#naut my fault

[dovveri]

tw: sa lolololololol

tldr: white men are the shitstain of humanity

THERES NOOOOO WAY just watched a tiktok (so perhaps not accurate i did a quick google search and couldnt find anything but like… everyone tries to hide shit that the US and europe have done lolol) abt how comfort women in korea altho ‘liberated’ by the us were still used by american soldiers after they kicked the japanese out and then all the people in the comments are like well duh oxford study!! like cant help it if asian women are throwing themselves at us smh! cant help it that asian women are hot!! its not our fault lol theyre the ones that come after us! im white and its so easy to date asian girls in my experience!!

BOIIIIIIII WHAT THE FUUUUKCKKCKCKCKCKC the oxford study is literally not. real . like its so disgustinf to me as an asian woman like this is why i coukd neveeeer date a white man and hello? in the entire video did u not comprehend what comfort women were?? these women are NAUT throwinf themselves at american men bffr they were SEX SLAVES. ur ltr saying oh shes a prostitute so her consent doesnt matter bcs its ltr her job like MEN DONT UNDERSTAND CONSENT . they say they do but they dont and thats why sa and sexual harassment stats are actually likely severely underreported bcs like tmi i was sa but like im not gonna report that bcs . personal choice wtv but i doubt he thought it was sa and i myself didnt realise why i was so uncomfortable during it until after it ended and i called a friend bcs i was . yeah and he asked me if the guy had asked to do this first and i was like . oh! he didnt! and i didnt want to make him feel bad and say stop! like its wtv im revisitinf that when im like 50 idk but the point is men dont understand consent and it SHOWS

and white men talkinf abt how asian women just throw themselfes at rhem is soooo just . sooooo like im going to go to america and buy a gun like breh wtf . firstly, thats so self-centred erm i have lots of asian friends most of them hate the asian men in the dating pool here which is why they wouldnt mind dating a white guy . secondly, the fetishisation of asian women ??? it absolutely disgusts me some of the men in these comments blaming the hyperfeminity in asian culture that makes them more attractive to heterosexual males like HUH????? what kind of incel hole did u crawl out of wtaf. YES i can admit that there is white-worship within asian communities simply bcs they are more successful (and they are more successful bcs of systemic racism lol) but that does not make it okay to treat asian women like theyre ‘easy’ and boast abt how many asian women youve been able to fuck like if the demand wasnt there? the supply wouldnt be either. the demand being white mens fetishisation of asian women and the supply being asian women. its like porn. if men didnt demand porn to the extent that they did, maybe porn wouldnt exist and we could live in a safer world were women werent raped everyday on screen for the sexual pleasure of other men. thats a whole other rant tho i hate porn and only white liberal feminists are pro-porn bcs theyre stuck in 2nd wave sexual liberation feminism (simone de beauvoir who spearheaded 2nd wave feminism voted for age of consent in france to be 13 btw) funnily enough, the only type of feminism men agree with.

[haledamage]

One of the kiss in the rain prompts, your choice, with Nadia/Kurt :3

a hopeful kiss in the rain a playful, happy kiss in the rain

I couldn’t pick which one I liked best, so I decided to use a couple of them! they deserve it :3 special guest appearances by Síora and Sieglinde and their exasperated support of their best friends. I’m very proud of them for not locking anyone in any closets to get them to finally admit their feelings (it was a close call)

Nadia/Kurt and how I think their romance confession actually went. Because I know my girl and there’s no way she waited until That One Romance Scene to smooch her man for the first time. ~3200 words, takes place right after Kurt's third companion quest, so spoilers for that and the conversations after it

---

Kurt kept a keen eye on Nadia as she weaved through the crowd of the Coin Tavern in San Matheus. Though tonight’s lot was perhaps more trustworthy than most, and filled with far more folks than usual who would jump to her rescue in a moment’s notice, it was still his duty to keep her safe, and that’s what he intended to do. He knew better than to let his guard down, even among friends. Especially among friends, if the last month was any indication.

And if, perhaps, he watched her with more than just her safety in mind, eyes lingering on the curve of her lips as she smiled or on the elegant movements of her hands as she spoke, well. Certainly no one in this crowd would fault him for it.

“So that’s her, then,” Sieglinde stated, drawing his attention temporarily away from Nadia to where she sat next to him. The two of them had wedged themselves in a shadowed corner with their backs to the wall, where they could see the entire tavern. Old habits. “The girl you were always talking about, your protege at the palace. Pity it took something like this for me to finally meet her.”

“Aye, that’s her.” Kurt sighed and reached for his mug, though he didn’t raise it to take a drink. “Seems like dangerous business being my ‘protege’ these days.”

“Looks to me like she’s weathered it just fine,” she teased. “Don’t think she minds a bit of danger.”

That just made his frown deepen. “Just because she can face it doesn’t mean she should have to.” Into his drink, he muttered, “Especially not on my account.”

“Come now, Kurt. She’s older than you were when you met her,” Sieglinde pointed out. There was a softness to her voice that told him she wanted to say more about everything he’d endured by the time he was Nadia’s age, but thankfully she let the words linger without voicing them. “Wiser too, I’d wager, and much more charming.” 

He gave Sieglinde a sharp look, though he didn’t deny it. It only earned him a playful smile in return. “More patient, too,” he eventually added. He couldn’t keep the fondness out of his voice, and unconsciously his gaze drifted back across the room to Nadia.

She was leaning over a table full of Nauts and former Ghost Company recruits, her eyes shining and face bright with laughter. Her tablemates stared up at her with nearly identical dazed, starry-eyed expressions. They weren’t the first to be enchanted by the force of nature that was Nadia de Sardet, and wouldn’t be the last.

“She would have to be.” Sieglinde watched Kurt watch Nadia, and saw those same stars in his eyes. “Does she know?”

“Know what?” The answer was almost automatic, the reflexive habit to hide his desires, to push aside his own feelings so they wouldn’t get in anyone else’s way. A habit Síora had been trying to break him of for months now, and Nadia had been trying to find a way to counter for far longer than that.

Sieglinde smacked him on the arm, hard enough to feel it even through the padding of his armor. “Don’t play dumb, Kurt. You can fool your nobles, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well.”

He sighed, pulled off his hat so he could drag a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter,” he said eventually, quiet enough that he could barely be heard over the din of the tavern crowd. “She deserves better than some bitter old mercenary like me.”

“Perhaps she does.” He appreciated that she didn’t try to offer any platitudes or pretend he was anything other than what he was. She had never been one to dance around the truth. “But even a blind man could see the way you look at her. And the way she looks at you.”

As if she could sense that they were talking about her, Nadia glanced in their direction, her eyes locking on Kurt’s with deadly precision.

She smiled at him like they were the only people in the room, sweet and warm and much too intimate for this place. It made him want to whisk her away from here and take her somewhere he could keep that smile all to himself.

It took longer than he liked to push that feeling away.

“Seems to me ‘bitter old mercenary’ is exactly what she wants,” Sieglinde murmured, going in for the kill while his guard was down.

Then someone came by and forced Nadia’s attention back to her table, and the moment was lost.

When she finally looked away, Kurt let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “It doesn’t matter,” he said again.

Sieglinde chuckled to herself, the sound somehow both fond and derisive. “You’re a stubborn fool, Kurt.” 

There was no bite in her words, but it still made Kurt feel strangely defensive, and he rounded on her like he expected her to draw her sword on him. “What would you have me do, then?” he snapped, both louder and sharper than he intended. “Court her? Ask her to risk everything for me? Or should I beg her uncle for permission to--”

“You think that girl cares one bit what her uncle thinks about anything she does?” Sieglinde hissed. “The only man whose opinion has ever mattered to her is you. Stop pretending you can’t see that.”

Kurt scoffed darkly and reached for his drink rather than bothering to reply. Doing so would mean admitting that she was right, and he refused to give her the satisfaction.

In the lull in conversation, his attention wandered once again, compulsively, inevitably, back to Nadia.

It wasn’t that he was afraid that she didn’t feel the same for him as he did for her. If anything, he was afraid that she did. 

He had known for a long time that she was attracted to him. She had been since she was a child, and had never been shy or subtle about it. The compliments, the cheek kisses, the fond yet teasing way she always said his name--those weren't new developments.

