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inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

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Chaotic as The Sea (3/?)

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3k Warning: swearing, violence Part Summary: The Black Pearl arrives in Bimini and as any adventure with Jack Sparrow, there’s chaos

Masterlist

Two days later...

Will

We arrive at Bimini as the sun begins to set. Y/N and Barbosa argue that we should wait until sunrise to explore the island. I argue that we can't waste another minute without trying to rescue Elizabeth. Jack, to my surprise, agrees that we shouldn't wait. Though, I think his reasoning is because he wants to see the fountain.

Barbosa, Jack, Gibbs, Ragetti, Pintel, Y/N, and I all hop off the boat to explore the island. Gibbs, Will, and Pintel all carry long torches for us as the only sources of light.

"Okay, so I know the general direction, but unless you feel like risking the chance of getting lost, which I don't, I suggest we use the compass," Y/N announces.

"I thought you were certain of the fountain's location," Barbosa remarks a tad agitated.

"Every tree and speck of white sand look exactly the same. Next trip, I'll drop your ass in a jungle in the middle of the night and tell you to find your way out!" She snaps.

"Okay, well then let's use the compass." Ragetti takes the compass of Jack's belt and hands it to Y/N.

The device begins to spin in her hand and Ragetti peeks over her shoulder. Jack quietly moves to stand beside her, wishing to catch a glimpse of himself.

Abruptly, Y/N shuts the compass and frantically tries to get rid of it. "Oh uh, no it's okay, Jack can take it." She tosses it to him.

"Me?" He looks at her wide-eyed and panicky. "No, give it to Will! He wants to find the bloody place." He tosses it to me.

"What's wrong with you two?" Barbosa yells in frustration.

"The compass doesn't work for them," I state.

"Seriously!" Y/N huffs.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Barbosa questions.

"When Jack holds it the arrow points to Y/N," I explain pointing between them.

"Who told you that!" Jack questions.

Then, Jack and Y/N both glare at Gibbs. "Gibbs!" They bark in unison.

The older man holds up his hands in surrender.

"Well, why can't Y/N do it?" Pintel questions timidly, circling his hands together.

"Why can't Will just bloody do it and we can move on!" The woman challenges.

Jack nods. "I'm with her on this one."

I sigh. "When Y/N holds it, it points toward whatever she wants so bad in New France."

"But isn't New France North of here?" Ragetti questions.

"Yes!" The rest of us answer in unison.

His face scrunches together in confusion. "But uh-"

Y/N elbows Ragetti in the ribs. "Shut it!" She's quick to change the subject. "Let's go! Will! I'll lead the way, you just act as a checker."

_______________________________________________

30 minutes later...

Y/N

As the seven of us continue to march through the thick jungle, Jack appears beside me. "After we're finished in New France. I say you and I pay a visit to Tortuga for old time's sake."

I laugh. "Ha! Wish to relive our break-up?"

"Think of it as a celebration of our reunion," he tries to sugarcoat it.

I roll my eyes, laughing as I move ahead to join Will up front. "In your dreams!"

Ragetti

I pick up my pace to catch up with Pintel. "I know something you don't know!"

"What?" He eagerly asks.

"When Y/N was holding the compass, the arrow was pointing toward her," I whisper.

His face scrunches together. "Y/N desires herself?"

"No!" I huff. "Jack was standing next to her!"

He gasps, putting it all together. "So you mean-"

"Yes!"

He grins. "That's kinda sweet actually."

Y/N

"Now be careful!" I announce to the men, watching my step as we get closer to the mountainside. "The natives made pit traps and other boobytraps-"

Before I can finish my warning. Jack screams from the back of the group. When I whip my head around, Jack is nowhere to be seen. "For idiots like Jack," I sigh.

"Does anyone see him?" Will questions, moving his torch around.

"It's kind of dark!" Gibbs remarks.

"Thank Jack and Will for that! They refused to wait until morning," I grumble, marching back to where I last saw Jack.

"Jack!" We all call in a scatter as we search.

"Captain!" Gibbs shouts.

We all watch our steps, checking the heavily covered jungle floor and sky for any sign of him. He could be hanging from a tree in a net or in a hole somewhere. If it's deep enough and well covered, it'll be hard to hear him.

"This is ridiculous!" Gibbs huffs.

"I say we leave him and tell the crew some natives got him," Barbosa suggests.

"I have an idea," I announce as one pops into my head. "Give me the compass," I ask Will, holding out my head.

"But how will that help?" He questions with a raised brow.

I hold the compass in my palm and lift the lid. I watch as the arrow spins. Soon, each of the men are gathered around me in a circle, eager to catch a glimpse. Then, the arrow stops, pointing Southeast. The men break apart, allowing me to follow it.

"Watch your step," I advise.

I keep a close eye on the arrow, making sure it doesn't change direction. I'm about to take another step when Will suddenly grabs my arm. I glance ahead and realize there's a massive pit in front of me. Its edges were covered in leaves and brush.

"Oh, thanks," I exhale deeply.

"Captain! You down there?" Gibbs shouts down below, holding a torch above the massive pit.

I kneel down beside the pit and await an answer.

There's a faint, "Am I dead?"

I giggle and shout back. "No, you're not dead you idiot!"

"Pintel! Ragetti! Go fetch a rope from the ship!" Barbosa commands, sending the two off.

I laugh, relieved that Jack is okay. Based on the distant swooshing sound, the pit is filled with water thankfully, not spikes. This could've been a recovery mission. I sit back on my knees and glance up to find the remaining three men staring at me with knowing grins.

"What!" I sass, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Nothing," they all say, breaking apart to roam in different directions.

I roll my eyes, such nosy people, pirates.

____________________________________________

The men work together, yanking Jack up from the bottom of the pit. I remained to kneel beside the edge, holding up a torch so we can see Jack when he pops up.

"Ho!" Barbosa calls out as they tug the robe. "Ho!"

Soon, Jack appears from within the darkness and I grip his belt, guiding him to safety. The men release the rope and relax, releasing panting breaths.

"You okay? Captain!" Gibbs questions.

"Yeah," Jack flips onto his back, catching his breath, "yeah, I should be fine. How did you-" His eyes flicker about until his eyes land on the compass on the ground beside me.

"Ah, now that's interesting." A cheeky smirk begins to form on his face as he lifts his gaze to meet mine.

I shove him in the shoulder, frustrated. "I told you to watch where you were going!" He has no idea how worried I was.

"I was a tad distracted by you, Love," he chuckles.

My eyes fall shut as I release a sigh of relief. Thank God, he's okay.

Jack places his hand on my thigh, capturing me by surprise. His dark eyes meet might and I place my hand over his. He flips his over and they interlock in my lap. His eyes soften at the sight.

Suddenly, there's a series of yells from across the jungle. Each of us tosses our heads to the side and sees small glimmers of light in the distance. Jack flies up beside me from his laid position.

"Are they with us?" He questions.

There's the ring of a gunshot and the bullet hits the tree right by Barbosa's head.

"Don't think so!" Will declares, his voice shaky.

"Who are they?" I shout.

"Wait! They're Black Beard's men! I remember one of them. He's the one who took Elizabeth!" Will determines.

“How did they find the fountain?” Barbosa yells.

“He knew you’d come and find me!” I comprehend and look over at Jack. “He’s been following us here!”

Pintel and Ragetti immediately make a run for it.

��I’m with them, time to go!” Will decides and starts to run back to the ship.

Jack takes my hand and instantly brings me to my feet. We begin to run too, hand in hand.

“Cowards!” Barbosa shouts and stands his ground. He whips out his gun and begins to shoot at the mob. “Come and get it you slimy gits! Ha!” He laughs.

Running utterly blind in the dark jungle, there’s hardly any light other than that that can make it through the tree tops from the moon. We make it through the jungle and see the beach a few yards ahead. Will and the two morons make a bee-line for the ship, when they’re suddenly stopped by a cluster of Blackbeard’s men running from down the beach. Jack pulls me into his side and draws his sword.

Suddenly, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist and I’m yanked away from Jack. He immediately whips around and his eyes grow wide. My back slams into someone’s chest and I struggle to free myself. More of Blackbeard’s men appear from within the jungle and begin to fight Jack. Two men begin to drag me off and I fling around, trying to break free.

"Jack!" I scream. “Let me go you bastards!”

Jack searches for me and when he finally spots me, he screams. "No!" He looks at me pleading and full of guilt.

As more of Blackbeard’s men appear, we both quickly realize there’s nothing either of us can do. These morons are taking me to their ship, more than likely to see their captain and to be held prisoner. This is yet another reunion I did not request.

______________________________________

After sailing out to the Queen Anne's Revenge a couple hundred yards from the island, the nasty men take me aboard and immediately drag me off to the captain’s quarters. They swing open the double doors below top deck and we enter a familiar red velvet decorated office.

A tall man stands behind the desk with his back to us. "And who do we have here?" A familiar voice purrs. When he spins around, his grin falls to confusion. "Y/N?"

"I told you! Idiots!" I huff and yank my arms free from his buffoons."Hi, Eddie," I offer a fake smile.

"Eddie?" The pair beside me repeat in unison.

The captain pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "How many times must I tell you?"

"You could hand me the Templar Treasure yourself, I won't call you Blackbeard. It's stupid," I laugh, approaching him.

"Leave us," he commands his minions. Once we’re allow, he moves to stand the other side of his desk. He props himself against it with a grin. "So, you and Jack are back together again..."

"No way in hell," I snicker, taking a look about his office. He’s changed it in the last five years. "He promised me he knew where the Templar Treasure was, I'm simply completing my half of the deal."

"Which is?" He inquires.

I stop my admiring of his decor to meet his gaze. "Showing him to the fountain."

"You would honestly betray me like that?" He acts offended my placing his hand against his chest.

"If it guaranteed me the Holy Grail? Yes,” I stand firm.

"Your loyalties still lie with that treasure? You truly are a pirate at heart,” he smirks. He rises from his position on the desk to pour us chalices of wine. As he approaches me, his eyes travel up and down my entirety. "Dare I say, you look amazing."

I accept the wine, but roll my eyes at his compliment. "Oh save it.”

He pouts dramatically. "What happened to the spirited eighteen-year-old I first met?” He reaches up and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “You're bitter now."

I lift my arm and knock his hand away from me. "It's called maturing."

"Have you matured enough to conclude that I'm the better man than Jack?" He smirks, stepping closer to me.

I move away from him and toward the book case against the far wall behind his desk. "I think I prefer neither of you,” I answer over my shoulder.

"One point, if I recall correctly, there was a point where you couldn't choose between us." He narrows his eyes, taking a sip of his wine as he creeps closer to me again. "Do you remember those few months in Bermuda?"

I shift of my heels, allowing my eyes to fall to the Persian rug beneath them. "It was always going to be him, Eddie..."

Abruptly, he rushes toward me and pins me against the bookcase. My wine falls out of my hand and stains the rug. "I could've had you if I wanted!" He growls.

I look him dead in the eyes with a clenched jaw. "You dare threaten me!”

He laughs mockingly. "What? Going to curse me?"

I grin. "That used to terrify you if I recall correctly."

"You're all bark and no bite. I happen to know for a fact, you don't practice dark magic!" He challenges.

"Just because I don't practice it, doesn't mean I don't know how to use it.”

There’s a commotion outside and soon the double doors swing open to reveal Jack marching in, gun drawn. While Eddie is distracted I pick up a vase off one of the shelves near me and I knock him over the head with it. The vase shatters into a hundred pieces over his head and the man falls to the ground with a thud at my feet. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I meet Jack’s gaze. His eyes flicker away from the man knocked out on the floor and up to me.

"I hate that I'm relieved to see you," I pant.

He runs over to me and takes my hand. "Consequence of loving me." He guides me over to one of the windows and swings it open. “Can you jump?”

I look at him as though he as three heads. “Can you jump? What kind of dumb question is that?” I mock. Then, I ask him a similar dumb question. “I don’t know Jack, can you swim?” I roll my eyes and climb up onto the windowpane and jump out.

“Jesus, Mary, and the bloody camel sorry for asking!” I hear him grumble under his breath as climbs out the window and jumps in after me.

___________________________________

Jack

We’re not sure how we’ll get Elizabeth back, but we will. Though, I suspect that he was never after the fountain. No, what he truly wanted was Y/N and the fountain was just a cover-up. I brought her right to him. For now, we just need to create some distance between us so we can form a plan.

Y/N climbs the ladder above me and Gibbs helps her on board. She offers him a thank you and brushes herself down. The crew is well into their tasks, getting us far from this island as soon as possible.

“Glad to see you’re safe, Miss,” Gibbs greets.

“Did everyone make it back okay?” She questions as I climb aboard.

“Yes, even I,” Barbosa announces with a proud grin. “Not with the help of you lot,” he adds.

“Don’t exactly have a death wish,” she giggles.

“There’s a change of clothes for you in the Captain’s office,” Gibbs informs her.

She offers him thanks and begins toward my quarters. Barbosa and Gibbs break apart to return to their positions.

“You! Hold it!” I call out.

The two men glance in my direction, wondering who I’m speaking to. They follow my gaze to Y/N.

She whips her head around, her gorgeous, long, wavy, Y/H/C flowing in the breeze. She crosses her arms over chest. “Excuse me?” She scoffs with a grin forming on her lips.

I narrow my gaze at her. “I have one question.”

Barbosa and Gibbs watch the interaction, their heads tilting back and forth between us with each exchange. The crew too watches as they attempt to multitask with their duties. Her eyes remain on the deck panels and anywhere else but me.

“Did you know the compass would lead you to me?” I ask.

There’s a pause and I can tell she’s reluctant to answer despite the amused expression she wears. Then, her eyes rise to meet mine with a sigh. “Yes... maybe...”

I smirk, approaching her slowly. “Oh see now that’s interesting, don’t you think?”

“What? Just going to gloat about the ship now?” She rolls her eyes, directing her focus in the distance away from me.

I bring my hands up to her cup her face and make her meet my gaze. To my surprise and pleasure, she doesn’t move from her spot or shove me away. Instead, brings her fingers to hook through the loops of belt.

“You stay with me from now on. No more hiding out.” I smirk. “That’s an order,” I tease quietly between us.

“Whatever you say...” Her eyes fall to my lips and then flicker back to my eyes. She grins. “Captain.”

One my hands slips behind her head to her neck and I bring my lips to meet hers in a needy kiss. Her arms fling over my shoulders, deepening the kiss.

“Now they’re going to be insufferable!” I hear Barbosa grumble to Gibbs as he stomps off.

Five years of searching for her, waiting for, wondering if I’ll ever see her again. What happened between us all those years ago is one of my greatest regrets if not the biggest. Our relationship has never been easy, in fact it’s exceedingly complicated and one giant headache. We haven’t stopped arguing since the moment we met and rarely agree on anything. Yet, we love as we do argue with each other, passionately and with everything we have. Now that I have Y/N back and I know she loves me in return, I’m never letting her go. God help me if I let Blackbeard anywhere near her.

_______________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @subwonwooagenda @starfire56 @doveygirlkay-blog @dansyberry @dansyberry @meany-marcelini @naturallyathief @oliviamae4193 @xxshoutxx @house-chase465636 @the-clint-barton @lxr1582 @m00ny-stars @lonliest-love @meandmymessyminds @jick-n0nas @biracy @kriimu10 @soxpoprocks @peachyplxm @captainluciabianchin @cannibalistic-cicada @a-e-i-owe-you @velvetsnaiil @mindifislytherin666 @bunkyung @livinglifewithoutbeingseen @ghosts-face @mx-pibbles @bigplaidwinnerparty @greentea121598 @that-eco-bitch

#pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the carribean imagine #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow #jack sparrow fanfic #jack sparrow x reader #PotC #will turner #elizabeth swann

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sunnywritings · 4 years ago

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you’re amusing

request: n/a pairing: pirate!dream x reader genre: angst/fluff word count: 6k warnings: fighting, bloodshed(not graphic) summary: captainpuffy’s crew raids your island. :)

extra: i spent two days writing this and it turned out to be 14 pages on google docs- please- lmao. um anyways,, you can use my au if you’d like(just @ me if you do!!/credit me), feel free to ask questions and i’ll answer and give y’all the info i have on it! :) also this is NOT edited dsifds anyways!! (i dont usually add keep readings but this is so long im sorry please-) - - - - - - - - - -

winter was never kind to us, the only things that seemed to warm us all were the bread and pastries niki made, or the fire we’d have ever night. otherwise, the town was silent, not a peep from anyone simply trying to survive.

we were close, or at least some of us are. every now and then you’d here whispered talking, most now guarded and isolated from the first attack. tubbo and tommy were the two that spoke the most to each other, tommy commonly being seen entering and exiting tubbo’s florist shop, except not always with flowers.

he’d leave with weapons now, newly crafted and made swords or arrows, shields sometimes even. it wasn’t new but it was still shocking that this is what the town had come to. what used to be a lively, social town now filled with the cold, bitterness of a half victory.

wilbur hadn’t been seen for a couple of weeks, the only signs he was still in there were the fact patrols were still being sent out. tommy, techno, and purpled all wandering the island, weapons drawn and looking out for that one boat.

‘masked raiders’ is what they called them, the members rather than the ship. the title was earned when their raid leader had become recognizable for their white eye cover/bandana and mocking smile.

no, the ship itself was called ‘ethereal fury’. led by the infamous captain puffy. legends say it’s hundreds of years old, passed on to their family like an heirloom, yet no one knew who would lead it next.

you stared out over the waters, one leg over the cliff side and the other tucked up, elbow leaning against it and palm in hand. your bow sat beside you, the bundle of arrows scattered around messily. organization was never your strong suit, but aim was. tubbo had crafted you personalized throwing knives, your initials craved into the handle.

your hand clasped around one of the knives, running your thumb delicately over your initials. glancing up at the sky, you took note of the time, pressing a hand against the ground and standing. purpled would be home soon, and you needed to check him over for wounds. he was your brother, as reckless as he was, he never learned to take care of himself.

with a sigh you walked around, picking up the discarded arrows, sliding your bow over your back. the string pressed against your front, though it became an invisible, phantom of a feeling when you turned around, hearing noise from the waters.

around another island in the distance pulled a ship, not too far away from your home island. quickly you pulled a shrinkable scope from your pocket, an intention fundy had given you to test, looking around the boat for a symbol.

and there it was, the ram horns on the front of the ship. quickly a gasp left you, from your post you ran for the watchtower. the cliff was a watchpoint and practice area, one you commonly went to.

you rushed up the mossy watchtower stairs, almost stumbling. finally, you reached the bell, grabbing the string inside and frantically ringing the bell.

it’s noise rung out, hurting your ears, yet you continued to hit it and let the sharp sound fill the island. immediately you heard the upsurge from the side, hearing the draw gate start to close and defense barriers begin to set up. techno and tommy must’ve been closing in when you hit the bell, what ironically and unfortunately perfect timing.

the cold wind stung at your skin and face as you raced back down the stairs and to the cliffside. you kneeled, pulling your bow back out and drawing an arrow from your quill. your sight was aimed down at the ship, keeping a steady aim and stare on the offensive, and enemy raiders.

the ship began to slow, and you could see the cannon windows begin to open. steadying your grip on the arrow you aimed slightly up, breathing in before releasing the arrow, exhaling while you shut.

the arrow zoomed through the air, piercing directly into the opening of the cannon. the window immediately shut on that opening, and you took out another arrow, quickly changing positions to be further in the shrubbery. loading another arrow you aimed at the pirate ship again, watching them begin to dock. the moment you saw a sign of movement you fired the arrow, repeating your breathing process. it hit against the board that let them down, bouncing off and into the waters, though you had been inches away from hitting someone's foot.

you glanced up slightly from where you had been aiming, the white sticking out against the rest of the outfit. pain shot through your lungs at the aggressive and sharp inhale you took. the leader of the masked raider’s was staring directly up at the cliffside, though not at you, but rather at the watchtower.

quickly you rolled into the bushes, back against a tree while peering out at them. you saw two of the raiders jump out, one throwing a fireball at the wooden defenses and the other throwing two potions down. their swords gleamed, even from how far back you were. suddenly, you heard a familiar warping sound.

drawing your attention over, you watched a black and red hooded figure land, glancing over the town. they stood beside the watchtower, only about twenty feet away from you. slowly you leaned a hand down, grabbing a pebble. keeping it held firmly in your hands you reared your hand back, throwing it at the shrubbery on the other side of the watchtower.

that got their attention, and you got a good glimpse of their face. a half demon, black horns prominently protruding from their forehead and white eyes. you bit your tongue to prevent any noise, pulling a throwing knife out of its sheath. it was silent for a moment before the half demon began to walk over to investigate, sword drawn.

you had to block out the noises of the battle below in order to focus, inhaling softly and slowly. tunnel vision took its effect, and everything around you became noiseless, void while you zoned in on this half demon’s back. the knife flew from your hand, embedding yourself into their shoulder.

“agh!” the half demon shouted, flinching forward and dropping their sword before spinning around, growling. clearly they were angry, ripping the throwing knife from their shoulder and looking at it. their blood was white like their eyes, and while they seemed focused on the throwing knife you drew the dagger you had strapped to your thigh.

from where you were you could hear the half demon’s breathing, before their gaze flickered to the shrubbery you were in. your eyes met, and before you realized what you were doing, you had sprung out of the bushes, lunging at the half demon.

their grip on the knife changed, clasping tightly around your throwing knife. while you swung to the side in an attempt to hit them, they swiped at you. the knife clipped your shoulder, but you had managed to slash across their leg.

you rolled away, on your good shoulder, the adrenaline numbing the sting from the wound. the half demon took a step back to look at you, seemingly unfazed from the wound. they slowly took steps towards you, while you stood there, shifting your feet into a fighting stance.

suddenly they rushed at you, stabbing the knife down at you. your knife raised, meeting the knife in the middle. while you both struggled to push the other knife away, you rose a foot, kicking the half demon in the stomach. they flinched, gasping while being kicked back.

your throwing knife dropped, and while you quickly moved, ducking to pick it up, the half demon threw their own knife at you. it landed in your shoulder, which brought a gasp of pain from you.

glancing over, you saw the half demon running at you again, sword drawn, having picked it up when they were kicked away. you stared, rage now burning in your stomach. when they took several swipes at you, you managed to duck or back away from the strikes. when the barrage of hits ended you swung forward, slamming the handle of your knife into their head. the half demon got knocked down, and before they could get back up again, you slammed into their stomach. you hit the handle against their head once, twice, and finally three times before they were down for the count.

standing up you inhaled shakily, reaching a hand up and ripping out the knife. you gasped again, stifling a cry of pain by biting your lip. tears burned in your eyes before you rolled the half demon over, slowly taking all their weapons. you hesitated before grabbing the half demon by the back of the hood, dragging them over to the watchtower. you propped them up against a wall inside, leaving their practically emptied bag there.

new sword in hand, you walked out, the pain slowly returning from your dying adrenaline. returning to the cliffside over town, you stared down at the battle, panting softly. the battle reigned on, techno fighting the masked raider’s leader, tommy fighting the one that started the fire, and purpled fighting the one that splashed potions. from what you could see the battle was in the town’s favor, philza even shooting arrows down from above the town’s biggest building, the townhouse, where wilbur, fundy, and philza all lived.

with a sigh you readied yourself to go down the cliff, shaking out your arms, not without a spike of pain in your left one. slowly, you used your heels to ground you to the earth, sliding your way down without hurting yourself too badly. scrapes now littered your hands when you hit the ground, quickly running into the town.

the battle was louder now, metal clashing against metal and the sounds of the crackling fire. you ducked beside the bakery, peering inside for niki.

when you looked inside you saw her behind the counter, the traveler jack inside with her. they seemed to be talking, jack gesturing to the battle outside while niki shook her head. she saw you, pausing before waving. jack turned to look at you, scowling, which seemed to be his natural expression. you waved back before looking back at the battle, huffing.

the fire was spreading uncomfortably close to the townhouse, though philza seemed fine from above. it was fundy you were worried about, less than about purpled but still worried. the fox hybrid had been taught to fight, but hadn’t completed his training, and was even a few years older than purpled. he’d been babied for so long by wilbur that he hadn’t gotten the chance to train.

glancing around at the battle, you made sure all of them were distracted before running, sprinting across the open field. the clinking of the swords grew louder as you ran past them. unfortunately, the moment you got close to the townhouse, you heard the loud sound of cannon fire. the noise pierced the air, a ringing noise now sitting in your ears as you watched the cannon ball hit directly into the townhouse.

“no!” you screamed, voice cracking. the impact knocked you off your feet and threw the sword away from you, though you scrambled back up, you were forced to watch the townhouse crumble and fall. philza managed to swoop down with his wings. “phil, fundy’s still in there!” you shouted at the advisor, who paused with wide eyes.

“get him! i need to help techno!” he shouted back before dashing off, not even giving you a chance to rebuke. you exhaled heavily before running into the burning remains of the townhouse, roughly scrambling through while coughing from the smoke.

lifting the broken wood, “fundy! where are you!” you shouted, coughing afterwards. faintly you heard him call back, a weak ‘help!’ from within the rubble.

dashing over, you quickly began to remove the wood, ignoring the sting from the fire. it burnt your skin, licking at it to create new wounds while you simply continued to move. finally you found the fox hybrid, grabbing his hand and pulling him out. his fur was burnt slightly, tips singed. you put a hand on his head, forcing him to duck with you. “c’mon! this place is gonna collapse!” taking hold of his hand you rushed fundy out of the building, with him stumbling behind you.

when you both managed to get out, only a few moments later did the building groan, the rest finally collapsing. your hands shot to your knees, crouching while you coughed aggressively. fundy pat at your back, covering his own cough with an arm. “thank you.” his voice was hoarse, yet almost broken sounding. you glanced up at him, nodding before walking a little bit away. picking up the half demon’s sword, you handed it to fundy. “protect yourself.” even your voice was hoarse, strained from the smoke and coughing.

he nodded at you before both of you turned to the battle still raging on. ringing set in your ears again, the pain coming back like a tsunami. you winced, crying out in pain before collapsing to your knees. burn wounds littered across your hands and upper arm, the stab wound to your shoulder not doing any better from the ash that now rests atop it.

your breathing had become labored, shaky on top of that. fundy rummaged through a he had, taking out a healing potion. he kept a hand on your back, “tilt your head back.” you glanced over at him before doing as told. the fox hybrid pushed the bottle to your mouth, pouring half of it for you to drink. you gulped it down like it was water and you were going through a drought. leaning your head back forward, he drank the rest of the potion. “thank you.” you muttered, able to feel the energy returning to your body, watching the burn scars fade slightly and feel the stab wound stop bleeding and scab over.

he hummed, removing his hand quickly after that while discarding the bottle. “now let’s get back to this battle right?” fundy grinned, one of his fox ear’s flicking. you smiled back up at him, standing up and taking out your dagger. “we got some raiders to beat the shit out of.”

together, you rushed towards the battle, though fundy diverged from you, running to philza. you kept running straight, sprinting to where purpled was fighting, though his opponent’s back was to you.

just as you were above to slash at him you heard the call out, “george! behind you!” it came from the one tommy was fighting.

the one now known as ‘george’, spun around, swinging his sword. you ducked back, sword swiping over your stomach and head. you spun, pressing your hands off the ground and kicking him into the stomach, knocking him back towards purpled. while you landed your brother slashed george in the side, rearing a hand back and punching him square in the face while he was in shock.

his glasses crumbled to the floor, now broken, blood dripping down after it. he gasped, and while you moved around george to purpled’s side you could see why. george’s nose had been broken from purpled’s punch, and your brother still wasn’t letting up. purpled landed another punch into his gut, shoving george back again. the enemy raider let out a small fry of pain before punching back at purpled, hitting him in the shoulder.

it was slow motion when you watched the raider’s leader appear behind george, and as george ducked, the leader’s sword swung towards purpled. you dived forward, knocking purpled out of the way. the sword hit empty air while you stood back up, glaring at the masked raider. their head turned to stare at you before one of their hands rested on george’s shoulder. george glanced at the leader before running off into the battle.

you stared at the masked one, or the bandana, shifting the grip on your dagger. right now you really wished you hadn’t given fundy that sword. it was silence between you two before he bolted forward, swinging at you. you backed up, ducking and dodging his rapid swinging.

purpled shouted, “catch!” you glanced over only for a second, dropping the dragged and catching the sword, spinning on your foot and clashing your swords together. the clink rang out, the renowned, mocking smile forming on the leader’s expression.

you stared flatly, glaring before smiling. the masked leader paused when you smiled, quickly spinning around and hitting purpled’s dagger away. with his back turned, you slashed down it, cutting through his shirt and drawing blood.

the masked leader paused before aggressively swinging at him, pivoting and slashing the blade at you. you bounced his blade off, taking steps back while he took steps forward, making aggressive slashes at you.

the tip of his sword hit you every once in a while, making shallow cuts first to your arm and then one to your chest. finally something intervened, though it definitely wasn’t what you hoped for.

“stop the fighting or he’s fucking dead!” the fire started called, sword to someone’s neck. you and the masked raider both paused, looking over. fundy was beaten up, bleeding from his lip and nose, slashes made down his arms and a couple on his legs.

you gasped, “fundy-“ your voice started, but before you could move the masked raider’s sword was put in front of you like a wall. slowly you looked over at them, staring with wide eyes. purpled came to your side, weapon discarded and glaring up at the masked raider. “back up.” he commanded, but his demand fell upon deaf ears.

the masked raider continued to stare at you while one of his companions shouted, “drop your weapons and give up! one fucking arrow or knife comes at me and he’s gone!” the sword moved closer to fundy’s neck, who managed to hold his head back slightly, his eyes wide, mouth tightly closed, and arms drawn in.

“let him go-“ your voice was quiet at first, before your fist nestled around the grass below you, though it was practically dead. “let him go!” you shouted, voice breaking halfway through, tears finding their way to your eyes. “he’s just a teenager how the fuck can you do this! you’re threatening to kill us for what? greed! fucking satisfaction you sick fucks!” you continued to scream, even when the masked raider moved his sword closer to your neck.

tears spilled over your eyes, “if you’re gonna do it then fucking do it! but leave him alone! fuck off! we’re a small island! a fucking family that you made distrust each other from the first attack! what’re you gonna do? stab me?” you reached up, grabbing his sword and bringing it to your neck. your grip was tight enough to cut your hand, blood dripping down the blade. “do it then you fucking sick prick.” from behind the bandana you could feel them staring at you, as if actually contemplating it.

their sword dropped as they walked forward, crouching down and grabbing you by the collar of the shirt. they smiled, “drop the fox!” they called, holding an amused tone of voice. “we’re taking this one.” as they spoke they hoisted you up, lifting you slightly off the ground. you squirmed, and as much as you hated it you had to accept they were stronger than you.

