#please help him when he molts- everyone else is so mean to him :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Feathers for the Pillows

Prompt: Hey there, I have a prompt for you if you'll take it! I absolutely loved your wingfics with Virgil, and was wondering if we could have something similar with Merlin? Maybe with his magic slowly turning him into a more ethereal magical being and giving him wings that he has to figure out how to deal with and hide? Possibly Arthur finding out? Thank you!

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3776

A bird falls out of the sky when Merlin is little.

Merlin didn’t realize it was happening at first.

He was young, still learning how his human body worked, how his magic worked, how to play and run and jump and laugh. His mother looked on fondly and shook her head, wondering how the gods could’ve created such a boisterous little boy and then had the idea to give him magic on top. Perhaps in some way, it was a way to keep himself safe, when he toppled off of shelves he’d managed to float himself up into, or when he fell from trees that he was too young to climb. Or perhaps it was another of their tricks, something to keep the mortals busy and entertained while they plotted. Either way, Merlin has magic and he runs about the woods, leaves dancing along in his wake, the forest itself opening up and welcoming him into its shadows. Patches of golden light draw forth the gold from Merlin’s eyes. The forest breathes.

A bird falls out of the sky.

It lands in front of Merlin, strangely still. It looks at him with dull, cloudy eyes. The light glints off of its feathers. There are three bent out of place. It lies on a bed of leaves and looks at Merlin.

Merlin stops, tilting his head as he looks back. The bird’s eyes are unfocused, staring not at Merlin’s face but through it. The beak is open partway, the head cocked to the side. The wind ruffles its wings. The feathers twitch. It won’t look away from Merlin.

Merlin gulps, reaching out his chubby little hands and taking a step closer. Does the bird want his clothes?

“Merlin?” His mother’s voice comes from far away. “Merlin, it’s time to eat!”

Merlin stops, looking once more at the bird before turning around and running back home. The bird’s eyes watch him go.

Merlin dreams of flying.

When he’s just turning into a young man, his back starts to hurt all the time. His mother frets that he’s working too hard, but he mumbles that he’s been using magic, he’s not putting any strain on his back. She cuffs him lightly across the shoulder, but the furrow between her brows doesn’t disappear. It only deepens as Merlin’s back worsens, when little lips begin to appear beneath his shoulder blades.

She sends him to Camelot.

Gaius looks him over and raises an eyebrow—the first time Merlin sees the eyebrow of magical disbelief, but certainly not the last—and points Merlin to a drawing of a man with wings.

“They will grow,” Gaius explains solemnly, “but they will not hurt you.”

“They’re hurting me now,” Merlin grumbles, reaching around to scratch at his back. Gaius stops him.

“Growing pains are to be expected,” he says, “but they will get worse if you do not let them grow in properly.”

“How’m I supposed to do that?”

Neither of them knows. Neither of them knows because Merlin is magic, under Uther Pendragon’s nose, as the servant of the Crown Prince Arthur.

They can’t bind the wings as they grow. They can’t excuse Merlin’s back pain as anything other than back pain. They can only pad Merlin up with ill-fitting tunics so much.

Arthur doesn’t notice.

After a year, they’re fully grown. The feathers are…unruly, but small enough and white enough that they can be passed off as ornamentation, discarded from some elaborate headdress. The wings can fold up under his tunic and stay hidden, so long as no one touches him.

Well, that won’t be a problem.

He moves through the castle too fast for people to get a good look at him. The knights don’t want to look at him. Arthur only cuffs him upside the head.

His secret is safe.

Then he undergoes his first molt and he lies in agony for a day, as Gaius tries his best to care for the wings. The feathers overflow, crowding the room, until Merlin can figure out that they can make pillows out of them. It takes a moment for them to appear in the rest of the castle, but Morgana comes by to ask whether she can have an extra one. Apparently, they help with her nightmares.

Merlin is more than happy to oblige, at least until Morgana asks him where he gets the feathers from.

“Um…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she winks, giving his arm a gentle pat, “I won’t tell. Just make sure you bring plenty, hmm?”

Morgana touches him. It’s always sweet, just a quick pat on his arm or his shoulder, but she touches him. She notices. Gwen notices too. And Gwen sticks by his side, is allowed to stick by his side, when the feasts and the council meetings happen and they work.

“Merlin,” she admonishes one hot night, “you must take off at least one of those shirts, you’re going to boil to death.”

