go away, and neither was the cast iron certainty that they were largely unreturned. The angel loves him, of course, but only in the slightly absentminded, mandated way he loves all other living things. Crowley has long since made his peace with this. It just stings a bit sometimes, like taking a sip of tea so hot it burns the roof of your mouth. (Not that Crowley himself has had this experience. He has gathered from the mental exclamations of many, many humans, however, that such a mishap brings forth a similar sense of aching hurt, betrayal and a wistfulness that things might be different.)

The best Crowley can do is just let himself feel it – let the love go through him, unnatural and sticky though it may be, always trying to glue itself to the inside of his veins – and wait for it to come out the other side. Sometimes it even works.

such surpassing brightness by handful_of_silence

The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

Crowley had always assumed – perhaps disingenuously – that Aziraphale was like most other angels. Capable of grand expressions of love when it came to humanity, but generally avoidant of the topic personally. A love for all things, a love for Crowley even, but the love of a kind, well-meaning relative who sends birthday cards on the wrong day and with a fiver inside with a note to buy something nice like you're still at primary school. Love but distant, separate, and impersonal.

But now, at least according to the rumours, Aziraphale had spent most of the medieval ages playing wingman to a bunch of queer martyrs and church-folk. Which meant that there must be something there, a comprehension of love beyond his angel-standard, over-arching love for mankind. That Aziraphale could, and apparently did, pick favourites.

That he could, just possibly, feel love himself. On an individual level.

listen (he’s already told you five times) by darcylindbergh

Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn't always hear him at first, but he's learning to stop being surprised. // love!!! languages!!

He wonders what Crowley can feel through this touch. He wonders if Crowley can feel him back.

“I’ve never felt anything like you,” he finally says, looking up to meet Crowley’s eyes. They’re wide, awaiting judgment: something in them is terribly resigned, but when Crowley tries to draw his hand back, Aziraphale doesn’t let him go. Instead he steps in closer and says, at nearly a whisper so as not to startle, “What I mean is, you’re beautiful.”

There is a pause, and then Crowley says, soft with surprise, “Oh.”

Aziraphale kisses him.

tell me all the ways by tinsnip

One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask? // crowley struggles to tell Aziraphale how he feels out loud; he finds a way around it. pairs well with the fic above, I think.

“I’m not smitten, angel. I wouldn’t say smitten.”

“Oh?” He’d looked at Crowley’s hand in his, looked back up. “And what would you say?”

Suddenly a change in Crowley’s posture, a tilt of his head; there was the sideways smile. “I’d say I lust after you, angel. I covet you. I idolize you. But... smitten? I mean, honestly.” And Crowley had shrugged, as if that had been that.

For some reason, this morning, that hadn’t been enough.

“And?”

“And... and what?” Crowley had looked a bit desperate.

Aziraphale’s mouth had tasted like tea and toast. “And you love me.”

penance by blissymbolics (explicit)

It’ll happen, Crowley tells himself. This time, it’ll finally happen. // it’s porn with feelings, crowley has a praise kink, just read the tags if you’re interested

Maybe being deprived of his right to come was a necessary component of being a demon. It was permanent, chronic proof of his disobedience. But fuck, God already gave him his snake eyes and revoked his retirement benefits. Messing with his dick was just foul play. It probably violated the Geneva Convention.

Around the turn of the twenty-first century, he began to think that maybe it’d be best to just accept his lot and call it quits. It’s obviously never going to happen. So why keep torturing himself?

Or at least, that’s how he felt before Aziraphale. Before a certain day in the year of our Lord, 2019. Before he felt a shift in the solar system, and knew that they were now spinning together as one gravitational unit. They shared the same space. The same time. And on one occasion, the same bodies.

Also, I wrote a fic: all i need, darling, is a life in your shape

it’s about repressed aziraphale and pining and it was inspired by strawberry blond by mitski.

Not Fics But Fuck, Man

Meta: why is aziraphale so gay? by dictionarywrites on ao3: a very extensive meta exploring how aziraphale canonically presents himself as a gay man, and why exactly he does that.

this crowley space meta and this crowley space meta really fcking did me in

the unadulterated yearning in this mitski-inspired art by @poladraws i think about it at least once a day and it is. A Lot

this from eden fan video on youtube

this two part amnesia post by @thealogie like i don’t even fcking like amnesia fic but like. “this discovery and several other little reactions of yours have led me to believe that the Other Me, that is the Me that has all his memories, has let standards slide and is not doting on you as he should be. are you cared for? do i need to kick my own butt?” oh my goddddd

@mulderswatch made a spotify playlist titled angels dined at the ritz hat makes me personally suffer every single time i hear it. he began it with predatory wasp of the palisades (”touching his back with my hand, i kiss him / i see the wasp on the length of my arm”) and ended it with strawberry blond by mitski (”can you hear the bumblebees swarm? / watching your arm / i love it when you look my way”) his m i n d

The best anon in the world asked me for my mitski a/c song associations and here it is

#this is admittedly 90% reference for me in the future #henry speaks #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fic rec #good omens reference post

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writingforyourpleasure · 4 years ago

Text

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Characters: GERARD WAY x Reader

Link to chapter four : https://writingforyourpleasure.tumblr.com/post/616411340391759872/on-the-road-again

Warnings : None

Author’s note: Hello ! Hope you’re all doing okay during those strange times ? Sorry for not posting but I had my en-of-the-year exam, but it’s now done and , I only got a few homework to hand-over now and my second year in college’ll be done !Here you go thank you to keep reading .

5. “ Pun-master “

You woke up, feeling something or someone moving in front of you . You started to groan at the uncomfortable feeling not wanting to get up just yet.

“And what owe me the pleasure to be assisted by your presence tonight sir Way?” You said while looking for plates.

The mass finally moved away , listening to your complains .

You woke up what felt just five minutes later but probably was in reality hours after it. Your eyes fluttered slowly as if they were disconnected from your brain. A light shine from the outside was peeking through your tinted window as soon as you truly started to wake up , you realized that Gerard wasn’t here anymore.

“Right…” You breathed out to yourself. Honestly you didn’t want to wake up. You were scared , scared of overthinking this , and because of that you actually was overthinking it . Your brain wasn’t playing on your favor . You didn’t knew how you were gonna survive today. The worst was, you didn’t knew how to act with Gerard , what happened yesterday night wasn’t that big of a deal, really , but again ; you were overthinking it . You just wanted to act normal with him , and was prying your brain to not let you down once you’ll see him. You felt so stupid for having a crush on one of your coworker and friends. You got up and hoped for the best.

You got out of your nest , only to find that you were alone in the bus and that you already had arrived into the next parking’s venue . You went directly to the kitchenette and groaned realized that you guys were short on coffee. You finally resigned yourself and went for the shower.

You got out of the bus a dozen of minutes later to find the parking lot empty except for the security that was already keeping everything on check. You checked your phone to see that it was 3pm . You had enough time, to get yourself a coffee somewhere and not stressing about when to comeback since you didn’t had to repeat with Dex or anything. You put back in your , old black Green Day’s hoodie, pocket your phone . You’ve dressed yourself as unfashionable as it is socially allowed , your laziness was clearly reflecting itself through most of your actions today. You put your headphones on , listening to the last Fever 333’s album and searched on google maps for the nearest Starbucks, once again a reflect of your laziness you figured.

You arrived to the welcoming smell of dirty beans being ground and hot milk.

Once you got your order you looked around for a seat since the place was pretty full, luckily you got one in front of the glass and on both sides what appeared to be two couples . Great. You hope that you’ll be lucky and won’t have to witness the same amount of smooshing in both of them. The teenage one , on your right , were the ones all over each other, with the boy groping at every part accessible of his what-you-presumed-to-be his girlfriend. The one on your left were two men in suits holding each other hands while talking , you sat facing the widow and the other empty seat. You got out of your backpack your sketch book and a pencil starting to draw people passing by while music took you in other world. A tap on your shoulder took you of guard , you got off your headphones .

“Yes ?” you turned around your head to see who was trying to get your attention.

“Hey, is this seat taken ?” Dex was smiling down at you with a big smile.

You said nothing instead kicking the seat in front of you, back to the glass for them to seat.

“I feel like it’s been a while since we talked .” Dex said sitting and looking expectantly at you.

“What are you talking ‘bout we talked just yesterday.” You said not looking up from your sketch book.

“Don’t play dumb y/n , you know what I mean. Like just the two of us ?” Dex sighed , seeing that you decided to not play cooperative . This time you did look up to your friend with a blank expression . Watching their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It’s true , lately you tried to somewhat distance yourself since you were trying to figure out what the hell was happening with Gerard and you knew that being close to Dex would not help one second . Your friend knew how to read you even when you tried to hide something as well as you could. You had thinked that if Dex was about to ask questions it would make it weird since you were all working together . If you fucked up at any moments , you’ll have nowhere to hide and sometimes it can be a great deal of pain . But apparently you didn’t succeed not to make it awkward since your friend was not so happy that you act a little colder than usual . You were already fucking cold to any strangers , so to be cold to them was shitty. You sighed and run a hand through your now greasy hair . You needed to take a shower quickly , maybe it could wait after the show .

“Hey earth to y/n, hellooo?”

“Huh yeah sorry I was gone for a few…”

“Yeah no shit .”

“Sorry… like for all of it it’s true I’ve been kinda avoiding you guys.”

“Meh it happens , I mean it’s okay we all got our own problems.”

Dex tried to stay warm inside of the Starbucks but you could sense that being against a cold ass window wasn’t helped them to get the warmth that provided the Starbucks.

“I’m so cold….” They whispered as they took a gulp from their drink.

“Well….then stand in a corner .” You replied taking a large gulp of your hot drink too.

“What-Why ?”

“Think..”

“No….. please tell me it’s not because of what I think dude.”

“Coz’ corners are 90 degrees.” You said with a smug smile.

“Ho god …. Ok you know what maybe it’s for the best to be socially distant haha. It is so bad please do not do that again?”

“You’re asking way to much to the pun master .”

“More like the master of fucking nothing y’mean .”

“What did you said peasant , I think I didn’t quite hear that ?”

“Ho nothing .” said your friend smiling like a fool.

“Y/N I’m still fucking cold !” Said your friend trying to warm themselves up by rubbing strongly their arms.

“And how is that my problem , my dear?”

“Someday I really am going to kill you , y’know?” Told Dex between their teeth, with a little grunt along the way.

“Y/N , Can I borrow your scarf? I’m seriously freezing. ”

“Well I can’t turn into a heater for you now can I? So do you want me to set you on fire? Because, I mean it’s still an option? Like I have my lighter right here so….?” You joked while giving them your scarf.

They gave you a warning glance as if they believed you . Then on a very exasperate note they sighed and said :

“Why are you like this?”

You both laughed at that getting some curious looks from other clients. Once both of calmed down you try to get serious talking about the elephant in the room .

“Hey , can I ask your advice on something?”

“Absolutely , but I only advise communication, homosexuality, or murder.” Answered your friend earning a smug know-it-all smile out of you.

You were about to start to get off of your chest the whole “Hey I think I may or may not like the lead singer of the band for which we’re working for.” They cut you off.