“no you aren’t!” purpled shouted, swinging the sword you had discarded towards their arm. another sword intervened, but not by who either of you expected.

wilbur scowled at purpled, pushing your brother away. “stand down purpled.” he ordered. purpled opened his mouth to speak, but wilbur didn’t give him the chance. “you heard me.” he glared before looking over at the masked raider.

“leave.” was all he said, turning his back on the masked raider, walking across the burnt town-square and over to where fundy had been dropped.

the masked raider tossed you over his shoulder, where you wiggled, hitting at their back while cussing bitterly. the raider who had started the fire was handed a pouch of gold while wilbur took fundy, leading the fox hybrid away from the raider.

the raider whistled, “and thank you-“ the masked raider shouted after a moment, “sapnap! c’mon we don’t have time for this!” they called. ‘sapnap’ groaned, rolling his eyes before going along. “and see you all another time!” he mock bowed while the masked raider walked up the board.

you hit at their back with closed fists, wiggling. “let me go!” your voice echoed, screaming, though no one listened. no one in the town could look at you, the only ones who did make eye contact were purpled and techno, one who looked regretful and the other looked guilty. both were wounded, techno more so than purpled, before they were gone from your sight.

the board was hauled onto the ship when sapnap got back on, george and the half-demon getting their wounds tended to as you were set down. the masked raider set you down against a pole while the boat got moving. feeling the boat lurch forward, you moved with it, wincing when your head hit the back of the pole.

your eyes closed, biting your tongue before opening your eyes. when you opened them you saw the captain staring at you, ram horns decorated with gold jewelry. you yelped, trying to flinch back even further from the captain.

alas, that did nothing as she only grew closer. you shut your eyes tight, tucking your chin and grabbing onto your own wrist tightly. the feeling of a hand on your chin brought back all your fear, and it only worsened when you were forced to look up, opening your eyes out of shock. she stared down at you, studying your expression and how you reacted. you were forced to stare back, and your fear mixed with anger burned into your eyes and stomach, boiling like a geyser.

“good job dream, now we have leverage.” she hummed, smiling. “welcome to ethereal fury.” captain puffy stared down at you before letting go, simply taking a few steps back. her sword shifted as she moved, and with a snap of her fingers you were being picked up again, this time by strangers. ‘dream’ seemed to be the masked raider, who stood beside the captain.

the new people holding you were up some not out on the battlefield, you assumed they were behind the canons or simple helpers. one was a half endermen and the other looked more dead inside, and bored, than sapnap did behind dream.

“now i find it awfully impressive you managed to take down bad,” that sentence got the half endermen to tighten their grip on you, “but i’m not all that happy you did it to begin with.” puffy turned to look at you, unsheathing one of her daggers. “now you can either tell us everything about yourself and the island,” the tip of the dagger pressed against your lips, applying pressure on your lower one, “or you can decide to not speak at all.”

your jaw fell loose, and the light pressure applied to your mouth made it fall open slightly. the cold of the blade shot through your head, the metallic taste was a bitter reminder of what was happening. she removed the knife after a moment, to give you the opportunity to speak.

you looked up at her slowly, glaring. “your men tried to kill one of my friends,” your voice was low, words slow, “so frankly, you can suck my fucking dick.” a smile drew onto your face, “because at least mine is bigger than half your men’s.”

puffy stared back at you, and while the fear and loss of confidence dwelled in your stomach, you were determined to keep staring back.

finally, she laughed loudly as well. your expression and body slacked at the noise, eyes widening. “that’s a good one kid, a good one.” puffy leaned slightly down to look at you, smiling. “you’re amusing, so full of spite it seems.” she stood back up, sheathing the knife. “i like this one.”

dream rose a brow before scoffing, him and sapnap walking over to george and ‘bad’. “release them.” puffy ordered, which got everyone’s attention.

slowly you were let go, you stretching by rolling your arms, though you winced right after. your arm was still sore from where bad had stabbed you. hesitantly you glanced around, unsure of what to do now that you were let go, though puffy brought your attention back to her. “alright kid, now you’re not one of us so don’t get the wrong idea, but you’ll definitely have to stay in the cell for a couple of days.” those words brought your scowl back.

“well if your so-called dream hadn’t insisted on taking me you wouldn’t have to worry about me.” you grumbled. puffy laughed again, though it sounded more mocking this time.

puffy grabbed you by the wounded shoulder, tugging you over. her nails dug into your wound, which made you wince out of pain, biting your lip and whimpering slightly. she let up on her grip, though she still dragged you down into the bottom of the boat, through a staircase. down there was one guy cracking jokes and the other laughing. the one making jokes was in blue, a scar down one of his eyes, and the other was in a colorful outfit, goggles on top of his head and a book in hand.

you stared at them for a moment, and eventually they both looked over at you, pausing in their conversation. puffy continued to tug you forward, and as you passed them they both returned to conversation, though more hushed this time.

when you looked forward again you saw puffy pulling you towards a cell, which was quickly opened with one of her keys. you inhaled sharply when she pushed you inside, landing on your side.

you sat up as puffy spoke, “now if you behave for a little we might consider letting you join, or return to your companions.” she locked the door again, spinning the key. quickly you went to the bars, shaking them a couple of times. you knew it was futile, only the width of your arm could fit between those bars.

moving back in the cell you sat against the wall, sighing while tilting your head back. this was gonna be a long few days wasn’t it.

- - - - - - - - - -

you woke up to the sound of the cell door opening, jolting up. pain shot through your shoulder when you sat up, staring with wide eyes at the door. dream stood there, bandages and gauze in his hands. he stared at you before clearing his throat, “puffy sent me to clean your wounds.” the raider muttered, walking towards you.

before he could reach you your back had hit the wall, distrust dwelling in your stomach. dream’s posture was slack, relaxed and unafraid, clearly he didn’t take you as a threat for now. no words were spoken as you slowly turned, huffing while showing him your back first.

the sound of him sitting down was the only noise in the cell, besides hearing your own breathing. when he stopped moving the noise of his breathing became clear as well, and oddly your breaths had been in sync. you flinched when a rag touched your shoulder wound, clearly he had doused it in gauze to clean and disinfect it. he stopped moving for a moment, waiting before slowly wiping the rag down the cut. it wasn’t necessarily long, just a deep stab in your shoulder, which hurt like all hell.

after a moment of repetitive wipes to the wound, he removed the rag, using his other hand and tugging your sleeve down. you bit your lip to distract yourself, fidgeting with your hands. “lift your arm.” his voice was surprisingly soft, calm to an extent. you did as instructed, wincing, though all he did was begin to wrap the bandage around your shoulder. he lifted a hand, gently pulling your arm down after he’d looped the bandage around the front, pulling the rest down onto the flat of your wound.

he cut the bandage off, though his other hand stayed on your arm for a moment longer before he removed it. you shifted, turning around and holding your arms out. the gauze rag he had used was tainted with a light red, though he still used it to clean the shallow cuts to your arms. his hands moved slowly, and you watched him work, closely studying his expression, or lack thereof, and his hands.

when he finished bandaging your arms his head tilted to look you in the face. silence settled between you two, only the sound of your breathing filled the room.

“why’re you listening to puffy and helping me?” your voice came as a surprise to even yourself, having blurted out the words.

dream only stared back before a smile formed on his expression. “puffy was right. you are amusing.” his tongue clicked, raising a hand and pulling his bandana back. piercing, green eyes stared at you, bright somehow even in the darkness of the cell, a taunting, yet charming smile painting his face. “i’m glad i chose you over the fox.” dream’s words were practically purred out, voice filled with amusement. you couldn’t help the small blush that spread to your face, both from his eyes and sudden change in voice. “try and get some more sleep doll, we have a long couple of days to go.” he leaned towards you, grinning before patting the top of your head.

the bandana returned to cover his eyes after he gathered the gauze rag and bandages, walking out of the cell and locking it. you stared wide-eyed at the spot he once sat at and the cell door. a sharp breath left you, one you didn’t realize you were even holding. who the fuck was this raider? and who did dream think he was to do that to you? but most importantly, what did he mean?

- - - - - - - - - -

dream had visited you a couple more times over however long it had been. mainly he had been bringing you food and water, his excuse was always, ‘puffy sent me down to do this’. the more he used it the less you cared, you were tired of that excuse, you just wanted to know what he saw in you that had him coming back.

on the brighter side, you had met a few of the other crewmates. quackity and karl were the two you had passed before below deck, they seemed fun and even cracked jokes with you despite you being in a cell. they had made you laugh for the first time since you got here, it was refreshing too. you had also met ranboo, the half endermen, and punz, the one who had looked dead inside. though it was more you had heard his name was punz, from ranboo who had been coming down to check on some storage.

anytime you tried to ask how long you’d been down here you never got a certain answer, just an ‘uhhh’ and then a shrug, or being flat out ignored. at this rate you were tempted to shimmy out of the bars and see if there was a window you could jump out of. it felt like you could swim to shore with how long you had been cooped up in here.

you heard his footsteps again, he had come by enough for you to recognize them. turning, you looked at the cell door, focusing back in, seeing dream walking. something hopped in your stomach, seeing him carry a tray of food and a glass of water.

he opened the cell door again, “puffy had me-“ you interrupted him, “oh quit the fucking excuse, if you’re gonna bring me something at least tell me why you’re coming.” dream looked mildly shocked you had snapped at him, shoulders stiffening.

his jaw clenched while he set the food down, water beside it. you grabbed the food, picking up the bread and biting into it. cold as always, “well? you gonna talk or you gonna keep shoving your head into your ass?” you swoop your hand in a vague ‘get it going’ gesture.

dream paused again before laughing, sitting down. “i’ve always been interested in you. since that first raid we pulled on your island,” he started, while you slowly continued to eat, “when we lost and were retreating you didn't shout in victory like the other island protectors did. you turned around and helped the others of your island, checked on them, made sure they were fine, and began to help set up housing for those who had temporarily lost it from our cannonballs.” his words slowed considerably, pausing to breathe.

another smile formed on his expression, though not a mocking one, “something about you drew me in, something i can’t explain.” dream undid his bandana, resting it on one of his crossed legs. he leaned forward and towards you. his eyes scoured your expression, looking for something, which had developed a look of mild shock. you didn’t think he paid that much mind to you before they had taken you.

he leaned back, standing up and tying his bandana back on. dream offered a hand out, “your days in the cell are up.” a grin split across his expression when you took his hand, stumbling after pulling yourself up. “oh doll, you’re gonna love it here.”

dream led you out of the cell, careful to support you to avoid you falling or stumbling, even as you climbed the stairs. the daylight burned you eyes when you saw it again, squinting up at the clouds before glancing around. the crew had all gathered by the stairs, puffy in the front.

you paused to glance at dream, who was still grinning, before looking at puffy. she was smiling, taking strides towards you. the ram hybrid stared down at you for a moment, letting the silence ring out before she spoke.

“we want you to join ethereal fury.” puffy offered, “we all here believe you’d fit right in with us, training as a team, close as a family, and forming a bond with everyone here.” the ram hybrid hummed, finishing her small speech.

silence sat between you two again, the only noise was the waves rocking the boat. dream’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, but not as to intimidate you into joining, more of anticipation.

a small smile formed on your face, “sure.” why not try it? you’d probably return home eventually anyways, right? the crew burst out into cheers, karl running at you and pulling you into a hug, “welcome!” he shouted, shaking you slightly.

they were so trusting of you. but why? they’d barely known you, didn’t know if you’d say yes to joining. it made no sense to be this trustworthy.

dream pulled you away from karl, pulling you into a tight hug while quackity shouted something about getting the tequila and rum out. “welcome to the team, glad to have you here.” he shifted back slightly, using a hand to tilt your head up and kissing your forehead, smiling. a blush rapidly spread across your face, eyes widening slightly, and your posture and expression momentarily falling slack.

maybe this was the start of something new, a good new, and frankly? you couldn’t wait to see where it led.

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oh-three · 3 years ago

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7, 11, 17, 18, 34, 41, 58, 65, 78 and 94 for the ask game

7) Tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote.

Oh god.

It was a Transformers fic, three chapters long, about Hubcap (red version) getting kidnapped by Decepticons then rescued by Blurr and Ironhide. It's actually pretty cringey, and I hate the dialogue so much. My writing has improve so much since then.

11) What’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? Also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

[TW- slavery]

I don't worry about research too much, unless it's like historical or medical stuff (occasional Wookieepedia use aside).

I did write a Pirates Of The Caribbean fic a year and a half (or two and a half years) ago, spent days researching slavery. I learned all kinds of stuff from that, stored it on a document for safekeeping. Have this on there:

Slaves were scrubbed and their wounds filled with hot tar before auction. The unsold and frail were often sold by scramble auctions, where after agreeing a flat rate, plantation owners would race to grab the best workforce.

17) What is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

I don't really memorize them, but whenever I look back on a fic and read one of them, I remember how much I love it. For the sake of saving time, here's one from A Hand In Refuge:

Because even though his master had discouraged the voicing of his opinion, the desire to share had lingered deep beneath his rigorous teachings, waiting oh-so-patiently to arise.

18) What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

My most favorite part of writing is watching it turn from outline material into fully fleshed out conversations and ideas. There's a certain magic to watching it happen, to comparing the two afterward.

My least favorite part is figuring out how to pick something up again from where I've left off. Really struggling to start the next chapter of my Cobb Vanth series at the moment. I know what I want to do, I just don't know how to execute it.

34) How do you name characters and places?

Honestly? I usually just run a name generator until I come upon one that just fits. Something that I like the sound of aesthetically, something that feels like it suits the personality of the character receiving the name.

41. What is the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had?

I'm part of a (now -inactive) Discord server with a few other Pirates Of The Caribbean writers. Went to a feed store one night, shared a few pictures of chicks staying warm.

That turned into me writing a story about Jack Sparrow smuggling a couple pocket-fulls of chicks onto the Black Pearl. It's the most random thing I've ever written, and I love it.

58) What is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it?

"hyperspace lane"

Yeah, I was trying to figure out what skylanes were called. I got there.

65) What is your favourite title for a fic you’ve written?

Me, who's written over four-hundred fics: ...

I've Seen Things In This House I've Never Spoken Of is a good one. It's a Spider-Man fic, the title itself being a quote from one of the characters.

When The Suns Grow Low, The Fight Only Gets Tougher is the title of the first fic in my Cobb Vanth series. I don't even remember how I came up with it, but I really do love it a lot.

Solus Tome (Alone Together) is another favorite, the fic surrounding the Bad Batch and Fives, an AU in which he survives and they find him. The first part of the title is in Mando'a, the translation being the part that's in parenthesis.

I'm going to stop there before I get ahead of myself.

78) How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Yeah, that's always a tad difficult.

I usually just chop it up between scenes to make it a bit more natural, though I sometimes cut it in the middle of scenes for the sake of length consistency or dramatic effect.

94) Do you prefer dialogue or description?

I really like both, if I'm being honest. I can't say I prefer one over the other. I love description, going in-depth on how things look, but there's just something about nailing a character's line that is pretty magical itself.

#thanks for the ask!#definitely took a trip down memory lane!

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

Text

Watomatic, for lower Whatsapp switching costs

Any discussion of monopolization of the web is bound to include the term “network effects,” and its constant companion, “natural monopolies.” This econojargon is certainly relevant to the discussion, but really needs the oft-MIA idea of “switching costs.”

A technology has “network effects” when its value grows as its users increase, attracting more users, making it more valuable, attracting more users.

The classic example is the fax machine: one fax is useless, two is better, but when everyone has a fax, you need one too.

Social media and messaging obviously benefit significantly from network effects: if all your friends are on Facebook (or if it’s where your kid’s Little League games are organized, or how your work colleagues plan fun activities), you’ll feel enormous pressure to join.

Indeed, in these days of Facebook’s cratering reputation, it’s common to hear people say, “I’m only on FB because my friends are there,” and then your friends say, “I’m only there because you are there.”

It’s a form of mutual hostage-taking.

That hostage situation illustrates (yet) another economic idea: “collective action problems.” There are lots of alternatives to Facebook, but unless you can convince everyone on Facebook to pick one and move en masse, you’ll just end up with yet another social account.

This combination of network effects and collective action problems leads some apologists for tech concentration to call the whole thing a “natural monopoly” — a system that tends to be dominated by a single company, no matter how hard we try.

Railroads are canonical “natural monopolies.” Between the costs of labor and capital and the difficulty in securing pencil-straight rights-of-way across long distances, it’s hard to make the case for running a second set of parallel tracks for a competing company’s engines.

Other examples of natural monopolies include cable and telephone systems, water and gas systems, sewer systems, public roads, and electric grids.

Not coincidentally, these are often operated as public utilities, to keep natural monopolies from being abused by greedy jerks.

But the internet isn’t a railroad. Digital is different, because computers are universal in a way that railroads aren’t — all computers can run all programs that can be expressed in symbolic logic, and that means we can almost always connect new systems to existing ones.

Open up a doc in your favorite word processor and choose “Save As…” and just stare in awe and wonder at all the different file-formats you can read and write with a single program. Some of those formats are standardized, while others are proprietary and/or obsolete.

It’s easier to implement support for a standard, documented format, but even proprietary formats pose only a small challenge relative to the challenge presented by, say, railroads.

Throw some reverse-engineering and experimentation at a format like MS DOC and you can make Apple Pages, which reads and writes MS’s formats (which were standardized shortly after Pages’ release, that is, after the proprietary advantage of the format was annihilated).

This is not to dismiss the ingenuity of the Apple engineers who reversed Microsoft’s hairball of a file-format, but rather, to stress how much harder their lives would have been if they were dealing with railroads instead of word-processors.

During Australia’s colonization, every state had its own governance and its own would-be rail-barons. Each state laid its own gauge of rail-track, producing the “multi-gauge muddle” — which is why, 150+ years later, you can’t get a train from one end of Oz to the other.

Hundreds of designs for interoperable rolling stock have been tried, but it’s proven impossible to make a reliable car that retracts one set of wheels and drops a different one.

The solution to the middle-gauge muddle? Tear up and re-lay thousands of kilometers of track.

Contrast that with the Windows users who discovered that Pages would read and write the thousands of documents they’d authored and had to exchange with colleagues: if they heeded the advice of the Apple Switch ads, they could buy a Mac, move their files over, and voila!

Which brings me to switching costs. The thing that make natural monopolies out of digital goods and services are high switching costs, including the collective action problem of convincing everyone to quit Facebook or start using a different word-processor.

These switching costs aren’t naturally occurring: they are deliberately introduced by dominant firms that want to keep their users locked in.

Microsoft used file format obfuscation and dirty tricks (like making a shoddy Mac Office suite that only offered partial compatibility with Windows Word files) to keep the switching costs high.

By reverse-engineering and reimplementing Word support, Apple obliterated those switching costs — and with them, the collective action problem that created Word’s natural monopoly.

Once Pages was a thing, you didn’t have to convince your friends to switch to a Mac at the same time as you in order to continue collaborating with them.

Once you get an email-to-fax program, you can discard your fax machine without convincing everyone else to do the same.

Interoperability generally lowers switching costs. But adversarial interoperability — making something new that connects to something that already exists, without its manufacturer’s consent — specifically lowers deliberate switching costs.

Adversarial interoperability (or “competitive compatibility,” AKA “comcom”) is part of the origin story of every dominant tech company today. But those same companies have gone to extraordinary lengths to extinguish it.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Just as a new company may endorse standardization when it’s trying to attract customers who would otherwise be locked into a “ecosystem” of apps, service, protocols and parts, so too do new companies endorse reverse-engineering and comcom to “fix” proprietary tech.

But every pirate wants to be an admiral. Once companies attain dominance, they start adding proprietary extensions to the standard and fighting comcom-based interoperability, decrying it as “hacking” or “theft of intellectual property.”

In the decades since Microsoft, Apple, Google, and Facebook were upstarts, luring users away from the giants of their days, these same companies have labored to stretch copyright law, terms of service, trade secrecy, patents and other rules to ban the tactics they once used.

This has all but extinguished comcom as a commercial practice. Today’s comcom practitioners risk civil and criminal liability and struggle to get a sympathetic hearing from lawmakers or the press, who have generally forgotten that comcom was once a completely normal tactic.

The obliteration of comcom is why network effects produce such sturdy monopolies in tech — and there’s nothing “natural” about those monopolies.

If you could leave Facebook but still exchange messages with your friends who hadn’t wised up, there’d be no reason to stay.

In other words, the collective action problem that the prisoners of tech monopolies struggle with is the result of a deliberate strategy of imposing high technical and legal burdens to comcom, in order to impose insurmountable switching costs.

I wrote about this for Wired UK back in April, comparing the “switching costs” the USSR imposed on my grandmother when she fled to Canada in the 1940s to the low switching costs I endured when I emigrated from Canada to the UK to the USA:

https://www.wired.co.uk/article/social-media-competitive-compatibility

Today, there’s a group of tech monopoly hostages who are stuck behind their own digital iron curtain, thanks to Facebook’s deliberate lock-in tactics: the users of Whatsapp, a messaging company that FB bought in 2014.

Whatsapp was a startup success: founded by privacy-focused technologists who sensed users were growing weary of commercial surveillance, they pitched their $1 service as an alternative to Facebook and other companies whose “free” products extracted a high privacy price.

Facebook bought Whatsapp, stopped the $1 charge, and started spying. In response to public outcry, the Facebook product managers responsible for the app assured its users that the surveillance data WA extracted wouldn’t be blended with Facebook’s vast database of kompromat.

That ended this year, when every Whatsapp user in the world got a message warning them that Facebook had unilaterally changed Whatsapp’s terms of service and would henceforth use the app’s surveillance data alongside the data it acquired on billions of people by other means.

Downloads of Whatsapp alternatives like Signal and Telegram surged, and Facebook announced it would hold off on implementing the change for three months. Three months later, on May 15, Facebook implemented the change and commenced with the promised, more aggressive spying.

Why not? After all, despite all of the downloads of those rival apps, Whatsapp usage did not appreciably fall. Convincing all your friends to quit Whatsapp and switch to Signal is a lot of work.

If the holdout is — say — a beloved elder whom you haven’t seen in a year due to lockdown, then the temptation to keep Whatsapp installed is hard to resist.

What if there was a way to lower those collective action costs?

It turns out there is. Watomatic is a free/open source “autoresponder” utility for Whatsapp and Facebook that automatically replies to messages with instructions for reaching you on a rival service.

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.parishod.watomatic

It’s not full interoperability — not a way to stay connected to those friends who won’t or can’t leave Facebook’s services behind — but it’s still a huge improvement on the nagging feeling that people you love are wondering why you aren’t replying to their messages.

The project’s sourcecode is live on Github, so you can satisfy yourself that there isn’t any sneaky spying going on here:

https://github.com/adeekshith/watomatic

It’s part of a wider constellation of Whatsapp mods, which have their origins in a Syrian reverse-engineer whose Whatsapp comcom project was picked up and extended by African modders who produced a constellation of Whatsapp-compatible apps.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/03/african-whatsapp-modders-are-masters-worldwide-adversarial-interoperability

These apps are often targeted for legal retaliation by Facebook, so it’s hard to find them in official app stores where they might be vetted for malicious code.

It’s a strategy that imposes a new switching cost on Whatsapp’s hostages, in the form of malware risk.

Legal threats are Facebook’s default response to comcom. That’s how they responded to NYU’s Ad Observer, a plugin that lets users scrape and repost the political ads they’re served.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/04/553000000-reasons-not-let-facebook-make-decisions-about-your-privacy

Ad Observer lets independent researchers and journalists track whether Facebook is living up to its promises to block paid political disinformation. Facebook has made dire legal threats to shut this down, arguing that we should trust the company to mark its own homework.

Whatsapp lured users in by promising privacy. It held onto them post-acquisition by promising them their data would be siloed from Facebook’s main databases.

When it reneged on both promises, it papered this over by with a dialog box where they had to click I AGREE.

This “agreement” is a prime example of “consent theater,” the laughable pretense that Facebook is “making an offer” and the public is “accepting the offer.”

https://onezero.medium.com/consent-theater-a32b98cd8d96

Most people never read terms of service — but even when they do, “agreements” are subject to unilateral “renegotiation” by companies that engineered high switching costs as a means of corralling you into clicking “I agree” to things no rational person would ever agree to.

Consent theater lays bare the fiction of agreement. Real agreement is based on negotiation, and markets are based on price-signals in which buyers and sellers make counteroffers.

A “market” isn’t a place where a dominant seller names a price and then takes it from you.

Comcom is a mechanism for making these counteroffers. Take ad-blockers, which Doc Searls calls “the largest consumer boycott in history.” More than a quarter of internet users have installed an ad-block, fed up with commercial surveillance.

This is negotiation, a counteroffer. Big Tech — and the publications it colonizes — demand you give them everything, all the data they can extract, for every purpose they can imagine, forever, as a condition of access.

Ad-block lets you say “Nah.”

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

The fiction that tech barons have “discovered” the “price” that the public is willing to pay for having a digital life is a parody of market doctrine. Without the ability to counteroffer — in code, as well as in law — there is no price discovery.

Rather, there is price-setting.

Not coincidentally, “the ability to set prices” is the textbook definition of an illegal monopoly.

#pluralistic

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cutesilyo · 4 years ago

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Notes and References for i know your eyes in the morning sun

Hi! These are notes and references for my IndoPhil fic i know your eyes in the morning sun, so please check it out before reading this!

Title: i know your eyes in the morning sun Summary: When a homesick Indonesia is unexpectedly taken out of his meeting for a day trip in Rome with Philippines, he isn't expecting much more than exhaustion ahead of him. Instead, what happens is a whirlwind of food, fun, and a surprising amount of reflection on their histories and differences as nations. And as he looks deeper and deeper in the other nation's bright eyes, he learns to come to terms with the feelings he's been ignoring for far, far too long. Alternatively: a nation who's too attached to the past goes on a date with a nation whose entire philosophy is built on trying to live in the moment. Yes, there is kissing involved. Read on: AO3 | FF.net

Scene 1: Pizza al taglio

As coincidence would have it, the G20 2021 Summit actually will be held in Rome, Italy. However, it’ll be on the end of October rather than the end of September like how its depicted in the fic. I’m also very much ignoring the COVID-19 pandemic. Pretend it never happened.

Borobudur is the largest Buddhist temple in the world, found in the island of Java, Indonesia. It was built way back in the 7th Century and it's probably Indonesia's top most visited site.

Terang bulan is basically like a really large, fluffy, folded pancake. It also has a variety of different names and is also eaten in Brunei, Malaysia, and Singapore.

If you could have a convenience store dedicated solely to pizza, that's what pizza al taglio establishments are like. Its literal translation is pizza by the cut, and since it's a lot more common to find in Rome than in other places in Italy, it's also called Roman-style pizza. The layout for the al taglio shop that Indonesia and Philippines go to is inspired from the shop that me and my family went to: a small family establishment just a short walk away from the Vatican.

You can actually find a recipe for Indonesia’s arugula and mozzarella pizza here: https://shared.publicmediaconnect.org/docs/atk/Pizza_Taglio_Cooks_Illustrated.pdf

Scene 2: Souvenir store + Bus stop

Indonesian rupiahs are notoriously hyperinflated, so the 15 euros that Philippines uses to buy the keychains convert to 250k+ rupiahs. That's around 50k short for actually being able to buy a local economy flight on Lion Air. For comparison, the same amount of euros convert to approximately 900 Philippine pesos. It’s also a few hundred pesos short of buying a local economy flight on Cebu Pacific.

There actually was a point when a G20 meeting was held in the Coliseum. It was the G20 culture ministers meeting just a few months ago, in July 2021.

Yes, on top of the thousands of festivals we already have, Filipinos also celebrate Oktoberfest! It's more of an excuse for local beer companies to shamelessly promote their product and encourage drinking fests on a massive scale, but a more legitimate Oktoberfest celebration is organized by the German Club in Manila. Lucky Philippines gets to celebrate it authentically in Munich with the German brothers, who historically aimed to conquer the Philippines before America managed to stake his claim. So if you sense that Germany is being oddly shy towards Philippines here, that's just Germany being embarrassed because of their history.

Italy's major international airport in Rome is Aeroporto Internazionale di Roma–Fiumicino "Leonardo da Vinci", so you generally just call it Fiumicino for short. A possible travel route for flying from the Philippines to Italy is Clark-Dubai-Rome, and another is Manila-Hong Kong-Rome.

Scene 3: Gianicolo

Bali, Boracay, and El Nido are beaches that serve as major tourist destinations.

Vietnam has already been mentioned to be a menace when she's drunk in her most recent character introduction. Laos is at the top of ASEAN when it comes to alcohol consumption, with the average Laotian drinking seven liters of pure alcohol every year.

Indonesia is sometimes known as the Invisible Nation. What this means to say is that there have not been many things that Indonesia has done that made massive waves on the global scale. From what I’ve read, this seems to have been an especially popular sentiment among Western analysts during the Cold War.

Australia's awkward attempt at an apology is a reference to when the Australian government had allegedly monitored and spied on the phone calls of several Indonesian officials. Indonesia and Australia have a history that goes far deeper than that though.

Monas is a common abbreviation for Indonesia's Monumen Nasional, proudly standing tall in the middle of Merdeka Square as a commemoration of the fight for Indonesian independence. Taman Surapati is a large, chill public park; it also has a monument dedicated to commemorating ASEAN there. Both are located in Jakarta, Indonesia's capital. Meanwhile, Philippines' mention of Luneta refers to Luneta Park. It's also known as Rizal Park, as it's the place where the national hero Jose Rizal was executed for the influence he had in encouraging the fight for Philippine independence.