“I’m fine, Gwen,” Merlin says, wiping sweat off his brow, “I’ll only be cold in a few minutes.”

His hands are always cold.

The wings don’t like always being cooped up under his tunic, so he stretches them every once in a while. He goes out of Camelot, far away from the prying lights of the high walls, and sits in the forest, stretching his wings. They are a little stiff sometimes, but he works patiently until he can unfurl them painlessly, letting the extra feathers slide off to be collected.

“You really must tell me where you’re getting all these feathers, Merlin,” Morgana remarks one day, “maybe I’ll have to place an order large enough for a shawl.”

Merlin gulps. “I can��I can see?”

“Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says, taking him gently by the arm, “I know you’ve got more important things to do.”

“Merlin!”

“Like tending to Arthur,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as Arthur storms around the corner.

“There you are, come on. Job for you.”

“Coming.”

No, Arthur doesn’t notice.

The knights…the knights.

Leon notices, Leon notices everything. Although he doesn’t realize exactly what he’s noticing, Merlin watches him approach after a training session and carefully pull him to his feet.

“Can it be healed,” the knight asks softly, far too quiet for the others to hear, “what ails you?”

“What?”

Leon gestures to Merlin’s back. “I have known men that…cannot be healed as easily.”

Merlin’s shoulders slump. “No, it’s not…it’s the way I am.”

“I understand. Please,” Leon says, resting a kind hand on his shoulder, “do not hesitate to tell me if there are things that I can do to make this easier.”

Leon notices everything, Lancelot notices Merlin.

Merlin doesn’t bother to hide his magic from Lancelot. The man met him and knew, and he takes very great pains to make sure that Merlin knows his secret is safe with Lancelot. Merlin finds himself leaning on Lancelot more than he would care to admit, even going so far as to physically lean on the man. Lancelot never minds, always reaching to stealthily make it a little easier for Merlin to stand. But Lancelot doesn’t put together that Merlin has wings.

“I’ll help you,” Lancelot promises when merlin says he doesn’t want to tell him, “you don’t owe me an explanation.”

Merlin lets himself slump forward into Lancelot gratefully.

Lancelot helps quietly, Gwaine helps loudly.

Whenever Merlin beings to slump, needing a break, Gwaine makes the loudest, most obnoxious distraction he can, be that some loud bawdy joke, some great exclamation, or knocking over a massive shelf of newly polished pie tins. He plays up his clumsiness, his ‘common’ nature, all to make everyone else more focused on him than on Merlin.

“Let them think what they will,” he says to Merlin by the fire one night as they keep watch, “I don’t care. As long as you’re okay.”

“Even if you don’t…know why?”

Gwaine shrugs. “I trust you.”

Merlin smiles.

Gwaine distracts, Elyan suggests.

The first time Elyan notices Merlin wincing every time something comes near his back, he brings Merlin to the armory and suggests a leather tunic.

“It might help with support,” he says, pointing out the different points on the back, “and give your spine a little less to deal with.”

“…could it be made to fit under clothing?”

“Of course. I’ve got a friend that works down in the blacksmith’s district that makes ones to go under ladies’ clothes.”

Merlin looks at it and promises to think about it. In truth, if it’s going to be fitted properly, they’re going to have to see his wings.

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

But he does promise that Elyan can make him something to make things a little easier.

“I won’t pry,” Elyan promises, “but you’ll let us help, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Elyan puts things together, Percival pulls things apart.

“Easy,” the knight mutters as Merlin winces, “almost there.”

Merlin grits his teeth and pulls, straining away from the metal digging into his back. Percival grunts, holding it apart.

“On three, ready?”

“Ready.”

“One…two…three.”

Merlin yanks. The metal comes apart in Percival’s hand and the force sends the two staggering apart, panting. Percival tosses the remains over his shoulder.

“That’s the last time I put one of those on,” Merlin grumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

Arthur had the great idea to do full melee drills today. Problem is, with Arthur standing back to watch, the knights are an odd number. Which means that Merlin was placed in a suit and made to hold a lance. The metal pressed his wings flat to his back and squeezed, making it hard for Merlin to stand, much less fight.

Percival had taken one look at him and ushered him away, using his strength to pry apart the pieces to get Merlin free.

“Are you alright,” he asks, using a voice that Merlin has never heard before, “are you very badly hurt?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Percival lays a large hand on Merlin’s back, only for Merlin to flinch away. “Sorry.”