“WAIT!”

“Yeah ?”

“Are you absolutely positive this isn’t dangerous or something?” They looked very serious about this , which had the reflex to make you roll your eyes deep inside your skull.

“I’m 95% sure, but yeah, I’ve failed fourth grade math so…” You decided to answer her stupid question with a stupid answer.

“Ho okay then we’re good I failed second grade! So just before we start , how long will this take ? I got to pick up my dog at the salon. «You both laughed at that. «No but like seriously we’ll have to go back to the bus eventually . Maybe tell me along the way back?”

“Alright , alright” You both got up from your seats and finally got out of the Starbucks.

“So huh, you remember when we got the 1 week break , alright?”

“Right. “

“Well huh, me and Gerard started talking by text pretty often during this time.”

“Ho. Did you now ?” They said waving their eyebrows in a suggestive way.

“No not like that calm down, you demon fuck .”

“Always a pleasure to fill my responsibilities.”

“You weirdo….” You whispered under your breath.

“Ho do not act if you aren’t even weirder man ! “

“Anyway, I just , I don’t know . I think, I think I may like him y’know?”

“Well it’s pretty comprehensible , I mean he’s hot .”

“I’m not talking about this you twat!”

“Ho c’mon you can’t say he isn’t !”

“Haha ,He is , I ‘ve sight too I’d let you know. It’s just not the point here .”

“You do? Sorry it’s hard to tell when you dress yourself like that .

“You bitch!” You choked on your drink , coughing violently.

“I’m just kind of dreading to really assuming the whole ‘hey by the way I’m hitting on you’ I don’t want to make it weird during the tour , when we’re not even at the half of it. And I don’t wish for everyone to see that I am hitting on him. I’m not ready.” You explained to Dex , not really wanting to expose everything you and Gerard said or do , foremost because there’s not that much to say

“Maybe not hitting on him is a good call since if you do I’m pretty sure he’s gonna freak out hearing your lame puns.”

“May I recall to you that I’m the pun-master AND the master of pickup lines ?”

“You completely suck at pickup lines, bro.”

“No I don’t !”

“The last time you tried one of you’re pickup lines was on this poor cute girl in Louisiana when you said ‘Are you Google –“

“CUZ YOU’RE EVERYTHING I’M SEARCHING FOR !!!”

“Yeah no wonder it didn’t worked !”

“I’m a genius , you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“You wish . So why are you’re feeling attracted to the guy ?”

“Well you see my kink is when people actually care about my feelings and what I have to say. And Since I know him he seems to correspond to this criteria , so I find it pretty attractive and hot since it’s my main kink.”

“Yeah , too unrealistic. Settle for bondage like the rest of us.”

“Where you ever nice Dex ?”

“2012, worst year of my life.” You laughed at what your friend said . “No but more seriously y/n, just let it happen y’know? And when you have the feeling that both of you are having a moment then maybe hit on him but stay subtle y’know?”

“I just want him to take me out…”

“Like, on a date or with a sniper ?”

“He’ll have to surprise me .” You both laughed before changing the subject to the little surprise you’ve both had planned for Max, since he was spending all of his nights and days working on your band , you wanted to do something nice for him. You bought a cookbook a few weeks ago for him as a present for the occasion, he often baked pastries as a distressful way to exhale from work time. Even though the bus condition made it hard to cook anything big it already was a good start. And you bought some bottle of Irish hard cider, since he had said it was the best thing he ever tasted when you all took a vacation to Dex family house there. After getting back to the bus everything went pretty fast , but the talk with Dex about Gerard was still playing in your mind. Ames saw that you were lost in your thoughts most of the time and ask you several times if everything was okay, you tried to act like you didn’t knew what he was talking about and you all moved on with your day . Mikey, Frank , Gerard and Ray were already in your bus when you had come back from your coffee session, and they yelled at you for not texting them and taking them with you. You brushed it off saying that next time you would. Gerard had tried to share looks with you during the day but you were too much caught up into your head to notice.

The show this night was nice and almost too short even if you guys took a ten minutes on My chemical romance planning since you played a special song. Once you were backstage Ames and Billy started their routines taking everything off stage to let place for the boys. To go faster Max offered to help them. It gave you and Dex a chance to run to the bus to prepare your little plan. You took any cushions , pillow and anything fluffy you could find , when you were done the bunks were quite a mess but you didn’t want to think of it since you still had to prepare the hard cider and the cake you brought from the Mark & Spencer’s not having too much time to find anything else. By the time everything was served , you knew that My chem was done with their show too , so you decided to prepare them a part too , you made a point to serve a apple juice instead of the cider for Gerard , not wanting him to feel excluded or anything. Max had been held backstage by Billy and Ames who were your dearest allies as ever.

You installed yourself with every plates and drinks giggling between the two of you alone in the bus to stupid jokes.

A knock made itself hear through the bus and Billy appeared into the kitchenette area before being followed by Ames and Max , who where looking at you with huge smiles spread across their face and a snort from the three of them.

“What the fuck did you do with our beds ?” Asked Max between a laugh.

“Well we did a pillow fort !” Answered Dex.

“Isn’t that a little childish ? “

“Does it means you don’t want to join us ?” You asked Max.

A silence swept through the bus.

“…Move over .” Said Max entering your huge pillow fort and already going for the cake and drink.

“Wait there’s a party and you guys didn’t told us about?! “Said Frank entering your bus.

You handed a plate in his direction , earning a smile from him before he arrived by your side as well as everyone else too.

Frank was on your right while Gerard was on your right and all of you were in a cercle eating and joking about stupid stuff.

“Hey you look better than this morning it’s good to see.” Whispered at your side Gerard offering a sweet smile before readjusting a few locks behind his ear.

“Well It’s because in the end we migrate towards comfort , and I realized that I am most comfortable around you , all of you.” You said returning a bright smile to the man.The night went along before Frank spoke up .

“Guys how are you gonna clean this mess to sleep tonight ?” Painful groans made themselves heard from all of you.

#fanfict mcr #frank iero imagine #frank iero x reader #gerard way imagine #gerard way x reader #mikey way imagine #mikey way x reader #ray toro imagine #ray toro x reader #gerard way fanfic #gerard way fanfiction

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spectraspecs-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Korriban - Chapter 94

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 93. Chapter 95.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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This tomb looks significantly newer than Ajunta Pall’s, and there’s text that I can actually read so it must be recent enough. It’s not Galactic Basic, but it’s not some long-dead language, either. This is the tomb of Tulak Hord, a lightsaber specialist by the look of it. So definitely more recent than Ajunta Pall, who didn’t have a lightsaber. This is the tomb where I met Lashowe, though, that’s going to have consequences as far as the tuk’ata population is concerned. Without the matriarch, there may be infighting to establish a new matriarch, or a daughter may have stepped up that isn’t fit to rule the pack. In an ideal world the pack would just go on as normal but when is it ever an ideal world?

This tomb is a little brighter than Ajunta Pall’s, but still pretty dark. There’s more to it, too - Ajunta Pall’s was a straight shot with a trick along the way. This tomb is from a different era, and relies on twists and turns as well as tricks to keep looters at bay. But we are not the first to proceed this way, and a bit of a trail has been marked by dark splotches on the walls. No, they’re not blood - even if the Sith were that weird, you’d have to carry the blood through the tomb and that would drive the tuk’ata nuts. That’s a death wish kind of thing to do. But the splotches are high enough on the wall that the tuk’ata couldn’t reach, and too regular to be natural. I can handle if it’s a trap of some kind.

The tuk’ata are not composed at all, which is what I expected. When we run across a few, they don’t attack in a uniform fashion. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and they don’t attack as a unit. Damn you, Lashowe, you ruined the pack dynamics. Most of them I can just scare off, but we do have to kill a few along the route marked off for us.

The route dead ends near an ancient console, sort of like the ones in the ruins on Dantooine. They said the Star Map was in Naga Sadow’s tomb, so what is this doing here? I hit a button. It still works and it displays in Basic. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Jolee says.

“Yeah, me too,” I say, “but I think we can get ourselves out of any trouble.” I use the console to open the door.

“I dread the day you’re wrong about that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We step through and are met with another closed door as the one behind us closes. Something… smells awful. Is the room spinning? Oh, shit, poison gas. Carth… is Carth okay?

Jesus, that knocked the wind out of me. I feel like there’s a Reek sitting on my chest. I try to look around. I’m not in the chamber anymore. Looks like the crypt. Carth - where’s Carth? He’s still out cold. Jolee’s conscious but pretending he’s not. Which he would only do if he got some benefit out of it. Something smells again. But not like poison, more like sweat. Someone here has not bathed in days, minimum, and it’s none of us.

“Awake already, are you?” Sounds like a kookier old man than Jolee, who I can actually hear huff in my head. Ah, he knows I love him. “Good!” I try to get a better look at this crusty old dude. He’s got the same grayish skin as Master Uthar, but way more crazed. “This is the tomb of Sith Lord Tulak Hord, if you don't know. I've taken up residence here, for now… it's dusty and full of critters, but it's home.”

I try and fail to sit up a bit. “Not that I don’t get the sentiment, because I would love to swap stories about dusty critter homes, but who are you and why the hell am I here?”

“Ah, yes!” he exclaims, “Introductions of course! I suppose it is time, isn't it?” Anyone like this who hasn’t had twelve cups of caff is certifiably cuckoo for Core Puffs. (Hell, even if you have had twelve cups of caff, I’d still be worried about you being a responsible adult alone.) “This other student here that I captured earlier you should know well enough. His name is Mekel. Say hello, Mekel.”

God, he looks awful! He tries to mumble something at me but can’t. From what I can tell he’s got loads of fresh electrical scarring, and I don’t think he got it playing with wires. “Poor lad,” the kook says with mock sympathy, “He's had a hard day. My name is Jorak Uln. I was once the head of the academy, so I'm sure you've heard of me.”

“Yeah, I heard you went nuts and ran for the hills.”

He blusters and can’t managed to get a single comprehensible word out, except for “stupid Uthar”, before moving on. “Anyway…” he says, trying not to release his anger on me yet, “I'd like to propose that we move onto the main event. You see, I'd like to discover if you've got the pluck of an old-fashioned Sith. Most of the drek Uthar has been passing through these days is so pathetic. Take young Mekel here… I already tested him. Didn't I, Mekel?” Mekel mumbles again, and Jorak Uln laughs. “Yes, yes, you're welcome. You see, Mekel here has the cruel disposition of a Sith,” - which doesn’t surprise me - “but not the gumption that I'm looking for.”

Well, he’s definitely lost it, and needs clinical help finding it. But that’s not going to get me out of here. “So what happens if I pass your test?”

“Why, then, you go free!” Bingo! “Tell you what… I'll even pass onto you my own personal thesis on ancient Sith philosophies. They're based on all I've learned studying Tulak's tomb. It'll make you a better Sith, I'm sure.” Which is not something I’m looking for. “The chances of you passing, however, are sadly remote.”