In Rome, there are seven major hills: they formed the geographical heart of Ancient Rome, with Palatino and Campidoglio as the most significant given how connected they were to Rome's founding and Rome's religion. Gianicolo is outside the boundaries of Ancient Rome, and as such, it isn't counted among the seven hills. It is dedicated to the Roman god Janus and was a place for the augurs to divine the will of the gods — kind of like a prophecy, if a prophecy could be divined from bird entrails. Now it's a great spot for a scenic view of modern Rome which features, among other things, a large statue of Giuseppe Garibaldi. Garibaldi was a major figure in the Italian Reunification.

Nusantara means many different things, but in the era of the Majapahit empire, it referred to the vassal kingdoms in what is now modern-day Malaysia, Singapore, Brunei, Timor Leste, and the southern parts of modern-day Thailand and Philippines. Modern usage of the word in Indonesia generally refers to the Indonesian archipelago, but it can also be used to refer to the entirety of maritime Southeast Asia. Culturally and historically, Southeast Asia is divided into the mainland region (the countries connected to the Asian continent: Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar) and maritime (the countries that are islands and archipelagos: Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Brunei, Philippines).

Italy, together with the United Kingdom, is the largest European migration destination for Filipinos. The largest migration destination for Filipinos in general is America.

Shout-out to Ro-na for this wonderful headcanon of Philippines being sickly in his early days as a Spanish colony! The galleon ships used to facilitate trade between the Philippines and Mexico (perhaps the Philippines' most major contribution to the Spanish crown) would often be attacked by pirates or destroyed in typhoons, especially in the first few decades.

Majapahit and Srivijaya are only two of pre-colonial Indonesia's many powerful empires. A lot of the pre-colonial stuff has been simplified for brevity's sake, but a brief summary of it all basically goes like this: pre-colonial Indonesia was involved with everyone in maritime SEA, where everyone traded with each other; and mainland SEA was non-stop fighting where the major powers were the empires that would later become Vietnam and the Khmer empire that would influence everyone else in mainland SEA. You can find a more detailed look into mainland SEA history by Gemu in her posts here, who is my main influence for everything mainland SEA-related.

A young Brunei picking flowers for a young Philippines is a reference to all the marriages that had occurred between their nobility during the pre-colonial era.

Scene 4: Apartment

The turtle fountain in Rome is a real thing: Fontana delle Tartarughe was originally designed with dolphins in mind, but the dolphins were removed and replaced by turtles. In fandom, you usually see Philippines calling Indonesia kuya, which is Tagalog for older brother. In at least one Indonesian language (I can't remember which one at the moment, sorry!), kuya means turtle.

Tondo, Seludong, Butuan, Sulu, Sugbu, and Panay are all polities in pre-colonial Philippines, two for each of the main island groups in the country: Luzon in the north, Mindanao in the south, and Visayas in the middle. Unlike pre-colonial Indonesia, the societies in the Philippines were never united by a single kingdom or empire; the Philippine islands were only united through the efforts of Spanish and American colonization.

Filipinos tend to sing a lot. Many of us are really good at it. Karaoke is really popular here.

Philippines' PIN code of 8862 is a reference to when ASEAN was founded: August 8, 1962. The founding members were Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand.

This might be as good of a time as ever for me to mention that I am depicting Philippines and Indonesia as Catholic and Muslim respectively. Filipinos are predominantly Catholic and the Philippines is the largest Catholic country in Asia, while Indonesia has a number of official religions and is the largest Muslim nation in the world.

Special thanks to Desa for helping me with Indonesia's prayer times! Normally, Muslims pray five times a day, but when travelling Muslims are allowed to pray only three times. This is called Qasr salah, or Qasr sholat in Indonesia. What is usually Fajr (called Subuh in Indonesia), Zuhr, Asr, Magrib, and Isha becomes only Fajr, Zuhr-Asr, and Mahgrib-Isha; essentially, without getting into the specifics of time, a prayer for sunrise, afternoon, and night. The mosques will remind everyone when it's prayer time with adhan (called adzan in Indonesia), but in non-Muslim countries abroad, many Muslims have to use websites and apps to keep track. Something I didn't mention in the fic is that Rome actually has the largest mosque in the Western world, Moschea di Roma, so Indonesia could have potentially prayed there.

Scene 5: Apartment dinner table

Sholat wouldn’t take Indonesia more than a few minutes, so imagine that he did something else while waiting for Philippines to finish cooking.

Baked fish with sliced lemons is a meal that got served to me a lot in Italy. Chop suey is Chinese, but China has had a significant cultural influence for most of Southeast Asia throughout history; the Indonesian version is known as kap cay. Indomie Mi Goreng is a particularly tasty and famous kind of instant noodles from Indonesia. It's very popular in many Asian countries. Indonesia doesn’t drink, but Philippines is drinking white wine because that’s what you’re supposed to do when eating fish. Red wine goes with meat.

Admittedly, this is my own personal headcanon, but I like to think of Philippines living in Spain with the other Spanish colonies while everyone else in maritime SEA were left behind to live in their own countries. It's my own neat Hetalia universe explanation for how much Spanish influence there is in Filipino culture, and how isolated Filipinos can sometimes feel among their neighbors.

I do think that Philippines would have a Hispanic-sounding human name, but I've never really settled on what name actually would be: in fandom, Felipe, Lorenzo, and Jaime get thrown around a lot. In contrast, it seems like most people have settled on Dirga (short for Dirgantara) for Indonesia.

Philippines is sometimes called as la colonia abandonada in Spanish sources: the abandoned colony. Because the Philippines was so far away, Spain couldn't manage the colony directly and had to rely on Mexico/Nueva España to do the dirty work until Mexico became independent. This led to a more relaxed manner in how the country was managed for most of its Spanish colonial life; some scholars even go as far as saying that Spain's treatment of the Philippines was kinder than Spain's treatment of Latin America. I don't really agree — it was different, sure, but it wasn't kind in the least.

Contrast that with Indonesia as the largest and most important colony of the Dutch empire. Aside from all the money and economic prosperity that Indonesia gave to the empire, you'll also find many Dutch songs and hymns that are all praises to Indonesia. Much of the research in Indonesian history, ethnography, and archeology was made possible because of Dutch interest and support; until now, the Netherlands remains to be Europe's leader when it comes to Indonesian studies. This isn't to say that Netherlands treated Indonesia well, however.

After the Japanese occupation of Indonesia in WW2, Netherlands fought to keep power over the archipelago. Needless to say, the Netherlands failed. Indonesia was recognized as an independent country soon after.

Indië is the Dutch colonial name for Indonesia.

APEC is the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation, of which Philippines and Indonesia (and Thailand!) are members.

Scene 6 + 7: Apartment bedroom

What was Philippines doing in the 1920s, you ask? Being an American colony and trying to lobby for laws that would hasten his independence. Indonesia was in the middle of what’s called the Indonesian National Awakening; all the different peoples under Indonesia were beginning to come together and unite to fight for a single independent nation.

As a tarsier, Pien is actually supposed to be nocturnal; he shouldn't be sleeping at night at all. Maybe he just got jet lagged? Who knows.

BL stands for the boy's love genre of TV series. For years, Thailand had been the lead when it came to BL production with shows like TharnType and SOTUS. Recently, the Philippines has also been developing BL series — Gameboys specifically had achieved worldwide acclaim and is distributed globally through Netflix.

Filipino languages tend to have more complex verb conjugation and sentence structure compared to Bahasa Melayu and Bahasa Indonesia. The linguistic explanation for this is that most of the Filipino languages are based on the older Proto-Malayo-Polynesian language while Bahasa Melayu and Bahasa Indonesia are based on the newer, more simplified descendants of Proto-Malayo-Polynesian.

Pramoedya Ananta Toer was an Indonesian author that focused a lot of his work on nationalistic sentiments. He has a quote on bravery that I really like: Dalam hidup kita, cuma satu yang kita punya, yaitu keberanian. Kalau tidak punya itu, lantas apa harga hidup kita ini? Loosely translated, this reads as: In our life, we only have one thing, which is bravery. If it’s not, what is the value of our life?

Indonesia, as a large archipelago in the Pacific Ring of Fire, has a lot of active volcanoes. In contrast, the Philippines is regularly hit by tens of typhoons annually.

There are an estimated 12 million Filipinos overseas, and this number consistently rises through the years. It's one of the largest diaspora populations: name a country, you'll probably find a Filipino working there somewhere. OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers) account for 10% of the country's population and the remittances they send back to their families account for 10% of the country's GDP. Indonesia has a similar phenomenon with TKIs (Tenaga Kerja Indonesia), of which there are 4.5 million worldwide.

Post-independence, Indonesia was very paranoid over Western influence in Southeast Asia. In that same time period, Philippine delegates to international conferences would always speak of democracy and the looming threat of Communism; even though most of the Asian delegates would prefer to move past Western problems and disputes to focus on a united Asia.

Telenovelas are soap operas produced in Latin America. They became popular in Southeast Asia as they were distributed and remade here. The Indonesian equivalent is the sinetron, and the Filipino equivalent is the teleserye.

Additionally, I cannot stress enough how much this fic is built on the foundations laid by others. I’ve already mentioned how much I took inspiration from Gemu’s depiction of mainland SEA, but I also credit Indonesia’s thing for temples to Desa; the passive-aggressive energy between Thailand and Philippines to Hali; amnesiac Piri to Koko, Kopi, and Sopas (among the many). There are a dozen other things I can attribute to a huge assortment of writers and artists: that Singapore has trouble remembering his pre-colonial roots as well, that Piri might have had a good relationship with Romano, Piri’s general flirty and flighty attitude, Indonesia’s awkwardness and big brother aura, etcetera, etcetera. If you’re someone that has been contributing to the SEA fandom these past few months, thank you. Thank you so much.

#mine #indophil #hws indonesia #hws philippines #hws #PHEW THIS TOOK THE WHOLE MORNING TO WRITE

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sor-vette · 4 years ago

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two, down!! (index/description)

☜ one, strike!!

☞ three, an all-out fight club!!

It was the middle of February. The month of perpetual grey and rain. It tapped against the small cubic window of your bedroom as you laid in bed reading the text.

Erik: "Meeting, you and me. Main building. Now! Wear something without any blood on it. 😘"

The phone falls out of your hands and smacks you in the middle of the nose.

"Ow."

***

You already see Erik in the distance. A bright red shirt flowing around him like a drape in the frequent bursts of wind. Across the river, he looks like a will-o'-the-wisp and you can't help but be increasingly apprehensive about what has he planned.

You get off the bus in the middle of the bridge, stop and glare at the circular high rise. Legally known as Bighit - an independent advisory firm for various claims, to the large variety of your clientele it was BH - vigilante made business. Briefly put a vast clockface with thousands of cogs spinning both on the own and tandem with others. It looked and sounded and you knew it to be an imposing organization. Nevertheless, you entertained the idea of how would this company would fall and could it be possible to burn down all the spider webs it has formed in the now 22 years of its existence.

"Good morning!" Erik beams widely, trembling in the wind. His pirate shirt not doing anything to help the situation. In his hands, there is a thick brown folder. The sight of it begins a gnawing motion in the stomach.

"What are you doing?" you ask suspiciously, studying his face for any giveaway. Which of course there were a lot. He was still young both in the field and age. The little runt was mostly brazen, often impolite and careless. But now, now, he was nervous. Maybe it wasn't even the weather that had him shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, I'm taking my enrollment review today. In 20 minutes to be precise."

What was gnawing had turned into a stone that travelled up, ignoring the gravity, and settled deep in your chest pressing down and creating a hole. A horrible numb feeling that you'd hoped you wouldn't feel again. And again. And again. And now once more.

"Oh."

You take a moment to force your voice to remain unfazed but even to your own ears, it sounds too hoarse and slow.

"Don't you need my referral?"

"I asked Olga." Yes. Olga. That's why you didn't know.

"So let's go up?" if Erik had a tail it would wag at lighting speed. He is not just nervous but positively jittery. You had seen him this happy...never. Yeah, this was the first time. When he would officially enrol in another department, at best giving you a clap on the back for all the trouble caused and moved on. In a week he would give you a distant wave, in a month maybe a nod if you passed by in a hallway, in half a year it'll be like you never even existed.

You nod quietly entering the glass doors. BH was a massive, subtly hidden maze, much like the overall organization. By the schematics and the layout, no one would give a second thought that it would be more than just an ordinary office firm. But of course, what they didn't know and what was a closely guarded secret were the literal hundreds of small alcoves and passes hidden within the walls. Meant for in case of a sudden police raid. Not to mention the literal escape tunnel that stretched underneath the river you just passed. No one knew exactly how it looked like or how it was even built. Some said it was an abandoned underground transit system from WW2, others said that it was built in the early years of the BH establishment having cost literal billions. But no one knew the truth. Even Namjoon had shrugged when you asked him, long ago already.

In silence, you both take the escalator upwards. To the 25th floor, a.k.a. the 7th department - the literal heads of the system. The building usually had hundreds of people running from one place to another but even so, this was a large commotion for an event this small.

In the doorways there stands a tall woman and you nearly bite your tongue off at the sight of her ramrod back.

"Petsch." You growl and Erik beside you throws a surprised glance.

She turns around almost immediately. As if hearing you or just sensing your presence like the ill-bred Cerberus that she was.

"Hello, .̴̭͙̪̻̈́.̸̮̟̳̐͆͘͠.̶͚̉͛.̸̺̞̉͐̈́̐͋.̶̟̻̺̽͛̒̚.̷̗̱̃.̶̮͚̼̾͜͜.̷͉̋̈́̐̔͝.̵͖͛̓͆.̷̼̲̥̙͆̊̊͝͝.̸̢͕̔.̸̜̜̲͈̅͜͠.̵̱̤̆̑͘.̸͖̰̣͈̾̊̈́́́ " Her glee is almost maniacal as she power walks towards your little group.

"Deputy Petsch. How wonderful to grace our Earthly realm with your presence. I did wonder why it looked like the skies were weeping."

"It's Chief of Staff now," she corrects getting even closer, "to no one's surprise I've been promoted while you've been demoted."

"Yes, I can see the stress of the new position. Or is that just your face?"

In the corner of your eye, you can see Erik standing completely still, his head darting from one speaker to another bemused.

"As the Chief of Staff, I'm here to evaluate your...pet." Erik gives a silent wave and Rosaline narrows her eyes, most likely not knowing what to make of him.

"What happened to Michael?" Petsch scoffs at your question.

"He retired to live with his family so much so for living a dignified life." You straighten stubbornly at the newly given information. Erik's hands are still lightly trembling, along with the file in his hand.

"Interesting. I will attempt corporation." You push out through gritted teeth but immediately get one of Rosaline's bony vulture fingers thrust in your face.

"Don't even try to sweet talk me!"

In return, you snap your fingers near her outstretched hand. A gesture you would normally never do but it was Rosaline. Anything but an abnormal reaction could ward off this lietonis off your neck. (a/n)

"I tried to be peaceful. Well then. Let's. Begin." She huffs and puffs and then stalks over to the lecture hall, her tight blonde ponytail swinging like the world's most obnoxious metronome.

Erik stands silently for a few short moments before -

"The fuck was that about?" You hide your face in the palm of your hand. If Rosaline was here for the panel review then this little fucker had no idea what was coming.

"Rosaline and I have what you would call an uncivil work relationship."

"A rivalry?"

"No, a rivalry with another woman would be inherently attractive. Rosaline just...sucks the lifeforce out of me like a goddamn Dementor." Erik chuckles at the sight of your displeasure but a quiet bell coming from within the lecture hall stills him again.

"Please all attendees take your seat! We're about to start soon!" A faceless voice calls over the crowd and the unpleasant feeling that Petsch managed to eradicate away for a moment returns worse than ever. Your own hands begin to mutely tremble. Erik looks close to passing out.

"You're going to be fine." You say gently bumping into him, "you're my trainee after all."

***

Oh, he's going to be not fine at all.

For some reason, the hall is literally stuffed with attendees.

The enrollment panel reviews despite the name, yes, was actually an open doors event. Much like an undergrad presenting a thesis it had a panel of judges and a crowd of listeners. Usually, it was limited to other potential interviewees who wanted to get a sneak peek in the twisted action to come but the number of people was 5 if not 10 times more audience than what you've ever been in.

Truth be told you never knew how friendly Erik was with other departments but even if he was a magnet surely this crowd was too massive.

With a rapidly rising anxiety, you start to pick out familiar faces. Some of them your trainees and previous teammates, some who gave you a stink eye, and then some with whom you didn't want to interact.

On the third row there sits Jungkook and sweet Jesus what were they feeding him in the footsoldier department. He was now almost twice as large as he had been when you last saw him. One tap of those arms and you'd be in an automatic knockout. Behind him sits Jimin, also looking confused as to why he's here. Which is somehow even more offputting considering he's the one who decided to be here. In the back rows, there is Jin, face hidden in his hands, large sunglasses pushed atop of his head. The only reason why you recognize him at all is that those very sunglasses had "JIN" in large letters above the rim. Naturally.

At this point, your insides are just a gaping screaming void of pure social terror as you start to suspect they were all here. While scanning the crowd you notice an orange fleck that is surrounded by a gaggle of students who eagerly listen to every falling word. That would be Hope. And far closer to the seat that you wanted to take sits V. For reasons unknown he was perched in the first row, fiddling with the strap of the camera. The last thing you want is to meet that vitriolic, judgmental stare of his but it would be unfair to Eric to sit anywhere else. The supervisor, even the one who had no idea that the review was taking place and did not actually write the referral, always sat in the front. The little scamp should have at least that.

You sit down stiffly with your hands bunched up in fists and shoulders tightened to the point where it was almost painful. V pretends he doesn't recognize you. You turn around once again to look over the crowd, almost meeting Jungkook's gaze but he suddenly finds his shoes to be the most captivating image in the world. Jin nearly takes off his jaw while ducking below the chair line and Hope is still surrounded by his devoted students. Jimin is persistent in looking disoriented.

In the faraway upper back, behind the fifteen rows of cascading seats, there is a second door. Slightly ajar and leading to complete darkness but you can swear there is a hand holding the doors open. For a moment you wonder who would hide away in a dark side room only to silently observe everyone but then you know exactly who. Yoongi. You whip around so fast the chair makes a loud squeak. In the peripheral vision, you make out a movement from V but he turns back to the camera without a second thought.

No, Erik was in deep trouble. The panel of judges or should you say evaluators was much too high standing for the first time enrolment. Rosaline Petsch's choice of coming here could be attributed to her being a harpy. Sure. Namjoon, although a CEO was known to just arrive at small scale events, to fully support his staff and also fully give them untreatable heart conditions. But the following had no place being here: Rhys Bethany, the key speaker of yesterday's anniversary and the head of Internal Affairs. Rahul Singh, chief of Communications. Tamira Johnson, head of International Affairs. Shen Qiongzi, head of Large Operations management. And two others whom you didn't even recognize. These were some of the biggest names of the entire organization and also the most bewildering. Strictly speaking, none of them had any input on the hiring or the enrolment process. The matters far, far below their usual duties.

Why were they here? Had Namjoon invited them? Why would he? Because he was still angry at you and was punishing Erik for it? He wouldn't do that but would he? Were you being narcissistic for thinking it had anything to do with you??

Whatever the answer was, hearing the last bell ring and seeing Erik, suddenly look very small and scared climbing up on the stage without even the protection of his notes folder... You felt a lot like seeing a crowd of shrikes encircle one mouse. You squeeze the handles of your chair, rocking back and forth with anxiety.

"As part of your legal right, what would be Your prefered choice of name for the course of this review?" You hear Ms Johnson speak. Erik picks up the microphone to speak...

....not a sound comes out of his mouth. You cringe.

"My real one, ma'am," he finally manages to croak after a moment of silence that was perhaps too long to be unnoticeable.

"Thank you. We will begin the first part of the enrolment request review for Erik Genyer."

You blanch at her words. The first part... meaning that what is about to happen was an actual full, point by point review and not the shortened version that came into popularity in recent years. The review would last three hours and it was three hours of ruthless questioning.

You grip the handles even tighter.

***

Erik fares surprisingly well. After the initial shock, he starts to melt into well-rounded answers. After the five minute pause in between the two parts, he even starts to subtly lean into humouring the panel, offering sarcastic, unhelpful comments. Truly one you could call your own.

Your heart is in continuing thunder as it beats harder with each given situation and particularly hard question. At this point, you have tossed and turned and quietly whined at every to the degree that it is noticeable to everyone in the room. And that in itself pushes to a worrying realization that Erik had somehow managed to slither his unholy way into your heart and become not just a trainee under your care but a friend. Like a proper friend. A friend that would leave you in literally the span of 10 minutes.

Namjoon who was eerily silent for most of the hearing, providing only two softball questions, had noticed your flighty twitching and leaned back to glance at you. You look at the ground knowing that you were perhaps not in the right mindset to put on a facade of your somewhat trademarked blasé attitude.

For God's sakes, you were not even this nervous in your own review but then again you had resigned yourself to the bottom of the barrel. Erik was not.

Finally, he passes the third part of the review. He had taken a few hits, all of which delivered by Petsch, but overall came out with impressive results. Two things were left to unfold. The panel would ask him what was his preferred choice of the department and then either allow it or politely indicate his skills would be more useful in another department and refer him there.

"Mr Genyer do you have a specific department choice?" Mr Singh asks politely. He'd been a tough but fair reviewer nevertheless it was always Namjoon who asked this question. Why was he so quiet? What was the point of showing up if he was going to be silent?

"I have." Erik answers and you see a smile form in his mouth. It was his bastard smile. Eerily similar to the picture of the cat surrounded by knives. You've seen that expression many times, mostly when he was breaths away from pissing off a lot of people.

"And what would that be, sir?"

"The cleaner department."

....

Not a single person breathes. Not a sound is made. The panel has gone speechless. You think your heart has stopped entirely.

"I'm sorry, do you mind repeating that?"

Erik couldn't look smugger as everyone stared at him.

"I'd like to work in the cleaner department."

The second time he says it causes an uproar. People actually stand up in the back. You hear a crunch to your side. Tae dropped his camera on the ground. There's so much noise you can't even decipher what is being said. Vaguely you maybe hear Jin's loud ass "what?" but that also could be literally anyone else.

The panel has to turn around and repeatedly shush the crowd. It is not an easy task. You just stare at Erik, mouth dropped open, eyes bugging out and he gives a self-satisfied smirk.

"I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations."

These were the reparations. As the crowd finally eases back you let out a breath, lungs screaming for oxygen. Hadn't even noticed the lack of breathing process.

"Why would you choose a cleaner department?" It is finally Namjoon's turn to speak but he too sounds astounded all the way to outer space.

"It is a lowly position." So low in fact, they were not in the count of departments. Hence the status of 0 out of 7. You're hit with another realization. "Aspiring 0". The one Erik had placed in his Instagram bio. It was not zero aspirations that you thought he meant, no he was aspiring to be 0. And suddenly it makes sense. Him being such a little pain in the ass, always sneaking off, taking cases well above his position, taking yesterday's case in fact. All to rank up and enter the review faster. You don't even know how to function with this information.

"Why would you choose the cleaner department?" There was only one person who had chosen the cleaner department. A year ago. You. But even back then the choice was between quitting altogether or becoming part of the 0.

"The cleaner department is as hard-working and as essential as any other position in the organization." He shrugs.

"Yes, but why choose it?" Ms Shen pursues. You can hear it in her voice that she simply cannot comprehend why would anyone choose to work there. Honestly neither can you.

"I like it there. The cleaner department has the friendliest, most genuine and accepting people I've met among all departments. Also, I've had the most supportive, protective mentor anyone could wish for. I've never been more inspired to both be myself and improve forward as I have under their tutelage and I hope that by working in the cleaner department I can repay them for the faith they had and hopefully continue to have in me."

His request is approved and after a quiet "review ended" Erik is officially given the position of the evidence removal department.

***

The crowd is restless. There's not a soul that's not debating outside the room. Everyone huddled up together. What Erik did today would go down in the history of the company. Right next to your name.

Briefly, you encounter Petsch who throws something snide in your direction but you brush past her without a second thought. Finally, you find that stupid red shirt, snuggled against the window. You break out in a sprint and smack him in the middle of the chest.

"OW!"

"Why would you do that?" You yell. Why are you yelling? You don't know. You're happy. Literally so happy. Erik begins to laugh, kinda nerdily as he is snorting a bit like a pig.

"You should have seen your face! Oh, man, I wish I had my camera with me! Oh, a picture truly is worth more than a thousand words."

"You idiot! I trained you," you deliver a smack "so you could," a smack, "have a better life!" Erik's smile doesn't falter for a second.

"What's better? It's a shithole here anyways. So they pay me more in other departments. The money I'd spend on therapy for working there would still decimate my pay into non-existence."

You stop hitting him as something dangerous bubbles up your throat. The hole in the chest filled. No, not that, he will never let me live if I do, you think to yourself.

"Are you actually crying?" Erik giggles his expression turning somewhat strange.

"No."

You do end up crying. After taking you to Omelas where surprise, surprise, your inner circle of other cleaners and Irina were waiting. Diego was already rolling on the floor with Liz trying to pull him up in a somewhat vertically inclined position. J.D. giving a quiet, appreciative nod and S - Jo along with Byun screaming their lungs out in some kind of celebratory song. You can't even tell which language they are screaming in.

Olga looks at the scene with mild amusement. If you'd had become a little bit like an unwilling older sister to this little horde of gremlins then Olga was like everyone's collective mom. How many of your messes and mood swings had she endured? You couldn't even count but you remember how badly you were afraid of disappointing her. And if Erik felt even the half of that...

It was then and after two bottles of vodka that you started sobbing. But just a little bit. After all, you hadn't cried in a while and if there was a better place to cry it was among this little makeshift family.

***

(a/n: lietonis, more commonly known as lietuvēns is a spirit from my country's folklore that is rumoured to strangle people and animals in their sleep. Basically something like a sleep paralysis demon.)

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cecaeliana · 4 years ago

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UMA NAUTICA : arcs. ( including divergences )

inspired by @zzozo ( psd )

arc one : pre - descendants ( you gotta fend for yourself )

uma atlantica, the only daughter of ursula, the sea witch. born on the isle of the lost, a place where the sun never shines and the food is never fresh. she is raised by her mother, a firm hand to keep her in line- and a protective one to keep her out of trouble. for a small girl on a small prison island, uma can’t help but feel like queen of the world. she gets away with everything, loves pulling pranks and is best friends with the other isle bigshot, mal- daughter of maleficent. the pair terrorise the isle and its residents.

but nothing good ever lasts and at the age of ten the girls fall apart, mal initiating aggressive action against uma, publicly shaming her and defeating her, marking her as public enemy number one. to make matters worse, ursula doesn’t want anything to do with the fight, barely lifting a tentacle to help out her daughter- it becomes obvious to the entire isle that uma is no longer protected by anyone, not mal, not her own mother- and she becomes a target.

the bullying is ruthless, people calling her names is the least of her problems, but it stings just as much as the rest. aside from name calling, she undergoes constant public humiliation, with rotting fish guts and shellfish being thrown at her. everyone is desperate to prove that there is someone they can overpower and uma’s an easy target. to make matters worse, she used to think she was above it all. so call it revenge if you will. people love to see the mighty fall. and they’re more than willing to help her on her way to rock bottom.

there isn’t much one girl can do, she’s weak, underfed, small for her age, and the bullying keeps coming. but not all is lost, she finds solace in the hook children. harry, her friend from an early age, and harriet, a caring hand in a cruel world. she has something, someone. they give her reasons to fight back, and better than that, they give her lessons in doing it.

uma picks up a sword and never looks back. she defends herself with brutality. she doesn’t care who gets in her way, or who calls her names anymore. she makes an example out of all of them. and people start paying attention once she’s demonstrated why they should be listening. she makes a show of strength, of power. she takes it for her own. pushes herself back onto a winning streak and then keeps fighting. no longer content to just be second best, she’s determined to outshine mal in every way.

it starts with a bid for territory. under her own name and her own power. there’s no hiding behind her mother’s name anymore. she adopts a new one. UMA NAUTICA. she doesn’t belong to her mother, doesn’t belong to a sea-kingdom outside the barrier. she belongs to this world, her world. she belongs to the sea. she’s a pirate. she’s a sea witch. she’s a goddess. but most importantly, she’s a faction leader in her own right. people are falling in line, agreeing to follow her, agreeing to work for her.

captain hook announces a chance to win a ship he needs rid of, and uma takes that challenge too. she races against hundreds of other isle residents, but importantly, against harry- under the caveat that if she wins he’ll work for her, and if he wins, she’ll work for him. uma wins the race, not by much, but it’s still a win and for the first time she gets herself a real ship. THE LOST REVENGE.

it’s a rotting mess that doesn’t even float properly, but it’s a base, and a home away from her mother. she takes on only the most loyal people she can find and makes them a crew. with herself as captain and harry as her first mate. he does his best to get the ship working, but with the limited supplies they’ve got basically no chance. that doesn’t matter, though. it’s theirs and it’s home and it’s perfect.

arc two : descendants - descendants two ( the revolution is coming the have-nots are gonna win this )

and then at age sixteen, the worst thing happens. mal and her cronies get chosen to leave the prison, to leave the isle of the lost and travel to auradon, to go to school there alongside all the princes and princesses. a reminder that there is life outside the barrier- that there is more to the world than simply stealing territory on a forgotten island in the middle of the bay. that there’s a whole world out there that they could be exploring.

she’s filled with rage and unhappiness. all the feelings she’s been trying to push aside come flooding back and uma finds that more than anything she wants to be free of the barrier, free of the prison. and, more importantly, she’s disgusted that mal got there first without ever having to do anything for it. she got picked and uma is left to wonder why her, what makes her so special. it only causes her resentment to fester and grow.

it only gets worse when mal defeats her own mother at the king’s coronation. she had been meant to free the entire isle, but instead she turns maleficent into a lizard and the barrier is closed- leaving the residents inside to turn their frustrations on each other. there are mass riots all over the isle and uma and crew have to defend themselves and their territory from the insurgency. and then they have to start looking for a new way off the isle.

so when word comes that triton’s trident has crossed the barrier somehow and is sitting in the water around the isle, uma is left with no choice but to go after it- so she can use it as a bargaining chip to get herself and her crew off the isle. but her own boat doesn’t float, so she has to strongarm someone into letting her borrow one that does- and she has to blackmail yen sid’s apprentice into giving up the location of her mother’s lost necklace. and she takes her crew to retrieve first the necklace, and then the trident.