“Just…” Merlin shakes his head. “Go tell Arthur I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”

Percival leaves with a nod.

The knights notice, even if it’s not everything.

Then Morgana walks in without knocking while Merlin’s wings are out and he freezes.

“Oh,” she breathes, dropping the pieces of fabric she holds, looking at Merlin’s wings spread wide, “Merlin, they’re beautiful.”

Merlin is too shocked to make a sound.

Morgana closes the door softly, walking forward with her hands outstretched. “I won’t hurt you, Merlin, I promise, I just…wow.”

Merlin swallows. “Are you…you’re not afraid?”

“You’re Merlin,” Morgana smiles gently, “how could I be afraid?”

“They’re magic.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still not afraid?”

“No.” She reaches out tentatively. “May I?”

Merlin shudders as her hands lightly brush one of his feathers. She makes a soft noise.

“These are where those feathers come from,” she murmurs, “aren’t they?”

“…they’re mine.”

“They’re lovely,” she promises, her smile so wide, “and so are you.”

She giggles as Merlin flushes red.

Morgana vows to keep it a secret, and in turn, Merlin teaches her about magic. Her nightmares fade away as she sleeps on pillows they make together, as Merlin carefully grooms his wings and Morgana teaches him how to embroider. They keep it a secret, under the watchful eye of Gaius, sewing, and plucking and talking in the night. Gwen comes to join them, smiling wide and bringing Merlin into a gentle hug as he shows her for the first time. Her hands at the base of his spine feel warm.

“Do they hurt much?”

“Not anymore,” Merlin says, giving them an experimental shake, “I’ve…gotten used to it.”

“Well, you must let us help you when they hurt,” Morgana says, rethreading her needle, “if only as an act of repayment.”

“Repay—Morgana…”

“You’ve given us the gift of your feathers,” Morgana interrupts, “not to mention all that you’ve done for Camelot. For me.”

“And for me.”

“But I—“

“You’re lovely, Merlin,” Morgana promises, smiling when Merlin flushes red again, “let us help you?”

And what can Merlin do but say yes?

They do help, but there’s not a whole lot they can do. It just…it hurts sometimes.

The feathers will itch. The wing joints will grow still and stiff. And when the wings grow still and stiff they’re just pounds of dead weight, almost impossible to hide. Merlin grows slow on these days, unable to bound up the steps after Arthur or dart about the castle. Instead, he sits and does small chores, like polishing armor or writing speeches. Morgana will sit with him if she can, sewing. Gwen will fetch her own chores and they’ll do them together. The knights will sit with him and keep the other eyes of the castle away.

Arthur…Arthur doesn’t do much.

And really, really well…isn’t that why it might hurt so badly?

Merlin spends nearly all of his time with Arthur. He knows more about Arthur than he does about nearly everyone, maybe even more than he knows about himself, and Arthur just…doesn’t care?

That makes the wings grow a little heavier.

One day, it’s very bad. Merlin can’t roll over, can’t dislodge the weight on his back. It makes it hard to breathe with his chest smashed as it is against the mattress. He stares at the wall, blinking, unfocused, not seeing anything but the vague light and dark spots against the solid gray of the stone. It hurts. He feels dull, lifeless, unable to summon any energy to move.

His eyes begin to cloud over as he lies still.

Soft footsteps outside his door. The door opening slowly and closing just as slowly. The creak of the floorboards as someone walks to sit next to his head. Red jerkin. Brown trousers. Golden hair.

…Arthur?

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “hard day?”

Merlin nods, confused as to why Arthur’s here and why he’s not shouting at Merlin to get his lazy arse out of bed.

“Are you feeling alright?”

The answer that Arthur probably wants is ‘yes.’ The honest answer is ‘no.’ The very honest answer is ‘why do you care?’

Merlin settles for shaking his head.

Arthur makes a noise of sympathy, reaching forward to card his fingers lightly through Merlin’s greasy hair. His fingers reach through to Merlin’s scalp, scratching gently.

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says immediately, “it’s only me. Does it hurt very much today?”

Merlin frowns. How…what…what is Arthur doing?

“Did Gaius…Gaius tell you?”

“No, Merlin. I figured that when you didn’t show up today that something might be wrong, so I…came to check.” Arthur smiles and ruffles Merlin’s hair. “Good thing I did.”

“Not—I meant about my—my—“

Merlin runs of out air, twisting his head as he is to look up at Arthur from his position on his stomach.