I like my chances, actually. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Now, now, is that any kind of attitude to take with higher education?” In my experience, yes. “I'm doing you a favor, really. So, then! This is how it goes: I'm going to pose a moral question to you. Get it right, and I torture Mekel. Get it wrong, and I torture you.” You can’t answer a moral question right or wrong, they’re opinions. But you know what, I don’t think that concerns him. “Mekel, here, is a bit weak… he probably won't be able to take much more punishment.” No, that’s some bad scarring, like “seek help now” scarring. “Mind you… get too many wrong and you'll die, yourself.” I’ve got a pretty high tolerance for electricity like that, but if it’s anything like how I was shocked earlier… I don’t want that again. But I can’t kill Mekel, either. He’s trash, sure, but he’s young trash. He could grow out of his trashiness if he’s given a push in the right direction. “I don't know what you think of Mekel. Maybe you don't like him. Maybe you think he deserves to be murdered? Well, here's your chance. Fair enough?” Okay, I can take some damage, how much can Mekel take? Trying to calculate all this in my head, work out my angles. When I don’t respond, Jorak Uln talks again. “Well, then! Any last comments before we begin, Mekel?”

Mekel looks over at me, he can see the wheels turning in my head. He grunts and says, “We can... both survive... attack him together!”

“Now, now, dear lad,” Uln says, “Do you really think your friend here will answer questions wrong just to spare little you, risking her own life? And how many correctly-answered questions before you die, hmmm? No, don't be silly… you had your chance, remember? On that note, let's begin!

“Now, then. Your immediate superior amongst the Sith is an effective commander and a fine leader. He trusts you and you like him. You see an opportunity to kill him. What do you do?”

A Sith would answer that they’d kill him and take power. But I have to be strategic about this to get both of us out alive. Let’s answer this one honestly. “I do nothing. He’s a good leader.”

“Incorrect!” Yeah, I know. “What sort of thinking is that? If all the Sith thought as you did, we would all be soft like the Jedi.” You’d also have a military that wasn’t built on fear and cruelty, but that must be too much to ask. “Ah, well. It is time for your punishment.” Oh, good God! Fuck!

But it’s over quick enough, thankfully, and he moves on to the next question. “And so we come to round two. You come across a group of humans who are threatened by dangerous animals. They plead for help, offering you a reward. What do you do?”

Hell, I’d help them without a reward. A Sith would take the reward and leave them. But I need a breather before I get shocked again. I give Mekel an apologetic look before I answer. “I take the reward and leave them to die.”

“Correct! The humans would no doubt just be preyed upon by something else, later.” Assuming I just left them. “Stand up for yourself, I say! We're not Jedi shepherds, after all.” He looks at Mekel. “Sadly, Mekel, the ingenuity of your fellow student is your loss. This is going to hurt.” Even as Mekel writhes in pain, I can’t help but be grateful it isn’t me. Even as his skin breaks and more scars ripple across.

Third question. “Let's see… ah, yes. You discover an aspect of the Force that gives you great power. Do you share it and strengthen the Sith as a whole or keep it to yourself?”

A Sith answer, as well as a scout’s answer, is to keep it to yourself. You always keep an advantage to keep yourself afloat at the end. For me it’s a hot springs on Utapau. The people there are fair traders and welcoming of outsiders, soil is rocky in a lot of places but they’ve spent millennia farming there so they know what they’re doing. Wildlife is stunning. I figured it would be a good place to settle when I couldn’t scout anymore. I guess for a Force user, a new power would be just as valuable. But I think Mekel needs a breather now. I don’t want to give it to him. But who am I if I let him die? “I share it,” I say finally.

“You gained an advantage and you share it freely?!” Dude, shut up. “Let them rip the secret from my dead hands, I say!” I plan to. “I mean... 'share it'?! Are you mad?!” He sighs. “Well, you did ask for this. It's for your own good.” Holy hell, I hate this! What the shit have I gotten myself into?

God, I need a break. “Still going?” Man, shut the hell up. “Alright, then. One of your underlings has made a major mistake which makes you look bad. He is normally very competent and skilled. Do you kill him or give him another chance?”

Personally I’d let him live. Let him learn. A Sith would kill him without a thought. And I don’t want to get hit again. Not so soon. “Kill him,” I say.

“Correct!” he exclaims. “Publicly, if you can. There is no room for that level of failure.” Dude, you’re the one living in a crypt, don’t lecture me about failure. “Not killing him would be seen as a sign of weakness... and then where would you be?” He turns to Mekel. “Ahhh, Mekel. The time has come once again, hasn't it?” Lightning shoots from his fingers again.

“Last question!” Oh, thank fuck. “You're about to die. Do you pass on your knowledge to your apprentice to make him stronger… or do you use your last breath to strike at your enemies?”

Just when I think the answer to this isn’t obvious, it comes to me: A true Sith never dies. Like… is that metaphorical, like how people still remember Ajunta Pall, or is that literal in the sense that Ajunta Pall wasn’t exactly dead? Or could it be both at once? Is Tulak Hord floating from room to room? Is there an ancient Sith no one remembers who’s haunting some cantina or something? And what does “true Sith” mean, anyway? What happens to a “false” Sith? Where did that answer even come from?

Either way, Mekel looks awful. I don’t think he’ll survive another right answer. I may hate it but I’ve still got a few wrong answers in me, and if this is the last question, then I’ll be okay. “I pass on my knowledge.”

Jorak Uln giggles excitedly. “Fool! It is a trick question! A true Sith never dies!!” You mean I was right? He laughs again. “I'll enjoy this one. Time for your medicine!” Shit shit! It’s okay, Rena, just lie back and think of droids, they always apologize for shocking you!

He gives me a moment to breathe. But it’s not a kindness. “Now, this is odd,” he says, “The test is over and you're both still alive. Well that's never happened before. Hmmmn…” Jolee shifts a bit. Carth is conscious now and even though Jolee has healed him both are still playing dead for now. “What to do, what to do…” Uln ponders, “I suppose this means you can go, Mekel.” He releases him from his grip. “I'll have to just figure out what to do with our friend, here. Run along, now.”

“Or…” Mekel says slowly, “… or I could use the Force to free her! And we could kill you!!” I feel Uln’s grip on me slacken and finally break. My legs feel jellied but I can still stand, and I pull out my lightsabers. I reach out with the Force and exhaust it to heal Mekel and myself. I hope Jolee saved some energy because we're both still only at half strength. “Seems you didn't think of that, old man!!”

“What?!” Uln exclaims, “Mutiny! Behave, students! I'll…!” Now Jolee reaches out to both of us, and I can stand on my legs again. Mekel’s scarring closes over. Carth jumps to his feet and pulls Jolee up. And now Uln loses the little he had left. “That's it! Detention for all of you! Permanent detention!!”

Uln activates his double-bladed lightsaber, but I’ve got my two out and Mekel has his as well. None of us have any Force left, but neither does Uln, which evens it out a bit. Uln focuses on Mekel, which means I can fight dirty from behind if I avoid the other end of his lightsaber. No one gives me electrical scarring if they don’t apologize afterwards. If he were a droid who didn’t apologize, well, I’d get to retune his power core, which can be unpleasant for the droid. People don’t have power cores, so I guess I have to just beat him senseless. Mekel pushes him backwards onto uneven footing. I sweep his legs out from under him and he falls over. Without missing a beat, Mekel runs him through.

He stands over him and laughs ironically. “What do you know?” he says, “I guess he wasn't a 'true Sith' after all.” He sighs and relaxes. “I can't believe that I'm alive,” he says, “You saved me… you could have easily just answered those questions and let me die. You knew the answers, I could tell, I could see you mulling it over.”

“Nobody deserves to die like that,” I say firmly, “There is no universe in which I left you to die.”

He takes a second to reflect. “Yeah, well…” he says thoughtfully, “… I see what you mean. I’ve never… I mean, I've never been on that side of the fence before. It makes you think. I'd be dead if you weren't…” He stops again, like he’s correcting himself. “… I mean, if you were a proper Sith. But you're not, are you? Don't worry… I won't tell anyone.”

“Frankly, I wasn’t worried, but thank you, anyway,” I say. He’s still quite pensive. “Seems to me like you’ve got a lot on your mind, a lot of thinking to do.” He looks at me wordlessly. “I get the impression you don't want to be a ‘true Sith’ like Uln. You’ve just got some crap to work through. There’s better places to work through it.”

“You mean… the light side?” he says softly, “I've never thought about that. Can you… can you even go back? I've done some… I mean, I've hurt a lot of people.”

“There's always remorse,” Jolee says, “And atonement. That's the harder path, though, boy. Think you can do that?”

“I…” he says nervously, “I don't think the light side is for me. But… maybe neither are the Sith. Maybe it's time for me to leave.”

I take a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I say, “but have you thought about Czerka?”

Mekel scoffs. “Hell, no. Fuck Czerka.”

“Thank you!” I say, and we share a grin. “Well,” I say, “good luck wherever you end up.”

“To you, as well,” he says, “And… thank you.” He walks away, following the splotches on the wall to the exit.

Jorak Uln did a poor job of hiding his thesis. The ancient stone tablet is resting on the tomb of Tulak Hord, right out in the open. It’s not as heavy as it looks, but I am positively worn out, so Carth carries it for me out of the tomb. “So,” he asks me, “are you going to bother with any more tombs?”

“Hell, no, I’m not doing anything else today except relax with that bottle of Tarisian ale on the ship, I am exhausted.”

“I had hoped to save that till the end of the war,” he says, “but I think you’ve earned it now. But that wasn’t what I meant.” I look at him curiously. “By my count all of the other hopefuls are gone. Mekel just left, Lashowe’s dead, we’ll find out about Shaardan soon enough. Whether you’ve earned enough prestige or not, there isn’t exactly anyone left to oppose you.”

“You sound like you’ve got something in mind,” I say.

He shrugs sheepishly. “Well,” he says slowly, “I guess I’d… like to join you for that drink, if you don’t mind.”

This is a hell of a time to ask me out. Not that I’m complaining. “I’d like that,” I say.

He tries very hard not to beam. God, he’s adorable.

-----

Shaardan is dead at Master Uthar’s feet. Frankly I’m surprised nobody’s moved the body yet. “Master Uthar!” I call to get his attention, and he turns to me. “I have a tablet written by Jorak Uln.” Carth hands it off to him.

Uthar looks surprised. “It appears my old master was busy studying the writings in one of the tombs. How interesting.” He glances at me. “I do hope you had to pry this from his dead fingers.” Not exactly. “Regardless, you have impressed me with your worthy act.” He looks directly at me now. “Even if you were not the sole remaining hopeful, you have impressed me enough, by my estimation, to become a Sith in full. Congratulations, young one… you have bested the others quite completely, in more ways than one I’m sure. You have but one final test which you must take, and this requires us to travel to the tomb of Naga Sadow in the Valley of the Dark Lords. I would advise you to be rested and equipped before we leave. Return to your quarters now and seek me out in the morning.”

“My ship is still docked in Dreshdae,” I say, “Do you have any objection if I got there instead?”

“Go where you choose. But when you return, make sure that you have all that you will need… for you will face your test alone. Go, and may the Force serve you well.”