the necklace is well guarded with traps and the pirates almost die escaping a collapsing cave, but they get what they need and they rebuild ursula’s shattered necklace. it responds to the trident, both godly gifts from poseidon himself, and the crew set off in search of it. a storm whips up around the isle, though- and outside the barrier mal and co are racing to save the trident from falling into the hands of a villain. specifically, uma.

it ends in a showdown, with a small hole in the barrier allowing uma her first taste of real magic, but mal still wins. she uses her magic to turn back time, allowing her a chance to get to the trident before uma can lay her hands on it- leaving uma confused and angry that she’s been cheated out of her freedom once again.

this only cements the idea in her mind that mal doesn’t care about anyone but herself, that she’s so eager to hold onto her life in auradon that she’ll happily leave the rest of them imprisoned permanently. so it’s up to uma to hatch a plan to bring down the barrier.

fortune favours her, it seems, when it drops the king of auradon straight into her lap. and she uses him as a bargaining chip to get mal to bring her fairy godmother’s wand, the only thing powerful enough to bring down the barrier from the inside. only mal brings a fake and escapes with the king, and the barrier intact. or so she thinks.

uma in a last-ditch effort, jumps through the barrier as mal and co are leaving, throwing herself into the waiting arms of the ocean and swimming her way to shore with a gift brought to her by one of her followers- mal’s spellbook. she seeks out a spell and performs an enchantment on the young king, causing him to publicly spurn mal and choose her. she’s incredibly close to getting him to drop the barrier when mal figures out her plan and stops the whole thing.

uma throws herself into the ocean again and turns, for the first time, into a cecaelia. a brief fight ensues, but in the end she’s left with no choice but to flee into the sea, alone. but for the first time, free.

arc three : the lost year - descendants three ( if you stand for nothing what’ll you fall for? )

freedom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, really. not when there’s no-one to share it with. uma spends her time exploring the depths to avoid guards of both the land and sea variety and, when she’s sure they aren’t looking, trying to bring down the barrier.

but it’s difficult. the auradon guard are searching and so, it seems, are the merfolk. so she has to be careful and crafty. she spends a lot of time in the darkest depths, meeting creatures thousands of years old. or on the surface, on remote islands or the backs of whales that are willing to carry her. she discovers an aptitude for disguise that allows her to search auradon for spells that might bring down the barrier.

and she spends her free time staring hopelessly through the magical wall at her crew, wishing she could be with them. she does find a small crack in the barrier, not big enough to get through but she finds she can talk to someone on the opposite side. specifically, hades. and she finds she can work just a little bit of magic through the hole too.

together they come up with a plan. mal returns to the isle again, to try and sell the idea of VK day- and construction begins on new buildings, so clearly there is some amount of effort being made- but uma isn’t content with that and she enlists hades to help her try and get the barrier remote from mal.

they end up battling it out in a dreamscape, and when uma almost has the remote, mal is snatched away by her friends and the hole in the barrier is closed. leading her to believe that hades double crossed her and once again leaving her with no way onto the isle, and no way off it for anyone still trapped there.

she spends around a year outside of the barrier. and as the people get more complacent, she spends more time around the isle, watching for her moment. it comes a week after vk day, when mal and co are forced to travel back to the isle and as they leave, harry and gil jump through after them. uma, watching from below the water, sees something fall from the bridge, hears mal’s cry and immediately snatches it out of the air.

it’s hades’ ember and it’s full of power. mal declares she needs it and so uma decides to use it as a bargaining chip, threatening to destroy it if mal doesn’t agree to release all the vks. knowing better than to trust a simple agreement, uma follows mal to auradon to help her save it and make sure she keeps good on her promise.

though it becomes clear the situation is more dire than expected and that if the gem isn’t returned to mal there won’t be much point in freeing the villain kids because they’ll just be turned to stone. so uma returns the ember to mal. only to be told that mal had been lying the entire time about the vks and that the intention is actually to close the barrier for good, so that no-one can ever go in or out again.

betrayed and angry, uma abandons the mission, refusing to try and help re-light the ember after celia douses its flame. but another problem presents itself, celia gets kidnapped by audrey and mal is losing the battle without the ember, so uma is left with no option but to re-ignite the spark. it drains her very quickly, but the ember sparks back into life and mal wins the battle. but audrey is dying and there’s nothing that anyone can do. except hades.

uma has a choice to make, she can go back to the isle for good, with no hope of leaving and no chance of escape, or she can stay in auradon while everyone left behind suffers. it’s not a choice at all. she volunteers to go back to the isle, to watch out for it, to look after it once the barrier is closed. she returns willingly to captivity- with harry and gil in tow, even though she had tried to convince them to stay.

arc four : queen of the isle of the lost - main verse ( every action is an act of creation )

back on the isle, a week passes- the residents and uma all believe that the barrier is closed permanently, that there’s not going to be any way off from now on. uma starts really planning for the future of the island, wanting to keep people as safe and as happy as possible, despite the dire situation. and then she spends the lesser part of her time still contemplating how to bring the barrier down.

until the unthinkable happens, and the barrier disappears anyway. mal, having had second thoughts, brings down the barrier completely- freeing everyone. though it is later made clear that the adults are being tracked and placed on probation, since they’ve already served a life sentence in inhumane conditions. if they reoffend they’re getting sent back to prison, only one slightly less geared towards violating all the basic human rights.

with the barrier gone, many residents take their leave. around half of the population decide to go and live in auradon- but there are some who still think of the isle as their home, some who don’t want to leave. uma amongst them. she wants to see what auradon has to offer, of course, but living there doesn’t really feel like her thing.

not to mention that she’s determined to see through the betterment of the isle now that she’s started. she names herself unofficial queen of the isle, though six months later they hold an actual vote on who should get the title and she wins in a landslide.

she turns her focus to making the isle a flourishing economy in its own right. together she and ben work on building lasting structures, on putting in the right infrastructure- water pipelines and electricity. magic is used to turn the soil from a contaminated mess into land that can actually be used for agriculture and they begin farming their own crops. residents who want to learn skills are given the opportunity, with a focus on skills needed to keep the isle going, building and farming etc.

ships are built and trade links are created between the isle and other parts of auradon. slowly, they build a working community. people work, they have enough food, clean water. the isle begins to flourish, until eventually, it’s a place people want to live. and a place people can live quite happily. and uma, queen of it all.

she takes time, between creating plans and laws and building a better future, to explore auradon properly, to travel up and down the country and see it in all its splendor alongside her crew. they explore thick jungles and forgotten caves. they get to experience real freedom.

arc five : emancipation and secession ( raise a glass to freedom - something they can never take away )

in the far future, once the isle has established itself as a state in its own right, with everything it needs to rule itself, it’s not long before the idea spreads that maybe they don’t have to be a part of auradon, to be beholden to the country that had shunned and imprisoned them for twenty two years. they have everything they need to control themselves and that’s what they should be doing.

and it’s hard to disagree. auradon is not just an overbearing ruler, but a constant threat- the fear that the barrier could go back up at any moment is an ever present fear in people’s minds. and more importantly, the isle never signed into any treaty with the united kingdoms.

so the answer becomes obvious, secession. but done peacefully and not through revolution. the citizens on the isle are given the chance to vote on whether they want that or not. when the vote comes out a yes, uma enters negotiations with ben- and the rest of the leaders in auradon, to try and find a peaceful, amicable solution.

it takes time, as with anything related to politics, but eventually the isle comes out as a solo nation, not technically part of the united kingdoms of auradon, but a close friend and trade partner nonetheless. it stands as its own country and the residents no longer feel like they have to live in fear of the control from auradon. for once, everything is at relative peace.

#⤪ 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⊰ headcanon. ⊱#⤪ 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆? ⊰ meta. ⊱#do you ever just write nearly 3000 words?? no? just me?#if you read this whole thing you get a cookie ig #⤪ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⊰ queen of the isle verse. ⊱#⤪ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 ⊰ isle verse. ⊱#⤪ 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒂 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒎. 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 ⊰ future verse. ⊱#⤪ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 ⊰ pre descendants verse. ⊱#⤪ 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 ⊰ lost year verse. ⊱#i am once again very sorry to miss china anne for trying to colour her hair teal and failing #my edits.

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

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heard your name in every love song {Ben Hardy} 1

1. when he was looking out for me (i would pretend he was my summer fling)

Summary: When you’re twelve and you have a crush on your babysitter, your parents think it’s puppy love, think it’s cute, and you’ll forget about it soon enough.

A/N: 2266 words. Female!Reader. okay so the sprained ankle in Space Jump is a direct reference to something that happened in my theater class, that being a dude snapped his fucking femur playing Fruit Salad. RIP adam’s femur for the following few months. he’s fine now, that was like 8 years ago. whatever. are all these theater games i mention real? i’ll never tell. here’s part 1. DISCLAIMER: NO CREEPY SHIT I SWEAR TO GOD I WOULDN’T DO THAT; THERE’S A LITTLE BIT OF PINING FROM Y/N BUT THAT’S IT. there’s a few assumptions made abt Y/N’s life; only child, parents (plural, idk how many, doesn’t matter), plays Crash Bandicoot and Mario Kart, takes theater classes outside of school.

the mutant brotherhood: @daisy-lu @hervoidparadise @nedmjpeter @ultrunning @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @clementimee @that-fandom-sucks-tho @cjand10 @rest-is-detail @baileymae @rosesvioletshardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @hazelstyles94 @bitchylittleredhead @bihemian-rhapsody @sweatyexpertgardenpanda @whereeverythingisbetter @dedxbed @xxencagedxx @glittrixvibe @a-girl-with-stress @sunflower-ben @pxroxide-prinxcesss @mrsmazzello @cubedtriangle @haileymorelikestupid @misscharlottelee @nevilles-insinuations @jovialcreatorkidtoad @brianmaysclog @sambuckywarrior @hey-yo-bedussey @bubblyanis @lifesciencesbois @elektraofcrete @diosanaz @bbdoyouloveme @kirstansworld @okilover02 @cardboardbenmazzello @dreashappyworld @juliarose21 @simonedk @greycuby @emmasunshiine @dinotje @qtrogerina @spiketacus @nympha-door-a @local-troubled-writer @emphatic-af @wh0a-thisisheavy @lustgardn @banginashton

When you’re twelve, and almost at the end of your first year of high school, you get into a fight with your parents as to whether or not you still need a babysitter. Much to your chagrin, however, they don’t see twelve as ‘practically sixteen, which is practically an adult’ and you sulk for the full three days leading up to the night they were going out. The night of, you’re fully intending on staying in your room, until there’s a knock at the door, and you hear a voice that is absolutely not your usual babysitter.

“Be good,” your parents call to you as they’re leaving, having noticed where you’d cracked the door to your room to see who it was. You make a face at them, but you’re surprised to see a kid from Sixth Form on crutches, who is absolutely not Madeline, standing in the hallway awkwardly. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around school, maybe he’s on the soccer team? You’re not sure.

“You’re not Maddy,” you tell him, opening the door a little wider, and he seems surprised for a moment to see you there. A kind, awkward smile appears on his face as he regards you with gentle amusement.

“Well spotted, I’m Ben, Maddy’s got the flu,” he explained easily, and offered his hand, “you’re Y/N, right?” And he’s trying so hard, but you’re still kind of mad at your parents for insisting on a babysitter in the first place.

“Who else would I be?” You asked flatly, which surprised a laugh from Ben, but you shook his hand anyways; you had to give him props for trying, “why are you using crutches?” You asked outright, since you’re pretty sure he wasn’t using crutches last time you saw him at school. You turned, heading for the living room, deciding to at least give him a chance.

“Sprained my ankle in class the other week,” he explained, hobbling along behind you.

“Sport or just P.E?” You asked, throwing yourself onto the sofa and picking up the TV remote. Ben was quiet for a long moment, and when you look at where he’s sitting gingerly on the edge of the sofa, he’s making a face like he doesn’t quite want to admit the truth.

“Theater sports,” he explained, which piqued your interest, which, of course, you try not to let show on your face, because if your babysitter knows you already think he’s cool, you might die of embarrassment. But also, you suddenly feel incredibly validated for taking those theater classes every Thursday afternoon.

“They’re -” he tries to explain, but you give another eye roll.

“I know what theater sports are,” you tell him, and his smile turns amused.

“You do?” He asks, and you think he might be a little bit impressed, or perhaps it was just wishful thinking, either way, you nod firmly, “well I was in the middle of Space Jump - you know Space Jump, right? Where you start an activity and then someone else calls ‘Space Jump’ and you have to freeze and they have to make a new scene from your freeze, and then someone else comes in -” he explained, mostly to save you the embarrassment of admitting you didn’t know the game, “well I was up on one leg on a chair, climbing the rigging of a ship, you know how pirates do, and I froze, and -” he gestured how he’d fallen off the chair, with accompanying sound effects.

“Couldn’t you have just put your other foot down and balanced yourself?” You offered, and he shook his head, expression adamant.

“It’s all about the commitment to the bit; I was trying to entertain them, and the best way I can do that is to put myself out there one-hundred percent,” he told you sincerely, “you’ve always gotta follow through.”

“You sprained your ankle,” you pointed out, “isn’t that dangerous advice?” He deflates a little, looking down at his leg.

“Follow through but use your common sense, you’ve got common sense, don’t you?” He asked, giving a wry smile, two which you nodded diligently, “don’t get yourself hurt, then,” he suggests, before changing the subject quickly, “you hungry yet? Your parents said we could order pizza.” You’re easily excited by the thought of pizza, a rare treat your parents allowed you whenever you were babysat.

It’s a pretty uneventful night, all things considered, you order pizza, and he lets you win at Crash Team Racing, and you’re falling asleep to a comedy movie until Ben gently suggests that you go to bed. You’re too tired to argue and try and weasel your way into staying up later, so you yawn loudly and wish him a good night before shuffling off to bed. The house is quiet, apart from where he’s watching a Top Gear rerun and waiting for your parents to get home.

You don’t think about it much beyond telling your parents ‘yeah, he’s pretty cool’ when they ask. You don’t think about him much beyond that, at least not for almost a full week, until you’re sitting in your geography class just before lunch, having managed to snag a seat by the window looking out onto the back field, and there’s a PE class doing laps on the field. All are running, except the teacher, and a boy with blonde hair, standing with all his weight on one foot, and a pair of crutches tossed to the side, looking like he’s arguing the teacher.

“I heard when you’re in sixth form you get to push in the front of the line at the canteen,” you hear your friend, Merissa, next to you muse, and when you turn, she’s followed your gaze outside to the field. After a moment, you turn again, and watch the blonde attempt to put weight on his obviously injured foot; it looks like he regrets it, and he sits on the grass, sulking.

“That’s probably Ben,” Merissa tells you matter-of-factly, “he’s on the football team with my brother.” And something about the kind of unwarranted pride in her voice at being in the know makes your face scrunch up. Part of you wants to tell her that you know who Ben is, obviously, but another part of you doesn’t want to admit to still needing a babysitter; it feels childish. So you keep your mouth shut and turn to back to the board.

And the following week, in your weekly theater class, you’re about to take your turn at Bus Stop, wherein your goal is to make the other person on the ‘bus stop’ as uncomfortable as possible until they finally leave, which is when you’ll assume the roll of the innocent bystander, and someone else from the class will come up and try and make you uncomfortable. It’s a lesson on improvisation disguised as a game.

The voice you’ve been practicing slightly pinches your vocal cords, and you’ve barely got a moment to assume a matching physicality, and you worry for a second that it’s not funny, that you’ll just look like an idiot -

Put yourself out there one hundred percent.

You steel yourself, making strange shapes with your hands as you twist yourself into as much of a creature as possible, within reason, using the strange voice you’d concocted, feeling a thrill as your entrance gets the biggest laugh of the class. Oh.

A few months later, in the Summer after your first year of high school, you’re finally thirteen, and are allowed to have the house to yourself for the day, but if you’re parents are anticipating staying out later than midnight, you need -

“Please,” you begged, “just don’t say babysitter, I’m not a baby.”

“Fine,” they acquiesce, “you need supervision, just if we’re out very late.”

Despite your indignation at the situation, Maddy’s got a cello concert, and you’re hoping that that means -

Ben greets you like a friend, wearing a denim jacket with no crutches, and he might be the coolest person you know.

“You still on Crash Team Racing?” He asks with raised eyebrows as he heads into the living room, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s so old school,” you scoff, and he raises his hands in surrender, trying not to look as amused as he feels, watching as you pull out two Wii remotes, “Mario Kart’s much better.” And you hand him one.

He’s not above letting you win, but it turns out, he doesn’t have to; you’re scarily good at the game, which you credit to playing pretty much nothing else for a solid month, and by the time the pizza arrives, the win ratio is about fifty-fifty, and you’ve bonded considerably over your mutual and unreasonable hatred for Waluigi, the only NPC who seems to consistently beat you both.

“Do you get to push in the front of the line at the canteen?” You asked, holding your pizza in one hand and letting it cool for a moment.

“Huh?” Ben’s burnt the roof of his mouth, and is reaching for his drink when you ask, “whaddya mean?”

“My friend Merissa says Sixth Form gets to push in the front of the line.”

“I don’t think we’re technically allowed to,” he says after a moment of consideration, and you hear his nonverbal ‘but we still do’ anyways, “it’s not a rule rule, you know?”

“Are the A-levels hard?”

“Haven’t done ‘em yet,” he answers honestly, burping quietly after taking a drink, and you hum, and take a bite of pizza.

“I’m already scared of my GCSEs,” you admit after a moment of chewing, and Ben laughs gently.

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of,” and he sounds like he means it, so you can’t help but believe it, soothed a little in your premature worrying. To be fair, Ben could say anything about school or life and you’d probably believe it; he was cool and older than you, but he treated you like a friend.

You mention in passing that you’d gotten the lead for your class’s skit in the end of year showcase your theater company puts on, and mentions that it’s because you’d been committing to the bit in class, and the pride in his voice when he congratulates you is something you end up thinking about for days.

He ends up babysitting you twice more that Summer, not that you were complaining. It meant you got pizza, and to hang out with the coolest person you knew, a fact which you reiterated to your parents, much to their fond amusement, though you made them swear to never tell Ben that. He brought over Super Smash Bros and you guys would play for hours.

The only problem was that Ben was never allowed to know about the crush you had on him, because everyone in the world knew it was weird to have a crush on your babysitter, and you’re pretty sure he has a girlfriend and -

Doesn’t matter. You’re just started to discover the delightful world of crushes and relationships, and Merissa has a boyfriend on Tumblr, and you know that when you get back to school you can have a normal crush on a normal boy in your year, even if all the boys in your year look like thumbs. And Ben...

Is your babysitter. And a decent guy. And your friend, sort of. So you just hope he hasn’t noticed.

After Summer, he’s studying his A-levels, and Maddy’s got a day job so she can babysit at nights again, and it feels like everything’s gone back to normal, like you can breathe again.

You’ve never really seen him at school; you don’t tend to hang around the back fields, but a few weeks into the first term, you’re having lunch with Merissa and Charlie, one of your other friends, in the library, when you spot him laden down with textbooks, making his way to one of the study rooms at the back. You’re not sure if he’ll even acknowledge you, even though your table is directly along the best route to the back rooms, so you just give him and smile and a nod in greeting.

“Hey, Y/N,” he grins quickly, doesn’t stop, but nods in return, and your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. Charlie sinks her nails into your arm the moment he’s gone into the study room, and Merissa quietly screeches your name.

“Chill out,” you’re trying to keep a low profile, but both other thirteen year old girls are demanding to know what just happened, “we’re friends.” You say with a shrug that’s far too casual.

“Friends?!” Merissa demands, and you can feel yourself growing more flustered.

“We hung out a few times during summer,” you open your notebook in front of you, trying to distract yourself.

“You hung out with Ben? Y/N he’s a football guy, he’s so old, he’s like eighteen!”

“We’re friends,” you insist, “don’t be, like, creepy about it,” you snorted, and Charlie let out a pterodactyl-like noise. They drop it at your insistence, and you’re just glad they don’t ask you to elaborate.

You don’t see Ben much after that anymore, he’s too busy with his A-levels to babysit, and when you’re fourteen, your parents agree that you don’t need a babysitter anymore. You’re more than happy to let your Summer crush fall to the wayside, and let your memories of Ben, like all good Summer memories, fade into blurry obscurity.

You wouldn’t need to worry about seeing him again anyways, right?

Oh how wrong you were.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #borhap #queen #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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onepiecereactions · 5 years ago

Text

One piece Halloween 2020 scenario: Marco, Ace, Thatch, Whitebeard and Garp.

ENGLISH VERSION

Title: Five minutes before midnight

Notes: Family / Friendship / Drama / Funny. Around 3 000 words. SFW.

(Sorry for the mistakes my main language is French)

Five minutes before midnight

Three knocks echoed against the door of the sleeping pirate. He growled as he snapped out of his sleep and put on his glasses. Then he rubbed his head as he looked at his clock: five minutes before midnight. He huffed, tired but unfortunately used to being disturbed in the middle of the night. Three knocks sounded again and this time the pirate could hear tiny claws slash through his door. Surprised, he used his haki: two men and a cat were waiting behind his door. But that wasn't what surprised Marco the most: all his brothers were sleeping. Absolutely none were awake, even the man on guard. Which meant that the two men behind his door were not from his crew. His blood stopped for a second. He kept his cool, however, and opened the door, ready to fight if necessary. Behind the door, Marco could see a calm, extremely calm sea. Thick black clouds had taken over the sky and prevented almost all of the moon's rays from passing through. He didn't hear a single sound, not even the sound of waves crashing gently against the Moby Dick. He could only hear the cat purring in front of him. Marco came face to face with the two men his haki had identified. The men, barely taller than a 10-year-olds child, were quite calm. One of them, the one who didn't have the cat on his shoulder, was eating a pumpkin. Marco remained on his guard. They stayed several seconds to look at each other straight in the eyes. The two dwarfs didn't look hostile, but something was wrong.

- Number 8834MF77? Asked the one with the cat in a deep voice that didn't quite match his height ...

Marco was stunned, completely lost. He could not sense any power from the two men, and to tell the truth, he felt no hint of life emanating from them. Yet they stood well in front of him… and his brothers were still sleeping.

- 8834MF77, hurry, we have more people planned. Said the dwarf while consulting a long parchment filled with scribbles. He pointed to the west end of the ship.

Marco tilted his head and was amazed: a small mansion was floating a few yards from the Moby Dick. A few lights made it possible to detect the foundations of the house which must have been three floors and barely three hundred square meters. At the entrance, an elderly woman was leaning against a table where Marco could see pumpkins for sale. No sail, oar, or flotation mechanism seemed to allow the mansion to move. Yet the house was proudly in the middle of the ocean and was moving slowly, without a sound.

The second dwarf put his foot on the ground to show his impatience. Marco refocused on him.

-The new world ... he mumbled to himself. That was the only explanation he could find for understanding all of these.

-Number 8834MF77, are you coming? Insisted the dwarf. The black cat on his shoulder was staring at Marco with his beautiful green eyes.

-No thank you… The pirate replied simply, not really sure of the answer to give.

The two dwarves shrugged their shoulders and walked back along the Moby Dick to the mansion. Marco came out of his room lightly, to make sure the two men got off the ship. For safety, he used his haki one last time throughout the Moby Dick. No other intruder was present.

The two men jumped over the ramp of the pirate ship and quickly landed on the mansion's terrace. One of them stole a small pumpkin from the old woman who had fallen asleep and the two rushed into the mansion. Immediately, Marco could see the mansion rotate on itself and move slowly. The strange building then passed in front of his eyes. Never, in so many years of piracy, had he seen such a thing. He moved closer to the edge to better see the "ship". The wood creaked in some places and a few rooms were lit, letting shadows be seen. Marco used his haki again: no signs of life emanated from the building. He was about to return to his room as the mansion began to pass the Moby Dick when his blood froze again. Beyond one of the windows, Marco recognized a shadow. He hesitated for a moment. It was not possible ... But yet he had seen it ... This shadow looked like his captain, who died just a few weeks ago in Marine Ford. He remained stoic for a few seconds and began to run down the halls of the Moby Dick in an attempt to reach the mansion, which was moving further and further away. As the "ship" began to face him back, he saw through a second window two other figures. His heart knotted; a wave of sadness washed over him. He easily recognized the bodies of his two deceased brothers: Ace and Thatch. Time seemed to freeze around him. He didn't even try to figure out how, why? He just saw the three most missed beings in the world in front of him, chatting as if the past few months were just bad memories. But still behind him was the grieving Moby Dick and his few brothers who survived the war.

Marco was not an impulsive man. He was thoughtful, mature, master of himself. But when the possibility of reuniting with his family presented itself in front of him, he didn't even hesitate for a second. Even if it means going into a trap, even if it means losing his life, these last minutes will have allowed him to feel alive again.

Blue flames swept over the deck of the Moby Dick, and the magnificent phoenix soared gracefully towards the mansion. With a few flaps of his wings, Marco found himself at the front door. The old woman woke up slowly when she felt the pirate but immediately fell asleep again next to her pumpkins. Marco knocked on the door. No answer. He could hear noises behind the door. He knocked a second time, and at the lack of response, he gently opened the door. He came face to face with a receptionist.

The room was tiny. Only a desk sat in the middle of the room. Behind him was a woman, in her fifties, scribbling on parchment. A huge chandelier swayed above the blond's head, to the rhythm of the sea. Through the window, Marco could see the Moby Dick slowly pulling away. He hold a sigh. He had sworn to protect this ship and its occupants, but the possibility of finding his father, Ace and Thatch had made him lose his mind.

He stood there in front of the receptionist for a few minutes, waiting for her to note his presence. Which she did after a few minutes.

-Number 8834MF77 is that right? She asked in her voice damaged by years of heavy drinking.

-I guess… Marco replied simply.

The woman sighed, grabbed a huge book from the counter, and hurried through the pages.

-Marco the phoenix. Captain of the Moby Dick. You were scheduled for five minutes before midnight, you are late... The woman muttered, looking at him over her glasses.

Marco turned to the huge owl-shaped clock stuck in the wall: five minutes before midnight.

-I'll need your social security number. She said, picking up a pen.

-My number of…? I don’t have one. Marco replied, scratching his head. But where had he fallen? Does this mansion belonged to the world government ?

-You have no social security at all? The woman repeated, clearly showing her impatience.

-No

-Well, little boy, that is very dangerous. You shouldn’t play with your health, you know.

-I'm a phoenix… I heal myself… Marco replied simply, completely surprised by the conversation.

-Yeah, you were less proud during MarineFord... The receptionist whispered as she drew a long line in front of number 8334MF77.

Marco waited a little longer. He was looking around for his brothers, but the hall only led to a room on the left and behind the receptionist were rails.

“Next stop, Vice-Admiral Monkey D Garp's ship, five minutes before midnight,” screamed the escargophone on the wall.

Marco turned around, surprised. By his calculations, the vice-admiral's ship was at least a three-hour drive from Moby Dick and was heading south. How could they have already arrived, when they had left less than ten minutes ago. And why was it still five minutes before midnight when it had been twenty minutes or more after five minutes before midnight?

-Well, you're not going to look like a plant, are you? We have other clients arriving. Hurry to get dressed in the storage room and take the train. We don't have all night. The woman vociferated as she left her desk.

A dwarf suddenly rushed past Marco. It wasn't one of the two he'd seen on the Moby Dick, but this one was at least as small and as big. He rushed into Marco's legs and took him by the waist to take him to the storage room. The pirate found himself thrown into the completely black room. He barely had time to feel the dwarf's hands all over his body when he felt a tissue around his right leg. A red scarf. A few seconds later, the dwarf guided him without delicacy towards the mini train. It was plain, black, but no conductor was visible. Marco sat in the front row of the locomotive, which started off just as hard. The blond was thrown against his seat and immediately filled with darkness as the train passed.

Within seconds, the train slipped out of the tunnel and tumbled into a tiny city. The buildings must have been barely twice Marco's size and were covered with red bricks. Tiny businesses lined up and a few dwarves, women this time, were walking on the streets with their children. Marco felt himself faint. Absolutely none of this situation was normal, logical. How could such a small mansion have an entire city? The train continued through the streets and headed at full speed towards a hill dotted with small hiking trails.

Marco was pulled out of his contemplation by a pat on the shoulder. Behind him was a child, red hair, barely three feet tall. She was smiling at him.

-Good night 8334MF77, who did you come to see? She asked gently.

Marco, still surprised, listed the names of his two brothers and his father.

-Oïïïï driver, stop at door 230B! She yelled at the back of the train. The machine took a sharp turn which pushed Marco against the window. When he saw again, the girl was gone.

Snow began to fall gently from the sky, which he couldn’t see the end. He was sure it wasn't the sky he was seeing from the Moby Dick, and this mansion was supposed to have a roof. The train stopped abruptly. Marco lost his balance again but remained seated. He heard a door slam at the back of the train and a figure, small and fat, ran towards him. Seconds later, the train conductor grabbed his shirt collar and pushed him out of the train. Marco fell heavily on the snow-covered lawn and saw the train leave at high speed. He stood up quickly and scanned the horizon. He was facing a wooden wall lined with numbered doors.

-230C right? He said to himself, trying to remember the little girl's words that had been partially covered by the sound of the train.

He made his way to gate 230C but was quickly stopped by a skeleton bursting from inside the wall.

-Keep off your shoes please, I just washed the floor. He said, his huge glasses pointed at Marco. The pirate didn't dare to ask him why a skeleton needed glass, he just dropped his shoes off at the entrance.

He opened the door and rushed into the room. It was bathed in a comforting golden light. He could see in the corner a young woman sitting on a red sofa, a book in her hands. She was so absorbed in reading that she didn't even notice the pirate's presence. Marco barely had time to examine the features of the woman's face - she was vaguely telling him something - when he heard the train stop again a few feet behind the door he had just passed. Seconds later, the door slammed open, letting someone rush into the room. It only took a few seconds for him to recognize Vice-Admiral Garp's massive body. The vice-admiral stared at him, surprised to see him, but said nothing. Marco realized he wasn’t supposed to be here and left the room, letting the Marine fal into the woman's arms.

He gently closed the door behind him and walked back to the skeleton grumbling at Garp who hadn't taken his shoes off before entering.

- Hurry up, chicken, it's 230B not 230C, it will soon be midnight. The skeleton vociferated while washing the floor.