“Easy,” Arthur says, gentling Merlin’s head back to the pillow, “rest your neck. I’ll talk, yeah?”

Merlin’s too exhausted to do anything but obey.

“No, Gaius didn’t tell me about your back, Merlin.”

“…Morgana?”

“No, not Morgana.”

“Gwen?”

“Not Gwen.”

“…knights?”

“Not the knights either.” Arthur’s hand reaches down to scratch at the base of Merlin’s head. “No one had to tell me, Merlin.”

But Arthur…but he…

“You never noticed,” Merlin mumbles, half into the pillow, “not…ever. Not before.”

“About your back?” When Merlin nods, Arthur huffs gently. “Merlin, I noticed the first day you arrived in Camelot.”

What?

“I just…well, I figured you were…that you may be ashamed of it,” Arthur continues, a little sheepish, “or maybe I assumed you’d prefer if I never brought it up.”

“S-so…so you…”

“I always knew, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “but I…no, I’m—I’m sorry I never said anything.”

“…oh.”

Arthur shifts, getting off the stool to kneel on the floor, his face next to Merlin’s, his hand still rubbing the base of Merlin’s skull. “Can I make up for that a little by helping now?”

Merlin nods.

“Right,” Arthur murmurs, “now…thank you, firstly. Second, have you tried getting out of bed today?”

Merlin shakes his head, growing more and more miserable.

“Alright…would you like to?”

“…’ve got work.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Arthur chides gently, “I asked if you’d like to get out of bed.”

He smiles kindly when Merlin seems to flounder for an answer.

“I can help you get out of bed if you like,” he says, “but…you are also allowed to lie here for today. Especially if it hurts. I’ll stay with you.”

“You…you will?”

Arthur smiles, petting Merlin’s hair again. “Of course.”

Merlin closes his eyes, losing himself in the gentle pats. It…it might be nice to try and sleep again, but…but his wings might just hurt more when he wakes up.

“No?” Arthur nods when Merlin shakes his head. “Alright. Let’s…let’s see if we can at least sit you up.”

He tucks a palm under Merlin’s head and holds it steady, reaching low and wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist.

“Hang on.”

Merlin’s back strains with the wings as Arthur begins to sit him up, only for Arthur to grunt and pull harder.

“You’re much heavier than you look, Merlin,” he says worriedly, “are you—are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I—I’m—“

“Are they broken?”

Merlin freezes.

He looks slowly at Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

“Come on. My Merlin doesn’t get to grow wings and not have me notice.”

“I—I—“

“Shh,” Arthur soothes, his arms still tightly around Merlin, “it’s alright. Do I look angry?”

“N-no, but—“

“I’m not. I’m worried.” Arthur nods at Merlin’s wings. “Are they broken?”

“N-no, just…just stiff.”

“Alright. Can I…can I help?”

Merlin swallows. Arthur…Arthur knows. Arthur’s not angry. Arthur’s not…angry?

“My Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, gently bumping his head against Merlin’s, “of course I’m not angry, you’re lovely.”

He chuckles when Merlin flushes red again, adjusting his grip to help the blanket stay on Merlin’s shoulders.

“Will you let me help?”

Merlin’s fingers tighten in the front of Arthur’s jerkin and he nods.

“I’m going to take the blanket off now, okay?”

The blanket falls to the bed and Merlin’s wings unfurl, spreading as wide as they can, trying to stretch. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as he holds onto Merlin.

“Oh, Merlin…”

“They hurt,” he mumbles, “they hurt.”

“Alright,” Arthur mutters to himself, “alright. Let’s do this.”

The bed sinks behind him as Arthur carefully positions himself between the wings. He reaches out to gently card his fingers through the wings, going right to the glands.

“Ah!”

“Sorry,” Arthur mumbles, “I’ll be more gentle.”

“How—“ Merlin shudders and gasps as Arthur’s warm, warm hands move easily through his wings— “how do you know how to do this?”

“The stable has hawks,” Arthur murmurs, gently sorting out the stiff joints, “and I learned how to tend to them when the stable master taught me to hunt.”

“So—so you—ah!”

Merlin can hear the smile in Arthur’s voice as he rubs his thumb around the base of the joint connecting Merlin’s wing to his back. “Yes, Merlin, I know what I’m doing.”

Merlin has never been touched like this.