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celestialholz · 5 years ago

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“Pick you up at 1900 hours?” Q asks. A proper date – as bewildering as it sounds, he wants to do it the human way. Picard shrugs. Later that evening he spends a ridiculous amount of time getting ready. When the door chimes his heart is in his throat. “Come.” he says. Q is leaning against the doorframe and behind him a starlit garden path has replaced the Enterprise. It’s beautiful. Q is wearing a suit and bowtie, and he’s holding a single red rose. He smiles. Picard can’t help but smile back.

Goddammit I wasn’t going to write fic but it’s too precious xD Also if Picard can stop nicking my purple shirt that’d be great, thanks Cap’n

If he’s honest with himself, his wardrobe is somewhat lacking in anything… smooth. Oh, there’s that one Dixon Hill outfit, and he does cut a rather dashing figure in that hat, and the riding outfit isn’t unappealing; even the Sherlock cosplay is quite fancy, though rather more Victorian than he’s looking for, but aside from that, it’s a selection of identical uniforms, too-short robes which might come in handy later in the evening but are less than perfect for a date, and… well. If the robes are too immodest, he certainly isn’t going there.

He ends up replicating outfits from almost the very moment he clocks off the bridge, though he knows it’s pointless - Q may perhaps raise an eyebrow, pass sardonic comment on the fact he hasn’t made a considerable effort to leave his uniform in his quarters, but the warmth of that smile, the gloss of delight in his eyes, will remain unaltered.

He pulls another shirt - violet, paisley print, short-sleeved - from the replicator, and a grin tugs at his lips despite the fact he really doesn’t care for the thing.

Damn him, but he wants to make a good impression for his own sake. Universe only knows where his beloved entity will drag him willingly off to, but he has no doubt it will be astonishing; it’s the least he can do to level the playing field a little, drop the jaw of a god as comprehensively as his own will be.

The game was always afoot, after all.

He programmes something specific, inspired in the moment, and nods happily. It’s perhaps a little elaborate, but then he’s about to go on a date with an omnipotent entity - he can afford a little extravagance.

“Computer,” he announces, “time?”

“Eighteen fifty.”

He grins. Perfect.

—-

When the bell of his quarters chimes precisely ten minutes later, he considers it in bemusement, heart in his throat nevertheless.

“Come…?”

It obligingly slides open to reveal not an ineffable being, but the most picturesque garden he’s ever witnessed; shimmering in starlight, fairy lights dotting the quaint path, edging in exotic, lusciously scented flora and fountains that stream and bubble with a thousand colours he can somehow discern, it’s alive with illogical birdsong and utter tranquility, and it all brings the brightest smile to his lips. The peace seeps into his very spirit as he follows the amusingly yellow-bricked path, ambles to allow the aroma its full effect, but it isn’t until he sees the garden’s ultimate prize that he fully grins.

There stands Q, tuxedo impeccable, bow-tie a command maroon, the familiar four pips affixed to its right, consulting a conjured pocket watch with a wry look.

“Oh, take your time, why don’t you?”

Picard bursts into a chuckle, overwhelmed in a way he’s always struggled to enunciate, and ah, there’s that delight.

“Your fault, creating something so wondrous,” he accuses mildly, and Q’s smile is simply delicious.

“Thought you might like it,” he replies, winking, brushing a hand against his cheek, gaze lit with fondness. “Pick a flower, darling.”

Picard quirks a brow, and consults the sheer wealth of them, their shapes and curiosities, before his mouth twists just slightly in amusement.

“I’ll take a rose.”

Q shakes his head through a grin. “Of course you will. Don’t know why I asked.”

One’s in Q’s hand in a flash, the darkest of blues trimmed in vivid orange, and Picard feels as though he’s being presented the breadth of the cosmos on a silver platter.

“Happy date night,” Q murmurs, ghosting lips upon his, rose safely tucked into his waistband.

“Indeed,” Picard agrees, reaching up with enthusiasm. “Are you planning to make this a regular feature, my dear?”

Q smirks wickedly. “Perhaps, if you keep wearing that shirt.”

“Oh,” the captain notes innocently, “you like it, then?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous.” He beams. “I love it, darling. Though, if I might suggest an improvement…”

He presses a finger to the jet-black silk, and the star print animates, shooting through the fabric as though comets, rotating and glistening; the miniature letter Qs instead transform into small deities in their own right, several hundred watching the interstellar show with vague interest, and Picard gapes - it’s spectacular, yet -

“I am not wearing you,” he responds in exasperation, and Q glances into his eyes with nothing but warmth.

“Shame,” he comments, blasé, before he claims him in a kiss. “Rather ruins the rest of the evening, Jean-Luc. I had plans and everything.”

Picard chokes on a laugh as he meets his lips, widened eyes instantly softened by pure completion.

… Well, perhaps he could. Just this once, or however many times the night led them to.

#qcard #the qcard positivity event #look at this vaguely naughty ending #what on earth has happened to my non-smut ethics xD #everyone blame selma

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clough856x-blog · 4 years ago

Text

WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN Holistic mentor?

As a matter of first importance, we should take a gander at what the term Holistic mentor implies. A Holistic mentor is an expert prepared in successful tuning in, asking, and hearing between words verbally expressed. A Holistic mentor tries to be non-critical and strolls close to you as a help, responsibility accomplice and encourager. A Holistic mentor as a rule meets with a customer through week after week calls, yet here and there meets face to face, by email or mail. Numerous holistic mentors encourage gatherings, do talking and composing too.

These days when dear companions who have the opportunity to genuinely listen are difficult to find, an individual Holistic mentor can fill the hole. In certain circumstances it demonstrates progressively successful to have a go-to individual, for example, a Holistic mentor outside your association that can hear you equitably on an issue.

While like Directing somehow or another, Life Training is unique. It centers essentially around where an individual is and where they need to head, instead of concentrating on goals of profound issues, addictions, hurt, misuse, unrest, relationship breakdown or brokenness.

Being a Christian mentor doesn't suggest we just mentor people in Christian associations, different Christians or invest our energy discussing God, Jesus and The Holy book. As Christian mentors we accept unequivocally in the association of Brain, Body and Soul (or Soul). We address all territories. We trust God is maker and orchestrator of life's occasions and we would prefer not to keep him separate from the condition. Training is all the more impressive when God or Christ and his character is remembered for the blend.

Regularly a Christian mentor will remember petition for her meetings with a customer. The Christian mentor will regularly petition God for a customer among meetings, and assuredly will request the Essence of God's direction for working with a customer preceding a meeting.

Most Christian Holistic mentors see themselves as God's vessel to help his kin in turning into all he means by helping them through life's difficulties and in praising life's delights with them. Check here : Life coaching

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HOW IS THIS Not the same as Setting off TO MY Minister?

Ministers for the most part have preparing in guiding. Guaranteed Holistic mentors have considered and prepared explicitly so they have an alternate apparatus set than a minister or advocate. Christian Holistic mentors like to take a gander at the master plan, the image outside of a congregation setting, and they like to concentrate on prospects and dreams. The generally love helping dreams take off. Regularly ministers don't have the intrigue or time to do that explicitly for a person.

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For what reason Would it be a good idea for me to PAY Somebody TO Show ME GOD'S Reason OR HAVE A CALL WITH ME?

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Jesus says a specialist merits his wages. Life Instructing is our work.

In addition to the fact that we spend time on a call with you, however we invest energy perusing your messages, prep structures, reviewing your agreement and appealing to God for you. We regularly take on a passionate weight when we are working with you. We put in a safe spot everything for your particular arrangement time; there aren't numerous employments that an individual will outfit their whole day around for one hour of paid work. Check here : Life coaching

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We completely don't just discuss the Holy book. We are psyche, body and soul. A Christian Holistic mentor needs to recognize what you think, feel and dream of. She needs to assist you with handling challenges from an assortment of edges or see things from another point of view.

A Christian Holistic mentor will urge you to make genuine move steps and get some information about them later. She won't end the call saying, "simply ask about it."

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WILL MY Congregation Get some answers concerning ME?

Most Christian Mentors follow best acts of the Global Training Alliance (ICF). You should ensure you sign an agreement with your mentor. The agreement should detail a secrecy understanding among you. There ought to be no explanation behind your mentor to collaborate with your congregation except if there is something she is made mindful of that is illicit or hazardous to your congregation.

DOES IT Make a difference In the event that I Pick A Standard Holistic mentor OVER A CHRISTIAN Mentor?

It might and it may not. There are numerous mentors prepared in speculations that include convictions that would negate those of the Christian confidence. In the event that the Christian confidence is your own, you might be disturbed by a portion of these speculations. It is ideal to talk with point of view mentors and decide whether they are for you.

DO I Need TO BE A CHRISTIAN TO Utilize A CHRISTIAN Mentor?

Some Christian Mentors incline toward just to take Christian customers. Others are available to an assortment of religions. Those that are open will try to regard your confidence. They may allude to a higher power or ask you what term you want to utilize, in light of the fact that they will in any case might need to remember soul for certain conversations. Check here : Life coaching

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The amount DO THEY CHARGE?

Every Holistic mentor sets her own charges. The individuals who are Authorized Guides, Clinicians or connection their life instructing to another calling wherein they hold a certificate, or doctorate, may charge a higher sum.

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A few mentors have sliding scale charges or every so often take on free customers for the present moment.

To what extent Would it be a good idea for me to WORK WITH ONE?

To what extent you decide to work with a Holistic mentor relies upon the issues you are looking for help with, the measure of cash you need to pay, how you need to space meetings out, or how much time you have. Check here : Life coaching

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Using a mentor all the time long haul like you use different experts throughout your life, is very prudent.

Rosalie Garde is an Ensured Christian Life Reason Coach®. Life Training comprises of week after week phone discussions, visits or messages to help you in moving from where you are toward increasingly intentional living. Rosalie mentors from a Christian viewpoint.

#Life coaching

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all-hail-the-witcher · 6 years ago

Text

questionable government spies: chapter 13

AYYYY WE RETURN WITH ANOTHER INSTALLMENT OF EVERYONES FAVORITE AUUUUUU

also I wrote this in research class, global issues, and while watching a cowboy movie so sorry if its not The Best

MASTERLIST

_________

ship: eventual sprace, platonic ralbertttt

warnings: mentioned prostitiution or porn or something but its really just a joke kids, Tense Talk, really long words that may or may not be in English, mentioned bad family relations but nothing explicit

editing: nope none at all

words: like maybe 2k

_________

“Okay, say it again but slower this time,” Race said as Spot unlocked the backdoor and ushered them up the stairwell. It was just the two of them, but two blocks away Albert and Jack sat in the van, ready to come at a moments notice.

“The head responded to our email,” Spot said rather unhelpfully. Race was about to press for more information when Spot cut him off. “I didn't read it, I came right to get you guys. I didn't want to, like, set off an alarm or something. I don't understand how tech stuff works.”

Race smirked at his innocence. Spot had much to learn.

“Luckily for you ‘tech stuff’ is basically my job description, so I’ll make sure you don't get blown up or something.” Jack’s voice in his ear reminded Race that as much as he would like to be, he and Spot were not alone right now. He had to be careful.