Marco did so immediately and walked without knocking into room 230B.

He was first blinded by the light. It took him several seconds before he could open his eyes. His heart seemed to come out of his chest.

-Oï? he said in a barely perceptible voice.

The other three men in the room turned to him. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, before the dark-haired man rushed over the blond and hugged him as strong as he could. Tears rolled down Marco's cheeks as he felt the softness of Ace's hair tickling his skin, when he felt his peculiar scent, when he heard his brother laugh in his ear. Ace finally released him and Marco could see his father at the end of the room, sitting at the table, Thatch at his side cutting a turkey with surgical precision. They both gave a warm smile to Marco, completely confused, who joined them directly at the table. He sat down, felt father's hand place a napkin next to the plate Thatch was rushing to fill. Marco couldn't speak anymore, he just admired them. Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful scene. Ace sat down next to Marco, a huge smile on his face before he was took over by a narcolepsy attack and collapsed head first in his plate. Thatch grumbled when he caught turkey splashes in the face but handed his plate to Marco.

- Enjoy it! Said the cook before sitting down and drink his glass of wine.

Marco was about to ask his father the why and how of this surreal situation when the huge owl-shaped clock hanging on the wall rang with a loud melody sweeping through the room. The three awakened men looked at the clock: it was exactly midnight. Edward Newgate turned to the blond and in an almost imperceptible whisper told him, "I love you my son. "

Marco didn’t have the time to answer as the escargophone hanging on the wall screamed again:

“Midnight, midnight, get ready for the fall! ".

Marco's heart raced, something was wrong. All his senses were awake and he look out the window. He then saw, a few meters in front of the manor, an enormous waterfall and the manor which was heading straight for it at high speed. Barely a minute later, Marco couldn’t felt the ground under his feet: the mansion began to fall, carried along by the speed of the waterfall. He was the only one in the room to panic: Ace still slept like a child, Whitebeard continued to eat his turkey and Thatch put his glass of wine back on the table, as Marco was thrown against the wall, dragged down by the fall of the mansion. He turned to Thatch, whom he thought he heard talking. "Don't be in too much in a hurry to join us, pineapple, everything happen at the right time..." Marco could not have said if it was a hallucination or if his brother had actually spoken to him. A second later, Marco closed his eyes, ready to take the shock of the fall.

He jumped up, sweat dripping from his forehead. Reflexively, he tried to swallow deep breaths of air, as if he were battling drowning. He recovered quickly when he realized that he was not at the bottom of the ocean but in his bed, in the cabin of the Moby Dick. He wiped his face and noticed that someone was knocking on the door. He preferred to use his haki and recognized his brother Vista. He sighed. He tried to reassure himself by telling himself that it had all been a bad dream, even though it had seemed very realistic to him. He hurried to get rid of his soaked blankets and quickly got up to open the door to his brother. When he walked over to the door and opened it automatically, he froze, his hands shaking. His gaze scanned his right leg: the red scarf was still around his leg.

End.

#one piece #one piece halloween #one piece scenarios #marco phoenix #Marco the Phoenix #Marco the pineapple #Portgas D. Ace #portgas d ace #thatch #one piece thatch #edward newgate #Whitebeard pirates #Whitebeard #Monkey D. Garp #monkey d garp

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

Text

A Dance of Fire and Wind || (05) || jjk

↠ A Dance of Fire and Wind ↞ One year ago you were banished from the Fire Nation, branded a traitor and a coward by the scar on your face. The only way to win back both your throne and the respect of your father was to capture the Avatar, master of all four elements.

You’d be damned if you failed.

Warnings/Genre: Avatar the Last Airbender!au. Female Prince Zuko!Reader. Avatar!Jungkook. Fluff. Angst. Explicit language. Smut. Light violence. Waterbender!Jimin. Sokka!Taehyung. Nonlinear drabble series.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/n: These will not be posted in order, so you do not need to read them that way! However, they will each be numbered, so if you do want to read them in sequential order, you can!

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

| Series Masterlist |

05: The Chase

“Catch me if you can!”

A grunt of annoyance left your lips, but that was the only response you gave to the obvious taunting. Not like the brat ahead of you would have been able to hear it anyway. The armor you wore was heavy, weighing you down as you ran through the dirt path streets of whatever small Earth Kingdom village you’d docked at an hour ago.

“Out of my way!” You bit out through clenched teeth. The older man who’d just been standing in your path met the side of the road with a thud with a harsh shove. But you didn’t care. Didn’t bother to pay any mind to the barely concealed disgruntled shout. Especially when whatever he’d been about to say died down in his throat the second he got a good glance at the color of your uniform.

The day had started out just like any other. You’d woken up at sunrise and did your morning exercises and meditation. It’d been right in the middle of said meditation when the door leading to the empty deck of your ship cracked open. Normally, the soldiers under your command knew better than to interrupt you and you knew for a fact that your uncle was still asleep.

When the presence had refused to disappear, a frown pulled at your lips and you snapped your eyes open in irritation. You ignored the flash of dull pain that licked at the harshly scarred, burned skin on the left side of your face, surrounding your eye and reaching all the way back your ear. One year later and the pain had still yet to cease. Not even the cool breeze drifting from the ocean was enough to cool the fire that itched beneath your skin. The heat that fluctuated with the rise of your temper.

“What?” You’d snapped, relaxing out of your meditative posture.

The soldier, whose shadow fell over your seated position, shifted. Whether in nervousness or caution, you frankly didn’t give a shit. You were known for many things, but your patience wasn’t one of them. His eyes dropped to the metal deck of the ship and the armored helmet over his head bobbed with the movement.

“I apologize for the interruption, Princess Y/n. But the ship is in need of restocking.”

A puff of breath, warmer than usual due to displeasure, passed your lips. “Then inform the captain that we’ll be stopping at the next port.”

“Right away, Princess.” He--you never bothered to learn the names of the peasant soldiers so far beneath you--bowed his head once again before making himself scarce.

Luck. That’s what your uncle would have called it when you’d happened to glance up in the middle of the village market just in time to recognize a familiar face. Your hand had been outstretched to place a few gold pieces into the palm of the tea vendor (your uncle had picked out an obnoxiously expensive tea set claiming that his last one had been damaged during a pirate raid two weeks ago) when you’d spotted him.

His bright yellow and orange outfit would have been a dead giveaway even if you hadn’t already noticed him standing there, frozen. Big brown eyes were wide with shock and you took a moment to acknowledge the fact that his two little lackeys weren’t by his side for once. Not that it mattered, you could’ve taken on all three of them in a fight easily.

One month. It’d been one month since you’d first laid your sights on the boy, the Avatar. Which marked one year and one month since your banishment from the Fire Nation. You’d never known what exactly to expect him to look like when you’d first begun your journey to hunt him down. But it sure as hell wasn’t a boy who looked barely even a year younger than you. Barely even eighteen. He was supposed to be the master of all four elements: Earth, Fire, Water, Air, and over a hundred years old. Not a teenage boy.

You’d managed to capture him once during that first month, when he’d voluntarily given himself up in exchange for the promised safety of the village he’d been taking refuge in. But the bastard was surprisingly and irritatingly slippery. From the moment he’d first escaped your ship and therefore your capture, the chase had been on.

So seeing him in that moment, across the market square, you didn’t even hesitate before shoving the gold pieces into the hand of the vendor. Your uncle, who’d been patiently awaiting his new wrapped tea set, had let out a sound of surprise when you bolted. The Avatar’s panicked squeak was audible even over the small crowd. You’d barely even cleared half of the distance between you before he turned tail and ran.

Whatever alarm the Avatar had been feeling seemed to have vanished and now he turned to childishly stick his tongue out at you from over his shoulder. His brunette hair, that clashed horribly with his outfit, fluttered around his head playfully. “Too slow! What do they feed you Fire Benders? Lazy cakes?”

A growl rumbled in your throat at the blatant taunt and you clenched your fist. It was anger that drew the fire from your stomach and down your arm. Fury that caused the air around you to simmer in warning right before you ignited it and sent a ball of fire flying straight at the annoying little shit.

The Avatar just let out a laugh, hopping into the air far higher than any normal person could achieve. He’d just barely managed to avoid the flames, but the vegetable cart that stood in the way wasn’t so lucky.

“My cabbages!” A male voice screeched as you sprinted by, but you didn’t care to spare a glance.

“Oops. Sorry!” The Avatar called back casually, like he wasn’t in the middle of a chase. Like you were some kind of game that he’d just so happened to fall into. Like you were some kind of fucking joke.

“Get back here!” You shouted, sending another volley of fireballs that the Avatar just managed to dodge. Around you, peasant villagers fled from the scene, terrified at the sight of fighting.

“Uh,” the Avatar twisted out of the way of a stream of fire, sliding off the wooden staff hooked over his back to throw a gush of powerful air to clash with your next assault. “No thanks.”

His muscular back flexed with the effort it took to hold you off, biceps bulging with the power of his swings. Spotting the large, inhumanly sized flying bison that the boy kept as a pet and used as transportation up ahead resting on one of the rooftops, you gritted your teeth. Two familiar heads poking up from over the leather saddle, both dark heads of hair, urged you to move that much faster. If the Avatar managed to reach them, he’d more than likely escape before you could capture him.

One of his weak companions noticed you and his jaw dropped open, eyes widening at the same time. His blue Water Tribe--wasn’t it a little too warm to be wearing something so fluffy and padded?--stood out amongst the dull brown buildings. “Jungkook, hurry! She’s right behind you!”

“Obviously.” The other, his voice much deeper and less fitting to his appearance, grunted. He was thin, but not as petite as the other and climbed his way to the front of the saddle, picking up the long reins tied to either end of the animal’s horns with his hands. “Appa, yip-yip!”

With a crack! the reins snapped and the gargantuan beast let out an answering howl that had you leaping upwards to kick a stream of flame, right into the Avatar’s path the moment he took to the air. At the last minute, with another swing of his staff, he sent your own fire careening back towards you. You barely even had to flick your wrist to disperse it, but it was already too late.

The Avatar flew through the air, hair whipping around his head and wind tearing at his clothes, to land safely inside the bison’s saddle. Out of your range, you had no other choice but to skid to a stop right in the middle of the steadily emptying street. You craned your head back just in time to see the Avatar lean over the side of the saddle. A blindingly white grin stretched his cheeks, doe eyes scrunching as he waved a hand.

“Nice try, but better luck next time!”

Your hands clenched into infuriated fists at your side.

Next time he wouldn’t be getting away.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook fic #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #magicshopnet #jimin #taehyung

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carlycchapman24 · 4 years ago

Text

The Adventures of Celine Markus-Chapter 3

The following morning, they all get up, step outside their tents, and see Jolien still wide awake outside, “Not a thing happened,” she answered before anyone could say anything. “I suppose we’ll go our separate ways then,” Sidqiel says, beginning to pack up his and Arlech’s tent. “I suppose so, may the Gods and Mother Nature herself keep you all safe, I have some things to do,” Jolien said, standing up and dusting her cloak and dress off. “You can’t come with us to Tortoise Landing?” Celine says sheepishly. Jolien laughs, “No, this is a test to get into a Guild. Having someone like me be there would be cheating, especially according to Mistress Bula, who I dare say would likely disqualify you and kick out her favorite member,” she glances over at Sidqiel who has a look of shock on his face when she mentions him. “Now, I must be off, could day to you all,” she says and turns towards where the four came from, leaving them behind as Daxina picks up her and Celine’s tent. “Well, off we go then,” Sidqiel says and they all make their way down the road. “So, Elf lady,” Arlech says, “are you going to tell us your name or-?” Daxina sighed in annoyance, not wanting to tell the Wizard Girl or the Tiefling her name, but she was tired of them calling her ‘Elf’ or ‘Blondie,’ “It’s Daxina Amakiir, I’m a Pirate and I like fights, are you happy now?” “Yes,” Arlech answered. “What are your names then? It’s only fair that I get to ask too.” “Arlech,” the Tiefling said. “And you?” She asks the redhead, who seemed to not be paying attention. Daxina waved her hand in front of Celine’s face and said, “Uh, hello, Wizard Girl, are you there?” Celine shook out of it and said, “Huh, what?” Daxina sighed, “I said, what’s your name, since we’re all stuck together?” Before Celine could ask the blonde what her name was, Arlech whispered, “Her name is Daxina, she just told me.” Celine cleared her throat, “Uh, Celine, sorry to not pay attention, just, there’s a lot to think about after what’s happened in the few days I’ve been here.” “So you really aren’t from here?” Daxina said, genuinely surprised. “Obviously, did you not see my reaction to that giant fucking cat?!” Celine answered. Before Daxina could be snarky back at her, Sidqiel spoke up and said, “Tabaxi, they’re called Tabaxi, and they find it offensive to call them giant cats, even if that’s exactly what they are.” “So Tieflings, Gnolls, Elves, weird Dragon looking things, Tabaxi, Halflings, Gnomes, Devils, according to something Arlech told me when he was drunk, Demons for the same reason, drunk Arlech told me, but what else is in this ridiculous world?” Celine said, frustrated at having to remember all of these new things. “Much more than that, I can tell you that much. A lot of which I hope you’ll never have to run into. There are some nasty things in this world, and many would scare the living daylights out of you.” Sidqiel answered. “Okay, okay, I get it, you don’t want me to go looking for anything too dangerous,” Celine said, both aggravated and slightly freaked out. “Not until you’re strong enough, no.” The man answered and they continued.

After what seemed like ages, they arrived at Tortoise Landing, only to be greeted by the sound of bagpipes and people rushing out, getting ready to fight, “No, no, please, we’re here to help with your Gnoll problem!” Arlech says. No one believes him and the villagers prepare to defend themselves with what little they have. “No, please, he speaks the truth,” Sidqiel shouts and lets his glowing bronze wings out and both of his eyes glow a bronze color. Out of the crowd steps a, what looks like to Celine, a giant turtle. “I’m sorry, but what the hell is that?” Celine whispers but is told to hush by Arlech. The giant turtle says, “I am Koryver, the Chief of Tortoise Landing. If what you say is true and you’ve come to deal with our Gnoll problem, let us have a feast and discuss more of my job for you.” “Of course, we would be honored to join you for dinner,” Sidqiel says, putting away his wings bowing to the Chief, the other three follow his lead and bow to the Chief as well. When they stood back up the Chief said, “Come along” and they all went after him. After they set up the feast, with the members of the group sitting on either side of the Chief, Arlech and Celine to his left and Daxina and Sidqiel to his right, the Chief stands up and says, “Tonight, we welcome these four brave souls who are willing to rid us of the Gnoll problem we’ve had for the last few weeks. May the Gods smile upon them as they take on these dangerous foes who have done nothing but wreak havoc on our land and our people. Vu uas tewoust!” The villagers repeat “Vu uas tewoust!” The quartet looks on in confusion and after the Chief sits back down, he says, “It means ‘to our saviors’ in Aquan, my language. Now to the business at hand, there are usually three or four Gnolls that attack our village per night. We do not know if they are the same ones each time or different ones, but regardless, I want them dead and I want them to stop torturing my people. Gnolls are cowards, so if they see us fighting back, they’ll run away. If they see that none of their scouting party has returned, they will run. I want you all stationed at the front entrance, Gnolls are not smart creatures and will attack the same place every time, and they’ve been coming through the front entrance each time. Are you willing to take on this task?” All four nod and the giant turtle actually smiles, Celine notices, which is a little off-putting. “Good,” the Chief says, “now let us enjoy this feast and hopefully you’ll be victorious come the morning.”

They finish eating their meal and make their way to where they entered about three hours ago, keeping an eye out on the path ahead. Within minutes, Arlech and Daxina see three Gnolls making their way up the path and they point them out to Sidqiel and Celine. “How far away do you think the first one is?” Celine whispered. “A good one hundred feet, why?” Arlech answered and in an instant, Celine shot off a Fire Bolt, and it impacted the first Gnoll in the line, scorching it alive. All three Gnolls immediately run as fast as they can towards the source of what attacked them. “Good work Celine!” whispers Arlech. The first Gnoll, the one Celine hit, kept on running forward, Daxina also shot off a Fire Bolt towards the first Gnoll, just barely hitting it as well. Seeing what the other two were doing, but not being able to do much, he waited for them to get closer. The Gnoll furthest away just kept running forward, as did the middle one. Arlech looked between the two women, not being able to do much, so he prepared himself and waited until the Gnolls got closer. Celine shot off her Magic Missile and aimed it at the closest Gnoll with direction from Arlech, two out of the three went wide and the third one made impact, causing a little damage, but not enough to her liking. The first Gnoll kept running forward, trying to find its target. Daxina grinned and shot a Fire Bolt at the Gnoll getting closer, but missed, getting too cocky. Celine chuckled at Daxina’s misfortune and Sidqiel rolled his eyes and cast his Spiritual Weapon, which manifested as a Morningstar again, and placed it right next to the first Gnoll, then tried to hit it, but missed. The third Gnoll was keeping pace with the first two. The second Gnoll was right behind the first one. Finally able to do something, Arlech yelled, “You’re worthless, you’ll never amount to anything!” to the first Gnoll, casting Vicious Mockery and it instantly kills the first Gnoll. “You just insulted it to death.” Celine said in amazement. “Yes, yes I did,” he answered her with a wink. Celine rolled her eyes and shot a Fire Bolt at the second Gnoll, now that the first one was dead, hitting it with ease. Daxina pulled out her pistol and fired a shot at the second Gnoll since the first one was dead, and it hit easily. It was looking pretty ragged now. Sidqiel grinned and tried hitting the Gnoll again, it impacted and knocked the Gnoll down. The third, now second, Gnoll shot an arrow at Sidqiel, but missed and the arrow bounced off of a rock and fell on the ground. The second, now first, Gnoll tried hitting Sidqiel with an arrow as well but also missed. Both Gnolls growled at their attackers and Arlech used Thunderwave, hitting everyone. Killing one Gnoll, damaging the other, and accidentally hitting Celine, Sidqiel, and Daxina, apologizing in the process. Celine said, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, let’s kill this last one quick,” and threw a Fire Bolt at the last Gnoll, but just barely missed. Daxina laughed and shot a Fire Bolt herself at the last Gnoll, hitting it, it now started slowing down and was scorched and bleeding. Sidqiel threw a spell none of the recognized at the Gnoll, it was a gray-ish color, but it, unfortunately, missed the Gnoll, “Gods dammit.” The last Gnoll finally reached the quartet and bit at Sidqiel, but its teeth met Scale Mail, earning a chuckle from Sidqiel. Arlech shouted an insult at the last Gnoll, “You are a disgusting creature and no one will love you,” and cast Vicious Mockery, but the Gnoll seemingly wasn’t affected. “Oh move over,” Celine said, backing up a bit, so she was fifteen feet away from the Gnoll, and she casts a new spell of her’s called Burning Hands and a cone of flame came out of her hands, hitting the Gnoll who now looked like it could collapse any second. The others stared in shock, but Daxina shook it off and pulled her Great Sword out of its sheath and sliced at the Gnoll twice, the first slice missed, but the second one impacted it and killed it instantly. Celine collapsed on the ground and sighed in relief, “Holy fuck, thank whatever deities

this place has that we won.” A few moments passed and then Arlech asked, “Does anyone need to be patched up?” Celine, Daxina, and Sidqiel all raised their hands, “So everyone but me, all right then,” the Tiefling said. “I can heal myself, you can take the ladies.” Sidqiel answered, touching his shoulder and casting a spell that Celine didn’t recognize, all she did know is that it had a bright, white, light from her perspective. Arlech walked over and asked Daxina, “May I?” Daxina sighed, “Yeah, go ahead,” and let him touch her shoulder, a bright, white light like what Sidqiel’s spell looked like came out of Arlech’s hand and any bruises from his Thunderwave spell disappeared as if they had never been there at all. This surprised Celine and she blinked and shook her head, as if it was the darkness playing tricks on her. The next thing she knew, Arlech knelt next to her, holding a hand out, “Well?” Celine hesitantly stuck her hand out and Arlech took it and held it for a second, his skin feeling weirdly like warm coals, she noticed, and just as with Daxina, the bright, white light came out of his hand and her bruises from his Thunderwave disappeared before her eyes. “What the hell?” She said, not realizing how quietly she said it. “Well,” Daxina said, “let’s get a pelt off of one of these guys, that was the thing, right?” “Indeed,” Sidqiel answered, “Who wants to do it?” Arlech got up, stretched, and said, “I’ll do it.” “Do you have a knife?” Sidqiel asked. “No, but I have a dagger.” Arlech answered. “That should do it, have at it.” Arlech went down the path to the very first Gnoll they killed and skinned it with ease, taking the pelt off with precision that surprised everyone. “Celine,” he said, getting back up, “put this in your Bag of Holding and we’ll take it back to the Guild,” and gave it to her. “Gross,” Celine said, but did what she was told. Then, they finally went back into the village and were met by the Chief, “Did you kill them?” “The ones that tried to get to the village anyway,” Celine said, pulling out the Gnoll pelt with a disgusted look on her face. “Oh good, here, one hundred gold to split amongst yourselves,” the Chief said, handing them a large bag of gold, “and you’re free to stay for the night in one of the empty houses from the previous attacks. Maybe you could suggest this village to people on your travels so we can become more than just a small village.” “Thank you, sir,” Sidqiel said, taking the bag of gold. They made their way to one of the abandoned homes, split the gold amongst themselves, and went to bed.

The following morning, the quartet said their goodbyes and headed back to Crisherton. “So, how did you all enjoy your first contract, besides, of course, those damn bandits on the way?” Sidqiel asked. “It went better than I expected at least,” Celine said, stretching to wake herself up more. “Your idea to start attacking from a distance was a great one,” Sidqiel answered with an amused tone in his voice. “Yeah, well, after attacking those bandits or whatever they were head-on, I figured it would at least be something to try,” Celine said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, it was a smart choice,” Arlech said with a grin. “Well, thanks, guys,” Celine said awkwardly, not really sure how to accept the praise she was receiving. The two days to get back to Crisherton passed surprisingly quickly and Celine could only hope that the pelt didn’t decompose and get all gross inside her bag. When they got back into the Solarstriders’ building, they were greeted by Mistress Bula, “So you’re alive then? That’s amazing, considering you lot couldn’t take on a simple group of bandits that you ran into on the road,” she said and before any of the four could say anything she added, “Oh yes, I heard all about that, the whole town has. Jolien told us herself that she had to heal all of you up and bring Miss Red Head over here back to life completely, as she had been killed, not just knocked out cold. Here’s some advice, and I’d expect more from you as well Sidqiel if you cannot take on an enemy, run if you can. This world has no place for cowards, but nor does it have a place for martyrs. Now hand over that pelt and I’ll induct the three of you into the Solarstriders and forgive the damage from the Elf girl.” Celine sat her Bag of Holding on the desk and pulled out the Gnoll pelt, which to her surprise, didn’t decompose in her bag, and handed it over to the Mistress. Mistress Bula observed it and said, “Interesting, I’ll send this to the leatherworker in town so they can prepare to send it to the tailor for clothing. Now, come along, we need to mark you to induct you into the Guild.” “Uh, what do you mean, ‘mark us?’” Celine asked, which she regretted when she heard the answer. “Well you can’t expect to join any Guild without a branding of some sort, now can you?” Mistress Bula said. “Wait, branding, as in burning us? No. No, no. No, I refuse, I’m not going to get some symbol burned into my fucking skin!” Celine exclaimed and her wrist was grabbed roughly by the Mistress who said, “You will or you’ll be arrested and tried for trespassing in my building and for doing a trial and then leaving. Got it, Princess?” Celine tears her wrist out of Mistress Bula’s hand and massages it to get rid of the pain of the woman’s grip, “I’m not a princess,” she says with venom in her voice. “Then stop acting like one, you may not be from around here, that’s clear enough, but you’ll follow our customs and rules if you plan to stay. Now, as I said, come along.”

The trio is led down a flight of stairs and taken into the first door on the right at the bottom. They stepped in and saw a large furnace with fire blazing, a chair nearby the furnace that looked like a torture device, and a very tall woman, who looked like she was carved out of a mountain, was banging away at a weapon of some sort, “Niria, dear,” Mistress Bula said and for the first time since she met her, Celine noticed the woman had a look of admiration and love in her eyes, ‘Is this her wife or something?’ Celine thought. The giant woman turned around and said, “Ah, Umog, my love, what have we here? Some new recruits?” “Umog?” Celine whispered. “Her first name I assume,” Arlech answers back, just as quietly. “Yes indeed, they need to be branded, could you take the time to mark these three?” Mistress Bula asks. “Of course, but you’ll need to make it worth it since you interrupted me making more weapons for the Guild,” the giant woman said suggestively. All three rolled their eyes as Mistress Bula continued in the same suggestive tone, “You know I will.” The giant woman went over and kissed Mistress Bula on the cheek and said, “Well, then I’ll see you later tonight. Head back on upstairs, I’ll take care of them.” “I’m sure you will,” Mistress Bula said with a smile and left the trio downstairs. When the Mistress was out of sight, the giant woman’s demeanor changed, “Alright you lot, clearly you got far enough to be able to get inducted, so you better be able to handle yourself when I do this. If not, well, I don’t know how you got this far. Now, who’s first?” “I’ll do it,” Daxina said. “Then get in that chair over there,” Niria said, pointing at what Celine had thought looked like a torture device when they walked in. Her fears were confirmed when Niria tied down Daxina’s arms with some type of leather and rolled her sleeve up to her shoulder. “Uh, what’s this for?” Daxina asked. “Well, some squirm when I do this because it’s quite literally hot metal being placed against your skin to mark you.” Daxina went paler than usual and said, “Oh, I guess that makes sense.” “Now, let’s begin.” Niria said and pulled out a brand with a symbol that looked like a sun with a sword surrounded by fire in the middle of it, and above the point of the sword it read ‘Solar’ and it read ‘Striders’ beneath the hilt and pommel. Niria heated the metal until it was bright orange, “Now, take a deep breath,” she said and pressed the heated metal against Daxina’s shoulder with enough pressure to leave a permanent scar. Daxina gritted her teeth and passed out from the pain, which made Celine even more nervous, if Daxina passed out from the pain, she might just die. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Niria said and unhooked Daxina after she was done and sat her in the corner. “Who’s next?” the woman asked, holding the brand up. “I’ll do it.” Comes Arlech’s voice, sounding cocky. “Ah,” Niria said, looking up and down Arlech’s form, “Devil spawn, are we? This should be no problem for someone of your heritage. I may not even tie your arms down.” “A pity,” Arlech said, “I was quite looking forward to that,” and winked. “You’re quite charming, but as you saw, I’m a taken woman. Now, sit down.” She said with a laugh. Celine was dumbfounded, Arlech’s flirting almost worked, and the only reason it hadn’t was because Niria was with Mistress Bula. She took a minute to process this as Niria heated up the brand again and pressed it against Arlech’s shoulder with the same amount of pressure as she did with Daxina, if not more. Arlech sucked in air as the pain hit his skin, but stayed conscious, after it was imprinted, he got up as if he felt nothing at all and went over to Celine, “See, nothing to it. Go on,” he said gently. “Come over here, girl,” Niria said, not unkindly. Nervous, Celine hesitantly walked over to the very large woman and the chair, her legs felt like lead and it seemed like it took hours to get over to them. She sat down and let her arms rest on the arms of the chair and Niria tied Celine’s arms to the chair, noticing how worried the young woman was. “Take a

deep breath,” came the woman’s voice, but it seemed slow and distorted to her. The second the hot brand hit her shoulder, Celine screamed out in pain and agony and the next thing she knew, she saw blackness and felt nothing. The next thing she knew, she woke up lying on the ground with Arlech and Niria standing over her with very worried faces and when she sat up, she saw Daxina looking at her nails with a look of disdain on her face, which Celine assumed was directed towards her. ��You really are weak,” Daxina said, not looking Celine in the face. “Fuck off.” Celine said as she leaned against the wall. “Are you all right?” Niria asked before the two young women started fighting, “I think I’m okay now, I’m sorry if my reaction ruined the branding so you couldn’t do it.” Celine said with a monotone voice. “No, no, don’t worry about it. That’s the usual reaction, albeit a bit more extreme.” Celine looked embarrassed as Arlech made his way over to her “Here, let me help you,” he said, kneeling next to Celine, “I already fixed up Daxina,” then he held out his hand. Celine rolled her eyes and held out her arm, he took her hand and cast Cure Wounds on her, “There you go, all healed up.” Celine immediately glanced at her shoulder, and the brand was still there, which she didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed about. Then it dawned on her, she had no idea how long they had been down here, she reached in her Bag of Holding to try and pull out her phone when Arlech smacked her hand lightly as if to say, “Not here.” Not wanting to potentially fight Niria for whatever reason, she sighed and took her hand out of her bag and closed it back up, deciding instead to ask, “How long have I been out?” “A few hours perhaps, why?” Niria said. “Well, I’m pretty tired after that, but if it’s not dark outside then I don’t want to go to bed.” Celine reasoned. “Well, then you all should make your way back up the stairs. Welcome to the Solarstriders.” “Thank you.” Celine said and got up, then the three of them headed back up to the main room.