But they had changed since coming to Teer Fradee. Everything had. Or maybe it hadn’t; maybe the only thing that had changed was him. Maybe all the island had done was help him realize that Nadia was no longer a little girl with a crush, but a grown woman who knew exactly what kind of man he was and still smiled at him like he was the sunrise.

“Tell her how you feel, Kurt.” He had almost forgotten Sieglinde was still there, but thankfully managed not to startle when her voice interrupted his long-overdue epiphany. “If not tonight, then soon. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

“I know.” The words hurt to say, and his voice came out rough and raspy even by his usual standards.

She was kind enough to ignore it beyond a companionable pat on his shoulder. “Leave your doubts in the ashes with Hermann where they belong, and stop letting ghosts hold you back.”

The shoulder pat became a firm grip as she used him to leverage herself out of her seat. “I’ll get the next round. I hope you’re not here when I get back.”

Kurt lifted what remained of his ale as Sieglinde melted into the crowd, draining the mug in one swig. He slammed it to the table, then forced himself to his feet and went to find Nadia before he could talk himself out of it.

---

Nadia could feel the weight of Kurt’s eyes on her all afternoon as she drifted through the tavern talking to friends both new and old. It took constant effort to keep herself from seeking him out over the crowd, and even then she had only succeeded half the time. She had resorted to finding a chair facing the opposite direction, to remove the temptation entirely.

Síora had yet to decide if she found the whole situation amusing or exasperating. At the moment, she leaned more towards the latter. “Will you catch fire if you look at him, carants?” she asked dryly. “Is that why you act this way?”

Nadia forced herself to stop looking over her shoulder, giving her friend a sheepish grin. “Am I that obvious?”

“You are as subtle as a charging andríg. And yet he still pretends he does not see it.” Síora rolled her eyes, but her expression softened quickly into a playful smile. “You are more patient than I am, Nadi. I would have tired of his hesitating long ago.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” She had to resist the urge to defend Kurt, to point out all the perfectly valid reasons he had for holding back. Instead, she leaned forward conspiratorially, resting her elbows on the table between them. “What would you have me do, then? Flavia suggests I should just show up naked at his door one day.”

“Knowing Kurt, he would simply offer to loan you a shirt.” Síora laughed, and Nadia joined her. They both knew he wasn’t dense enough to actually misread a situation like that, but Kurt had a habit of being intentionally obtuse where Nadia was concerned.

Síora leaned back in her chair, balancing precariously on its back legs, giving her friend a shrewd look. “You should tell him the truth. As plainly as possible, so he cannot hide from it. Whatever happens next is his choice.”

“Maybe,” Nadia responded vaguely. She gave in to the urge to glance in the direction of Kurt’s table, only to find it empty.

Síora’s chair returned to solid ground with a loud clack of wood on wood. “What are you waiting for? A sign from the spirits? Arrows drawn in the sand, encouragement written in the clouds?”

“That would be nice. Is that really so much to ask?”

Síora’s attention shifted to something in the crowd behind Nadia. “It would appear not.”

Before she could ask for clarification on that cryptic statement, a hand landed gently on Nadia’s shoulder. She had a feeling she knew who it belonged to even before she looked up into familiar gray eyes.

“Could I trouble you for a moment?” Kurt asked as soon as he had her attention, the question leaving him in a rush. “There’s… something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Of course.” Nadia caught Siora’s eye as she stood from her seat; the other woman looked positively smug. She valiantly ignored it, smiling at Kurt instead. “I think we could both use a little fresh air. Why don’t we take a walk?”

---

Outside, it was cool and quiet, the bustling city feeling almost serene after the hectic tavern. The day was verging on dusk, oranges and reds starting to paint the edges of the heavy clouds that hung overhead. A light rain fell, just enough to make its presence known, but there was much more to come, if those clouds were any indication.

Kurt jumped when Nadia took his arm. Not dramatically, barely more than a twitch really, but enough for her to notice. She gave his bicep what she hoped was a comforting squeeze as he led her away from the tavern.

They strolled at a leisurely pace, in no hurry to get anywhere and with no destination in mind. Kurt watched the road, as if the cobblestones under their boots held a particular fascination for him; Nadia watched him from the corner of her eye, trying to judge his mood from what she could see of his profile.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to speak first. “You seem… distracted.”

He laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it. “I suppose you could say that.” He finally lifted his gaze from the ground to meet her eyes, but only for a moment before his attention returned to the street. “It’s nothing you need to worry yourself over, Green Blood. Recent events have just dredged up a lot of history. History that was better off staying buried.”

Nadia no longer bothered to hide the way she watched him. “I’m not going to force you to talk about it, but if you want to, I’ll listen.” She slid her hand down his arm to lace their fingers together instead. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

She was surprised when Kurt started speaking, but her surprise quickly gave away to anger when she heard what he was saying. In a measured voice that did little to cover how painful the subject was for him, he told her about his life before they met. About Hermann and his ‘elite training’. About the conditioning, the torture, the abuse. About even worse atrocities that made the words catch in his throat, refusing to be given voice.

Some of it she already suspected; the rest answered a lot of questions that still lingered from the years Kurt had been her master of arms. The careful, respectful distance he kept her at when she was a child, never touching her in any way unless necessary and asking permission first when he had no other choice; the way he never raised his voice, no matter what trouble she and Constantin caused; the care he took not to injure them during training; the routine check-ins about her well-being, and that her teachers and peers weren't mistreating her; all of it suddenly, horrifically, made sense.

It turned out that burning at the stake was too kind of a fate for Hermann after all. Nadia wished she could go back in time to do it differently. She'd have dragged the bastard all the way to Tír Fradí’s volcano and personally fed him directly to en on míl frichtimen.

“Kurt…” she started, but words failed her. ‘I’m sorry’ felt trite, ‘thank you for telling me’ too unsympathetic.

He smiled at her like he heard everything she didn’t say. “You don’t need to worry about me, Green Blood,” he told her again. “It was a long time ago. He went up in flames, and my memories with him.”

That wasn’t true, and they both knew it, but Nadia let Kurt keep his lie.

Before he could change the subject entirely, though, she closed the gap between them so she could wrap her arms around him, hugging him as tight as she was able. She half expected him to pull away, but he returned the hug without hesitation.

“I know how hard it was to talk about this,” she murmured, her voice muffled slightly by his thickly padded armor. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

“It means a lot that you’ve been with me through all of this, Nadia. I won’t forget it.” There was more emotion in his voice in those two sentences than there had been while telling her about everything he’d endured.

She shook her head, nuzzling her face deeper into his shoulder in the process. “Kurt, I care about you. I never would have made you face this alone.”

Kurt went suddenly and completely still, and it took longer than Nadia would’ve liked for it to dawn on her why.

“Would you…” he cleared his throat before continuing with less of a tremor in his voice, “can you repeat that for me?”

Oh saints and spirits, this wasn’t how she wanted to do this, but there was no way she would take it back, not ever. If her time on Tír Fradí had taught her anything, it was that one had to take their moments when they come.

She released him and leaned back enough so she could see his face. He watched her with a mix of trepidation and hope. “Kurt. My dearest Kurt…” she touched his face, tracing her fingertips over the arch of his cheek, the sharp edge of his jaw, the scar on his chin, “I care about you. So much.”

She wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when he kissed her.

It was just a brush of lips, barely more than mingling breath, and over almost as soon as it began. Nadia barely had enough time to feel disappointed about the brevity of it before Kurt kissed her a second time, soft but no longer hesitant, sweet and warm as a summer morning.

His breath left him in a quick, astonished laugh when they eventually parted. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he confessed, barely above a whisper, studying her face like he’d never seen her before. “Forgive me my foolishness for making you wait.”

The rain started to fall around them in earnest, cold and dismal, but Nadia paid it no mind. Nothing short of divine intervention could have pulled her away from him. “You are worth waiting for, Kurt.”

Kurt lit up with a smile she’d never seen from him before, genuine and joyful. “As gracious as she is beautiful…” he cradled her face between both hands, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks, “what have I done to deserve such a gift?”

“I can make you a list, if you’d like. Would you prefer it chronologically or alphabetically?”

His laughter was the loveliest thing she’d ever heard. She couldn’t resist kissing him again, to see if it tasted as sweet as it sounded.

They were well and truly soaked by the time they parted again, and Kurt, ever the responsible one, frowned at the icy water that dripped from the brim of Nadia’s hat. The chill had started to seep into her bones, and it was only due to Kurt’s warmth and her own sheer force of will that she wasn’t shivering yet.