“Your job description is actually ‘agent in training.’ Race and I just make you do the tech stuff cause we suck at it.”

“I do not suck at it!” Race piped up, feeling the need to defend his honor. “You're the one who got us banned from Uganda because you accidentally sent that email to the wrong person and then on top of it included that attachment with the picture of-”

“Alright I’m gonna stop you there,” Jack interrupted. “I do not need to hear about the porn Albert has on his computer thank you very much.”

“IT WASN'T PORN!” Albert screamed so loud that both Race and Spot winced. “I swear to god you guys are going to get me arrested, all I did was send the wrong spreadsheet!”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Jack mumbled and Race couldn't help but smile.

“And to think,” Spot mumbled. “These are the people who are protecting our country.”

“At least we’re good looking,” Race winked, earning a laugh from both Jack and Albert.

“You do have that going for you yeah,” Spot said casually.

Race stopped dead in his tracks. Did Spot really mean that? Had all of his snow jokes actually paid off? Race could hardly believe it. But, maybe he was just saying that? There was no way of Race knowing, and unluckily for him before he could ask Spot what he had meant they were turning the corner toward Oscar’s office and smack into-

“Checks!” Spot exclaimed, clearly caught off guard. “I was just- we were just… you know, walking to, uh, I was just showing Philip here, the uh, um…”

Albert sighed loudly in Race’s comms. “Dear god, please shut him up.”

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Race said, rolling his eyes for extra emphasis. “Spot was just showing me how to give someone a concussion using a shoelace and a rubber band and I think he might have taught me a little too well, if you're picking up what I’m putting down here.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind but okay that works.”

“Yeah Spot’s one of our top fighters,” Checks said, immediately warming more up to the the story now that Spot wasn't the one who was talking. “But he’s not the best teacher so I’m not surprised that his tactics backfired.”

“Yeah,” Race laughed. Spot, to his credit, managed to look dazed and confused.

“Oh and boys,” Checks said over her shoulder. “You didn't hear this from me, but I may have heard from Oscar that we’re getting assigned another mission tomorrow, so be sure to arrive on time.”

“We will!” Race called as Checks flounced down the hallway away from them.

“I don't like her very much,” Jack said, but his comment was overpowered by Spot.

“REALLY?” He whisper shouted, shoving Race into the wall. “I would never get a concussion! My heads too thick!”

“Well that's for sure,” Race snickered and Spot glared at him, putting his hands on either side of his shoulders.

Spot continued to glare at Race, unmoving from his slightly seductive position.

“So, pretty boy,” Race ventured. “You plan on moving? Or are we gonna canoodle here all day? Cause I’m down with either, but I wouldn’t object to a little good old-fashioned canoodling…”

Thankfully, Albert and Spot had the sense to stay silent for once.

“You better watch it Phillip,” Spot spat. And then, as if realizing how close they were, slowly backed away.

They walked down the hall in silence for a few hundred feet, the awkward tension hovering thickly in the air making Race’s heart beat in excitement, until they reached Oscar’s office.

“Alright so he’s out at a manager meeting or something,” Spot said, “but I still think Vincent and Bow should check the cameras and stuff just in case.”

“On it,” Jack mumbled through the line. Then, a few minutes later, “all clear.”

Spot and Race entered the room and Spot sat down in front of the computer, opening the email in question after getting the all clear from Jack.

Race leaned over Spot’s shoulder, enjoying the scent of his cologne as he read the email out loud for Jack and Albert to hear.

“00171,

Bemuzzles chemosynthesis x1 conversationalists fizzy jazzily a deconstructionists fuzz parasympathomimetic x2 hypercholesterolemia bioluminescence x3 thyroparathyroidectomized unprepossessing antiauthoritarianisms comprehensibleness x4 whizzbang paleontologist ultraconservative buckminsterfullerenes chazzanim chlorofluorocarbon psychophysicotherapeutics xy5 schnozzle x6 i acetylcholine x7 anthropomorphous razzmatazzes a chemosynthesis antidepressant zigzagged characteristic jejunum x8 buckminsterfullerene discombobulated x9 plasmodesmata jujus zanza oophorosalpingectomy x10 clinicopathologically alphanumerically x11 carboxymethylcelluloses frizzling counterdemonstration zyzzyvas x12 i quinquennium crackerjacks x-”

“Did you just say crackerjacks?” Albert interrupted, much to Race’s relief because his tongue was getting twisted from all the big, fancy, probably-not-english words.

“Yeah I think so?” Race squinted at the screen. “I’m not really sure what I’m reading at this point.”

“I want some crackerjacks.” Albert said unhelpfully. “They slap.”

“I once cracked my tooth on a crackerjack,” Spot added as he printed out the email.

“My older brother proposed to his girlfriend by putting a ring in a box of crackerjacks,” Race said without thinking before quickly shutting his mouth and shaking off the memory. Spot noticed and gave him a suspicious glance, but said nothing, which Race was thankful for.

“You know, that's great and all, but I would really appreciate it if you guys printed that email and came back to the van so that I can start solving that code cause it sounds like its gonna take a hot minute.”

“Hold your horses ear boy,” Race said, grabbing the email off of the printer with a flourish. “We’ll be there in two wags of a ferrets tail.”

•••

“I’m pretty sure that that was longer than two wags of a ferrets tail,” Jack exclaimed, throwing down the poker cards he was holding, Albert following suit, albeit begrudgingly.

“How would you know how fast a ferret can wag its tail hmmmmm?” Race said, fanning himself with the printed email. “Does your uncle own a ferret farm like mine does?”

“You have an uncle?” Jack asked, reaching for the paper as Race held it above his head out of Jack’s reach.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Race asked, whacking Jack on the head lightly with the papers, but giving them to him all the same. Jack stalked off toward his work station and began mumbling to himself about code. Meanwhile, Race sat down and picked up Jack’s forgotten cards. “I can’t believe you started a game of poker without me!” he exclaimed.

“We didn't,” Albert said, flicking a card at Race. “Those are Uno cards you dumbass.”

Race flicked over his cards in disbelief, opening his mouth to say something but he was cut off by Spot.

“So,” Spot was saying, sitting down on the floor of the van slowly. “Do you, like, live here?”

“Who, me?” Albert asked.

“Yes you.”

“Why are you asking?” Albert crossed his arms.

“You just seem like the kind of guy who would live in a van.”

“What’s it to you?”

“You have weird energy. I don't like it.”

“‘Weird energy’?”

“Yeah,” Spot’s eyes narrowed. “You're hiding something.”

Race’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. Obviously, Spot was prone to not trusting people because of his line of work, and Albert did have a lot of secrets, but Race had always trusted him. He had never had any reason not to. Unless- no, he had just met Spot. He wasn't letting him trick him into not trusting his best friend.

“We all hide things,” Albert said matter of factly, but Race could tell from the slight tremor in his hand that he was nervous.

“Of course we do,” Spot said, looking down at the floor, his eyes unmoving from the space between his feet as he sat in silence.

Race, unsure of what to do chose this opportunity to whistle very loudly and very very offkey until Albert shot him a look. Then he began obsessively shuffling the cards again and again.

Finally, Jack let out a yell of excitement. “I GOT IT!”

“That was fast,” Race said, moving over to make room for Jack. “What does the email say?”

“Aaaaahemmmm,” Jack dramatically cleared his throat. “0071,

In regards to your inquiry, I am planning to meet up with all of my heads on the 14th of december. Location is yet to be determined. I have some new information relating to our upcoming changes that will be revealed at this time. More details to come.

6197”

“Well then,” Spot said, suddenly materializing over Race’s shoulder. “Guess we gotta mark our calendars.”

“Indeed we do,” Albert said, standing up. “In the meantime though, the three of us will look more into this, and you can keep us updated on any weird happenstances with the gang. But for now, your services are no longer needed.” He tipped his snapback toward Spot in mock gratitude. “Good day.”

Spot winked at Race and nodded to Jack before opening the van door and climbing out wordlessly.

“‘Good day’?” Race snickered as he and Albert climbed into the front seats. “What are you, Australian?”

“Well, Australia doesn’t exist and neither do I so…”

“That's true!” Jack shouted, moving to the back to secure his belongings.

Albert took the opportunity to whisper something to Race. “You mentioned your family twice today, is everything alright?”

Race winced, he had known this was coming. “Yeah yeah everything’s fine. I just don't like being back here with them so close ya know? It’s screwing with my head a little.”

Albert seemed to accept this answer because he did not ask any more questions.

“What about you?” Race asked. “What was that with Spot?”

“I don't know,” Albert admitted. “That was weird.”

“Yeah,” Race looked down at his lap, almost afraid to ask the next question. “So, what do we do about him?”

“Continue as planned, I guess,” Albert sighed. “We just gotta be really careful. I don't want anything to happen to you.” He placed his hand on Race’s knee as he pulled out of the parking lot and Race covered it with his, a silent promise that he intended to stay safe.

After all, it was them against the world, and not even a dumb, although very hot looking, gang member would come between them.

_________

YEETTTT

this is actually a decent one, lotsa Important Stuff

were finally getting to the plot!!

also yes there was an actual code I made and if any of you can figure it out you'll get the Snerkle Award Of Honor

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list @fairly-awkward-trashcan @well-the-kids-do-too @racetrackcook @ughwaitwhat @aw-jus-let-em-try @elmerss0cks @voice-foundshoe-lost

@stopthe-presses @ridin-in-style @pinecovewoods @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing @bencookisagod @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @stellar-alpaca @saxoph-ella @smolcanadiankid @disney-princess-sized @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @insane-tomato @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @have-we-got-news-for-you @thatfancyclam @myidkwhatmynameisblog @legoflambwrites @not-a-scab @albertdasillvaprotectionsquad

@entschuldigung-bitches

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@tea-and-theater

@seasickdolphin

@auspicioustarantula

@newsies-of-ny

@mrs-higgins

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@spot-me50-papes

@papesdontsellthemselves

@deathcast-s

@the-poodles-of-pulitzer

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@humanracoon

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

#saphie scribbles #spy boys #ralbert #sprace #newsies #newsies fic #racetrack higgins #Albert dasilva #spot conlon #yyyeeeeetttt #look at the spies #I love this series

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calculatingminutiae · 5 years ago

Text

And Then He Was A Zombie

Ch. 1/?

You are beginning to regret your life choices. Mostly, you ponder as you sink nearly shin-deep into slowly fermenting brain, you lament your audacious decision to exist.

Not a soul has seen height nor hair of Mituna Captor for weeks, which is concerning considering that he's seldom let you forget about him before. The four sweeps you've known him have felt like a neon-coated, caffeine-laced retro fever dream, and the stark absence of that unabashed presence, that sheer bravado from someone so contemptible is tangible. You.