“I cannot believe you flirted with her and it almost worked,” Celine said to Arlech when they were out of earshot. Which made Arlech laugh, “I told you it works in the right scenario, but you didn’t believe me.” “Wait, he did what?!” Daxina said in disgust. “You two are quick to judge, it meant nothing. Obviously, she’s with Mistress Bula, it was simply in hopes of having her be gentler with the brand.” Arlech said, rolling his eyes. “Do you ever mean it when you flirt with people or is it all just a game to you?” Celine asked with an annoyed tone at the Tiefling, disgusted at his attitude with such things. Arlech looked genuinely hurt at the accusation for a second and said, “Well, it depends on the person I suppose.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Daxina asked, now honed in on the conversation. “Well, when it comes to store clerks or others of the sort, it’s merely just to get what I want, like information for example. If it’s someone I’m genuinely interested in, I mean every word.” Both women were still unsure but went with it and Celine asked, “And how does someone know the difference? The person on the receiving end that is? You’ve tried flirting with me multiple times and I haven’t fallen for it, because to me it certainly just seems like some bullshit a lot of men in my world do just to get in a woman’s pants. I call them fuck boys, as do many other people.” Arlech was taken aback and Daxina covered her mouth, snickering. “Mind explaining that term to me?” Arlech said, raising an eyebrow. “A fuck boy,” Celine said, starting to step closer to Arlech, “is a young man or as I say, a boy,” she stepped closer, “who thinks they’re hot shit,” even closer, “and who thinks they’re sexy,” closer still, “and will flirt with multiple women at a time,” she got even closer until she was as close to Arlech’s face as she could be with the slight height difference, “and don’t know how to take no for an answer, and the only thing on their mind is sex. They don’t want actual relationships, they just want a fuck buddy or friends with benefits and will keep on asking even after one of the many women he’s flirted with has said no.” Celine looked Arlech up and down, the tension in the air was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Arlech stood his ground and said, “Well, they sound like terrible people,” also looking Celine up and down. Daxina looked on, half expecting the two of them to kiss, and cleared her throat, “I don’t know if you’re going to kiss or kill each other, but maybe we can do it outside of the Guild?” Just then, both Arlech and Celine looked around and saw Sidqiel, Mistress Bula, and a few random members of the Solarstriders that none of them recognized, staring at them with their jaws on the ground. Celine stepped back first, “I think I’ve made my point,” she said, glancing over to the Tiefling. “I don’t know if you have, maybe you could explain it further later on,” Arlech answered with a wink. “Maybe I will, but not in a room alone with you, I’m not that stupid.” She replied haughtily and stormed out, finally letting herself flush red at his flirting, which she thought was odd, it had never worked on her before, why now?

Not long after, Daxina and Arlech join her outside and immediately Daxina shouts, “I’m sorry, but what in the Nine Hells was that?! I have never, in the short period that I’ve known you two, seen you go at each other like that. Care to explain?” “I’d ask Celine that if I were you, she’s never snapped at me like that before. She’s been sarcastic, but never gotten in my face like that, it was kind of sexy.” Arlech answered with a grin. “You’re gross,” Celine said a few feet ahead of the two. “You’re attracted to me,” Arlech shot back. “No I’m not,” Celine answered, getting furious now. “Then why did you get in my face like that?” The Tiefling shouted back. Just then, Celine turned around sharply and shouted angrily, “Because I’m tired of your bullshit!” and passers-by in the streets turned to stare at the two. “Just admit you find me attractive and we can settle this,” Arlech said, smiling. “You’re delusional,” Celine answered and made her way to The Clydesdale Inn. “I’m not convinced,” Arlech said to Daxina, who was walking next to him. “I’m not either,” she said, watching Celine walk off. A moment later, a light bulb went off in Daxina’s head and she suggested, “I have an idea, either before or after the next time we fight something, you kiss her and see what happens?” “It seems a bit rude to kiss her without asking, don’t you think? I’ll shamelessly flirt with someone, especially her, no big deal, but unless they permit me to do anything more than that, I don’t go further than a flirt,” Arlech reasoned. “So you do have feelings for her then or at least are genuinely interested in her,” Daxina said. “Well, yes. Ever since I first met her I thought she was cute and rather interesting. What are you supposed to feel when someone claims they’re from a different world? You’re instantly interested and drawn to them in some way, correct?” The Tiefling answered as if it was the most logical thing in the world, “You want to know more, you want to see how they tick, how they react, yes?” Daxina thought on this for a moment and said, “Yes, I could see how that would make you interested or attracted to someone, and while I respect the fact that you want to ask permission before going any further than flirting, I don’t find it very likely that she’d give you permission to kiss her or do anything of the sort with her adamant claim that she’s not attracted to you in any way, shape, or form.” “I understand your point, but it just feels wrong to not ask first.” Arlech insisted. “Fine,” the Elven woman started, “but if you change your mind or feel like you aren’t getting anywhere with her, take my idea into account.” The red Tiefling sighed in a defeated way, “I will.” When they got back to The Clydesdale Inn, Arlech took a seat at the bar and tapped on it to get Mr. Longfoot’s attention, the Halfling turned and went towards Arlech, “Hello Arlech, how are you doing today? What can I get you?” “Nothing today Mr Longfoot, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be performing tonight. I don’t feel well and I have a lot to think about.” Arlech answered. “Well,” started the Halfling, “it’s a shame you won’t be performing, but if you feel you need time to yourself, I have no problems with that.” “Thank you, sir, I appreciate that. I think I’ll go two doors down to Madam Fibavam’s Bathhouse whilst I think.” Arlech answered, and walked out. Not long after, Celine came down from her room and started walking out, only to be stopped by Mr Longfoot, who asked, “Are you going two doors down as well?” “To the bathhouse? Yeah, I feel like shit after getting branded by the Solarstriders today, why?” Celine asked. “Arlech just went over there too,” he said and Celine froze in fear, thinking Arlech would see her naked, but then she remembered there was a fence between the two sides of the bathhouse and relaxed a little. However, she second-guessed herself and asked Mr Longfoot, “There are two sides blocked by a fence, right? A men’s and a women’s side?” “I believe so,” the Halfling answered, “but I’d ask Madam Fibavam to make sure.” This made Celine

nervous, but she went over to the bathhouse anyway.

As she stepped in, Madam Fibavam was at the desk and she looked up from her book in surprise, “Two people in one night? That’s a new record I think. How are you doing Celine?” “Fine, hey I have a question,” Celine responds. “What is it dear?” The Gnome asks, sitting up more. “Uh, are the baths separated by gender or only the changing rooms?” Celine asks and the Gnome laughs, “Yes, the baths are separated by gender as well, with a tall wooden fence, don’t you remember that from when you were here a few nights ago?” “I didn’t really pay attention, so I suppose not.” Celine answered. “Well, they are, are you wanting to be here for a while too?” Madan Fibavam says with a warm smile. “Yes, two silver, right?” Celine asks and the woman nods. Celine hands over the two pieces of silver and goes into the same changing room as last time and puts her stuff in the same closet. Then she tries to stealthily step into the hot spring so Arlech doesn’t hear her, but unfortunately, Arlech hears her step in the water through the fence. He jumps up, startled, and says, “Hello?” Celine clasps her hand over her mouth and tries to make her breathing slow and silent and succeeds, and her second step was far more silent than the first one. “Hello?” Comes Arlech’s voice again and a shift in the water as if he were turning around to look through the fence to see if anyone was on the opposite side, but nothing. Celine heard him shift again, assuming he was turning his back to the fence again. Celine sighs in relief as quietly as possible and leans against the fence herself. Just then, she hears Arlech talk to himself and clearly hears, “How do you even tell someone how you feel about them? I could just go ahead and say it to her face, but what if she thinks it’s just another attempt at flirting? I could try Daxina’s idea, but she might smack me across the face. Gods, this is difficult.” Celine tilts her head, was he talking about her? She couldn’t tell, all she could understand was that he was clearly stressed out about whatever and whoever he was talking about. She thought back on all of the times he flirted with her from her understanding of what she knew to be ‘flirting’ in her world. The suggestive comments, him calling her cute while he was drunk, him holding her hand when he healed her instead of placing his hand on her arm or shoulder, did he really mean those things or was he just trying to get in her pants? Because what she knew from her world, men, or boys even, would only act that way towards women with one thing, and one thing only on their minds. Then she thought about how his earlier attempts didn’t work on her, yet this afternoon, something changed. His flirting actually worked on her, why then and in that moment? Did he use a spell on her? She knew he had healing abilities, could he make people fall for his flirting with some sort of spell too? “What did it all mean?” she unintentionally said aloud and froze in fear, “Celine, is that you?” Comes Arlech’s voice from the opposite side of the fence. He even recognized her voice, which she was dumbfounded about. “Uh, no, not at all. Who is this Celine you speak of?” She asked with a horrible, fake, English accent. She could hear in his voice that he had rolled his eyes, “That was the worst accent I have ever heard. What are you doing here?” Then it was Arlech’s turn to freeze in fear, “How long have you been here?” She made a split-second decision to lie and said, “I just got here.” Arlech sighed in relief, but Celine couldn’t keep the smirk off of her face, and it could be heard in her voice, when she said, “Why do you ask?” “Don’t torment me like that,” Arlech says, hearing the tone of her voice ‘You torment me enough by just existing,’ he thought. “Okay fine, you don’t have to tell me. I just thought I would take the opportunity to mess with you like you did to me earlier.” She said, and it was that moment when they remembered they were both naked and talking to each other through a simple wooden fence and an awkward silence followed. “So, um,” Celine finally said, subconsciously

covering her top half even though he couldn’t see her, “why here?” “What do you mean?” Arlech asked. “I mean, you came here, as I heard from talking to Mr Longfoot, why here and not, I don’t know, another bathhouse or the hot spring behind The Clydesdale Inn?” Celine asked. “Oh, well, the only other bathhouse in this city is on the complete opposite side of town and the one behind the Inn is pretty small and I wanted to stretch out and maybe swim around in the hot water a little.” The Tiefling explained. “Is the one behind the Inn really too small for that?” Celine asked. “For someone my height, yes, the one behind the Inn is for one person at a time and for just cleaning up and getting out. I think it’s six and a half feet long and three or four feet wide or something, and I’m six feet tall. These ones are about thirty feet long and forty feet wide, each. Madam Fibavam was lucky that she managed to get this much land on this side of town and still be far enough away from the ocean.” He explained, which prompted Celine to look around and see that it is indeed a very large hot spring and for a moment she felt quite lonely in the wide expanse of this spring. “She’s been here longer than this town has been here, this town is maybe a hundred years old, Madam Fibavam is about two hundred years old, so her bathhouse and spring have been here longer than this town, so they had to build Crisherton around her bathhouse. Gnomes can live up to five hundred years, you know.” Arlech says and Celine immediately says, “I call bullshit, there’s no way.” “Fine, don’t believe me, but you can ask her yourself,” he responds. “Maybe I will.” She answers indignantly. Then Celine comes up with an idea, grins, and says, “Oh yeah, you wanted more of an explanation about fuck boys, didn’t you?” Even though she couldn’t see it, Arlech’s mouth dropped open and he said, “Hold on, now this isn’t what I meant when I said that.” “I know what you meant, but I’m not gonna give you what you want. Now, a fuck boy is somewhat in the same vein as an incel. Now an incel is a man, or boy rather, who likes to be creepy to women online, I’ll explain what ‘online’ is later, and they often feel entitled to a woman’s body, which is absolutely disgusting behavior. When a woman rejects this man-child, he often calls her many names such as ‘bitch,’ ‘fat fuck,’ ‘whore,’ ‘slut,’ you name it, it’s probably thrown around and they often assume the account on a dating app or even apps that aren’t meant for dating, is fake just because she rejects him. I’ll also explain what an app is at a later date. They also objectify women, only seeing them as a piece of meat, or ‘a piece of ass’ and see them only as things to reproduce with or just have sex with and leave them for another. Following along so far?” Despite this not being what he expected or wanted, Arlech found himself very interested in her explanation. A few hours and some questions later, Arlech said, “Gods, they really do sound like awful people. I may be a shameless flirt, but I don’t feel like I’m owed anything if I do flirt and they flirt back. I also ask permission before I go any further. I just find flirting to be fun and in some cases, useful.” “Then you’re neither of those things, surprisingly.” Celine responded. “Did you really think I was one of those things?” Arlech asked, somewhat offended. “I didn’t know what you were or how you were. I mean, for Gods’ sakes, I’ve only known you for a week,” and at that moment it registered in her brain, and there was a pit in her stomach, she had been in this world and away from home for a week and suddenly she panicked, “Wait, oh Gods, I’ve been here for an entire week, I died in my first week and came back alive, my parents probably think I’ve been kidnapped, or worse, murdered!” and she started hyperventilating. In the short time he had known her, Arlech never heard Celine sound so scared and panicked, if anything, to him she seemed the least likely to be scared of anything. “Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he said, trying to calm her down to the best of his ability while

naked and separated by a fence, which made it slightly awkward, but he shrugged it off, “Is there any way you can contact them and let them know that you’re safe?” “No,” Celine said, starting to sniffle but holding it back, “my phone doesn’t work here, I have no service, so unless there’s a way to send a letter to another world, it’s hopeless.” Arlech thought it over for a moment, “There might be a way, but it’s rather complex and pricey. There is a sort of magical letter paper that can be sent to anyone in any plane of existence as long as you write their names on it. It is, however, a good one thousand pieces of gold, if not more. Then there’s also something called a ‘tuning fork’ that you can attune to any plane of existence, and obviously, there’s a little bit of magic in your world if The Royal Wizard was able to bring you here through magical means. However, those are rare and require very strong magic.” That gave Celine hope, if only a small amount, and she imagined something that made her laugh through her sniffles, “I just had a thought, imagine what my parents would think of you if we brought them here, the world itself would be strange but imagine if they got brought here and you, Daxina, and I were right in front of them. Daxina looks at least somewhat normal, by my world’s standards, but just with pointy ears. You on the other hand,” she said with a weak laugh, “and Madam Fibavam, and Mr Longfoot.” Arlech began laughing too, “And let’s not forget Niria and Mistress Bula.” “Holy shit, yes.” Celine said, now in a full-on laugh. There was a moment of silence and out of nowhere, with a hint of awkwardness and shyness in his voice, and no evidence of his usual cockiness, Arlech asked, “May I hug you? When we’re out and dressed, I mean, not now. I don’t even think there’s a way right now, even if you were okay with that, which I’m sure you aren’t considering the state we’re in.” Celine rolled her eyes, which he could hear in her voice when she answered, “Yes, but preferably not in front of Madam Fibavam or Mr Longfoot, I feel like they’d take it the wrong way and start some rumors and gossip around Crisherton.” “That’s understandable,” he said and then added sarcastically and playfully, “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation of being able to easily reject any of my attempts at flirting with you.” “Ha, ha, very funny.” She responds sarcastically as well.

They finally got out of the hot springs after what seemed like several hours, both of which had wrinkly feet and hands, and went to change. They walked out of the changing rooms at the same time and Madam Fibavam looked at them and said jokingly, “Certainly took you two long enough, I almost thought you’d drowned. I’m glad to see that I was wrong.” Celine laughed and then said, “I have a question, and I don’t mean to offend you,” the Gnome answered, “It’s hard to offend me, go ahead,” “Is it true you’re about two hundred years old and did this city really need to be built around your bathhouse?” Celine asked cautiously. The Gnome laughed and said, “I take it Arlech told you this?” Celine nodded and the Gnome continued, still laughing, “Well, two hundred years old is a bit of an exaggeration, I’m around a hundred and seventy-five years old, but yes, Crisherton had to be built around my bathhouse because I refused to leave when they began building it up.” Celine’s jaw dropped and Arlech burst out laughing, “I told you so.” “Shut up,” Celine said, now embarrassed. Then the two went back to The Clydesdale Inn, having to knock so that Mr Longfoot could let them inside and Celine and Arlech added two extra nights in their respective rooms for four gold each. The Halfling gladly accepted the gold and went back to bed. They both glanced around to see if Mr Longfoot was still in the room, but it was hard to tell, so Arlech hesitantly put his arms out for a hug, which Celine had forgotten she agreed to for a split second, and she cautiously wrapped her arms around him, as did he in return. It most definitely wasn’t her imagination when Celine thought Arlech’s hand felt like warm coals, in fact, to her astonishment, his entire body felt like warm coals, which was rather relaxing. She could feel it through his shirt as her arms were wrapped around his torso, and she could feel it in his arms, which were wrapped around her waist. ‘A first step at least,’ Arlech thought as they let go of one another. “Uh, before I go to bed,” Celine said awkwardly, “may I ask you something?” “What?” The Tiefling asked. “I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination when you first grabbed my hand to heal me or not, but now I know what I felt was real. Why does your skin feel like warm coals? Is it like that all the time?” “Ah,” said he, and they sat down in front of her door, “that’s part of my heritage. As a Tiefling, or a Half-Devil, you have a higher body temperature than beings such as full-blooded Humans, or Dwarves, or Elves. Our skin also does, in fact, feel like warm coals when someone touches an arm or whatever. Think of it this way, a full-blooded Devil’s skin, living in the Nine Hells, would feel like raging fire, or burning coals. A Half-Devil, like myself, living on the Prime Plane, which is what this is called, our skin would feel like warm coals, or a dying, low, fire, like embers.” “Would that change if you went to the Nine Hells?” Celine asked. “I’ve never been, so perhaps, but perhaps not. The only way to find out is if we go, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” Arlech answered, standing up. “Fair enough,” Celine said, getting ready to stand up on her own, but Arlech held a hand out as if to ask if he can help her up. Celine rolled her eyes but had a small smile on her face, and she grabbed ahold of his hand. He pulled her up as if she weighed nothing and said, “Goodnight,” letting her hand go, and the two went to their separate rooms for some sleep.

#OCs #Original Story #The Adventures of Celine Markus #Fantasy #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #Dungeons and Dragons 5e #dnd 5e

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years ago

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Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 24

Chapter 24

Spring semester classes picked up amid a foot of snow and temperatures well below freezing. It was so odd being back in the dorm. I’d spent most of my winter break crashing with Roman and Dean at their apartment. Of course, I’d driven back home to see my parents on Thanksgiving and then for a few days at Christmas. Luckily, those days had coincided with Roman’s trip to Florida to visit his family. Seth dipped out to Iowa to see his folks. Dean put off his trip to Ohio as long as he could, but he ended up leaving the same day that I did.

Sonya’s stuff was dumped on her bed when I dragged my suitcase into our shared room. A box of donuts sat on my desk, a note propped in front of it. Welcome back, roomie. Schedules showed up. Looks like we’ve got a class together!

For the first time, I noticed the envelope beside the box of sweets. I smiled ruefully, realizing that Sonya had opened it for me. Students at Grand Mountain took some kind of active elective, but since I was working with the Poms, I’d gotten a waver from the requirement. But Sonya had talked me into signing up for a kickboxing course with her. I guess we’d both gotten a spot.

A loud banging on the door that lead to the bathroom we shared with our suitemates drew my attention. I yanked the door open, unsurprised to find Ember on the other side. The yellow and orange streaks in her hair were brighter than before break. She must have redone them recently.

“Come on in,” I said, grinning. She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard.

“We didn’t think you’d come back,” she said calmly, pulling out my desk chair and plopping down in it. Ember propped her feet up on the edge of the desk, but not before stealing a chocolate-frosted donut from the box.

I stopped, right in the middle of tossing my suitcase up on my bed. “Who didn’t? Did you think I was going to drop out or something?”

Ember rolled her eyes and spoke around the huge bite she’d just taken. “Sonya and Drew had a betting pool going,” she mumbled. “He figured you’d be shaking up with Ro and Dean.”

The way she said it made me suspicious. “Ember, how many people know about that? About me, Ro, and Dean?”

She waved her hand in the air as if it wasn’t a big deal. “The entire hall. All the way up.”

I sank onto the edge of the bed. My heart skipped a beat. “Jesus. If the entire hall knows, the whole campus will know by the time classes start tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nobody’s business.” She watched me with her preternaturally bright eyes. I could never quite get a fix on their color. “You don’t have to tell anyone anything. But I can’t lie… a lot of us are curious about how… it’s not every day that you know someone who’s dating two people at once and it’s all out in the open.”

“It’s not really out in the open, Ember.”

“You know what I mean,” she replied, snatching another donut. “You guys aren’t going around behind each other’s backs. Everybody is on the up and up.”

I rolled my eyes and flopped back on the bed, narrowly missing cracking my head against the wall. “It’s weird. Like, when we’re together—just us… well, sometimes Seth is hanging out with us, too… it all feels pretty normal. It’s not a big deal for me to go on a date with Ro or with Dean, but the thought of going out with both of them at the same time… it frightens me. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it, but I’m afraid of what people are going to say about them. Ro has a strong position on the team. I don’t want campus gossip to mess that up for him.”

The door opened just then, and Sonya spilled into the room with her girlfriend Peyton in tow. My roommate grinned and stepped back out into the hallway. Her voice echoed through the entire hall. “Pay up, McIntyre! She’s back!”

Groaning, I lifted my head to look at her. “Seriously? I thought Ember was joking.”

Sonya practically shoved my suitcase to the floor before bouncing up on the bed beside me cross-legged. Peyton hopped up to sit beside Ember on my desk. “Nah. Scottie owes me a hundred bucks.”

“So, what’s it like?” Peyton asked, curiosity in her bright, wide eyes. “Have you guys…?” She wiggled her eyebrows and held up three fingers.

“No!” I exclaimed, not sure whether I was insulted or intrigued by the idea. “That’s not how… we haven’t…”

Ember gave Peyton a playful slap on the knee. “Ignore her, Addy. She’s got her mind in the gutter all the time lately.”

Sonya grinned. “That’s why we’ve been having so much fun.”

Peyton pulled a face that made me want to crawl under the bed and never come out. “Ew. Both of you. Shut up.”

“But come on,” Peyton cajoled, her Australian accent becoming a bit more pronounced. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

My immediate response was to shout an emphatic no. But I couldn’t. Because she was right… I had thought about it. More than once. And apparently, my silence was answer enough.

“I knew it,” she exclaimed, pointing at me. “And I guarantee that they’ve thought about it, too.”

While it wasn’t easy to see me blush, I was sure that there was heat rushing beneath my skin. I ducked my head and tried very hard not to focus on the images that were already playing around in my head.

***

“What’s up, Addy?” came a familiar voice behind me in the coffee shop line. I turned to see Seth Rollins standing just over my shoulder, dressed in a grey hoodie, black leather jacket, and a black beanie. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, a grin on his face. His cheeks were bright red above the line of his beard.

I huddled further into my coat, which I’d tugged on over Roman’s Pirates hoodie. “Not my body temperature, that’s for sure.”

He laughed, and I noticed the fact that there was a gap between his front teeth. “You think this is bad? It’s what… twenty-eight degrees outside? Ha!” He rocked back on his heels before pushing me a few steps forward. The line was moving. “It was nine degrees in Iowa this weekend.”

Smirking, I looked him up and down. “And yet you’re bundled up like you’re going to the Arctic.”

“Cold is still cold, Addy.”

I shrugged and smiled. My turn came, and I grabbed Seth by the wrist. “Come on, your caffeine fix is on me today.”

Seth grinned. “Far be it from me to turn you down. Ro and Dean would kill me for making you unhappy.”

“Bullshit,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just order your damn coffee.”

I was impressed by his order—it was almost as insane as mine. Maybe Roman was right. Maybe I was a bigger caffeine addict than Seth Rollins. Still, the barista looked strangely at both of us when we ordered four extra shots of espresso in our already caffeine-laden concoctions. Once we had them, we wound our way past the line that had stretched out the door while we waited.

We found a spot in the student center and stepped out of the way of people pouring in and out. I cupped my hands around the cup and tipped it carefully up against my lips. Seth didn’t bother. He took a big sip and sighed, as if all was right with the world.

“So, what do your classes look like this semester?” he asked, leaning back against the wall.

I dug my schedule out of my bag. While I’d picked up my books the day before, I hadn’t really paid attention to timing. “Let’s see, I’ve got history of post-Roman Europe, pre-calculus, astronomy two and the lab, kickboxing, English composition, and intro to international politics.”

His head nodded toward the paper in my hand. “When do you have the politics class?”

I glanced over the schedule one more time. “Tuesday and Thursday at eleven with Dr. Depaul.”

“Me, too. Nice!” He held up his hand and I gave him a high five. “Maybe I won’t fail polisci this semester!”

I rolled my eyes, checking the clock. “I’ve got English in ten. See you around, Rollins.”

***

At noon, I practically ran across campus to the student center. Not only was I desperate for warmth, but I was starving. I’d gone through English and pre-calculus that morning, and I had history at one. I was desperate to get some food in me before I had to sit through lectures about the Visigoths and the unification of the Franks. Plus, practice started again this afternoon, and I wasn’t going to get anything to eat until well afterward.

I ran up the steps to the second floor, surprised to find the line ridiculously long already. I caught sight of a familiar face near the front of the line. Thank God for football players, I thought just as I shouted, “Hey, Highlander!”

Drew turned around, a smirk on his face. When he saw me, he waved me up. No matter what people said, college wasn’t entirely different from high school. Athletes still ruled the place. And I suppose it didn’t hurt that Drew was six-foot-five and looked like he could bench press a full-grown grizzly.

He wrapped me in a warm hug and tucked me in front of him in the line. “You cost me a hundred bucks, Addy,” he said playfully.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” I replied, scanning my ID card as we slid in the door. I was overcome with the sweet scent of lasagna and garlic bread. “Dear sweet baby Jesus, that smells good.”

Drew laughed out loud. “Go on, then, lass. I’m not getting beaten to a pulp in practice because you fainted from malnutrition.”

“Why does everyone think Ro and Dean are going to hurt them because of me?” I asked, walking backwards toward the main line.

“Because one is a big ass football player and the other is an insane cage fighting shmuck?” I knew that voice. I swept around, grinning. Dean stood there in a leather jacket and beanie, backpack over his shoulder. Roman wasn’t far behind, balancing a tray loaded down with food.

“Come on, princess,” he said, grinning. “We’ve got lunch handled.”

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ljandersen · 5 years ago

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Heart to Heart

Pairing: FemShep/Kaidan Alenko, ME-3 Word Count: 2300 Summary: Kaidan shares how his father looped him into joining the Alliance.

____________________________

Shepard gazed up at Kaidan. He stroked her hair idly, his eyes fixed on the observation window. She was starting to feel sleepy again. Her heart beat slow and hard to the rhythmic brush of his fingertips on her temple. With her head on Kaidan’s lap and the stars glittering before them, it couldn’t get more peaceful on a military vessel. But time was ticking down. Each breath was one less separating Now from the End. There was so much more she wanted to do with him. To know. She was wasting time dozing and not finding out. Shepard sat up abruptly.

“You all right?” he asked.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“What?”

“We ever end up on a couples’ game show, I need to know the basics.” Shepard twisted to face him and folded her legs on the bench. “Don’t hold out on me. What did you want to be?”

“What did you want to be?”

“Make me go first, huh?” Shepard pulled his hand into her lap. “ Fine. What did I want to be when I grew up? Well, not a farmer. Not a biologist or ecosystem engineer.” Shepard ran her thumb nail along the side of Kaidan’s finger. “I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I only knew I wanted to be in charge.”

Kaidan’s smile stretched. “Had your calling young.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess.” Shepard considered the idea. “When I think about it, I could have gone a lot of different ways. Could have ended up commanding a ship of pirates or smugglers, being in charge of a team of Terminus System mercs. Who knows? But instead, fate put me on the straight and narrow.”

“Fate? Or you realized the good you could do by joining the Alliance?”

“You know something,” Shepard said. “When I saw the Alliance fight on Mindoir, I wanted to fight alongside them. I knew right then. I had this feeling, I should be a part of it. I thought it was so I could make the bastards pay who did things like that. But I was wrong. It wasn’t about that. It was so I could be the one who got there sooner than help came for me. It was about helping the helpless, not killing the worthless. I wanted my family back. Wanted what happened to them to mean something bigger by my actions going forward. But it wasn’t dealing death like I thought, it was saving life. That gave meaning to it. Gave me meaning.”

Kaidan touched her cheek. “Shepard, your family would be amazed what you’ve done. You’ve made them proud a hundred times over.”

Shepard’s lips tickled with the beginning of a smile. She kissed her palm.

“What about you?” she said. “Your dad was military. This is what you always wanted to do?”

“After what happened at Brain Camp? No.” Kaidan’s fingertips traced down her jaw. He covered their hands with his palm again. “I always liked tech. I majored in engineering at the university in Vancouver. I think I’ve told you that.”

“Engineer Alenko?” Shepard cocked her head with a soft smile. “You wanted to map power grids and design Omni-Tools?”

“Something a little more exotic maybe. Off world. There were companies that contracted all over space, colonies or urban worlds. Variety of tech systems, challenging, a lot of movement and chance to see things. Opportunities to be on the edge of the unknown connecting comm systems and terra forming energy platforms.”

“Not a bad gig.”

“I didn’t think so. The right company, I could be working with interspecies engineers, learning with new technologies, applying outside ideas. See the galaxy, the cultures, the worlds.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well …” Kaidan drew his hands away and fidgeted with the boot propped on his knee. “After Jump Zero and everything that happened, you can probably guess. I didn’t know what to do with that part of myself. I wanted to be normal. I enrolled in the engineering program at VU. As students failed and dropped out of the program, the ones of us who pulled through became close. By the third year, we left the engineering dorms. We roomed together in a large house on the edge of campus. We studied together, went out together. I even stayed with some of their families.”

Kaidan rolled the boot lace between his fingertips. Shepard shifted on the bench and waited.

“And?” she prompted softly.

Kaidan hesitated but met her eyes. “The summer after our third year, there was an applied internship program. Prestigious, competitive. Teams submitted grant applications and project binders. GPA, extracurriculars, interviews. Our team was one of the teams selected. There were ten of us working on the project proposal. We all moved to Boston for the summer and first part of the fourth semester.”

“Something went wrong with your project?”

“No.” Kaidan chewed the corner of his lip then sighed. “Four months into the internship in Boston, I was at the lab. We all were. We were starting to get into the software application, running tests, joking around. I can’t even remember. Men showed up for me.”

“Men?”

Kaidan leaned an elbow on the back of the bench and touched his forehead. “I forgot to register. Forgot to inform the Bureau I changed residences, left the BC area. The Biotic Registration Bureau had tracked me down. They showed up at the lab since they didn’t know where I was staying.”

“They made a scene?” Shepard ventured.

“They were polite enough, I guess.” Kaidan eyed her for a moment, then sat up straight. He cleared his throat. “You see, I had never told anyone. Told anyone I was a biotic. Maybe they could have recognized it if they knew anything about biotics, but you know how it was, it was new. I’d never met another biotic myself outside of Brain Camp. It was rare, unknown, stigmatized. I just wanted to be normal. I felt like it shouldn’t matter. I didn’t use my biotics. I had good control, never flared. It was like they didn’t exist, at least, from the outside. Maybe I was in denial or caught up in being what I wanted to be instead of what I was, but either way, the result was the same. The Biotics Registration Bureau showed up for me. My friends, my best friends I’d done everything with for three years, they were shocked.”

Shepard reached over and gripped his forearm. “They turned their back on you? Because you were a biotic?”

“They turned their backs on me, but not because I was a biotic. What they might have thought of me being a biotic, I’ll never know. I never gave them a chance to find out. They rejected me, not because I was a biotic, but because for three years I never told them.”