“We should get out of the rain. Wouldn’t want you catching cold.”

An innocuous statement; an obvious one, even. But one that raised an interesting question: “Back to the tavern? Or the house?”

If they went back to the tavern, they could rejoin their friends and pretend nothing had changed. It would be the more proper thing to do, to return to their chaperones and allow their courtship to follow a conventional pace. Going home meant having the rest of the night to themselves… to whatever end they chose.

“I think I’ve had my fill of crowds for the day. I want you to myself a little longer.” There was a promise in his voice that made her breath catch, followed by a surprising bashfulness as he dropped his gaze, the growing puddles on the ground around them suddenly fascinating. “If that is what you want, of course… I don’t mean to presume…”

“Yes,” she said quickly, before Kurt could find a way to talk himself out of this. “I want that too.”

He relaxed, tension draining from his shoulders, replaced with a tentative, but hopeful, version of the smile from before. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that.”

The storm picked up even more, stalling any further conversation. Nadia grabbed his hand as she took off down the street, practically running down the rapidly emptying alleys for the short distance to their home.

She pulled him back into her arms as soon as they crossed the threshold, her lips finding his again even before the door was latched. There was no telling how long it would be before they next had to brave the storm; she wanted to make the most of whatever time they had now.

[ragingbookdragon]

Still Life To Live

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Wee-bit of Angst

Author's Note: Legit this is the first female De Sardet I've written besides the one with Kurt -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She wakes with a sadness still ever-present in her chest as she stares out the window, at a bird-less, sunless sky. The sheets smell like Constantin’s soap, and she can’t help but feel tears come to her eyes. She hasn’t been able to leave his room since they returned from his burial. She misses her cousin, no, her brother. Constantin was all she had in the world other than her mother. The two young cousins growing up, thick as thieves, only for it to end in such a poetic yet so tragic way. She missed him so. Missed laughing with him. Missed being around him. And she missed the moments where she wasn’t plagued with knowing his blood was on her hands, even if in the end it wasn’t his fault but the madness.

“If you know, why do you continue to blame yourself?”

She blinks a few times, coming to realize that her dear cousin is kneeling beside her; her lips wobble as she reaches out, taking his hand. “I miss you.”

“Oh, I miss you, dear cousin,” he murmurs. “But you cannot spend the rest of your life here.” His smile is so soft. “I may not be here in flesh, but I am always with you in spirit.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I will not accept something you needn’t apologize for. Cousin, you saved me. You set me free.” His hand gently leaves hers, resting on her head. “If you want to honor my memory, don’t sit here and wallow while the ones you love worry for you. If that is not enough, then you must remember who you are and what you are called to do here. You have responsibility and it isn’t going away simply because I am gone.” He pats her head. “Promise me, you will get up and go. That this pain will not hold you down. I may be gone, but you have gained the world in terms of family. That old man, Kurt, the girls.” His eyes hold a shimmer of humor as he jabs, “And that Naut.”

Her laugh is watery, tears slipping down her cheeks and he’s quick to wipe them away.

“Dear cousin, there is more life to live. Promise me.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded her head. “I promise.” As he pulls away, she grabs his hand and stares into his eyes. “I love you, brother.”

Constantin, in all his spirit, simply smiles and leans over, kissing her head. “I love you, dear sister.”

She blinks once and he’s gone, the place where he was kneeling empty, all that remains of him is merely a feeling in her chest, but something in the air has changed and she rises from the bed for the first time in almost three weeks.

Her entire body aches from not moving and her stomach grumbles like there is no tomorrow. She can tell there is loss around her body, a gauntness where muscle and fat should be, but the mind and such strong emotion could always play with the body, suppressing hunger. She pulls a dress on, tightens the fabric of the corset to fit her frame as she ties various lines of linen and silk to appear somewhat appropriate.

A quick facial wash in the basin of water is all that can suffice for now, as she follows Constantin’s orders of moving on. She has so much to do, so many people to check in with, to greet, lives to maintain, rules to enforce, treaties to sign now that she is essentially acting governor before a new one is assigned.

She inhales deeply, readying herself for the surprised faces of the people as she opens the doors and steps out. Surprisingly, there are no servants, and she takes it as a small mercy, escaping the upper floor to the stairs where she walks down quietly, thinking of how she will explain her absence.

It is only when she hits the ground and walks out into the throne room that she sees her first companion speaking with another emissary; they look up at the doors and the old man smiles at her.

“Child,” he simply greets, and she smiles back at him, a little weak but one, nonetheless.

“Petrus.” She walks over as the emissary bows and leaves them.

“It is good to see you out of your room.”

She nods. “Forgive me, for—”

“There is no need to apologize for how your grief affects you.” He looks at her. “Your cousin was the only friend you had growing up. To lose that so fast…grief is merely an understatement to what you felt.” He reaches up, brushing a stray tear. “We have simply bided our time before you came out.”

“Where are the others?” she asks, looking around curiously.

“Kurt is at the barracks training, Aphra is more than likely returning from Hikmet with new supplies, and Síora went to visit her clan.”

“And what of Vasco?” she inquires, feeling something awfully funny in her chest.

Petrus frowns. “Ah, yes, Vasco…”

“What? Is he alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine, but he is leaving port right now.”

Her eyes widen, heart breaking and panicking at the same time. “He’s leaving port right now? Like this moment now?”

“Indeed.”

“B-but he—but we!” she runs to the window, stares out to see the top of the Seahorse and she feels her chest erupting. She never meant to push him away in her grief and cause him to leave. “Oh no…”

“Child…”

“I have to stop him!” she shouts, already hiking her dress up to sprint for the doors.

“Wait!”

Petrus’ calls fall on deaf ears as she runs down the steps to the grand doors, yelling for the guards to open them and they do, just in time for her to burst down the front steps for all of New Sérène to see. It takes her all of three minutes to run like hell is at her heels to get to the docks and she passes Admiral Cabral who only looks up because a sailor gets her attention.

“Lady De Sardet?!” she calls in shock, rising from her desk to run after her. “What on earth are you doing so frenzied!”

She doesn’t answer but runs to the edge of the dock where sailors are busy moving cargo that didn’t get packed into the Seahorse; it hasn’t even made it twenty feet from the port, so she isn’t too late, but she is late.

“Vasco!” she yells, cupping her hands to her mouth for better reach. “Vasco! Wait!”

She hears something from the ship before he appears at the stern, his confusion giving way to shock but a gladness is in it. “De Sardet! What are you doing here!”

Her hands come to her chest, massaging the ache growing as tears fill her eyes. “Please, don’t leave without me,” she begs. “If you’re leaving, let me come with you. I’ll sail with you, please, don’t—”

“De Sardet! Look out!”

Her turning is too slow, and she is barreled into by a sailor carrying far too many boxes at once. And for all her balance training, she loses it all as she is knocked backwards, foot caught in her dress as she screeches, trying to catch something or someone before she falls down into the frigid water.

The world ripples above her and she tries to fight for the surface but the weight of her dress and undergarments are too heavy and she sinks despite her struggle. Water invades her lungs, and she feels like stone as darkness and cold seep into her body, even as hands reach for her.

***

“She still hasn’t come out?” he asks softly, glancing up towards the third floor.

Petrus sighs. “Of course not. She lost the last remaining family she ever had.”

Vasco bristles, as if he isn’t aware of such a thing. “I know she did.”

“Then why assume she has come out of her grief.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I merely meant that…” he falls silent, scuffing his foot; something about being around Petrus made him feel like a child again. “I just miss her.”

The old man smiles sadly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I know you do. Even though we all do, you do much more.” He squeezes before letting go. “Believe me, if she comes out, I will be the first to send her your way.”

Vasco nods, inhaling deeply as he puts the tricorn back on his head. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Safe travels to San Matheus, Captain.”

***

His heart stops in his chest the second that De Sardet hits the water and comes up once before the dress pulls her back down and Vasco is cussing a storm as he strips from his belts and coat down to his tunic, pants, and socks before diving overboard for her.

The water is freezing, shocking him to his core but the sun shines enough to lead him to the woman sinking down; he grasps her waist, pulling hard as he kicks his legs with fervor until they break the surface, and he sucks in air as a rope lands near him. He wraps it around his arm and tugs, waiting for the sailors to yank them aboard and when they do, his feet hit the ground, letting go of the rope as he lays De Sardet down on the deck.