Arthur knows just how to stroke the muscles to get them to relax, to pull out the broken and crumpled feathers and work the oil throughout. He knows just how gentle to be when he swipes his thumb across the gland, knows just how firm to be when he runs his fingers through the base of the wings. He knows Merlin, knows how to pause when Merlin shudders too much, how to reassure him that he’s almost there, just a moment, please.

“H-how—“ Merlin bits back another gasp as Arthur straightens a particularly stubborn feather— “how did you n-not tell me?”

“I thought you were ashamed of them,” Arthur says softly, resting his hands at the base of Merlin’s sides, “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“I…”

Was he?

“…I was ashamed of my—of the magic,” he stumbles, “and I…”

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Merlin’s waist, “you should never be ashamed of your magic.”

He chuckles when he feels Merlin gasp under his hands.

“That one you can blame on everyone else not doing a good job of hiding it.”

“Don’t be mad at them,” Merlin blurts, “please, it’s not their fault—“

“Shh,” Arthur rumbles, reaching up to scratch at the soft part of Merlin’s wings again, “I’m not. Just...you can exhale now, Merlin, it’s alright.”

Merlin breathes. His wings flutter a little. A tiny gold glimmer darts around the feathers. He relaxes back into Arthur’s arms, letting Arthur hold his weight and his wings.

“You’re alright, now…”

A soft knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Morgana.”

“And Gwen!”

“Merlin?” Arthur chuckles when Merlin just mumbles. “Come in.”

Morgana giggles as she catches sight of Merlin all sprawled out on Arthur’s chest. “Seems Arthur started feather collecting earlier, hmm?”

“Feather collecting?”

“You didn’t think those pillows made themselves, did you?”

Gwen rolls her eyes as the two bicker, reaching to gently pull Merlin forward to hug him.

“You feeling a little better?”

“A little.”

Gwen smiles. “I’m so glad. You look…a little lighter too.”

Merlin smiles back.

“He hasn’t told you either?”

Merlin glances around to see Morgana shaking her head. Arthur huffs.

“Well, now we both have to ask him.”

Merlin’s face goes pale. “A-ask me what?”

“Don’t look so afraid,” Morgana says, “it ruins your lovely face.”

…well, he’s not pale anymore.

“Stop flirting with my Merlin.”

“Oh he’s your Merlin, now, is he?”

“He’s always been my Merlin.”

“What did you want to ask me,” Merlin interrupts before his face can get any redder.

“Right.” Arthur claps his hands. “Can you fly?”

“What?”

“Can you fly?” Arthur gestures to the wings. “Or are they just there to be pretty?”

“What happened to no flirting?”

“Oh, that’s just for you.”

“Rude.”

“I, um…” Merlin twists his hands together. “I’ve never tried.”

Morgana looks at Arthur. Arthur looks at Morgana. They both look at Merlin. Gwen giggles.

Merlin sighs.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Merlin dreams of flying.

#merthur fic #merthur #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #dragonbabbles #fic

44 notes · View notes

x-reader-theater · 4 years ago

Text

Doubt {8}

Relationship: Lucifer Morningstar x Non-Binary!Reader

Summary: Earth. Home. The people around you, your family, the man you love, the city you now live in. What could be better?

Warnings: Cursing, Graphic Body Horror, Lucifer being a Bastard

Word Count: 2043 words

A/N: Wow. Thank you all for coming on such an amazing journey with me this past week. It's been incredible and I think you for joining me, coming along with me for the ride. This has been a special project of mine and I couldn't have done it without the help of my editor, @mystic-writes. Please reblog the series and I can't wait to show you all more of my work in the future. Thank you <3 Also, someone recently put together a playlist for this story, which you can use here. I didn't want to share it until the rest of the fic was out, but it has all the songs from this fic there if you want to listen to it as a playlist. (And yes, they got an early look at the chapter's songs so they could put the new songs on there). I will be updating the first chapters with this playlist so anyone who's just now reading it can use it to listen while they read.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here, but please still reblog and share.

[Prev.] <= [First]

Chapter 8: The Rise

[Now Playing: Break my Heart by Dua Lipa]

You stand on the second floor of Lux, overlooking the rest of the club, a drink in your hand. You glance over to your right and see a woman looking at you, smirking, and you smile back. She moves her way over to you, the air shifting around her and a chill goes down your arms. The simple white t-shirt you're wearing with your blue jeans aren't exactly the warmest clothes, but in Lux, it's hard to be cold with all the bodies packed so tightly, and as the woman leans up against you, you feel warmth radiating from her.