“You weren’t lying.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t telling the truth either. We finished the project. After the internship, I finished the fourth year by myself. I saw them in class, but there wasn’t any going back.”

“You dropped out?”

“No,” Kaidan said sharply. “Of course not. I finished my degree.”

“But your plans to join a galactic tech company?”

“That last semester changed a lot of things. My dad …” Kaidan grinned at the floor. “My dad never quite gave up on the military angle. More than his own experience, I think he knew what I couldn’t accept: that it was a place where my being different wasn’t a liability but an asset. Where this part of myself I wanted to leave behind could actually be used for something good instead of just alienating me, scaring or hurting people. I think he knew it was the best path for me to accept myself, even be proud of it. I could belong somewhere, find meaning, help people, see the galaxy. Really, in a lot of ways, the perfect fit.”

“Your dad brought it up to you again?”

“He’d never stopped, but that last semester he knew I was struggling. I think he knew all his talk about the Alliance only made me dig my heels deeper. I had said ‘no’ so long, it was almost on principal then.” Kaidan laughed and rubbed his forehead. “There was a chink in my armor now though. I’d lost everything I thought I’d made since Jump Zero. I felt lost again.

“My dad had a spur-of-the-moment errand with an Alliance chum one morning. He’d picked me up from campus, a holiday or something. I was already strapped in when he told me. I swear he waited for the click of the seatbelt, then it was, ‘Oh, I just remembered. Told Chisholm I’d drop by with his book while he’s in town training the incoming officers.’ We could both see through the story. He knew I knew, but we just pretended. I turned on my Omni-Tool and said, ‘Whatever. Just roll a window down for me and don’t take forever.’”

Shepard chuckled and flicked his shoulder. “Your stubborn streak is well worn, I see.”

“Went pretty deep.” Kaidan laughed. “But, uh, I think I come by it naturally. My dad must have known what I’d say. He said he had to return a book, but when we got to the academy, all of a sudden it was books. Not two books or three books, boxes of books. Five or six boxes stacked to the top. I remember just standing there with the hatch up and muttering, ‘What the hell?’ I even started digging down and reading titles to make sure it wasn’t filler. I expected to see my mom’s old harlequins or something else off the shelf from home, but it was all military-related. He couldn’t haul in six boxes of books by himself, so I helped him. Conveniently, we took a very winding and slow path to Chisholm’s classroom. Dad kept pointing out different areas. I kept saying, ‘Are we going in circles? I’ve seen that plant before.’”

“And when you reached your dad’s friend?”

“What do you know, he’s in the middle of an applied skills class for sentinels. Up to that moment, I didn’t even know sentinels existed, a fusion of tech and biotics. I stood against the wall, sighed, and looked around a lot. I shifted the boxes in my arms and checked the time. But I didn’t forget what I saw. Dad was ready with all sorts of scripted ‘off-the-cuff’ questions for Chisholm about his teaching, the officer’s academy, sentinels, biotics. Dad introduced us.”

Shepard beamed at him. “Got over your stubbornness?”

“Yeah, I mean, I took my time about it. Couldn’t fold right away. I looked into it, networked, met with some other biotic officers. I swore Captain Chisholm to secrecy. He agreed not to tell my dad, but let me audit a week of his classes. Later, do you know what Chisholm told me?”

“What?”

“He said that morning, the morning I was picked up, my dad showed up to borrow Chisholm’s books. He took the whole bookcase worth. Even had a student haul it to the skycar with him. That was 0900. Then he picked me up at 0930. We brought them straight back. After I found that out, I didn’t feel nearly as bad taking my time. When I had my paperwork in order, just needed to push the button, I went home for the weekend to tell him.”

“Your dad was probably thrilled.”

Kaidan grinned. “I set down my bag, and Mom gave me a big hug. When she stepped back, she asked if I’d heard back from the recruiter, then she slapped a hand over her mouth. Turns out, Dad knew what I was doing the whole time. I would have been mad, but I could see what it meant to him. I was so fixated on avoiding an ‘I told you so’ and making clear it was my own decision, I never thought about it just making him proud. He broke out the expensive whiskey from the top shelf. Then we sat on the balcony, drank, and talked a long time.

“A lot of things changed from that point out for me. One of those things was with my dad. Up to then, I was a kid. An adult, but a kid in a lot of ways. After I joined, things were different. He was still my dad, of course. I looked up to him, respected what he had to say, but we were friends too. More equal footing. I went from fighting him and trying to prove myself, to appreciating his advice. I wanted his advice. He could see what was better for me sometimes than I could see for myself. Everything with the Alliance proved that.”

Air thickened in Shepard’s throat. “I’m sorry he’s MIA, Kaidan.”

“I’m sorry about your family, too, Shepard.”

She fell forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her lips. She crawled over him. He pulled back from the kiss with a tense laugh and looked over at the door.

“It’s almost morning, you know,” he said.

“Come upstairs with me.” Shepard tugged him to his feet. “You said you’re exactly where you want to be, right?”

“With you.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be too.” She grabbed his face with both hands. “With you. I don’t want your family ever reading those letters, but I’m glad you’re with me. I need someone making me eggs. You’re my best friend, Kaidan. More than a best friend. More than anyone’s ever been to me.”

Kaidan’s breath sharpened. “You’re that for me too. Always.”

“Always.” Shepard pecked his lips.

They burst out of the lounge and shot to the elevator.

From “About Mars:” AO3 and FFN

#Mass Effect #Fanfiction #shepard x kaidan #fShenko #Shenko #Kaidan Alenko #femshep #About Mars

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sanjisock · 6 years ago

Text

this, at least

ao3

The most annoying thing about this whole falling in love thing, Zoro decides, is the fact that he doesn’t even have a say in it.

One day he catches Sanji’s eyes across the table during dinner and it’s a multitude of things at once: like the clearing of fog at dawn, a flood, a thunderclap. Something ended. Something started. Zoro’s breath catches in his throat, a hitch, thick and unyielding; and then Sanji looks away, and Zoro still can’t fucking breathe.

He tries to backtrack, mentally — tries to put the knowledge away, tuck it at the back of his mind, but he can’t stop staring at the Cook’s dumb face and the dumb cigarette in between his teeth and the dumb three-piece suit he keeps wearing, and Zoro knows there’s no turning back from this one. Like a cut from a sword, swift and final.

He’s in love. And it’s as terrible as everyone makes it to be.

It’s stupid.

He finds himself watching Sanji, following his movements around the ship — the way he likes to smoke in the morning with his back against the railings, the rising sun in his hair, washing it golden; the way he darts around the ship to help everyone with their own tasks, helping Usopp with the laundry and Franky with the reparations and Chopper and Nami and everyone, constantly, without fail, never resting; the way he goes through packs of cigarettes every day and yet still smells like the salt of some distant sea.

They arrive on a nameless port and part ways but Zoro watches him still; the way Sanji’s eyes light up at the sight of spices Zoro can’t even differentiate; the way he would pretend to drop some of his groceries around starving homeless men, head turned away as if he couldn’t see the men picking the food up in gratitude; the way he’d watch mothers hand-in-hand with their children with a certain kind of longing, and he’d smile then, a little curled up around the edges smile that makes Zoro’s heart trip inside his chest.

It’s becoming a problem, Zoro realizes, when he starts doing it in the battlefield.

He knows Sanji can take care of himself, knows first hand what it’s like to face those deathly kicks. And yet Zoro’s throat closes up when he sees one of the marines pointing his gun at Sanji; he freezes, in the middle of all the limbs and gunshots and swung blades, and he has half the mind to turn and catch up to the Cook —

The marine pulls the trigger and Sanji avoids the shot easily. Of course he does. Zoro may have been ahead on the brute force department but Sanji has always been quicker, and bullets have ceased to be a problem for them even long before they learned to use haki. It’s not like Zoro can afford getting too distracted against the opponents he’s up against, either.

So it’s stupid, really.

Sanji smiles, toothy grin stretched across his face and Zoro feels something unfurl within his ribcage. Like sunrise, warming all over.

It’s stupid.

And Zoro is stupidly in love.

He finds Usopp at his workshop, tinkering on a long rod that looks a lot like Nami’s weapon. He drags one of the benches and sits across the work table, placing his swords at the corner of the table.

“I think,” he begins, because there’s no other way to segue into this. “I want to be with the Cook.”

Usopp’s hand slips and twists his wrench a little too hard at that, and the rod makes a loud bang noise as Usopp snaps his head at Zoro. “What?”

Zoro doesn’t say anything.

“I think I might’ve misheard,” Usopp babbles, dropping the wrench and the rod on the table unceremoniously. “You know, with all the noise and the tools and the, uh, the waves — you were saying something about, who was it again, Sanji?”

“I want to be with the Cook,” Zoro repeats.

“Oh,” Usopp says, twirling his fingers in a nervous gesture. “You’re saying you, uh —” he pauses and wrings his hands, clearly trying to pick his words, before settling with, “you like Sanji.”

Like. Right. As if it were that simple. “No, I’m in love with the Cook,” Zoro says.

“Holy shit,” Usopp blurts, before immediately covering his mouth with his hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that,” he says through the hands, “I mean, that’s wonderful, Zoro.”

“No, actually, it sucks.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The room goes quiet again. Zoro is beginning to think that he’s making a mistake.

Zoro contemplates leaving the room and pretends none of this ever happened, but then Usopp huffs, a soft chuckle slipping through his lips. “No, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he says in between chuckles, “falling in love sucks, doesn’t it?”

It brought a smile to Zoro's face — the kind that hurts all the way down to his chest. He shrugs.

“So what are you gonna do?” Usopp asks, propping his head on his hands as he leans forward, curious. “Are you planning to tell him?”

“Have you ever told her?” Zoro fires back. “That girl back in your hometown — Kaya, wasn’t it? Did she ever know?”

“God, no,” Usopp immediately says with a shake of his head. “But I was never a brave man, Zoro, I’m kind of — working on that.”

Working on that. Zoro likes the way that sounds. As if there’s a direction he’s actually heading towards, a goal he has to meet. As if he doesn’t perpetually feel like wading through quicksand, heady and breathless and sinking .

“Right. Me too,” he agrees.

Usopp smiles at him, almost wistfully. “You need some help on that?”

He wonders about that too. He has never been the sharing type, especially when it comes to the matter of the heart, but then again, this isn’t exactly something he’s ever had much experience with. “No,” he decides. “I just, I don’t know. I think I just needed someone to know.”

“Okay,” Usopp says, and picks up his wrench again. They stay like that, silent except for the sound of clashing metals from Usopp’s tools, until Sanji calls them up for dinner.

Zoro likes to think of himself as a brave man. Not in the way most low-time pirates would brag to strangers in a corner of a shady bar, but in that quiet acceptance of his, a part of himself he has understood for a long time, the way he faces dangers and towering monsters and knows: he is not afraid.

But sometimes he thinks of Sanji’s face twisting, sneering, of Sanji turning away, avoiding him, hating him — not the petty fights or throwaway arguments but truly hating him — and he thinks, no, he is not a brave man.

Sanji is sitting across the table at the bar, humming to himself as he downs his second glass of alcohol. He’d soon start babbling about pretty women and complicated dishes, the lightweight that he is, but right now, buzzed by the alcohol but not quite drunk, bathed by the dim lighting of the room, the Cook looks almost ethereal.

If Zoro were braver, he would touch those wet lips. If he were braver, he would run the tips of his fingers down the side of Sanji’s face, rest his palms on Sanji’s cheeks, and maybe — just maybe, if he were braver — press their lips together.

I love you, he would say, if he were braver.

“You’re such a dumbass,” he blurts instead.

“What the hell, Marimo — I hate you too,” Sanji says, almost on instinct. It’s a throwaway comment, doesn’t mean anything, but it still hits where it hurts, right in the very center of his chest. The sky is pitch black and the wooden floor is creaking under his feet; the cold night wind feels like it blows right through him, like there’s a massive hole in his abdomen, and Zoro drinks.

His throat burns, all the way down to his stomach. Like fire. Like coal.

(Like heartbreak.)

They fight.

They always fight, like clockwork. Sometimes it’s good-natured, almost performative, blades and limbs swung like a dance only the two of them share; but other times — this time, Zoro can’t help thinking — it’s vicious and real, because they get under each other’s skin at the drop of a hat, and there’s a murderous glint on Sanji’s eyes that’s rarely there. Not entirely hateful, never crossing a certain line — they’re nakama, after all — but not entirely unreal either.

“I’m going to kill you,” Sanji growls, and Zoro thinks, you will . Zoro didn’t set himself up for love, but it’s the kind of things you only realize until you’ve stumbled into when it has happened: Zoro has somehow extracted his heart, worn it on his sleeves, laid it out there for everyone to see, and it is now beating, painfully, like it knows that it is fully in Sanji’s mercy; that Sanji can wrap his hands around it, fingers curving around the veins, and presses just so —

“As if you can,” he snaps, but he knows Sanji can; ten times over, hundred times over.

Nami finds him where he always goes, when they’re docked at an island — a corner of a dingy bar, strangers sitting two tables away as they steal wary glances at the man with one eye and three swords.

“This is pathetic, even for you,” Nami says as she takes the stool beside him.

“Shut up,” he says around a mouthful of tankard, downing the alcohol inside. He definitely needs it, now that Nami is here. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent, as always,” she says sarcastically, and orders her own tankard. She finishes it in one go, faster than he did, before adding, “you know you can’t keep doing this, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, feigning nonchalance, even when Nami is clearly not buying a single thing he’s selling.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re pulling this shit with me — you know what I’m talking about. This whole — ” she makes a gesture with her hand, “thing you have with Sanji-kun.”

“I don’t have a thing with the Cook,” he retorts, instinctively balking at the word. Thing. As if it was ever that simple. As if this bone-crushing weight around his heart could be summed up into a word as short and scant as that: thing. “He hates my guts and annoys the hell out of me. Simple as that.”

“You love him,” Nami says, bluntly. “And it’s hurting you.”

“It’s my problem,” he retorts, doesn’t even bother to deny it. Not to Nami. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Because you’re clearly doing such a good job by yourself,” she huffs. “Sulking at some nasty bar, drinking away your savings —”

“Like you’re one to say,” he fires back, “did you ever say anything to Vivi, in the end? You had all the time in the world, when we sailed together; and yet you didn’t say a single word.” He slams his tankard against the table, watches the alcohol spill over the rim. “Takes a coward to know another.”

He sees her face crumple at the mention of Vivi, and immediately feels bad. She looks away, her jaw constricting, throat bobbing, and for a second Zoro thought she would cry.

“Did it ever cross your mind,” she says after a moment, “that maybe I just don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did?”

He thinks of all the times he caught her alone, staring at the distant sea, her mind elsewhere, among the eternal sand. She looked a lot like porcelain, fragile and breakable; she looked unlike anything he had ever seen her be.

“That mistake — you can still fix it,” he blurts out, desperate to atone. “You still write to her sometimes, don’t you? It’s not too late. You can tell her, through those letters —”

“And what good would that do to us, Zoro?” She rests her chin on her hand, eyes cast downwards. “She’s miles away with a nation to lead, and we’re just...we may not even come back from this, you know? I couldn’t put that on her. Not when she has so much to live for. But you,” she suddenly looks up, gaze boring into his eye, “you and Sanji-kun are still here. It’s not too late for you two.”

It’s not the same, Zoro wants to argue, not when Vivi is clearly enamored with Nami as much as she does with her, while Sanji is a man who loves everyone but Zoro. Sanji has so much love to give, spilling over the edges of that bleeding heart of his, but not for Zoro; Sanji tolerates him, on a good day, and Zoro scowls at the thought of bad days.

But he thinks of Sanji, after a good fight, broken bones and open wounds and Sanji would lean slightly against Zoro in that way of his, the kind he does whenever he doesn’t want to admit that he needs help. Their shoulders would press against each other, hands brushing, and what comes out is, “All right, I’ll try.”

Nami blinks, looking as surprised as he feels.

“I’m not doing this for you,” he quickly says before she gets the wrong idea. “Just make sure you throw out a rope after he kicks me overboard.”

She smiles, in a broken kind of way, and Zoro wonders if this whole love thing is ever worth it.

They always fight.

But sometimes, they don’t.

Shared amused glances when Usopp and Luffy pull off some lively antics; backs pressed against each other’s as the enemies close in on them. Quiet moments in the crow’s nest when the rest of the crew has gone to sleep, cold nights and warm alcohol, insecurities laid bare in ways they couldn’t do with other people in the crew, who have different roles and different burdens to carry.

Zoro would help Sanji with the dishes after dinner — standing shoulder-to-shoulder, dirty plates and soap-soaked hands, elbows navigating around each other with ease born from familiarity. They would talk about their day, then, their usual animosity forgotten, soft words and softer laughter.

They get involved in a skirmish with the local bandits who stole a bunch of pears from the market and Sanji kicks a guy hard in the stomach, launching him towards the bandit Zoro has been fighting. Both bandits scream and barrel towards each other before falling unceremoniously on the ground.

“You could say,” Sanji quips as he moves on to fight another guy, “they make quite a pear.”

It’s not a good joke. It’s fucking dumb, in fact, but Zoro laughs, laughs like he’s never laughed before, like it’s the funniest thing on Earth. He thinks he must’ve sounded stupid, but Sanji huffs at him, eyes crinkling, lips tilted up in amusement, and Zoro suddenly thinks he’s not so stupid after all.

Sanji is clearly in a good mood. He makes a gesture with his hand, hand curved around an invisible glass, and tips it towards his mouth. “You wanna grab something afterwards?”

Two men writhe under the sole of his shoes, bloodied and battered. Sanji takes a drag out of his cigarette, unperturbed, his suits still neatly buttoned up to his neck. He looks feral and unkempt and put together at the same time, and he is everything Zoro has ever wanted.

“Sure,” Zoro says, and he thinks, I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Do you ever wonder?” Zoro asks as he drags the Cook out of the tavern, and Sanji snores, completely drunk, half of his body slung over Zoro’s shoulders. His face is beet red and smushed against the back of Zoro’s shoulder blade, and there’s something about the contact that sparks up something underneath Zoro’s skin that fizzes and trembles. “You know I hate this kind of shit — thinking about what ifs and all — but fuck, Cook. Sometimes — sometimes we’re good and you’re awful but you’re also the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He inhales, his chest shuddering against the cold air. “I can’t help — it’s pointless and impossible and stupid but sometimes I wonder if we could ever — if we could ever be —”

Sanji snores on, dead to the world.

Zoro exhales.

Sometimes, they don’t fight.

That’s the hardest part.

It’s a cloudy afternoon, and Zoro can feel the salty breeze picking up when he catches sight of Robin and Chopper in front of a bookstore.

Bookstores have never been his thing, all things considered — he visits taverns and swordsmiths and the island’s marketplace when Sanji is in the mood to drag him around, but Robin and Chopper are the ones who go to bookstores and libraries whenever they’re docked. So it is unsurprising, then, when he simply nods at them in acknowledgement before walking past.

It is surprising when Robin reaches out and touches him, lightly, on the elbow.

“Chopper will take some time with the books,” she says. “Do you mind accompanying me for a drink in that café?”

It is how Zoro finds himself in his current situation, sipping terrible alcohol from his colorful drink that’s more sugar than alcohol because it’s the only thing the café offered. Robin is smiling enigmatically from across the table, and Zoro is hit once again with the absurdity of his situation. Sure, he cares about each of his crewmates, would lay down his life for any of them in a heartbeat, but getting overpriced alcohol at a café with Robin ? Not exactly an everyday occurrence.

Robin takes her time, enjoying her drinks as she watches the crowd. Zoro has seen these tactics, knows that she’s trying to make him lower his guard, but Robin is not an enemy. So he does, eventually; he lets the tension in his shoulders bleed out, leaning back into the chair.

Robin waits until the grip on his glass visibly relaxes, and he’s in the middle of taking a sip when she says, “why do you hide your feelings?”

Zoro chokes on his drink.

Robin only smiles in amusement as he’s hitting his chest from all the coughing — Zoro’s pretty sure she did this on purpose. Witches, all of them. “It’s none of your business.”

“Your heart is heavy,” Robin replies. “Any weight on a ship is the business of her crew.”

Zoro pauses. It irks him, the mere implication that he’s dragging the crew back, but he thinks of the night outside of the tavern, his breath visible in the cold air as he asks the unconscious cook, what if? What if? What if? — and in that moment he knows Robin is right.

Doesn’t mean it’s an easy question to answer. “I dunno,” he shrugs, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes I think about him, and the thing here,” he presses a hand to his chest, “it’s — bursting, like something is about to spill. But then I see him and his stupid face and it’s all —” his hand moves up, hovering over his neck, “ stuck, here. It just — freezes.”

Robin listens patiently, her chin resting on the back of her clasped hands. A moment passes before she asks, “do you think Sanji isn’t worth the trouble?”

Zoro balks. “Of course he is! He deserves —“ A lot of things. More than I have. Everything. Not me. He settles with, “it’s not about the Cook. It’s about this — love thing.”

Robin hums noncommittally. “You and I, I think, are very similar,” she observes. “We have a lot of things we keep close to ourselves, secrets we’ll carry to the grave. But when I am with Franky, every part of me tells me that this one —” she reaches across the table and covers his palm with hers, pressing them both against his chest. Against his heart. “This one, at least — it is one worth sharing.”

Zoro yanks his hand from her grasp and looks away, almost — ashamed. For being so — vulnerable, in a way. So easy to read. His body bruises and heals, stronger by the day — but his heart breaks so easily still.

“You don’t understand,” he shakes his head, “you and Franky, it’s different. Your heart has always been something he wanted to carry.”

Robin tilts her head. “Do you think Sanji would disrespect your feelings?”

The Cook would do a lot of things, he wants to say, but that isn’t quite right. Sanji is rough and sharp, bristles under Zoro’s touch, but the word disrespect have never crossed his mind even once, when it comes to the Cook. Sanji, who refuses to fight with blades and yet still treats Zoro’s katanas with reverence; Sanji, who quickly understood what a scar on Zoro’s back meant, and guarded it with his entire being. Sanji, who — cares, always tries to, always does.

“No,” he answers, surely, steadily. “He won’t.”

Robin smiles at that. “Then let me ask you this question again. Why do you hide your feelings?”

And just like that, all his excuses — gone. Like pebbles in a river, worn away to sand. His heart is still heavy, but it’s the kind of weight that’s accompanied with resolve. “I had a promise with Nami,” he says, almost in a daze. “It’s about time that I go through with that, huh.”

Robin doesn’t ask questions. “You do that,” she says, and that’s that.

Zoro doesn’t do things in halves. Not with his dream, not with his nakama, and never, especially, with Sanji, who wouldn’t expect any less from him.

Zoro doesn’t do things in halves, so he takes a blade to the chest and tells Sanji he loves him.

(Zoro might have skipped a few details.)

On second thoughts, maybe details are unnecessary. He told Sanji that he loved him. That’s the point of this whole thing. The other stuff is just... embellishments, at best; irrelevant, at worst.

The embellishments are these: the air, gunpowder and smoke, bullets flying by overhead. The marines, three galleons big this time, cornering the Sunny against a cliffside before it could leave the island. The Straw Hats, their hands full with a few dozen marine officers each, completely separated from one another.

The embellishments are these: a Vice Admiral whose name Zoro can’t even remember anymore, his blade thin but long, a particular kind Zoro recognized as a naginata. A battle, messier than their usual matchups, him and Sanji against at least six of the Vice Admiral’s underlings. Sanji, distracted — they’d heard Usopp’s pained scream only a few moments ago, and Sanji turned his head then, eyes searching the battlefield for the voice, back facing the Vice Admiral.

The embellishments are simply those — embellishments.

Those aren’t the point.

The point is this: he took a hit meant for Sanji. Something cut deep against his chest, and then inside his chest, and before he knew it Sanji was kneeling over him, screaming his name hoarse. He liked the way his name sounded, coming out of Sanji’s lips. The Cook should say it more often. Maybe he should say Sanji’s name more often, first. Like a challenge, because that’s what it always comes down to, when it comes to them.

The point is this: they were both sweaty and disheveled in the middle of an enemy’s ship and Sanji looked absolutely fucking awful, but Zoro loved him anyway. There was dirt under his nails and someone else’s blood smeared across the bridge of his nose, and Zoro loved him still — in spite of, because of — so much that he can feel the sharp ache of desire against his heart.

The point is this:

“I’m in love with you,” Zoro told him. Blood-soaked, dirt-crusted — but the truth, nonetheless.

(This, at least —)

And then he passed out.

It is, admittedly, sort of disappointing to see Luffy instead of Sanji when he comes to.

Luffy takes one look at Zoro and immediately cuts to the chase. He tells him, “you need to talk to Sanji.”

No good morning, no are you okay, but then again, Luffy always knows when to trust his nakama with their own battles. Zoro can handle a naginata to the chest just fine on his own. The thing with Sanji — not so much.

He shrugs. “I did.”

“No, dummy,” Luffy replies with a pout, like Zoro’s the biggest dumbass he’s ever met. “You told him words and then you passed out. That’s not talking.”

“I talked to him before that,” he answers, aware he’s being petty but unable to stop himself.

“I mean talk to Sanji,” Luffy insists. He scrunches his nose, wearing the expression he does whenever he’s thinking too hard. “You talk to everyone on the ship but not Sanji and that’s stupid.”

How did you know about that, Zoro wants to say, but of course Luffy does. Luffy is more observant than he appears to be, especially when it matters, and this matters, to Zoro.

“Listen,” he begins, and holy fuck, he thought talking to Robin was weird, but this? This takes the cake by a long mile. “I’m not exactly familiar with this whole — love — thing, okay? This isn’t some enemy I can just cut down. I asked the others, who — they know this stuff, okay, because Usopp has Kaya and Nami has Vivi, and you know about Robin and Franky and I just had to —” he buries his face in his hand. He thinks of Sanji, rough words and soft touches, Zoro’s heart in the palms of his hands, and he blurts out, “I can’t fuck this up, okay? I had to know how to do this right.”

There’s silence, and for a moment Zoro thought Luffy would understand his perspective, but when he looks up from his hand, Luffy is still pouting. “Well, that’s just stupid.”

He grits his teeth, raising from the infirmary bed. “Stop saying that —”

“I won’t, because Zoro won’t listen!” Luffy stands up, looming above Zoro. “It’s stupid, because you tried to talk to everyone about everyone else but Kaya and Vivi and Franky are not Sanji.”

Zoro stills.

“I mean, you said all these things about Franky and Robin, and — okay, Franky knows Robin best because sometimes Robin would make this mystery face and Franky would just know what she’s thinking, but no one on this ship knows Sanji like you know him,” Luffy goes on, jabbing his finger at Zoro’s chest. “Sanji’s the one who’s going to carry this.”

He thinks of Nami, of Usopp. Their shoulders, weighed by unspoken words. “I’ve seen how it could drag me down,” he confesses, in hushed tones. He thinks of the cafe across the bookstore, Robin’s hand against his chest. “Robin told me this one’s especially heavy.”

Luffy grins. “That’s for Sanji to decide. Sanji’s pretty strong you know?” He throws his hands excitedly over his head. “Sanji’s as strong as a thousand men!”

“I’m as strong as two thousand men,” he replies, out of instinct, and Luffy watches him with a small smile.

“Talk to Sanji, Zoro,” he says, after a moment. “I think Sanji wants to talk to you too.”

Zoro settles back into the bed. He thinks of Sanji — fire and ice, thunderstorm and still water; the bloodthirsty hellhound who has stood beside Zoro, shoulder to shoulder, bruised and rough and strong , and the gentle caregiver who makes sure everyone on the ship is fed. Zoro loves Sanji in all his contradictions, and if there’s anyone he could trust with his heart, it’s —

“Okay,” he tells Luffy. He means it this time.

When Zoro comes to again, there’s a plate of soup at his bedside. It smells so fucking good and it hits him, suddenly, that he’s hungry; he sits up straight and reaches for it before he could even take in his surroundings, digging into it in record speed. He can feel his joints ache from the movements, but the pain is distant now. Muted.

“You’re welcome,” Sanji says from the other side of the bed.

Zoro almost jumps from the bed — he doesn’t get surprised easily, but Sanji has always been his exceptions.

When he turns to face the Cook, Sanji is smiling nervously at him, almost hesitant. Sanji looks younger like this, stripped off of all his pretense and bravado, and Zoro wants to kiss him so badly. “Cook,” he says instead.

Sanji’s breath hitches at that, his gaze falling onto his lap. “Marimo,” he replies, but the insult doesn’t have the same edge it usually does.

Zoro’s eye instinctively follows Sanji’s line of sight, and he is surprised to find his swords on Sanji’s lap. Sanji must have kept them safe when Zoro was unconscious, and he feels something warm in his throat at the thought.

Sanji seems to notice Zoro’s gaze, because he shies further into the chair, face flushed. His hands curl around Wado’s hilt, and Zoro lets him — can’t even bring himself to mind it. There are many things, he realizes, he would let Sanji do. It scares him.

He’s not a brave person, but —

“I love you,” Zoro blurts out, words spilling over, unbidden.

Sanji looks up, startled. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. It’s weird, how it seemed like an insurmountable task to say the words out loud when they feel like the only words he could say to Sanji now. “I just — I need you to just, know that.”

He expects Sanji to do a lot of things, then. Like a kick on the head, if he’s lucky, or an awkward joke about Zoro getting hit on the head. If fate is being particularly cruel, Sanji would look at him in disgust before storming out of the infirmary. He knows Sanji would never do that — would never treat any of his nakama that way — but Zoro’s chest tightens painfully at the thought anyway, almost irrationally.

He doesn’t expect Sanji to lean forward and press a kiss against his lips.

“Eugh, gross,” Sanji says as he pulls away, much quicker than Zoro would’ve liked, “that was so wet , gross. Why didn’t you swallow your soup, what the fuck.”

Soup. Yeah, He can feel some of it spilling out of his lips, and he absentmindedly wipes it with his hand, fumbling with the bowl of soup in his lap as he sputters, “shit, sorry, I wasn’t —”

When he looks up, Sanji is grinning at him, blinding and all-encompassing. He puts Zoro’s swords aside and reaches out, drawing Zoro close, his eyes soft and fond and happy, happier than Zoro has ever seen him be.

“You dumbass,” Sanji says, the undercurrent of a laugh in his tone. “I love you too.”