She’s unmoving, cold, and unconscious, and Vasco yanks a sailor’s knife from his belt, cutting up the front laces of her corset, ripping it open, and she snaps awake, rolling onto her side with harsh coughs as water makes its way up her esophagus. He rubs at her back, taking the blanket from Jonas who’d gone into his cabin to get it from his bed, and lays it over her shoulders as she rests on her side, breathing heavily.

“De Sardet,” he calls softly. “Are you okay?” She nods, swallowing salt as she nods and shuts her eyes, feeling a shiver run down her body from the chill of the air on her thoroughly drenched body. Vasco gets the hint and picks her up with ease, barking, “Get us back to dock!” the sailors are in a frenzy as he makes his way to his cabin and shuts the door behind him, sitting her down on his trunk at the end of his bed.

He moves methodically, stripping her out of her wet dress and undergarments to her bareness before she can even stop him; he wraps her tight in the blanket before he goes over to his chest of drawers and changes from his own wet clothes before he returns with a long tunic and a pair of cotton pants. This time, he looks up towards the ceiling as she dresses herself, or at least tries to before she mutters, “I need help.”

Vasco looks down, sees her shaking hands, and gently helps her into the shirt and laces the pants so she’s dressed. He then takes her to the bed and situates her before he crawls in beside her, wrapping his arms and legs around her, warming her as best he can.

She breathes deeply and turns in his grip, nose brushing the column of his throat as she tries to practically get in his skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and he hugs her tight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. That jackass sailor ran into you.”

“That’s not what I’m sorry for,” she answers, and pulls back despite the warning in his throat, looking into his eyes. “I shut you out and you’re leaving. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Vasco, I never meant to push you away.” Tears fill her eyes and she’s almost blubbering at this point. “Please don’t leave me. I need you, Vasco. If I have to give this all up to come, I will, but please don’t leave this island without me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he calms, gently caressing her face. “Tempest, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you’re—”

“I’m just going on a supply run to San Matheus.” He frowns. “Didn’t Petrus tel—” his scowl is much worse. “That old bastard.” Vasco lets out a sigh and takes her face in his hands. “I was simply going to San Matheus to deliver supplies and come back.” His golden eyes bore into hers. “My Tempest, I would never leave you. And even if I were to, I would never go without saying goodbye.”

Her expression is downright pitiful as she asks, “Promise?”

Vasco huffs fondly and he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “My Tempest, I swear on my honor as a Naut and my love for you.” He kisses her softly. “Rest, my Tempest. I’m here.” Her fingers clench in his tunic as she buries her face back into his chest, breathing in gunpowder, sea salt, and leather, letting sleep wash over her in his comfort.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #2

Greedfall - #2 - Caged

*

“I need to search for him,” Constantin said, standing up.

Kurt caught his arm and pushed him back into his chair. “Enough of that. You’re not well enough to join the search.”

“You dare-” Constantin started.

“I can’t be worrying about you too,” Kurt said firmly. 

Constantin put his face in his hands and took a deep breath before raising it. Vasco was certain the room being empty aside from De Sardet’s companions was the only reason Constantin would allow himself a moment of such visible weakness.

“It’s been two days, Kurt,” Constantin said, his voice threaded with worry. “He’s never done this. He’s not like me. He always checks in. Something’s happened. What if he’s injured and waiting for help?”

“Then we’ll find him and see that he gets help,” Kurt said. “I’ve got my men out searching for any sign of him.”

“We need to look at the possibility that he’s not missing due to an accident,” Petrus said. “He’s a go-between for many groups. It’s possible he angered someone.”

It sparked an unpleasant idea in Vasco. “There are three ships scheduled to leave tomorrow. Perhaps…Perhaps we should check the cargo.”

“He’d be an invaluable hostage,” Petrus agreed solemnly. “And once at sea, he’d have no chance at escape.” 

“Two ships left yesterday,” Constantin said, looking to Kurt in alarm. 

Kurt ignored the look. “Vasco, you and I will go to the docks to inspect the cargo. Siora, can you ask your people if they’ve seen anything?”

“Yes,” she said. “And if they haven’t, I can ask them to look for him when they go out, in case he is injured somewhere.” 

“Thank you. Aphra, Petrus, you two discreetly ask around to see if anyone saw anything. If he was taken and not being smuggled out on the docks, perhaps he is being held in one of the warehouses,” Kurt said. 

Vasco tuned them out as they discussed the details of likely buildings one would hold a hostage in. He knew he shouldn’t blame himself.

But he’d stayed with De Sardet that night. When De Sardet got up early in the morning and said he was going to fetch supplies from a vendor before the streets got busy, Vasco had playfully pulled the blanket over his head. De Sardet had kissed his head and left him to sleep, teasing him about being lazy.

He should’ve gone with De Sardet. Instead, he’d fallen back to sleep, waking and going down to the others to discover De Sardet had never returned. 

“Vasco.”

He snapped out of his thoughts. Kurt gestured for him to follow.

“Constantin is quite upset,” Vasco said, then cringed a little at his own tactlessness. Obviously Constantin was upset.

“They are close,” Kurt said. “Given Constantin’s recent poor health, this stress isn’t good for him. And he’s right; if De Sardet is trapped and injured somewhere, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

They walked for a while in silence. As they neared the docks, though, Kurt finally spoke again.

“I know you were with him,” Kurt said. “I need you focused, Vasco. He’s an adult, not a child who needs to be accompanied on every errand. His disappearance is the fault of no one but the person who caused it.”

“I’m focused, Kurt. I assure you, nothing is more important to me right now than finding him,” Vasco said.

“I cannot have your guilt costing us with mistakes,” Kurt said.

Vasco nodded. They reached the docks and Vasco identified the three ships scheduled to depart.

“Allow me to handle this,” Vasco said. “We can’t have them getting suspicious.”

Kurt stepped back and tried to hide himself amongst the shadows so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Vasco approached the first of the ships, claiming he was searching for a Naut aboard with urgent business. He was allowed onto the ship and quickly checked the cargo, finding nothing suspicious. 

He moved on to the next ship with the same story and was allowed aboard. He made his way to the hold of the ship, immediately on alert as he spotted a Naut who was seemingly guarding the cargo. 

“Who’re you?” the Naut demanded.

“Captain Vasco. Some of my cargo’s been taken and I’m searching for it. I want no trouble, and I’ve been paid not to cause any,” he said, flashing the coins he’d already had on him.

It’d been a gamble, but it seemed to have worked as the guard hesitated but nodded and waved him forward. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

“The…goods…were in a crate with a wave carved into the side of it,” he said, mind supplying a lie as his gaze swept the hold. “Seen it?”

“Nah, but I ain’t the one who brought down all of it,” he said. “You been paid, you say?”

Vasco waved his hand dismissively. “What you transport on your ship is none of my concern. I just want my supplies back. Oh- that looks like-” He pretended to spot something as an excuse to move deeper into the hold. He raised his voice, a feeble hope. “Thought I saw it. Have you been watching out here all morning? Anyone come down to store anything?”

It was faint, might’ve even been a wave hitting the ship. But Vasco was certain he heard something.

The Naut was replying, but Vasco wasn’t listening to him. There it was again. He was certain it’d come from the back corner.

He moved casually, heart beating hard. He angled himself so he could see the back corner.

His breath caught.

Bound and gagged, De Sardet was in a cramped cage in the back of the hold. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut, but the other was locked on Vasco, his shoulders slumping with relief.

Vasco was pointing his gun at the guard before he’d even registered he’d drawn it. “Give me the key.”

The guard had his hands up, eyes wide. “You said-”

“The key. Now.”

The guard slowly moved his hand to his waist, where a set of keys dangled. He tossed the set to Vasco’s feet.

“It ain’t what it looks like,” he said. 

“You have him in a cage,” Vasco snarled, snatching up the keys.

“Lookit his face! He’s like them, but he’s one o’ us,” the guard said. “We was gonna bring him back. They’re paying well for anything that helps ‘em search for a malichor cure. The natives don’t get it, and we heard his old lady had it but he never got it. He’s immune, like them!”

The gunshot rang loud in the confined space, and the guard cried out in pain as his shot leg gave out. Vasco hurried over to the cage, unlocking it with shaking fingers and prying the gag from De Sardet’s mouth.