"What are you doing in a place like this?" She asks, her voice low and sultry.

You smile when you feel a body press up behind yours and a familiar voice say, "Sorry. They're not available."

The woman nods tersely and walks away, and you turn around, kissing Lucifer. He pushes you against the railing, and you smile into the kiss.

"We shouldn't do this here…" you whisper with a smile and Lucifer groans.

"But I want to show that you're mine," he says.

You smile and glance around at the people who are looking at you. "I don't think that's a problem, Lucifer."

He smiles and kisses you again, before pulling away and grabbing your hand. He drags you to the elevator, pushing everyone else out of his way, before hitting the button to go up, and the doors close behind you. Lucifer pushes you up against the elevator wall, moving his lips down your neck, and you groan with a smile, running your fingers through his hair and pulling.

"You're enjoying… that aren't you?" He asks between kisses and you lean into him more.

"It's a new feature I'm excited to explore," you say with a smirk, and Lucifer pulls away from your neck to look at you for a moment, before kissing you.

The bell rings and the doors open on Lucifer's penthouse. He pulls away and drags you into the large room, where you see Maze, her ligamented face smiling back at you.

You raise your eyebrows when she quirks a wry smile your way, and you catch what she tosses at you.

"Here," she says as you watch the silver, glinting handcuffs. "You'll need these."

You grin and pull Lucifer into his bedroom, your wings already extended.

[Now Playing: Never Knew Love Like This Before by Stephanie Mills]

"I think I'm actually really good," you say in Linda's office, sitting across from her.

"Oh, well I'm happy to hear that," she says, leaning back. "Why do you think you're feeling so good right now?"

You shrug. "I'm in a… relationship, well, as much of a relationship as you can have with Lucifer. I have friends, Chloe and I are… talking, and that's a start, and I got answers," you list, and Linda is smiling at you. Actually, genuinely smiling at you.

"I'm so happy for you, [Y/N]. You sound like you've really found yourself," she says, and you nod. "Now, that doesn't mean I want you to stop seeing me…" she says, putting a hand out, and you nod.

"I know," you tell her simply, and she leans back, a surprised and impressed look on her face.

"Oh! Oh, okay. Good," she says, nodding, and you smile.

"Thank you, Linda. Without you, I don't think I could have done half as well as I have," you say, and Linda smiles.

"You're welcome. Now, tell me more about this relationship with Lucifer?" Linda asks and you laugh.

"Well, I told him I loved him a few nights ago…"

[Now Playing: Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin]

You walk into Lux, making your way to the bar where you know Maze is. You're surprised, however, to see Lucifer and Chloe there as well.

"Ah! Angel!" Lucifer exclaims, waving you over. You smile and sit next to them at the bar. "How are you?"

You smile and nod. "I'm… good. I'm really, good," you respond.

Lucifer grins and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. You smile, but look around him at Chloe, who's sipping her alcohol, trying not to look like she's watching the two of you. She's failing miserably at it.

"How are you, Chloe?" You ask, and she looks up at you.

"Huh? Oh! I'm-I'm good. Sorry, I'm a little distracted. There's a lot going on with work right now," she says, taking another sip.

You smile. "No worries. I understand that."

She smiles at you, and Lucifer says, "Yes, there's quite a bit to catch you up on."

You smile and accept the drink Maze offers you, repaying her with a nod, which she returns.

And you sit and listen to everything Chloe and Lucifer did in the past week.

[Now Playing: Laughing With by Regina Spektor]

You look around as you walk down the street, watching people pass you by, on their phones, their hands on their purses and backpacks, talking to one another, or walking alone. You smile at the church where you met Father Lawrence for the first, and last time. Lucifer told you what happened.

You see a woman sitting on the steps, her head in her hands and her knees pulled up to her chest. You see her shoulders shaking. She's crying.

You walk up to her, sitting down next to her, and she looks up suddenly, wiping underneath her eyes. "What do you want?" She asks, snapping at you.

"Why are you crying?" You ask, and she glares at you.

"Why do you want to know?" She asks, frustrated.

You put your hands up and say, "I'm just curious. I mean, a woman crying in front of a church all alone. Not exactly a common occurrence."

She looks at you, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, before she sighs and looks away. "It's dumb," she says, wiping her eyes again.

You shake your head and smile. "I'm sure it's not."