Oh , Zoro thinks for a second, and then Sanji is kissing him again, and Zoro forgets how to form a thought at all.

For a long moment, all Zoro knows is this — Sanji’s tongue in his mouth, Sanij’s fingers around his wrist, Sanji’s smile against his. His heart is pounding beneath his ribcage, threatening to burst, and when Sanji finally pulls away he can’t help leaning forward, chasing his lips.

Sanji chuckles at the gesture, amused, and rests his forehead against Zoro’s. Sanji is still grinning, cheeks flushed, and Zoro loves him, viscerally, painfully, so hard he can’t breathe around the shape of it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finds himself asking as soon as he finds his breathing.

Sanji’s face turns a shade darker at the question. “I don’t know,” he mutters after a moment. “We don’t exactly talk about our feelings.”

Zoro feels like punching himself in the face. It seems like talking about his feelings is all he does these days, practically half the crew being the receiving end of his sentimental drivels, but Luffy was right — the talking doesn’t count if he doesn’t talk about it with Sanji.

Well. That is all in the past, he supposes. Zoro never finds the point in regretting his past decisions; the only thing he can do is to be better, so he takes Sanji’s hand in his and tells him what he’s always wanted to tell the Cook, “you’re stupid.”

He gets a raise of an eyebrow at that. “Excuse me?”

“You’re stupid,” Zoro repeats, and kisses Sanji again, at the corner of his mouth. He thinks he can get used to this whole kissing thing. “You and your stupid face and your stupid cigarette and your stupid suit,” he’s laughing now, warm and thrilled. “You’re stupid, and I love you.”

“Thank fuck for that, then,” Sanji laughs, and smiles — against his lips, against his heart — and it’s stupid, but Zoro is smiling back too.

Sanji turns out to be a cuddler, Zoro quickly learns as he wakes up with the Cook somehow having nestled himself into Zoro’s arms, head tucked comfortably against Zoro’s shoulder.

His first instinct is to withdraw himself — and he almost does, pushing himself up on the bed with his free hand — but Sanji presses his face into Zoro’s shoulder at the movement, his grip on Zoro’s hip strong and firm, and Zoro finds himself lowering back down into the bed. He can only see the top of Sanji’s head in this angle, but there’s just something — adorable in the way Sanji is curled up against him with bed-mussed hair, and Zoro is just a man, okay,

There’s a moment of peaceful silence before he hears Sanji sleepily mumble, “where are you going?”

Zoro wants to shrug, but his right arm is dead and he doesn’t exactly want to jostle a sleepy Sanji more than he already has, so he settles with a chaste kiss against the Cook’s temple. “Dunno,” he answers truthfully. “I just thought — I was practically lying on top of you for the whole night. My hand and half of my body and all — must’ve been uncomfortable.”

Sanji watches him for a moment with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, before curling up into Zoro.

“You know,” Sanji huffs, eyes crinkling, and smiles. “It’s not as heavy as you think.”

Zoro’s breath catches in his throat. It’s a multitude of things at once: the clearing of fog at dawn, a flood, a thunderclap. Sanji has dozed back off to sleep, but Zoro still can’t fucking breathe, not when Sanji’s entire being is pressed against him like they’ve never been apart — chest to chest, feet tangling with one another's. Something ended. Something started.

(This, at least — )

Zoro’s in love. And it’s not as terrible as everyone makes it to be.

#opfanfic #zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #one piece #namivivi #frobin

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stahlop · 6 years ago

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Not all Treasure is Silver and Gold (sometimes it’s chocolate)

Summary: Killian takes his children on a trick or treat treasure hunt to learn about the town’s history and reflects on his own in the process.

Here is my CS Role Reversal collaboration. Thank you @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 for the artwork! It is amazing and inspired the fluffiest story I think you’ll ever read.

A big shout out to @profdanglaisstuff for being my beta.

This is probably the fluffiest, sweetest thing I've ever written in my life. Enjoy!

Rated G

A03 link

They turned on to Main Street, the witch and two pirates, carrying with them some of the loot they had already discovered. The witch, though small, was the de facto leader of the group, instructing the small band of characters where to go with the map in her hand.

“The last clue said that we would find the fruit of the Evil Queen where the werewolves lie. That’s at Granny’s and we’re looking for apples,” the witch said matter of factly, as if that were the most straightforward answer. The smaller of the two pirates looked a little wary.

“You don’t agree with the lass?” the larger of the pirates asked. “Do you have a different idea?” He prodded the other pirate. The small pirate looked pensive, as if he had a question he wanted to ask but wasn’t sure how to with his limited vocabulary. The witch put her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of her mother, not liking that they had to wait when she clearly knew she was correct.

“Daddy?” The small pirate finally asked in a small voice, his green eyes opened unnaturally wide. “The apples won’t put us to sleep will they?” Killian Jones gulped. Oops.

“Of course not, DL. It’s just a game!” Hope Jones, 7-years-old and knower of everything there was to know (obviously), huffed at her little brother. Killian tried not to laugh for DL’s sake. Dylan Liam Jones was only three and couldn’t always distinguish between fiction and reality, or in this case, the past and the present.

Killian got down on one knee to talk with his son, not a small feat as he was in his full pirate regalia, something he only brought out for Halloween nowadays. And they were in the middle of Main Street with swarms of other trick or treaters around them. “You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right DL? The clues are both to help you understand our history and to get candies, sweets, and treasure!” He said reassuringly. The boy nodded, his pirate hat a little too big for his head and falling forward on each nod. Snow had tried to make the costume as close to Killian’s pirate ensemble as she could, but the hat they’d had to buy from a costume shop in town (even after all these years, Emma didn’t quite trust Jefferson to help her out, even though he’d apologized profusely to her once the curse had been lifted and he was reunited with his daughter). Even though Killian didn’t wear a pirate hat, DL had seen Peter Pan quite a few times and wanted a hat similar to that of Captain Hook. Killian had been horrified.

“Can we go now?” Hope said in an annoyed tone. She was impatient when it came to DL and also had the attitude of a teenager, or so Emma had told Killian.

“Are we ready, lad?” Killian asked DL. The little boy nodded. Killian took his hand.

“Finally!” Hope exclaimed starting to run ahead.

“Hope Alice Jones,” Killian said firmly. Hope stopped in her tracks. She knew she wasn’t supposed to run ahead. She turned around and headed back to her father and brother. “Good lass. Now, we have a whole row of houses to procure candy from before we get to Granny’s. Are we ready?” Killian asked.

“We’re ready!” the Jones children shouted.

“Onward then!”

Granny’s boasted all sorts of candied apples. Regular candied, caramel, some with nuts and some with sprinkles, whatever the kind the children were in heaven. Granny was nice enough to cut them into slices to make them easier for the children to eat.

“Might I bother you for a bit of pumpkin pie?” Killian asked Granny as she brought the sugary treats to their booth. Granny nodded and gave him a smile. She still had a soft spot for the pirate and denied him nothing. Even when there were children swarming all around.

The apples came with their next clue. Killian had to hand it to the Storybrooke Town Council, they knew how to get the town involved. The Storybrooke Historical Scavenger/Treasure Hunt had become a town staple over the past five years. It was a fun, yet educational, way to introduce the children to the town’s fairytale past while getting treats and sweets at the same time.

Killian took the card they had been given and read the next clue. “Fill me up with candy and I might explode when you say boo! But don’t feed any chocolate to the cats and dogs that might be around you.” Killian paused and looked at the kids. They looked at him expectantly, caramel and sprinkles clinging to their faces. “Any ideas?” He asked them.

DL scrunched his face up and thought over the clue. “Fill me up with candy and...what was the next part daddy?” he asked. Hope huffed again, annoyed that her little brother couldn’t remember something so simple.

“I might explode when you say boo. It’s a ghost pinata!” She exclaimed. “Like the unicorn one I had at my last birthday party. Remember, we hit it with a stick until candy came out?” Her tone of voice had changed midway through to excited. “But where is the pinata, daddy?” Hope asked.

Killian reread the last part of the clue again. “But don’t feed any chocolate to the cats and dogs that might be around you. Know of any place that might have cats and dogs, little loves?” Hope and DL put their heads together and discussed where they thought it might be.

“The Storybrooke Animal Shelter!” they proclaimed.

After cleaning up their sticky hands and faces, they trick or treated their way over to the animal shelter. Sure enough there were several ghost pinatas waiting for children to come and take a whack at them. The shelter was now owned by Ruby and her girlfriend, Dorothy, who were also running the pinata stations and telling their stories. Ruby talking about how she discovered she was a werewolf and Dorothy telling about her adventures in Oz, both dressed up in Red Riding Hood and Dorothy costumes, respectively. The two also had cats and dogs up for adoption.

Hope and DL delighted in hitting the ghost pinata along with several other children until it finally broke. They gathered up many different types of candy into their pumpkin baskets.

“Can we get a cat? Please, please, please?” both kids whined. Killian and Emma had discussed it this year. Hope had been asking for a cat for the past few years, and of course, since big sis wanted a cat, DL did too.

“I think your mum and I have decided we can get one this year. Why don’t you two pick one out and we’ll pick it up in a few days after it’s had all its shots and everything,” he said, smiling. Killian had never seen bigger grins on his kids’ faces.

The children came out a little while later having picked out the most ‘perfect cat’ in the entire world. Ruby told him to come by the next day to fill out the paperwork and once the cat was fixed, she would be all theirs.

“There is one final clue,” Dorothy said, handing Killian a card. They all thanked Ruby and Dorothy and walked over to a nearby bench to look at the clue.

“When the Savior came and broke the curse, time started to move and things got worse.

But the curse was broken with True Love’s Kiss, come read about these tales if there were any you missed.” Killian paused for effect looking at his two children to see if they understood the clue. He could see Hope recognized where they needed to go in an instant, but DL wasn’t quite sure.

“Good Witch Hope, do you know where we need to go?” Killian asked, so the pressure would be off DL.

Hope gave a sly smile that matched her father’s. She might be the spitting image of her mother, but she had his eyes and his smile. “It’s the library!” she announced.

DL’s eyes lit up wide. “We go to see Auntie Belle?” he asked hopefully. For only being three, DL already had his first crush on Belle the librarian.

“Yes, DL, we go see Auntie Belle. Lead us onward fair witch!” Killian cried.

The trio passed by a few shops that had workers passing candy out front that Hope and DL got to add to their loot. The kids were getting excited the closer they got to the library, DL going on and on about Auntie Belle and Hope running through what the final prize or candy would be once they reached their intended destination.

“I just hope it’s actual candy and not a book. Not that I don’t love reading, Father, but books just aren’t appropriate for Halloween,” Hope said knowingly. She had also inherited his language skills and had recently taken to calling him Father because it sounded more ‘grown up’.

“I’m sure Aunt Belle will have sweets for all of you,” Killian said rolling his eyes and smiling at his precocious daughter.

Belle had completely outdone herself when it came to the library and clocktower. For a place that had once held torturous memories for Killian (fighting an undead Maleficent in the caves, Rumplestiltskin literally holding his heart and almost killing him, leaving Emma in the elevator in the Underbrooke version), it was now a magical place. Happy Halloween banners were posted at the front entrance and on several walls inside, plastic skeletons were hanging everywhere, fall leaf garlands decorated every shelved surface available, and scarecrows that jumped out at you guarded each doorway. In the center of the library was a large craft table that had hundreds of mini pumpkins on it. Next to them were small cups of paint for the children to paint them. Another table in the room next door had a pumpkin carving station for the adults. Belle was in the reading nook where she usually did storytime for the town’s children, wearing a gold dress, reminiscent of this world’s version of Belle (although she told Killian once that she had a dress very similar to that back in the Enchanted Forest, so maybe Disney wasn’t completely off on all their stories), and telling her own tale of Beauty and the Beast.

Belle and Rumplestiltskin’s son, Gideon, and Snow and David’s son, Neal, were running the children’s mini pumpkin area. Killian thought that was pretty much the blind leading the blind (as they were 10 and 13 respectively), but the other kids seemed to be having a good time. A sign at the circulation desk let them know that to get their final treat for the night they needed to paint a pumpkin and have it examined by the official Pumpkin Inspectors, which also seemed to be Gideon and Neal.

“Ready to paint some pumpkins?” Killian said to both his children. Hope didn’t even answer, just ran off to the station delighted at getting to paint. DL nodded his head and took Killian’s hook (something he liked to do when he wanted to feel calm) and led him over to the station. As much as Killian would like to do the pumpkin carving (he’d won that contest the past two years in a row), he knew DL would get overwhelmed easily with too many paint options. Emma often worried that he was overly sensitive about things, but Killian was sure he’d eventually grow out of it. The town did tend to go overboard with everything and it was a lot to handle for most adults, let alone a 3-year-old.

Hope had already grabbed an apron so she wouldn’t stain her costume and started painting her pumpkin an array of colors. Killian had DL pick out three colors (one for each year he was) that he would use and got him into an apron as well.

When they all finished (Hope having painted a unicorn with the stem as a horn, and DL having made a bunch of purple, green, and black splotches all over his pumpkin), Gideon and Neal, the Pumpkin Inspectors, came over and declared them wonderful pumpkins. All pumpkins would be displayed throughout the library for the rest of fall. They headed over to Belle to hear her story and get their final prize.

Killian had to admit, listening to Belle’s retelling of her love story with Rumplestiltskin made it sound like an epic adventure and not the abusive tale that it had been throughout much of their time in Storybrooke. Even 10 years later, Rumplestiltskin and Killian avoided each other whenever possible, even if Rumplestiltskin was considered a more upstanding member of the town now.

“And now,” Belle drawled with a big smile on her face,” your final treat of the night!” The children started to clap and cheer. She then put her finger to her lips and the children immediately went quiet. Everyone knew to listen to Librarian Belle. “There are actually two treats tonight.” The children waited with bated breath. “You will get to pick out your own Halloween or fall themed book,” she paused before the big reveal, Killian already noticing the look of disappointment on Hope’s face, “And you will also get a scoop of loot from our treasure chest!” Belle moved the pillow off the large box she’d been sitting on to reveal a very large pirate’s chest. She opened it to show it filled with (chocolate) gold coins and candy jewelry. A large cheer went up from the children as they got up and filed into a line to get their treasure, Belle giving them each a large scoop as they walked past. Killian noticed that the scoop pretty much filled up the rest of their trick or treat bags. Then they got to choose a book from the table set up near the back exit.

The small witch and two pirates made their way back to their beautiful seaside home. The denizens of their town were dwindling in number at the (somewhat) late hour of 8:15 (late for most of the trick or treaters anyway). The witch was content to read her book under the street lamps while sucking on a Ring Pop liberated from her loot. The smaller pirate was passed out on the larger pirate’s shoulder, as he’d barely made it out of the library with his eyes open. On the front porch, a beautiful blonde was handing out candy to the last few stragglers. She wore a black dress decorated with pumpkins and a black cat mask. As the last trick or treaters left the porch, she gingerly collapsed into her rocking chair.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Hope yelled excitedly as she ran up the porch steps. She was not too grown up to continue calling Emma Mommy. “Look at everything we got!” She ran up to Emma and showed her all the spoils from the night. Emma smiled and removed the mask from her face.

“It looks like the town will be having a candy shortage in the coming weeks,” she said, laughing a bit. Then she put on a serious tone. “Are you prepared to pay the candy tax?” She held her hand out for payment. Hope looked up at Killian and he nodded that, yes, she needed to give her mother some of her candy. Hope reluctantly gave her two chocolate coins and skipped into the house.

“I see this one barely made it home?” Emma said, softly patting DL’s arm that was hanging down near her.

“Aye, Swan, passed out right as we were leaving the library.” He shifted DL slightly. “Let me get him into his night clothes and then I’ll come out with you.” Emma nodded in agreement.

It took Killian a little longer than he anticipated to get DL out of his costume. He eventually just kept him in his muslin shirt and forwent trying to wrestle pajama pants onto him, letting him sleep in his underwear. He folded the parts of his costume he was able to get off and placed them on his dresser. He then gave him a kiss before turning on the nightlight DL needed to sleep, and closed the door.

Killian checked in on Hope who had already changed out of her witch costume and put on a nightgown. She was still reading the book she’d received from Belle.

“Did you brush your teeth, little love?” he asked. She gave her patented Emma eye roll.

“Yes, Father,” she said not even looking up from her book. Emma said they were going to hate the teenage years if she was already this dramatic. Killian walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t stay up too late, there is still school tomorrow,” he told her. She grunted an acknowledgment as he left.

He walked outside and joined Emma on the other rocking chair that was out on the porch. Yes, they were a two-rocking-chair-on-the-porch-type people now. Emma had already eaten her candy tax and was now working on one of the fun size bags of Peanut M&M’s that she had been passing out to trick or treaters.

“And how many of those did you eat tonight, Swan?” he asked, snagging a bag for himself from the bowl next to Emma’s rocking chair.

She blushed a little at his question. “There’s peanuts in it. That counts as protein, right?” she asked.

“Ah, is that the excuse you’re using then. Peanuts for the peanut, aye?” He reached over and rubbed her swollen belly. “We missed you tonight,” he said, reaching over to grab her hand and kiss her knuckles.

“Yeah, well, being on modified bed rest for this little one takes priority, I guess.” She took back her hand and put both of them on her belly. “At least it’s only two more months until this little peanut graces us with their presence.”

Killian reached his hand back out for hers, admiring the wedding band that graced his ring finger and the engagement ring and wedding band that adorned hers. It was amazing to think that it had been nine years since that whole ordeal, and here they were, about to welcome their fourth child (and the fact that Henry was married and expecting a babe of his own was a lot scarier to Killian than adding another to their brood). Killian just thanked his lucky stars that life had consented to let this old pirate settle down and be blessed with the greatest treasure one could ever find.

“Let’s go to bed, love,” he said, standing and pulling her up with him. Emma smiled and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Please leave comments and reblog! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @csrolereversal @cshalloweek

#CS fanfics #canon divergence #pretend season 7 didn't exist #Swan-Jones family #so sweet you'll get cavities #cs role reversal #cs halloweek #family halloween

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neverwatchedonepiece · 6 years ago

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650-651: "Luffy and the Gladiator of Fate - Rebecca!" and "Protect You to the End! Rebecca and the Toy Soldier!"

NARUTO-KUNNNNNN

So Bartolomeo is basically Hinata.

He collects Strawhat posters.

He is their biggest fan.

You guys were right.

This is hilarious.

I love him. xD

“I SENT YOU MY BLOOD, LUFFY!”

Once Luffy and Don Chinjao left the ring, the clean up and reconstruction team moved in. As of now, three contenders could potentially move forward to challenge Diamante: Jesus Burgess, Bartolomeo and the Not-So-Mysterious Lucy.

I say “not so mysterious” because everyone and their gran fighting in the next round knows who he is now.

And I have a theory: Bartolomeo, Rebecca and Luffy will team up against Burgess in the next round.

Why do I think this?

Well, once Luffy left the ring, pursued by Cavendish, two fodders happened to pass by Bartolomeo. He overheard them talking shit about Luffy.

“Why does Cavendish keep yelling Strawhat? As if he’d be here. That’s the guy who couldn’t even save his brother’s life. Anyone could do what he did if he doesn’t have to save anyone’s life!”

For some reason, Bartolomeo Did Not Like This. He pinned the fodder and almost crushed him with a barrier. At first I thought Bartolomeo’s reaction was something to do with Ace. Maybe they were friends once?

Nope.

The real reason was Even Better.

“What was that joke you made so lightly?” Bartolomeo growled. “Listen, Luffy-senpai will become the standard bearer for this era. He will become the Pirate King!”

No, I thought. No way. Bartolomeo was a Luffy supporter? How? And why Luffy-senpai? Had Luffy unknowingly taught him along the way?

The answer? Sort of.

Bartolomeo was there at Loguetown.

“I saw it with my own eyes. Over two years ago. At Loguetown in East Blue. On the legendary scaffold where Roger died, Luffy-senpai shouted it out then. At that moment, straight from heaven, came a bolt of thunder which saved his life. What I saw was a miracle!”

And thus Luffy’s Biggest Fan was born.

Seriously, this guy used to be a gangland boss (had taken over about one-hundred and fifty towns). But he began to follow the news stories. Alabasta, Enies Lobby, Impel Down and Marineford. He made a fan shrine with his bounty poster collection! In the end, Bart’s hardcore fanboy status reached the lofty height of emulation. Inspired by Luffy, he sailed out to sea.

And it turns out Bart does not take kindly to anyone talking shit about his idol.

While Luffy dodged Cavendish, Bartolomeo peeked round the wall and watched. “I can’t approach him. When it comes to it, I can’t do it. I’m too nervous to go anywhere near him. The scar under his left eye. It’s real! He’s so cool! Oh... my eyes are suddenly blind with tears. That stupid Cabbage shit. I want to beat him to death and save Luffy!”

It’s nice to know Luffy has such a dedicated in-universe fanbase.

And Don Chinjao can be added to the club too. He joined Cavendish in thundering after Luffy because he wants to place his grandson’s Happo Navy under the command of Garp’s Illustrious Grandson. What a result, right?

Except Luffy was thoroughly weirded out, wondering why these three crazy guys were chasing him.

Luckily for him, Rebecca was around.

Teach Takes Another Level in Scumbag

She grabbed his arm and hauled him off. There was a more private place nearby where no one else went.

On the way, they passed Jesus Burgess. He was in the middle of a DDM call. A very familiar voice was on the line. So familiar, it caused a visceral reaction in Luffy. He screeched to a halt immediately.

It was Blackbeard. And they were having a weird conversation.

“By that logic, Shiryu is no different,” Teach said.

“But I can’t trust Aokiji!” Burgess complained. “Uh... Hold on a sec, Captain. Strawhat is here.”

This piqued Teach’s interest. “Eh? You there, Strawhat?”

“You’re Blackbeard, aren’t you?” (You know when Luffy remembers you straight away that you must either be A) Really Good, or B) A Real Asshole.

“Yeah, it’s been awhile. Heard you’re fighting in the competition, Lucy. But my man, Burgess, is gonna win the Mera-Mera Fruit. I can’t wait because it’ll be like having Ace in my crew. He turned me down in the past.”

OOOOFT.

Wow, that one was a low blow. To be honest, I really like how Oda employs Teach as a long-term adversary to Luffy. Teach’s panel/screen time is economical but every time he appears, Oda really ramps up the enmity between him and Luffy. No exchange is ever wasted.

I was pretty proud of Luffy for keeping his cool here. It shows how much he’s matured as a person and as a Captain.

I am also intrigued by why Burgess is worrying about Aokiji? That was pretty random. Is our favourite ex-Admiral really operating in the underworld now? Is he trying to wangle information from the Blackbeards? Hmm... Don’t think Smoker would like that. Then again, he has had a hard lesson on Punk Hazard. Maybe he will be a little more cynical in future and won’t dismiss intel from pirates out of hand.

Justice for Toys!

Post Blackbeard Encounter, Rebecca led Luffy further away from the chaos. On the way, Luffy was distracted by free food samples. Just before he cleaned out the stall, Rebecca offered to buy him lunch, even though she didn’t have much money.

What a nice gesture, right?

Rebecca found a deserted looking area and Luffy smashed into his bento like it was Blackbeard’s face. Through mouthfuls of food, Luffy asked where they were. Rebecca explained it was quarters for the gladiators. They called it “a prison” (which, we learned later, it literally was).

Since Luffy’s life revolves around piracy and food, he asked Rebecca if she was hungry and if she wanted some food.

This triggered an Obvious Trauma Flashback. Smol Rebecca and her mother beneath the tree in Flower Field. Smol Rebecca saying, “I’m hungry.” Her mother replying, “Okay, do you think you can stay here alone for a while?” Then suddenly... dead mother.

Rebecca said tightly, “I don’t get hungry.”

Although I figured there was guilt here, I didn’t link Smol Rebecca’s food request directly with her mother’s death. Not until the big reveal of Rebecca’s past.

That unwitting conversational misstep must have pushed Rebecca into enacting her plan. She had intended to lure Luffy into a quiet area and kill him. When she turned on him, to my surprise, some randoms in bandages piped up from behind bars. “YEAH, GIT HIM, REBECCA!”

But Rebecca had picked on the wrong competitor.

Or, when you look at it from another angle, exactly the right one.

Luffy was able to fend her off while still tucking into his delicious meal. It was an embarrassingly easy win. The gulf of ability between them was so wide, she was never on Luffy’s radar. Right now, beating Rebecca would be like swatting a fly. (Not disparaging her general fighting ability, but compared to Luffy, most people would come off worse.) She was no threat, therefore Luffy wasn’t angry about the assassination attempt.

Luckily, she bought Luffy lunch. Especially since she didn’t have much money. He loves food and would appreciate that. Any other offence would pale in comparison to that act of generosity.

“I’m not gonna do anything to someone who bought me food,” Luffy said when Rebecca insisted he just kill her and get it over with.

Then Luffy noticed the “mummies” - the prisoners in bandages in the background. Rebecca explained the situation. She and the other guys in the room are “convict gladiators”, pretty much like the system in ancient Rome where slaves and criminals could be slung into the arena and ordered to fight to the death.

To ramp up Doflamingo’s evilness, they also said, “The king says we can be released if we win a thousand times. Everyone who tried to escape got shot. There’s nowhere to run for us. Before Doflamingo became king, gladiatorial matches were not to the death. In this kingdom, there are very bright and very dark sides.”

So Doflamingo brought in the Delayed Death Penalty for criminals. I guess it’s a way of ushering capital punishment through the back door. Entertain the masses and get rid of undesirables in one go. Few will object because most love the Colosseum games. The ones who won’t fight, or the really dangerous ones likely to talk too much, are turned into toys. That’s iron control of Dressrosa right there.

And Rebecca is not a fan.

“Today an army led by Sol will come to let us out by provoking a battle against Doflamingo. He is willing to sacrifice his life to destroy the kingdom. But I’m gonna do it before he does. I don’t want to just be protected anymore. I want to protect Sol this time! I’ll win today’s competition no matter what and will kill Doflamingo with the Mera-Mera Fruit power.”

I thought I’d figured out Rebecca’s motive to fight. Poor kid with no food, no family, maybe resorted to petty criminal activity, was arrested and now she wants to escape. Amongst all the crap that happened to her, maybe Sol was her only friend.

Luffy was like, “Why are you worried a toy is gonna die?”

Rebecca just smiled and said, “You’re not from here, so it’ll be hard for you to understand. Toys are the same as humans (wait til she finds out they *are* humans. She’s gonna flip tables). They are friends to the friendless. Siblings for those who have none. Lovers for the loveless. I don’t understand why they’re not able to live with us. Since I lost my mother, Sol-san raised me. He’s like a father to me (I bet he is).”

Luffy actually listened to this (which is a huge accomplishment, Rebecca. You should be proud of that) and said, “You don’t look like a prisoner to me. Buy me lunch again sometime!”

Rebecca walked out to the ring and said, “See you at the finals.”

I like her confidence.

Then a flashback kicked in that showed me how wrong I was about Rebecca’s motivations.

Oda Really Likes Princesses, Doesn’t He?

The sad tale of how Sol came to raise Rebecca opened with a scene of Smol Rebecca and her mother living quietly on Flower Field, picking flowers to sell in town. They had a lovely house. An idyllic life. But don’t think I missed that one empty chair at the table. (Sol is totally her dad.)

Then there was fire. The King Riku army was setting town on fire. This really puzzled me. (I’m still not one-hundred percent on this. Are we talking the actual King Riku or the Resistance King Riku Army here?)

Soldiers chased Smol Rebecca and her mother, Lady Scarlet. Diamante headed the charge. Sol stepped in and defended them. After the battle, Smol Rebecca and Lady Scarlet hid out in Flower Field. Rebecca said she was hungry. Lady Scarlet knew it was a risk but she sneaked into town to buy food. She was shot and killed. Sol brought her body back, along with the food she’d died to buy Rebecca.

Smol Rebecca nudging her mother’s dead body and telling her to get up was like post-stampede Mufasa and Simba all over again. It was Very Sad. ;_;

She almost cried but Sol clamped his hand over her mouth. Enemies were still looking for her.

“Your mother was high-born. Do you know we have a new king now? The new king wants to capture all the former nobility. He even wants to capture you because your mother’s blood runs through your veins. I’m gonna protect you unti the end with my life. Until the day you are filled with happiness, I will always be by your side.”

Wait... I thought. Rebecca is a noble???

What the hell?

What was going on?

Was the battle the night before a civil war in Dressrosa? One that Doflamingo won against King Riku?

Who Says Politicians Never Keep Their Promises, Eh?

Because here he is. On a podium. A shiny new king wearing his all time fave feather jacket. The adoring crowd chanted his name. “Doflamingo! Doflamingo!”

He made a speech. Par for the course with new kings.

“The Riku Family has been running this poor country for centuries! In the end they became shameless and robbed money and goods from citizens for themselves. I’m gonna make this country wealthy, instead!”

This is where I lost track of the situation. From what has been revealed about people turning into Toys, I thought Doflamingo “brought someone in” to do that. I figured that would have been *after* he gained power. But Toys were around before that. Sol is proof.

What gives?

And the people of Dressrosa *really* hate King Riku and anyone associated with his bad, corrupt family. Unfortunately for Rebecca, not only is she a noble, she is also King Riku’s granddaughter. Her status is also well-known in the Colosseum. When she walked into the ring, the commentator introduced her as the Phantom Princess of King Riku’s line. She was booed and vilified by the audience. “BURN IN HELL! CORRUPT FAMILY!”

I get the feeling Doflamingo engineered this somehow. It’s all too perfect a narrative. Doflamingo, the saviour, sweeps in and saves Dressrosa from the evil, corrupt family, while he is as bad, if not worse. Or maybe Doflamingo did have good intentions, but, as always in life, matters snowballed and he became hella corrupt himself. Leaning more towards deliberate coup at the moment.

I am also highly suspicious of the gladiator Ricky. It’s very close to Riku and there was definitely an older gent under that mask...

“SELL THEM FOR STRAWHAT MERCHANDISE!”

#one piece #neverwatchedonepiece #nwop #never watched one piece #monkey d. luffy #donquixote doflamingo #bartolomeo #rebecca sugar #sol the toy #lady scarlet #king riku #diamante #cavendish #don chinjao #dressrosa

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