“Vasco,” De Sardet said, slumping against Vasco’s chest. He was bruised and bloody; they obviously hadn’t gotten him into the cage without a fight.

Vasco hugged him tightly. “It’s alright. We’re getting you out of here. Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. Vasco tried to help him up, but he nearly lost his balance as he put weight on his ankle. “Ah, that would be a partial no. Your assistance, please.”

Vasco got an arm around him. He heard commotion going on above them on the ship and just hoped they didn’t have to battle their way out.

“Are you badly hurt, then?” he asked as he helped De Sardet limp along.

“They injured my ankle so I couldn’t flee after I nearly escaped them. They jumped me on my way to the vendor,” De Sardet said. “They were planning to sell me so I could be an…an experiment.”

Vasco tightened his hold. “That’s not going to happen. Come on.”

He gripped his gun in his free hand as he helped De Sardet up. On the ship, the city guards were apprehending the Nauts, Kurt directing them.

“De Sardet,” he said as he spotted them, hurrying over. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing serious,” De Sardet assured. “I’m not sure how you managed to find me, but I am grateful. Please, is Constantin worried? I should go to him.”

“Will you think about yourself?” Vasco said. “We’ll send word we’ve retrieved you. He can see you after we’ve had you cleaned up and tended to.”

“He’s right,” Kurt said, cutting off De Sardet’s argument before it could start. “Seeing you like this will only upset him. I’ll send word now that we’ve safely recovered you and are having you looked over.” He turned to Vasco. “Are you alright? I brought the guard as soon as I heard the gunshot.”

“I’m fine. There’s an injured Naut in the hold. I shot his leg to keep him from following us,” Vasco said. 

“Got it. I’ll take care of things here. Get him out of here,” Kurt said, placing a reassuring hand on De Sardet’s shoulder before turning back to his men.

Vasco got De Sardet off the ship. He was trying to sneak glances at him to assess his injuries. None seemed to be serious, but he had to be in pain judging by the nasty bruises on his exposed skin.

“A moment,” De Sardet said, pulling him to a stop as they reached a quiet alley. “I just need…a moment.”

“De Sardet,” Vasco said, helping him sit. He put an arm around him, holding him close. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m so sorry.”

“They put me in a cage,” he said quietly. “Like some kind of…animal. They don’t know that my parents were from here. They just saw my face and decided I look like one of them, and that makes me no longer a person. It’s sickening, Vasco. The natives are people. They’d just as hastily stick Siora in a cage. It’s dreadful.”

He was shaking. Vasco’s heart broke, but he could think of no way to ease De Sardet’s distress. 

So he held him, and vowed revenge against those he had caged him like some unruly beast. As if where he was from made him any less of a person. No, Vasco would never let anyone do something so cruel to De Sardet again. 

But the damage had already been done, so they sat together as De Sardet shook with the stress and horror of his capture and imprisonment.

[tillman]

naut my fault they didnt make quarterstaffs good for funny rogues. ok.

[stuckstucktrolls]

“if we get caught it’s totally your fault” Sugar and Spice Cake

"naut my fault it feels so good 213 but I'll try 2 b a little quieter 283"

Really, Prox had been listening carefully in case anyone was coming close so they'd know when to quiet down.

[strywoven]

@seeasunset has requested a story : ❝Wasn't my fault this time.❞ (@ Lhore)

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

❝ Oh , THIS TIME , Vasco ?  Honestly ?  Truly ? ❞  Arms cross , expression and tone both tinged with the obvious glare of f r u s t r a t i o n .  ❝ I … ❞ Hand lifts , presses claws to the juncture of her furrowed brows to help abate the agitated ache beginning to gnaw painfully behind her skull , ❝ I cannot b e l i e v e we need to even have this discussion each time something as silly as this happens ! ❞  Lhore manages to keep her voice level , calm enough but hitched by her riled , withheld ire.  It feels like she’s scolding a child – though he’s hardly one at all , and she’s barely e v e r seen him act the least bit childish beyond these harmless , occasional pranks ( but how many times would she be forced to corner him & accost him about it ? ) .

After a few moments ( & a few calming breaths ) , Lhore lowers her hand and looks at Vasco again , frowning.  ❝ If it was not y o u , Vasco , then w h o ?  I wager a sneaky imp did not merely sneak into my flat to perform a bit of mischief whilst I was out and about , did it ? ❞  She does not mean to be so accusatory , but she finds it INCREDIBLY hard to pin the blame on anyone else ; the other Nauts were brave scoundrels , certainly , but as far as she could tell , not many of them felt privy to getting on her bad side by playing the same games Vasco does.  Likewise , they all knew there was hardly a chance anyone could GET AWAY with it like Vasco does , either.  So that begs the question : is he telling her the truth or not ?  How annoying !  Why can she not even t e l l half the time ?  Is this how people oft’ felt when dealing with h e r ?  Perhaps then , this is simply what she’s OWED .

❝ I suppose … ❞  She sends a withered , hapless look at the sugar bowl , so COMICALLY refilled with s a l t , and gives a sigh that seems to diffuse and expel her anger in a heavy , exhausted breath.  ❝ It does not really matter all that much , does it ? ❞  A shrug , features relaxing as she permits a small smile to pull her lips.  ❝ Be it you or someone else , there’s been no harm done.  We can let it go. ❞  What she means is , SHE CAN LET IT GO .  At least until she manages to catch the real culprit.

[deathflares]

» ffxivwrite day #14 — commend

14 | commend » WoL/G'raha, 1k, E. to formally praise or mention with approval someone or something.

G'raha has a request, and his Warrior is only happy to indulge him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ « read on ao3 »

[stuckatmyhouse12]

*hols myself back from feeling ungrateful or bad about feeling lonely even when I'm talking to people*

[gratuitousauxiliatrix]

LIST--EN

It’s naut my fault I got big mitts and a SH---ELL of a bod with a lotta muscle

If anything it’s everyone else’s fault for being so easy to lift! 38)

[hollyharper]

Get ready for some crazy! This is an older piece, so know the writing isn’t as good.

A Not So Happy Family Reunion

Starscream immediately knew something was different when Windblade barged into his office and throw herself into his arms. She smiled brightly at him. Those cyan optics, he loved so much, stared up at him hopefully. Her head was nestled ageist him. Her wings were lowered and fluttering with excitement.

“Windblade if it’s about another child, No.”

She looked up at him and pressed closer. “It’s not about that. Besides, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Then what is it?” Starscream asked.

In response, he got a smirk and fluttering wings.

“What?” He whined.

Her smile widened. “Well, I found this human tradition that I loved. So, I made the arrangements.”

“What tradition?” Starscream asked warily.

“A family reunion.”

Starscream relaxed. “That doesn’t sound bad.”

Windblade smiled enchantingly. “Good.”

She was gone before Starscream could ask for details. That was probably intentional. About a week later, Starscream discovered himself waiting in a huge room for the rest of his so-called family. Tables were set up around the room along with two buffets. Windblade stood next to him. Her wings fluttered with excitement and nerves. All of their children darted around the room, changing things, arguing about it than changing it again. Out of all four, Sunblast was the only one acting like a teenager. She stood in a corner with a datapad, doing her parents didn’t know what. Fallstreak and Windstar were atemtmeting to make things perfect before their crushes arrived. Though they strongly disagreed on what perfect meant. Stormsaber, on the other hand, jumped around giddily and almost massacred the buffets, until Windblade told him to act like twelve-year-old instead of a three-year-old. After that he paraded around, brandishing his wings like an entire army. Windblade buried her face against Starscream.

“It’s a mess already, and no ones here.”

“Well, at least the kids are enjoying themselves.” Starscream attempted to comfort.

Windblade glared at him. “You’re the only one who could see destruction as entertainment.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now I know where Sunblast got her stubbornness.”

“She got her temper from you!” Windblade contradicted.

Thankfully they were intriputed as Fallstreak dashed form the window screaming. “She’s here!”

“Here comes Fallstreak’s girlfriend!” Windstar sang.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Fallstreak argued. “She’s my fiancée. There’s a difference.”

“You still kiss her, take her out, and flirt.” Windstar stated with a disgusted face. “I don’t see the difference.”

He was about to argue, but Starfire walked in and Fallstreak ran to hug her. The pair chatted and, to Windstar and Sunblasts’ horror, made out. Windblade tracked down Stormsaber, who had wandered off sometime during the preceding. She reappeared with Stormsaber, whose mouth was rimed in crumbs. She handed him to Starscream.