You don't miss him. Not really. You may have, once, but the long nights of your friendship passed as you grew up on diverging paths, as his unwavering confidence in his abilities (outwardly; you were privileged with the knowledge that his "natural psychic talent" came from practicing with his psi until odd hours of the morning in order to make his anxieties and excess energy recede until he could sleep) eroded at your patience, until his unrepentant criticism of your studies and etiquette (you are most certainly not a "TToTTal fuckiin bulgewrench hiigh off [y9ur] own ego iif you TThiink you're TThe only guy people are giiviin' 2hiiTT TTwo for b2 rea2on2," nor any variation thereof, thank you very much) became so great (why does she have to like him so much can't she see he won't treat her well, not like you can, he can't even treat himself well) that you drifted apart. You haven't spoken in at least two perigees, and even then the last two sweeps have only included game-related correspondence. Even if you find him irritating, even if his "prophecies" and grim predictions are clearly nonsensical and demoralizing, you must admit his abilities are valuable to the team. You are aware he must know that all twelve of you will be at a great disadvantage should any of his several, several deaths stick.

So how dare he? Drag you out here? (#unsanitary, #b9dy h9rr9r, #w9uld it kill you t9 have a deep pers9nal quest that includes air c9nditi9ning?)

Except he hasn't actually dragged you out here at all. His absence has started to concern your mutual friend (his datemate, somehow) to the point of anxious episodes, which you should have known he'd cause sooner or later. Selfish as he can be, you'd almost thought she meant more to him than this, leaving her high and dry in the metaphorical torrent of suspended ambivalence. He could well be fine, could well not. She has no way to know. Neither do you, but you foolishly volunteered to find out. You hadn't exactly thought about the consequences of reconciling, let alone explaining to her, what it is you really find.

Brains. Fire. Case closed. You knew that going in, of course, as did she, but the name of this planet seemed significantly more superficial before you had to smell it.

The air carries the caramelized odor of constant decay, beyond the blood of your own ironically-clad planet and into the territory of viscera you are entirely certain that no soul should ever actually witness outside of a morgue. The smog only makes it worse. Each sweltering, ragged breath is physical pain, and you are certain you've been burned from exposure within the first two minutes of your journey. Cranial nerves serve as pale-pink branches on trees formed from the wet, undulating flesh forming the islands you stand upon as not to plummet into the infernal abyss below. You need to throw out these shoes. Immediately. And your sweater, and yourself, a pitter-patter of droplets from above, finally, r

It's cerebrospinal fluid.

That is definitely cerebrospinal fluid.

God.

Damnit.

And, by the game's logic, it's flammable too, stirring a flare-up of the fires roaring near the borderline of this islet over the horizon, at which point you decide that you can afford to burn all of your clothes after this if it allows you to sit in the dubious shelter of one of these brain-trees and wait out the storm.

The terrain directly in your line of sight is vast, but you feel an incessant need to give your status updates to the group. Calm down. Stare at your phone, your eleven (Ten? It may well be ten now, you consider, a shiver as you banish the thought) remaining followers in this post-apocalyptic wasteland will no doubt praise your perseverance. Even as your fingers become so disgustingly slick with Actual-Fucking-Brain-Juice that you have to give up your comprehensive progress report and actually bother to take in your surroundings.

There aren't any enemies on this island. No imps, no ogres, no basilisks or other "no-thank-you's" which you stopped having a use for long ago, their resources trivial when you consider yourself to have made a rightful living quarters at long last. Finally, no cullers to tell you what to do. Just a meager living, one you miss at the moment as you idly watch the glistening "rain" wash its way over small pale rocks in this sparse savannah.

You'd thought you were walking into woodland, but consider you may have been mistaken. The thick woods behind you beg to differ, however, but you elect to ignore that little fact just as well as you ignore the treads in the ground from what you are positive must have been a battle with more than a few psionic lasers. You must admit, you still aren't entirely sure how he does that.

He's always been psionically gifted, of course, for as long as you've known him, and he's always had the audacity to complain. To be culled by the empress herself, to be of the highest rank in his class, to be lauded and loved and lucky, so, so lucky, and complain. Even his headaches could reveal incredible things, privileged facets of the near-future, while yours. Yours bought you time locked up in your block, bouncing from culler to culler as your health fluctuated, so fragile, you, and nobody cared to deal with you. Nobody listened to your ideas, nobody took you seriously, no matter how hard you tried to become an educated, upstanding member of society on your own. And yet, once, you tried to vet his problems. "Problems," when he'd argue with you at odd hours about rock bands and the oxford comma, or putting on matching socks or not or the heat death of the universe. Problems when you'd stay up, some mornings, just to see when he'd finally run out of steam. Problems when you knew you'd helped him tire himself out and all that pent-up anxious energy released and sometimes you'd smile to yourself for a job well done from halfway across the district.

You find yourself laughing a little. Almost fond.

He'd trusted you with his insecurities, as you trusted him with yours. You thought you weren't tall enough, that your pants came up too-too high on you if you wanted the legs to fit. (He'd told you to wear them anyway;"iiTT'll be a TThiing by nexTT 2weep, The hiigh waii2TT. iiTT'll be, liike, riighTTeous, dude, you're a TTrend2eTTer 2o long a2 you own iiTT. TThey ju2TT don'TT geTT you yeTT." You have, truthfully, under your sweater, in spite of another dear friend telling you exactly how you dress like a travesty. You won't be controlled. Entirely.) He thought he was only ever given a second look because he has his ancestor's face. You.

You wish you would have told him n9, Mituna, y9u're a w9nderful individual as y9u are, but instead, you were too focused on his new co-op partner. The same girl playing some MMO with fanciful hats and discussing legal precedents on forums you'd found in your research, it was far too unlikely to seem true but once you'd made the connection it was inescapable. She'd gone inactive, disappeared because of him. She gave into that anti-intellectual sniveling drivel because of him, a brilliant mind squandered, he ruined your chances with

The flames rise in the forest behind you, driving you into the clearing. At least, if you want to keep your ass firmly un-toasted. You do.

It's strange, anyway, his actual, tangible absence from your life. You're by no means co-dependent, but it doesn't feel quite right. Like a building on your commute's gone out of business, or perhaps like an old tree in the schoolyard has been hacked to the ground, leaving behind the stump where it once joined the ground, it's. Surreal. You find this surreal, but maintain confidence that you will, eventually, get over it. Life moves on. (It is Doom that lingers.)

The rain abates, leaving you temporarily distracted from the direction you were initially headed in and entirely susceptible to tripping over something in this clearing while you idly admire how nice and tan your retinas must be getting from looking at the sky so much.

C-rRck .

A trail of bone shards fly from your shoe, much to your temporary horror, until you realize the crucial factors that A. this skull is not that of a troll and B. it's actually partially buried in the ground, so it may well be a fossil of some kind, you suppose. In fact, it looks as though it's been picked clean by time, or some very efficient fungi. You almost feel bad for this poor ex. . . Snake? This may well have been a snake, at one point, you determine by looking under the hands that prevented you from faceplanting into cerebral cortex and discovering that what you thought were "rocks" are actually the ridges of a very, very large snake's spine. The ridges etched into the surrounding brain matter, truthfully, deviate from the folding pattern of the rest of the ground. There is a stick planted at the head of the site that you hadn't initially noticed, a ruler hastily wedged into the mush. Penance, you ponder, for the additional rocks washed up in this clearing. Perhaps that explains why you have failed to run into any friendly lizard civilians in this place to offer you directions. Surely, you've merely committed a lizard-social faux pas by wandering back-asswards into an Important Game Landmark. Yes. Obviously.

You decide this will not appear in your reports, and press on.

The planet maintains itself, just as before, equally disgusting in its crags and valleys and hills and rivers of you've-stopped-caring-keep-trudging. Really, if she hadn't seemed so upset, you question whether or not you could have brought yourself to look for him. He, by and large, had his shortcomings. Bouts of belligerence in violently vacillating mood swings, calloused comments with so little tact that it was hard to excuse his lack of social etiquette; he hardly seemed to be trying. Verbally belittling himself, constantly, even in the presence of those doing quantifiably worse than him in the same categories. You know social cues didn't come easy to him, he told you as much. You still don't think that's an excuse not to correct yourself the nth time you laugh at a "fail" compilation including serious injuries.

He was as sore a winner as loser, in those days, considering himself accomplished for having posted artwork before and thereby actually knowledgeable on the subject, or at least moreso than anyone who told him that he could not, for the life of him, draw properly-proportioned arms and hands. He'd repeat the same mistakes, content to call them inevitable or very much a choice. He poured himself into his favorite games, between practices, to the point of obsession. To the point of being outwardly off-balance should he be knocked from his proud number-two (for number one, evidently, was for those unskilled enough to calculate exactly where they need to be) spot on the leaderboard. Always in twos. Two different socks, two different shoes, two different bright red-and-blue eyes, always even, lest something go amiss. "The FaTTe2 don'TT liike TTwo be mocked," he'd tell you on the subject of threes and parallelisms during your early-morning chats, though you'd never truly understood his fascination yourself. It's an old legend, in the community of psionic yellowbloods, that three incarnations of fate bestowed them with the powers of electrokinesis and prophecy, "TTwo make 2ure TThe Dyiing are wiiTTne22ed when TThey, liike, reTTurn TTwo TThe bounTTy of co2miic liifeforce and whaTTever. TThaTT 2omeone geTT2 iiTT before you go, yknow?? 2o nobody ha2 TTwo be alone."

You sigh, officially Hopelessly Lost. You take a seat atop some maroon rocks, which you are absolutely confident are actually. Bricks. And scraps of drywall, the rough texture under your fingers as they drift over this cleft piece of what was part of a block, at some point. His block, from the oil pastel staining your fingers. You run like you didn't know you could before, overtaken by a sudden need to know exactly what happened here. The pastel isn't quite baked to the surface yet, and it may not be too late. You hope for her sake, that it is not too late. You hope for your sake, that it is not too late. You need to tell him something before he's allowed to leave again.

Your name is KANKRI VANTAS and you, begrudgingly, have regrets.

The hive is in complete disarray once you find it. You let yourself in, considering the entrance is missing, let alone the staircase to the top of the tower the two of you had built upon entering the Medium. You remember that he didn't want this wall here, or that block there, and his load gaper is still firmly defenestrated and stuck in the ground even though you know he could have put it back by now. It's much easier to look at that than the maelstrom of dirty laundry and magazine pages covered in ambiguous tv-dinner sauce in the main livingsblock, a proper mountain of crushed cans of toxic Appleberry Blast that nearly cancel out the smoke encrusting your lungs. You knew he was somewhat a slob, compared to you, but if the place weren't still standing you'd swear a tornado went through here. Old microwave trays are covered in mold. There's no telling how long this has been this way.

"Mituna…?"

There is no answer. You can't say you expected one, heading further up through the vertical labyrinth.

The floors pass you by in slow motion, blurring into a singularity as you refuse to acknowledge the little things about the remains of his hive. How it feels you've walked into a ghost town, how there's a deep ochre staining the carpet at the bottom of the stairs, how the smell of decay somehow only gets worse as you ascend. Worse, and. Sweeter. Sickeningly sweet, like candied excrement, the tang of touching your tongue to an outlet emanating from a block you haven't seen in a very, very long time.