She scoffs, but bites her lip, looking down at her hands. "In the middle of our sermon, I asked if heaven was really that good," she says, and your eyebrows shoot up. She looks up at you and scoffs, saying as she starts to stand up, "I knew you'd think it's stupid."

"No!" You exclaim quickly, and she stops. "I don't think it's stupid. It just surprised me. Because I have those exact same doubts."

Now it's her turn for her eyebrows to shoot up, and she slowly starts sitting down again. "Really?"

You nod. "Yup. I mean, what's so great about staying in one place for the rest of eternity? At least here on earth, there's things to do! Most stuff is banned in heaven. No music, except for gospel, no touching, no sex," you say and her cheeks darken.

"You sound like you know what it's like up there," she says, and you just stare at her. She laughs you off, waving her hand, like she's trying to dispel the thought.

You smile at her and place a hand on her shoulder. "I want you to stick with these doubts. Ask questions. And whatever you do, never doubt yourself," you say to her seriously. "No matter what people try and tell you, trust yourself." She nods, in shock slightly, and you smile, standing up. "It was nice meeting you…"

"Evie!" She says, and you smile.

"It was nice meeting you Evie. You take care now," you say, and you walk away from her, smiling to yourself. Proud of yourself.

[Now Playing: Angel Down by Lady Gaga]

You walk into the penthouse, peeling your hoodie off, and placing it on the coat rack next to the elevator. You smile at the familiar sight of the place you call home, the fully stocked bar, the living room with the very comfortable couches, the archway that leads into the bedroom. But you don't go towards any of them. Instead, you walk toward the balcony overlooking Los Angeles. The City of Angels. You laugh at that. An Angel, a Devil, and a Fallen Angel all walk into a city and wreak havoc, fall in love, and soar on feathered wings. What a bad joke.

But you can't help but laugh. Because, what a joke your life has been so far. At least it's funny, filled with irony and ridiculous situations.

You lean on the glass railing, the cool night air blowing across your face makes you smile. It's been hot these past few days. Never lower than 95 degrees. The cool air feels nice.

You extend your wings from your back, spreading them out to catch the wind, feeling the cool air blow through your feathers.

You think back to that first day you arrived, when your feathers molted off you violently and with a lot of screaming. You think of the bones, of your once beautiful white wings, of the scraping and clacking they made, and of what they've become, the white fading to black, doubt personified.

You think about Lucifer, his reluctance to help you, to take you in, before ultimately giving up and having fun with it. And you did have a lot of fun with Lucifer, as well as Maze. They taught you a lot.

You smile, happiness flooding your chest as you think of Linda, your hesitation when you first met her, and then your last session, where you thanked her for pushing you the way she did.

You think of Chloe, of the jealousy you felt towards her like she did about you, the two of you fighting over something you didn't need to fight over. You may not be friends, but at least she's talking to you now. And that's a start.

You remember Father Laurence, and your conversation that led him to Lucifer. You remember Detective Dan Espinoza, and planting those seeds of doubt in his head, which you and Lucifer laughed about later. You remember the woman and man who left you at the bar, all because Lucifer was there. You remember your parents, who Lucifer helped you stand up to. It all leads back to Lucifer, him being there when you needed him most, whether that be for a good laugh or a favour, for sex, or even just a good hug after a long day. He's always there for you.

And you love him so much for that.

You feel hands on your back, and you jump, but relax when you hear who it is. "Shh… it's only me, Angel," Lucifer says softly, running his hands around the base of your wings before wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest to your back. "What are you thinking about?"

You smile and fold your wings in as you turn around to face Lucifer, before extending them again. "You. Me. How I was when I first arrived," you say, and Lucifer smiles.

"Yes, that was a… frustrating time, but I think I handled it quite well," he says and you roll your eyes.

"I think I recall you calling me 'practically a child'," you say and he scoffs.

"Excuse you, I distinctly remember calling you hot as well," he says and you laugh, leaning forward so your head is on his chest.

"It feels like so long ago," you say, looking up into his brown eyes. "And yet, it feels like no time has passed at all."

He smiles and kisses you lightly. "That's a perk of immortality, angel," he says, and you kiss him again.

He presses you up against the railing, but his kisses don't feel feverish, they're not lustful. Because while his body is pinning yours against the glass, he's kissing you slowly, deliberately, as if he's afraid he's going to lose you if he stops. You pull away, taking a deep breath in, and you smile at Lucifer, running your fingers through his hair, down the back of his neck, around his shoulder, before your thumb rests against his lips. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his, and you smile.