“This is your fault, so he’s your problem.”

“How’s it my fault! I wasn’t the one gorging myself on cake!” Starscream exclaimed, trying to ignore Windblade’s younger sister, Lightbright, who was staring at him.

“He got that from you. I never devoured entire cakes in five minutes.” Windblade exclaimed.

“There was our wedding cake…” Starscream mumbled.

“You ate over half of it.” Windblade retorted quite vitality.

“Over half of it. You at ALL of it!” he practically yelled.

“I did not!” Windblade screamed back.

Elita and her sisters snickered quietly as the Lord of Cybertron and his ‘stubborn’ sparkmate argued.

“Hmm. Seems familiar.” Optimus commented over Elita’s shoulder.

She turned around. “What do you mean?”

“A young couple arguing like enemies.”

“Who?”

“Us.”

“We weren’t like that!” Elita exclaimed.

“Are you telling me you forgot how stubborn you were when we were young?”

“I wasn’t stubborn!” Elita exclaimed and wacked him reasonably gently on the head.

Optimus rubbed his head. “Apparently, you still are.”

In response, Elita brandished her fists at him. Optimus threw his hands into the air.

“I’m not saying that’s bad.”

Arcee barreled in between them. “Hey, there’s great cake. You should come try some!”

Elita was dragged to a safe distance by her little sister. Chromia walked up to Optimus.

“I thought you would have learned by now not to insult her.”

Before Optimus could answer, a shriek pierced the air. Starscream fell to the floor in a trembling mess. Windblade ran to his side. She pulled him into her embrace before looking around for what had caused the problem. A certain sliver mech stood in the doorway, staring at them. Starscream trembled, desperately grabbing at Windblade. She soothed him gently. A stunningly beautiful femme appeared at the side of the mech. Sparkstalker, Lightbright’s fiancée, ran to her.

“Mother! You came!” He exclaimed.

She hugged him close. “Of course, Darling.”

Windblade heaved Starscream to his feet then went to greet them. “You’re Sparkstalker’s parents?”

“Yes,” Megatron answered. He glanced at Starscream. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright,” Windblade answered. “He just has some bad memories that’s all.”

“I know,” Megatron answered darkly.

“Make yourselves at home.” Windblade offered. “I’m sorry there aren’t many cons, but Skywarp and Thundercracker should be here soon.”

Megatron looked around nervously. The femme next to him, who Windblade assumed was his mate, whispered something then gently lead him forward. Windblade turned back to Starscream, who had managed to sit in a chair instead of on the floor. He reached for her. It only took a moment for him to maneuver her into his lap and buried his face in her shoulder. Windblade loving stroked his head. As she watched, Optimus and Megatron started talking.

“So how are you related?” Optimus asked.

“My son’s engaged to Windblade’s sister.” Megatron explained “You?”

“Chromia’s always been considered family by Windblade, so the rest the family was dragged in too. But really Starfire’s engaged to Fallsreak.”

“Who?”

Optimus shook his head. “Starfire is my daughter, And Fallstreak is Windblade’s oldest son.”

“Who’s Starfire’s mother? I thought Elita was dead.” Megatron asked.

“I thought Elita was dead too. We were both wrong. She found me, again.”

Megatron nodded. Optimus looked around.

“Where is Starfire?” He wondered.

“‘Making out with her boyfriend.” Sunblast lazy answered from the corner where she was watching TV with her friends. Windblade left Starscream once he relaxed. She joined Lightbright, Sparkstalker and Sparkstalker’s mother. Starscream watched her leave. He closely watched Megatron and Versa, his mate. He didn’t trust them, especially when Windblade was in question. Suddenly, he was picked up and hugged.

“Screamer!” Thundercracker exclaimed.

Skywarp nodded his greetings.

“You Have to meet my sparkmate, Screamer!” Thundercracker shouted joyfully.

“Don’t call me Screamer.” Starscream choked out, While he was being dragged toward a pink femme. Skywarp followed behind his brothers. Thundercracker let go of Starscream so he could pull the femme closer.

“This is Maxima.” He said entusactlly. “Maxima, this groch is my trine leader, Starscream!”

She nodded politely. “You’re Windblade’s sparkmate?”

Starscream nodded.

“Oh! My ex will be here soon.” Thundercracker exclaimed.

“You’re a lucky mech.” Maxima continued.

“I know,” Starscream answered, watching as his siblings were distracted by cake.

“You don’t.” Maxima retorted. “When Windblade was young, she met a mech. He was older than her. We told her he wasn’t safe but she didn’t listen. I don’t know what exactly happened between them, but he dumped her harshly. After that, she swore she would never date again. You’re lucky. She saw something in you.”

Before she could continue, a familiar purple femme smashed into her.

“Maxima!” The overly enthusiastic quantum mechanic screamed.

Maxima seemed to be pummeled by Nautica as she was hugged. Starscream slipped away only to be trampled over as Stormsaber rushed by with a cake.

“The cake is a lie!” He screamed.

The icing splattered all over Starscream. Windblade, who was chasing their rampaging child, tripped over Starscream. She landed on top of him with a yowl. Both parents watched helplessly as their out of control child dumped the cake on Megatron’s head. He stared as Stromsaber ran away, still yelling.

“The cake is a lie.”

At that moment a young femme, who no one seemed to recognize walked in. She looked around in confusion before choking out.

“Optimus?”

At that the Prime ran to her. He hugged the bewildered femme.

“Solus! I missed you!”

She returned the hug, still quite confused.

“I missed you, too.”

While they were hugging, Starfire burst into the room with Fallstreak.

Both screamed at the tops of their lungs. “The cake is a lie.”

Windblade groaned. Starscream groaned, only because she elbowed him in the side while attempting to get up. Fallstreak and Starfire disappeared, only to come back moments later with fake portal guns. Windstar jumped to her feet and bolt out the door. Steelhide followed her. Moments later they reappeared with more portal gear. Windstar was holding a core. While Steelhide held a companion cube.

“Why did we ever let them play that game?” Windblade muttered.

“Because you played it when you were that age.” Starscream answered nonchalantly.

Windblade glared at him. Their children came tearing back into the room and dropped what appeared to be a hundred companion cubes on the floor. Optimus and Solus, who had been joined by the rest of the Primes, stared in astonishment as a massive pile of portal junk was created on the floor. Nautica was the one to save Windblade and Starscream from further embarrassment.

“Kids, if you put that stuff away, I’ll teach how to play ‘spin the bottle’.”

All eight children perked up then rushed to put all the stuff away. Nautica walked to Windblade.

“Would you mind grabbing a bottle for me?”

Windblade nodded.

“I have one.” Sparkstalker called.

He handed the perfectly round bottle to Nautica.

“Thanks.”

She gathered the children into a circle and the game began. All the adults grabbed snacks and gathered around to watch the game. By the time Solorflare had been forced to kiss Steelhide, everyone started cheating.

Randomly, Megatronus, who had been slowly inching closer to Solus, cried out. “We’re missing someone, Primus and Unicron aren’t here.”

“Don’t you dare.” Solus snapped at him.

Everyone else joined her. Megatronus withered under Solus’s glare. She smiled slightly, which he took as an invitation to wrap an arm around her. Outside, the persons in question were debating. Neither wanted to stay if the other would be there. In the end, both just gave up on the idea and left. On the way home, Unicron grabbed a moon to snack on. Solus responded reasonably to Megatronus’s action. Moments later, she was happily resting against him. He whispered something to her, which earned a slap to the face. Meatronus obviously didn’t understand that she was annoyed. The next thing Solus knew Megatronus was kissing her passionately. She surprised herself as she returned the sign of affection. The bottle went flying throw the air and smashed on Nexus Prime’s head.

. . .

Windblade collapsed on the bed. The event had been a disaster. Starscream lay down beside her. He ran hand down her back, before curling against her.

“It wasn’t so bad.” He whispered.

“It was miserable and never happening again,” Windblade stated.

[ragingbookdragon]

Dry Lightning & Its Echoes

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 1,080 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I keep trying to come up with a witty comment for this but so far I got nothin’. Enjoy! -Thorne

           Vasco hadn’t seen De Sardet since the debriefing with Constantin after the coup. Everyone in the city, especially the group, was exhausted, and he’d no doubt that the tavern keep was going to be a rich man by the end of the night. When they’d finally thrown Torsten in the cell and made it back to the palace, Vasco was ready to sink into a bed and sleep for two whole days. As soon as they’d stepped into the throne room, apprehension had bleed across the Legate’s face as he worried over Constantin, promising to return with a cure as fast as he could and relief from his pain. He’d watched the two share a moment of silence, their hands clasped tightly.