The roof to his respiteblock is missing. Entirely. It's been blown off, debris around the room, the place soaked from the rains and exposed to the enemy and yet apparently untouched. He did not come up here often, so it seems, the block mostly barren save the diagrams and prophetic scribblings on the walls, a leather-bound book and a pile of broken glass.

You, in spite of your better judgment, take a look at the book.

It's his sketchbook. One with pictures you've seen before, of )(er Radiance and Meenah, younger and almost caricatures of a happy household. It's immediately followed by Meenah's snaggle-toothed grin, by Radiance (dubbed "Radz", in these pages, the marked messy handwriting of a younger child ) and her icy, gaslighting "disappointed" pout. Abstract works, impressions of his old biclops, experiments with colors (always the primaries; he can only trust the primaries, so notes the back of the page, upon learning he is colorblind) and drawings of the psionic roundtable he was forced to sit at. A child sits surrounded by people ten times his age because of his visions of the end of days. He's exaggerated them, made fun of them, save the ones he liked. A childhood spent drawing, trying to capture the likeness of the Archiver, connector of the stars, among other things. The portraits have odd titles. "maybe ii can'TT iinvenTT The iinTTerneTT, bu7 ii'll be 2omeTThiing you'd be proud of."

There are large gaps in drawing quality, from then on, from starting and stopping and meeting new people. You find he's drawn portraits of you, even, and of Latula, so many of Latula. Never flattering ones, either, in the strictest sense; he seems to have poured a lot of time and effort into a drawing you've never seen before, a sketch of her laughing over the webcam during their matches. Her nostrils flair a bit, a few hairs out of place, and yet every freckle on her face has a degree of life to it. He may have held himself to an impossible standard, but this picture you are certain would make her cringe is so thoughtfully put together that you are positive that she has never seen it.

Then you entered the game.

The sketches rapidly deteriorate into scrap paper, holding notes and lists written in a hurry. Prophecies, you gather, in a shorthand reserved for the empress's board of elite psions. A way to convey ideas quickly and efficiently in the confused daze in the wake of a vision (a way to keep anyone from effectively snooping, as you are, since the symbols appear near-incomprehensible to you). The text only becomes sloppier over time, to the point that you don't hazard to guess what it could possibly mean. You suppose he'd distilled the important parts into his reports in the groupchat.

The less important parts are written plainly, without a care for who may see. Notes like "Charon ii2 a liil biiTTch abouTT TThii2 whole que2TT junk, hone2TTly," and "noTT enough iimp2 come by TTwo ju2TTiify TThe TTrap2 anymore." Like "ii2 a popTTarTT really a raviiolii," or "by TThe TTime you 2ee TThii2, ii have noTThiing for you." Scribbled prophecies in purple, drawing your attention to the pink and violet powder of pastel on the ceiling, what must have once been a drawing. A gaze staring directly into his heart, artificial, requiring him to always blink first. Unless he could act first.

The next several pages are stuck together with a highlighter-yellow substance, the source of the sweetness in the air. If you were to peer under his desk, you'd note the glass shards fit perfectly into the shape of an empty jar.

A sprawling note on the next available page, stained by the toxic honey and pale yellow tears. You fail to stomach reading beyond the first line.

"laTTTTiie,

iim 2orry."

You skip to the end. At least, the end of what you can see. It's another portrait, one of an event you recognize, of the first anniversary of your entrance into this hellhole. Meenah baked you all a cake, as you recall. The group quickly split up and stratified, but in this sketch. In this sketch you can stand one another, huddled together around the mystery ahead, in various stages of smiling and excitement. You all were happy, then. Most of you. Most of you were just as happy as he paints.

You realize that, in all of these pictures, including this group shot, he hasn't once drawn himself.

There is the unmistakable sensation of a hand, not gentle nor rough, planted firmly on your left shoulder.

You came to this planet alone.

The shadow looming over you does so by about half a foot, your immediate instinct to tack on "n9 matter what he says" identifying the corpse it belongs to long before you raise your head. You can tell it's a corpse because of the sudden intense smell of putrification in your immediate vicinity, of rot and decay, of something seared and burnt like overcooked grubloaf disposed of with lighter fluid and a careless match. Your epic quest, as shitty as it's been, is over, and your prize is presenting itself to you on a bloodstained, honey-soaked carpet.

It could be looking at you. He, could be looking at you, this thing that used to be a friend of yours. He could be looking above your head, for all you know, or at the glimpse of his psyche you've stolen, claws curled into fists, venom dripping from his fangs, frozen in space and time when you finally look at him. Overgrown bangs obscure his eyes. It wouldn't matter much anyway, considering you can't tell where those hidden eyes point when they begin glowing a bright, bilious green, either.

His bright yellow jacket (you should have known you'd never see him without it, even in death) is singed and slashed to shreds, more obviously steeped in dark ochre than the plain black shirt underneath. Torn jeans can no longer contain a leg broken at such an extreme angle, dragging behind him as nothing more than a counterbalance to the tall, spindly form. His ribs art particularly obvious now, looking as though he should snap in half at the waits with a breeze that, of course, never actually comes, on this planet. A hand (hesitantly?) reaches for your shoulder, calloused and scarred, showing off the kinds of skin-boiling horrors only concealed by the general unassuming dark neutrality of (most of, spare that damn jacket) his attire. Webbing red and blue scars, like veins, like lightning travel up from his fingers to his wrist, creep up his neck, epicenter unknown but almost certainly obscured somewhere in the cesspool of a body lumbering towards him. The figure-- no. The shell of Mituna, advances, pauses, and keeps advancing.

You are aware that he must know. Must know your guilt, your conflictions, the overpowering sense of dread sweeping in with the scent rotting flesh. The bright, bright green light flickers, flickers, and glows. You could swear you see a slight sly smile on his face.

Someone finally understands.

8 notes · View notes

lisinfleur · 6 years ago

Text

Your Shield

Author’s Notes | Thank you for trusting me to produce this content, sweet @honestsycrets! Also, you, dear anon, thank you for the comprehension of Sy's limitations towards this request. I thank both of you for the opportunity and I hope the result is satisfactory Pairing | No Pair, Brother! Hvitserk, Little Sister! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon to 5CW1 Words | 1972 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions of rape, violence, blood, murdering, and violence against women. Fluffy and sweet. +18. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

"She's at the river. At least, she told me she was going to take a walk and find a place to sew near nature. Maybe she went to the little beach you and your brothers like to fish in," one of the slaves informed solicitous.

My sweet little Y/N.

She came with Sigurd, but somehow, she didn't have the snake in her eyes as my brother had. They were different for a couple of twins, but yet, similar.

Sigurd would rather the oud instead of the sword and so was Y/N: like my mother, she didn't have any talent for the shield and the war. Her hands were made to the care and the gentleness. She used to care for Ubbe's beard, cutting it for him in the right shape; cook for my insatiable hunger, braid Sigurd's hair, sew Ivar's clothes after days of dragging himself around.

Y/N was the light of our lives, but pretty more, the light of mine.

She was the one always by my side and although Sigurd was her twin brother, I knew I was the favorite of her heart since...

Since always.

She used to follow me everywhere, helping me to get some more cookies for us both; caring for my wounds after our training or the fights I used to get with the other boys; sometimes, being the reason for these fights.

Y/N was always the more beautiful girl of Kattegat. And I'm not talking like this because she's my sister, no. No way. She's gorgeous as if Freya itself blessed her birth. And gods, how many troubles it caused me?

I giggled, walking toward the river, taking the trail we were used to making for fishing in a place where the river was a little deeper and the edge makes a curve similar to the curve of a beach around the bay. It was the perfect spot for relaxation and Y/N used to go there for sewing her own dresses, Ivar's clothes or gifts for us.

However, it wasn't that safe for a girl like her. Not now that we were dealing with the problem of illegal merchants using the woods to go into our market without paying the taxes for it.

That place was far from the town and it wasn't safe for her to be so far without anyone near to protect her. I had no intention to reprove her for going by herself to a spot so common to us all, but I would surely tell her to ask one of us to go with her when she wanted to go there, at least until the situation was solved and we could consider it a safe spot once again.

If she was a shieldmaiden, I wouldn't be so worried, but my sister was delicate, quite the opposite of us all. She needed protection and I would come with her gladly. I used to love hearing her voice singing while sewing and I could take the chance to catch some fishes for her to cook for me.

Perfect.

Everything was perfect in my mind.

At least until I heard my sister's voice screaming...

I was sure it was her. I would recognize her voice anywhere in Midgard. I quitted the slow walking, starting to run towards the beach to find her sewing basket dropped at the ground; her stuff spread all over the sand and a trail of messed send that lead my eyes to a scene I wouldn't be able to accept not even in my worst nightmares.

They were in the count of three. Two of them laughing while the third was untying his trousers in the middle of my sister's legs. Her skirt lifted, her dress torn, her face stained in blood and tears with a dizzy expression and a wound that told me one of those bastards hit my sister's face.

My precious sister...

I started seeing in red.

Like a wild animal, I advanced over them without thinking I was outnumbered. My dagger reduced my disadvantage when I sunk it down the throat of one of them, kicking his body down and using the impulse to go for the second one, dragging him away from my sister, unsheathing my sword and cutting his hardened and exposed cock in a single strike, causing him to fill the place with his screams and the other to start running.

Infuriated, I took my ax from my belt, throwing it towards the bastard, seeing when it sunk in the back of his head. His body fell down to its knees and then his face hit the sand, lifeless.

I lowered myself, picking my dagger back from the dead body's throat before looking at the man in front of me, without a cock, crying like a baby with his hands bathed in his own blood.

With the tip of the dagger, I lift his chin, forcing him to look at me.

"I'll place your heads on the woods, as a reminder to the others like you that they're stepping into the lands ruled by the sons of Ragnar! The prices will be paid, in gold... Or blood." I grunted before sinking my dagger in his throat reducing his cry to a suffocated gasp before the deep silence that allowed my ears to hear my precious Y/N crying.

Sitting against the big stone she used to sit over, beside Ivar, to watch us fishing; my sweet sister was embracing her own uncovered legs, trying to cover herself with the rags of what was a beautiful handmade dress she made to herself. The sobs were engulfing her breath and when she saw me looking at her, they became stronger and she shrunk, surely ashamed, as if that terrible situation could, somehow, be her fault.

I let go of my bloodied weapons and cleaned my hands as much as I could before lowering myself, kneeling near her.

"Shh... Calm down, sweet Y/N, calm down. I'm here. It's over. I'm here with you, sis," I said, slowly pulling her into my embrace, feeling a certain resistance until she broke into heavy tears, embracing me, hiding her face in my neck and her body against mine.

"I just wanted to hide from you... I wanted to sew you a gift and it was supposed to be a surprise. I just wanted to make you a surprise..." she cried, sinking my heart into my chest.

"I know. It wasn't your fault, my love. It wasn't your fault," I insisted, softly taking her face away from my chest to see what they did to her. "Shit..." I cursed. "Those bastards..."

She had a cut in her forehead that was bleeding through the side of her face, staining my hand with her blood. And the other side of her face was marked so as her arms.

I softly helped her to get up and so I could see her legs were wounded as well. They probably had dragged her through the sand, scratching the back of her legs and causing her skin to break in some red lines with little drops of blood.