De Sardet had been brief with the group, a few words about the journey to San Matheus in the following days before taking his leave, however he’d stopped and called Kurt over to the corner of the large room, and Vasco didn’t hear the conversation between them, but if the look of disappointed anger on De Sardet’s and the shame on Kurt’s face meant anything, it was that the Legate had expressed something deep. After Kurt had finally dipped his head a bit lower, De Sardet nodded sharply and turned on his heel, the heavy wooden doors slamming together signifying his exit.

           He wasn’t scared for De Sardet. Vasco knew the man could look after himself, but still, the way his face had twisted when his oldest friend had stood apart from him was still in the back of his mind. He’d no doubt that that was the first time that De Sardet had ever experienced a betrayal so close to home that he actually had no idea of how to deal with it. Vasco remembered the way De Sardet’s voice wavered when he asked Kurt what was going on, the shaking in the man’s normally calm hands, the shuddering breaths taken into unsure lungs. For someone who always had control, of every situation, De Sardet had been disturbed all the way to his core. That being said, Vasco wasn’t worried that De Sardet would go off and do something stupid, but he also knew that the man was going to spend the night going over every moment of the day, hating how he hadn’t seen any of it coming—and someone had to make sure he knew it wasn’t his fault.

***

           It’d taken Vasco almost two whole hours to finally track De Sardet down, and the first time around the east side of the port quarter near the customs officer, he’d completely missed him. The second time around, a familiar gray tricorn and Merchants cape caught his attention and Vasco let out a relieved breath as he made his way down the lone dock. Before he could even say a word, he heard a quiet murmur.

           “I’m alright,” De Sardet assured. “You don’t need to come and check on me.”

           Vasco snorted and sat down beside him, letting his legs hand off the edge.

           “Says the man brooding at the edge of a dock,” he ribbed, giving the Legate a stare that screamed, ‘I don’t believe a word you said’.

           De Sardet’s face pinched as he griped, “I don’t brood.”

           “Really?” Vasco doubted with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, you’re pouting then?”

           “Mmm…I’m brooding.”

           The Naut chuckled before turning his gaze to the water. The air had cooled considerably, and dark, angry looking clouds rolled over the sky in the distance. A storm was coming, but they’d yet to see the rainfall.

           “Lovely weather for a day like this, hmm?”

           Apparently, De Sardet had the same thoughts. Vasco looked back over, observing the man as he stared off into the distance.

           “What are you thinking about, De Sardet?” he asked softly, and the Legate didn’t look away from the sky, he merely let out a deep sigh.

           “Anything and everything. Too much for one mind.”

           Vasco reached over and took De Sardet’s hand in his, lacing their fingers. “Then let it be two.”

           He turned his cheek and met the Naut’s golden eyes. They begged De Sardet to let Vasco help and he sighed again.

           “Thunderstorms.”

           “What about them?”

           The Legate glanced back out to the black clouds coming in.

           “They bring rain. Rain is supposed to wash everything away—to cleanse the wounds.” De Sardet shook his head, words coming out almost loathing as he said, “So what do you do when you have no rain?”

           His eyes shot to the sky and he questioned, “Where are we supposed to find our cleansing in dry lightning and it’s echoes?”

           Vasco thought on it for a moment before following De Sardet’s eyes to the sky.

           “Well,” he started quietly. “I think it’s nature’s way of telling us that this time, we’re the ones who have to cleanse. That whatever is on our hearts, is something that only we can let go of.”

           “I never anything was on my chest, Vasco,” De Sardet remarked dryly, fixing the Naut with an amused stare.

           “But there is something on your heart,” he merely countered, squeezing the man’s hand. “And there’s no reason to go through it alone when you’re surrounded by people that care about you.”

           “People that care about me, huh?” The Legate mused. “Does the handholding mean you care about me more than they do?”

           Vasco rolled his eyes, starting to pull his hand back. “Do you ever not try to make jokes about everything?”

           “It’s how I make sure that the ones who supposedly care about me, really do,” De Sardet answered, lacing their fingers to keep their hands together.

           “Sometimes your jokes aren’t funny, De Sardet.”

           “Pitiful is probably the word you’re looking for, Vasco.”

           The Naut huffed a laugh and with his free hand he took off the tricorn he wore, setting it beside him. After he smoothed the few strands from his face, Vasco leaned over, resting his head atop De Sardet’s shoulder. The Legate followed in suit, resting his head on the crown of Vasco’s. They sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying the other’s company where words wouldn’t suit. And for a moment, it felt as though the day’s events had never happened.

           “Thank you, Vasco,” De Sardet whispered.

           “For what?”

           He turned his head slightly, pressing his lips to Vasco’s head.

           “For staying,” he replied as the first drops of rain descended from the heavens upon them.

[sugaryexcess]

Just a daymare client being COMPL-ET-ELY off )(er s)(its~

S)(e requested edible toppers t)(at look like )(er and )(er fiancee, but w)(en I did ones t)(at looked like t)(em, s)(e detided t)(ey weren't flattering enoug)(~

It's LIT-ERALLY naut my fault you're ugly~

[stuckstucktrolls]

Shaming sign for Prox: "I keep flirting with my boyfriend's skittish second boyfriend and flustering him"

"it's naut my fault he's 2 cute!"

[diceyfall]

[fic; love endures]

m!de sardet x vasco, soulmate au with spoilers for vasco’s and petrus’ questlines, 2162 words, chapter 1 💘

The name first emerged on the inner side of his wrist when he was twelve years old.

He remembers running to his mother’s bedroom in the middle of the night, all aflutter with excitement as he leaped onto her bed, shaking her awake to show her the black lines that had appeared right atop his veins.

“Léandre d’Arcy?” Princess De Sardet read out loud, her brows furrowing as she looked at her son with bewilderment.

The d’Arcy family that she knew of, she told him, had only one son. His name was not Léandre, but Bastien.

“Don’t fret, Tristan,” she shushed him as his face fell, caressing the black curls of his hair soothingly. “We’ll find your Léandre, I promise.”

But, as it turned out, Léandre could not be found.

His family had given him away to the Nauts.

Were Tristan not the nephew of a merchant prince, these circumstances might have been overlooked, but as it was his uncle told him in no uncertain terms that under no circumstances was he to seek out his soulmate.

It would be a scandal; the son of a noble house, bonded to a mere sailor’s boy? Admitting this would be no different than to personally hand the Nauts leverage over one of the most powerful families on the continent, and so Tristan and his mother were both sworn to secrecy.

“I’m so sorry, my darling.” His mother held him in her embrace that same night, trying to gather up the pieces of his broken heart as he cried against her shoulder. “Have faith. No matter what your uncle tells you, I’m certain you will find him some day.”

Tristan did not believe her then, doesn’t think he believes her now, thirteen years later as he walks the port of Sérène to meet the captain of the ship meant to carry him to Teer Fradee, yet fate has a strange way of working itself out.

“Lively there, lads and lasses!”

The voice pierces through him like an arrow lodged through his chest, pinning him in place as he stands and stares at the captain’s back, pulse pounding in his wrist right above where the name burns in his skin as if set aflame.

“Green blood?” Kurt, standing right by his side, somehow sounds distant and far away, as if speaking to him through a wall of glass. “What’s the matter?”

Tristan takes an unsteady step forward, toward the silhouette of the man barking orders at his subordinates.

“You, man! Carry that properly!”

His name… what was his name?

Someone drops their cargo and the sound of porcelain shattering startles Tristan from his trance.

Vasco. Captain Vasco, not Léandre. But if he happened to be seagiven, the Nauts would’ve changed his name. Then, perhaps—

Tristan breathes in deep, trying to calm his heart hammering against his ribs as if to break through the bone, his hands shaking slightly at his sides as he clears his throat and calls out.

“Captain Vasco?”

The man freezes and Tristan knows at once that he feels it, too. Tristan can see it in his shoulders, in his back as he is like a statue among the bustle of the other Nauts around him, hurrying along to make the last preparations for the voyage while their captain is motionless.