"Come... Let me help you, sister" I said softly carrying her in my arms, away from the bodies and closer to the water so she could clear her body from the sand and blood and wash her face.

I left her sitting near the water to clean herself and collected our things, cleaning my sword and dagger and picking up my ax from the other bastard's head; washing my hands and drying them on my clothes before picking up her sewing things from the sand, cleaning her things before placing them back at the basket.

I placed the basket on a stone and went for her again, observing the wound in her forehead.

"You might need some stitches," I said and so, a little calmer, she tried to speak.

"One of them hit me when I was sewing. I fell from the stone and so the other pulled me by my hair, dragging me to the place where you found us... I tried to fight, but he slapped my face and... They were too strong..." she sobbed "when they saw I wouldn’t give up from fighting, one of them hit my forehead with a stone... and so... I lost consciousness for a second. When I woke up, I was under him and... and..." the sobs engulfed her again and I held her into my embrace, trying to give her some comfort.

But even wanting to comfort her, I had to make that question. I had to know...

"Y/N... how late did I arrive?" I asked, looking at her, agonized.

What kind of things they could have done with her while I wasn't there?

"He didn't..." She didn't complete and neither I forced her to, just holding her again, tightly against my chest "He touched me..." she mourned and I sighed, caressing her hair.

"He paid with his life for this. So as any other man who touches you without your consent will pay, I promise you." I said, caressing her hair "Now, stop crying, my sweet sister. I'll take you home and you'll be fine."

"They ruined my gift for you," she mourned again, embracing my neck when I lifted her up to my arms, lowering myself for her to pick up her basket and starting to walk towards the town - I could take care of the bodies later. No one would care that much about a bunch of bastards butchered.

"I can wait for you to make me another," I said, softly, trying to make her feel better. "And I promise I won't look at your things until you tell me my surprise is ready".

"Pinky promise?" she asked, almost childish.

But it was something we still have between us both. A thing that would always make me smile, no matter how many times Ivar said it was childish from us or how old we were.

Y/N would always make me smile and agree with her pinky promises.

"Pinky promise, lil' sis. As soon as we arrive, I'll cross fingers with you, but now, I'll carry you back home and we'll care for your wounds".

"I think I can walk, Hvitserk," she said, but I just straightened her into my arms.

"It doesn't matter. I'll carry you anyway. Just rest," I lowered my forehead, touching hers slowly, trying not to hurt her wound "I'll protect you, sister."

She smiled softly. One of those smiles that would always warm my heart. And her delicate hand touched my face, caressing my jawline and sliding her thumb on my cheek, gaining a smile from my lips when she smiled back at me.

"I'm a shieldmaiden," she smiled "and you're my shield. My strong and beautiful shield who'll always protect me from everything." she said, reminding a day of our childhood when the boys of the village mocked on her because she was a Ragnarsdóttir had no talent to play a shieldmaiden.

I remember that day, I stood up in front of her and said she was a princess no matter what they said. I said that I would be her shield and her sword and she didn't have to be a shieldmaiden because she would always have me, a Viking warrior, to protect her.

That day, I proved it by beating all those boys down.

That day I ended up in my room, with a piece of meat in my purple eye and her delicate hands helping mother to care for my wounds.

But since that day, every time someone asked her about this, she answered I was her shield. And I was always there to protect her from everything.

"Yes, my sweet princess. I am your sword and your shield. And I will always be there for you. Always!"

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kitreadsbirdmen · 6 years ago

Text

An Encounter with Duality

An Analysis of Birdmen Flight 048′s chapter cover

As the current arc kicks into high gear, the flock gathering new allies left and right in their search for the 7 Wings, the reintroduction of a former ‘foe’ brings things to a satisfying start. Fiona has had a remarkably rocky start with our main cast so when Takayama sweeps her away into the front of their mission as a pivotal ally, we are left with only one panel– a context-less chapter cover following her cliffhanger addition to the cast– to make sense of the moment and further define her role in the narrative. What’s more, this scene is depicted in such a manner, utilizing allusions to two notable works from Western Artistic Canon, that it comments on the nature of the most elusive and important character yet: Takayama Sou. By modeling the scene of Fiona’s encounter with Takayama after Marianne Stoke’s 1900 painting Death and the Maiden, while simultaneously presenting a portrait depiction of Bernini’s Ecstasy of Saint Teresa in the background, Tanabe illustrates a conflicting duality of good and evil resulting ultimately in ambiguity. By first drawing visual comparisons between this cover and the named alluded works, the respective analysis will inform the deeper implications of this scene and the characters involved.

A Demonic Invader:

Death and the Maiden depicts a young woman’s late night encounter with a winged being clothes in black and raising a hand to her alarm. This motif of pairing a symbol of purity and life, such as a young woman, with such an apparent opposites as the embodiment of death was common in Renaissance paintings, exercising the fragile relationship of these two dichotomies. We see this painting invoked in the above cover, Takayama approaching Fiona in her bed, as death so does to the girl. Fiona’s pose emulates Stoke’s Maiden, holding the blanket up to her chest with an expression of alarm. Even her elaborate fashion sense permits her to wear a dated night gown that resembles the Maiden. The almost contrived presence of feathers from Fiona’s down pillows invoke the feathered nature of Stoke’s death– a detail that Tanabe’s Seraphim can’t achieve by nature of their powers. Takayama’s looming pose paints him as Stoke’s death angel easily, while also hearkening back to the ominous associations the public granted him early on in chapter 6:

Malignantly painted, Takayama becomes this force of nature, feared by men and notably, this young girl.

The context of the encounter is paradoxically more positive than presented. Takayama seeks out Fiona to complete their ensemble and prepare for the grand mission of gathering the 7 Wings. Whereas it can be assumed that Stoke’s painting illustrates the injustice of a young girl’s brush with death, Tanabe’s cover works as a positive force in the narrative, moving the plot along in an agreeable direction and liberating the girl from Eden in hindsight. Yet the overwhelming tone of an uninvited presence, consuming Fiona’s space, covering her in the ominous black of his wings, and eliciting her apparent surprise, tells the audience at first glance that this is a potentially sinister moment. It aligns with the constant ambiguity of Takayama’s actions to date, questioning his intentions and his motives to the point of frustration.

There is a foundational sense of duality in Stoke’s painting that isn’t properly translated to the cover, but felt in the deeper analysis. While acting as an inevitable force of nature, Death hold out its hand in gentle reassurance. This is something that Takayama does not mimic, but by virtue of his heroic actions and pacifying moments prior to now, we are reminded of his capacity for genuine good that belies the ambiguity of his actions.

A Divine Guest:

While a noticeable feature in the background of the scene, the identity of the portrait is one of importance. Best visualized in the volume release of the chapter cover, the audience glimpses a small section of a greater work:

(picture courtesy of @hiurasouji )

From the distinctive sunbeam’s the portrait was identified as a cropped version of Bernini’s famous statue, Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. Observe:

This statue, completed in 1652 and resting in the Roman Catholic church Santa Maria della Vittoria, depicts a scene from an autobiographical text, penned by the female subject of the work, a nun named Teresa of Avila. The episode denotes her religious euphoria during an encounter with an angel

I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron’s point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.

Chapter XXIX; Part 17, Teresa’s Autobiography

The notable parallel here revolves around yet another winged being visiting a woman. The differences put Takayama in comparison to not an ominous force of nature but a divine being of great power and purpose. Unlike the Stoke’s painting, this encounter is at face value a strikingly good and joyful thing. It serves to thus paint Fiona as overwhelmed with the otherworldly power and mission of her visitor. An appropriate reaction to Takayama’s unfathomable presence that she earlier remarks. Though it can be said that Fiona’s parallels to the painting are diminished in the nature of the cover’s framing. By cutting off the portrait to only show the arm of the visiting angel, space and composition restraints aside, the metaphor is weakened. Takayama’s connections to divine forces are as abundant as his more sinister comparisons.

This final page to chapter 29 invokes the same style of religious lighting as the Bernini statue while placing Takayama in a messiah role to the public. Ominous features notwithstanding, what is a remarkably ‘good’ visit from an angel proves with an inlaid duality that it is just as thematically gray as the Stoke’s painting furthering Takyama’s ambiguous alignment.

While an autobiographical excerpt, the symbolic nature of the nun’s divine encounter that Bernini depicts implies an undeniable sinister nature to the event. Teresa’s episode makes note of the angel’s spear, which appeared to be “thrusting at times into [her] heart” and blanketing her in “excessive pain” that paradoxically turns to the titular ecstasy of the encounter. It is no accident that the spear in the portrait is what is most clearly seen in within the cover, highlighting this contradictory sense of pleasure and pain, violence and good will, with the actions of our Takayama.

An Overwhelming Moment:

There is an argument to be said that Takayama is clearly acting on the agency of some unknown power. The allusions to those forces have the potential to work beyond simple catalysts for tonal reception. In regards to the actual plot elements at hand this cover serves to give us insight into Fiona’s emotions. The ambiguity between the two allusions paints a sense of uncertainty with Takayama and the present mission. It also serves as a potential reasoning for her clear attachment to him. Before this moment, Takayama interacts with her two seprate times, both in negative and hostile contexts. The first time is after Eishi Awakens and he performs a Force Link.

This is an act that is clearly distressing to Fiona, leaving her crying, begging her innocence to him, all with the lost agency of her wings forcibly sprouting. She leaves this scene with a sense of understanding of Takayama, noting the unfathomable nature of his mind and the newness of the emotions he felt through Eishi. Later on he again engages her in a similarly hostile manner:

(dont mind me just doing the work of god dear fiona)

This hijack that he does is the definition of invasive. These two moments then get topped off by the bedroom raid making the audience question her emotional state. It is apparent during this chapter and the next that Fiona doesn’t bond well with the other Seraphim but instead clings to this serial offender of her agency.

and then later she only permits Takayama to touch her shoulder:

(minor post 049 spoiler)

And this seemingly contradictory behavior I feel is justified in the context of the cover of flight 048. By connecting her to the subjects of these two works, her complex relationship with this force is explained. Teresa’s experience with the angel is overwhelming, while also serving to affirm her faith. The Maiden’s encounter with Death is a commentary on the inevitable nature between the two. The fear and reverence are two parts of the same the same coin and the duality of Fiona’s encounters paint her relationship with Takayama with the broad strokes of religious worship or natural comprehension.

In the end we are left with the great mystery of Takayama, a character that exceeds the labels of good and evil while acting in the stark presence of the protagonists. The use of Bernini and Stokes work in one depicted scene proved to emphasize this and ally Takayama with further connections to greater powers. And within the more present understanding of the story the cover enlightens the audience with a backdrop for this confusing relationship so quickly formed between Fiona and Takayama.

All in all we ask ourselves:

why u so fukin confusing takayama?

This was written on 7/5/17 when the chapter was released in the Japan. After so much waiting, it was finally translated and I can post this. This mainly reflects my perspective at the time and is in now way influenced by spoilers.

#birdmen #birdmen analysis #flight 048 cover analysis #birdmen meta #forgive this for egregious mistakes

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