Seconds seem to stretch into hours before he finally moves, turning around ever so slowly, and the moment their eyes meet hope blossoms in Tristan’s chest for the first time in years.

The captain’s lips are parted slightly and his amber eyes are wide when they meet Tristan���s darker ones, gazing at him in mute astonishment and something inside Tristan sings, like everything has finally been put right in the world.

His face, Tristan thinks, is perfect. He’s perfect.

“Okay, what am I missing, here?” Kurt startles both him and the captain as he glances between the two of them with a confused frown. “Do you two know each other?”

Tristan almost laughs, but when he looks back at the captain his expression is shuttered as he eyes Tristan up and down, a hard line in his mouth as he shakes his head as if to shake something off of him.

“No,” he answers curtly, averting his gaze from Tristan to look at Kurt. “We’ve never met.”

What? But…

Tristan takes another step forward with urgency. “Tristan! My name- it’s Tristan De Sardet.”  

Captain Vasco nods in acknowledgment, but there’s nothing in his expression that speaks of recognition. Tristan’s name has no effect on him whatsoever. “The prince’s nephew, I presume?”

The warmth of hope that filled Tristan before hollows out, his shoulders sagging as a familiar bitterness fouls the taste in his mouth. He was mistaken, of course. It was his own fault for being naïve enough to believe his soulmate would appear before him so suddenly, after all this time.

He should’ve given up on the idea a long time ago, thought he had let it go when his uncle told him to, yet apparently the desire within him is still there.

A dying ember, perhaps, that refuses to blow out.

With how the captain reacted when Tristan called his name, he almost thought… but no matter. He won’t make that mistake twice.

“Yes,” Tristan says, forcing a smile onto his face. “The prince’s nephew.” 

Neither of them speak of it to each other once they embark on their long voyage to Teer Fradee, but Tristan does confide in Constantin afterwards.

“Have you asked him?” Constantin suggests, sighing with his elbows hanging over the ship’s railing when Tristan answers that he hasn’t. “Why ever not? If there is even the slightest chance that he’s your soulmate—”

“He didn’t recognize my name,” Tristan replies, lower back leaning against the wooden edge and his arms crossed over his chest as he watches a few cabin boys scrub the deck. He recognizes Jonas, remembers what happened with his parents back in Sérène, but dismisses the thought as soon as it arises.

“There may be a reason for that,” Constantin argues, pushing off from the railing and turning to face him. “You know how secretive the Nauts are; it’s rare for them to be bonded to someone who’s not one of them. Perhaps he’s struggling with the revelation? Or something else is going on? My point is that you won’t know until you ask!”

Tristan thinks about his cousin’s words in the days that follow, but whenever he finds a chance to speak to Vasco privately the captain always seems to find some new chore to do, orders to give or subordinates to supervise and it is torture.

Every time Tristan looks at Vasco he feels a sense of belonging he’s never experienced before, yet Vasco seems to have no problem shutting him out. Their conversations are cordial at best and frosty at worst, which doesn’t give Tristan much in the way of confidence when he finally works up the courage to ask.

He finds Vasco alone in his captain’s quarters for a rare moment, seated at his desk and writing something down in a journal, and takes advantage of the opportunity as he steps inside with a knock against the open door. “Captain?”

Vasco freezes again--an effect Tristan seems to have on him often--his pen motionless on the page before he carefully puts it down beside the journal and looks up at Tristan.

His tone is neutral and businesslike, giving nothing away. “Can I help you?”

“I was wondering,” Tristan starts, eyes tracing the tattoos lining Vasco’s brows, fully visible now that he has his hat off. “Have you per chance ever heard of… of a man named Léandre d’Arcy?”

Nothing. Vasco simply stares at him in thought, reclining back into his chair. “Can’t say that I have. Why?”

Tristan smiles wanly, a preferable alternative to pulling his hair out like he truly wants to do. “No reason. Forget I said anything.”

He feels Vasco’s gaze on his back as he turns around to leave the room, heavy between his shoulder blades.

“Is he your soulmate?”

Tristan halts, hand clutching at the side of the doorway to steady himself. He inhales a quiet breath, composure shaky at best when he eventually finds the strength to face Vasco once more. He finds the captain staring at him with an inscrutable expression, elbows on the table and hands folded in front of his face, hiding his mouth.

Going against his better judgment, Tristan approaches the desk and rolls up the sleeve of his right arm, revealing the bare skin of his wrist and the black name marked upon it in sharp and rough letters, right below his hand.

Vasco goes very still when he sees it, saying nothing for a while and betraying none of his emotions in his blank expression. He reaches out and lightly grips Tristan’s wrist with his fingers, eyes fixated on the name as Tristan’s breath hitches in his throat at the touch.

It is feather-light, inducing a shiver down his spine when Vasco’s thumb brushes over the name and Tristan doesn’t understand, could cry out in sheer frustration.

If Vasco is not his soulmate, then why does his body react like this? Why is his heart pounding, why is his skin burning, why does he feel so utterly and perfectly whole when he’s around him?

“He was given to the Nauts a short while after he was born,” Tristan explains weakly, which seems to snap Vasco out of wherever his mind drifted off to while caressing Tristan’s skin, yanking his hand back as if he’d been burned. “I thought… perhaps—"

“Sorry,” Vasco interrupts him abruptly as he leans back into his chair again and folds his arms in front of him, not meeting Tristan’s eyes. “Wish I could help.”

Tristan’s heart drops. “Right. Of course.” No reason to embarrass himself any further than he already has.

Although, just as he makes to turn around and head out the room, he pauses.

“Forgive me, this may be a personal question,” he starts, thinking that if he doesn’t find out it’ll drive him mad until the end of time. “But, do you have a soulmate, Captain Vasco?”

Vasco picks up his pen again, returning to his writing. “I do.”

“What’s their name?”

He’s silent for a moment, the tip of his pen hovering over the page before he lets out a deep sigh.

“Drust,” he answers, looking up at Tristan with his gaze aloof and cold. “A male name native to Teer Fradee, I’ve been told.”

“I see.” Tristan swallows thickly, and something must be lodged into his throat as he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. “Well, I hope you find him.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Vasco watches De Sardet leave, and as soon as the door closes shut behind him all the tension drains out of Vasco at once as he sags back against his chair with a weary breath.

His hand instinctively reaches down to his hipbone where the name is written in a graceful hand, contradictory and nonsensical if his soulmate is a native like he was lead to believe. He thumbs at it through his trousers, always feeling it burn whenever De Sardet is near, and his thoughts linger on the mark on De Sardet’s cheek, but it all seems so absurd.

Everything inside him is telling him that he already found his soulmate weeks ago when he first met him in the port of Sérène, standing there and staring at him in awe and wonder, a rapture that had overtaken them both.

Yet his name is not Drust, just as Vasco’s name is not Léandre.

He has no idea what to think. The handwriting on De Sardet’s wrist was so eerily similar to his own--could Léandre be the name given to him by his parents, before he became a Naut? But even if that’s true, De Sardet’s name is clearly not Drust and, by his own accounts, he has never stepped foot on Teer Fradee before.

Even if Vasco were to suppose that De Sardet is in truth a native who somehow ended up the nephew of a merchant prince, the timeline makes no sense. If De Sardet was stolen as a child young enough to have no memories of the island, considering his age he would’ve had to be taken… what, twenty, twenty-five years ago? No one from the continent knew about the island back then. Hikmet, its oldest city, is only fifteen years old.  

It’s impossible for him and Sardet to be bonded to each other, no matter how he looks at it. In the end, Vasco's soulmate must be a native on the island, while De Sardet’s soulmate is probably another Naut.  

Vasco closes his eyes and resolves to think of it no more.

His name is not, and never will be, Léandre.

[ read the rest on ao3 ]

[prawvnus]

@vwig I can’t tag you, boat hi.. Gonna assume ye already knowv my deal ZZ: / 

I’ll admit, if it wveren’t foar the anon kickin me in the nonexistant nads just nowv, I dunno if I’d’vwe responded to yoar followv. I’m.. I’vwe got issues, and wvhile it’s naut any fault of yoar owvn, I’vwe been angry at you foar somefin it aint fair to be mad at you foar. I’m sorry foar that.

I don’t suppose yoar uh, here to be chummy wvith me and chat like nofin is wvrong, huh. I can’t efin imagine howv angry Crowv must be right nowv.... uh.. thank you, foar bein there foar him. I’m sorry I’m like this..