"You saved a fallen angel, Lucifer," you whisper. "What do you want to do with them?"

He smiles and says plainly, "Everything."

[The End]

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #fox lucifer #lucifer tv #lucifer x reader #lucifer x gn reader #lucifer x gender neutral reader #lucifer x nb reader #lucifer x non-binary reader #lucifer morningstar x gender neutral reader #lucifer morningstar x non-binary reader #lucifer morningstar x male reader #my work #My writing

68 notes · View notes

peterstanslizzie · 4 years ago

Text

Reacting To: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Season 2 Episode 10)

Episode Title: Heroes on Fire

Spoiler Warning: Kindly proceed if you’ve already seen the episode or are able to handle spoilers.

*Apologies for the tardiness. I meant to post this a few days ago but I was busy sorting out other things. Hope you understand 😊

1. 2 days earlier? I didn’t think we’d get another flashback lol. We go back to the moment where Kipo managed to find her mom (Song, the Mega Monkey) tied to a giant tree. We already saw this but what we didn’t see was the fact that Mulholland was inside the water she fed to her mom. I’m guessing Mulholland will try to reach into Song’s inner thoughts?

2. Mulholland gets inside her brain and creates a vision for Song, where he introduces himself to her. He then tells her that he freed her from her mind control and will continue to help her stay that way. That’s a really smart plan; I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Song asks Mulholland to tell Kipo that she loves her. OMG, why am I about to cry this early on? Also, it’s a nice little touch for the writers to make it so that Song is struggling to speak since she hasn’t done that in 13 years.

3. Back to the present and the predicament at hand; Scarlemagne has already started to spray the humans with his pheromones all throughout the stadium. We also see the Timbercats plus Troy, Asher (who is just confirmed to be non-binary btw) and Dahlia hiding themselves in their oh so fluffy tails. Troy spots his dad, Roberto in the crowd. Wait, why is Roberto there? Shouldn’t he be back at Dr. Emilia’s hideout? Am I missing something?

4. Oh! It’s been a trick all along. DUH! It makes sense because Kipo had poured Mulholland into Scarlemagne’s vat of pheromone and that’s the reason why all the humans aren’t being mind-controlled at the moment. Song proceeds to flick Scarlemagne away (literally) and she then breaks off a dome so that everyone can get on it to escape.

5. Kipo asks Mulholland to get inside Lio to snap him out of his mind-control but before he goes in, he tells Kipo that he doesn’t think he’s able to get her out of her Mega Monkey form since she’s been that way for a long time. I think Song needs her own anchor. Eventually, Scarlemagne gets up and orders his primate nobles to attack Song and stop the humans from escaping.

6. Benson, Wolf and Dave are fighting off Lemieux, Gerard and another noble that looks like Lemieux (what’s his/her name anyways?). Wolf is handicapped since she doesn’t have Stalky with her and Dave isn’t fairing well either. Where’s Benson? Oh right, he’s grabbed by Lemieux’s flamingo. Lucky for him; Dave molts into his super strong form and defeats both Lemieux 2.0 and Gerard.

7. As Benson is about to be dropped into the gold fountain, Dave rescues him by delivering a solid punch to Lemieux’s face. Unfortunately, at the same time, Benson’s backpack was dropped into the fountain. He thinks that Song’s journal was inside the backpack but I swear I thought he left it back at Dr. Emilia’s HQ? Now they’re worried for Kipo since her anchor is gone supposedly.

8. We switch things over to Kipo and she’s fighting off Scarlemagne with her two jaguar paws. She was about to fully transform until Benson stops her and tells her he lost the journal. Am I crazy for thinking he didn’t put it in his backpack? Back to Song; she puts down the dome and all the humans exit from it. Mandu then shows them an entrance that would take them underground.

9. I find it strange how Kipo is having a hard time beating Scarlemagne. Is he that strong? I kinda figured she would be able to beat him even without fully transforming into a jaguar. Well, at least she won’t have to do it alone because Wolf, Benson and Dave arrive to help. But still, that isn’t enough because he’s still whipping their butts, even combined! Wow, he is really strong.

10. Troy, Asher and Dalia and the Timbercats notice the fight and they decide to help Kipo out. Well, that should help. But isn’t that like 30 against 1 lol? Wolf takes Scarlemagne’s crown and drops it into the fountain, angering him as a result. He then accuses Kipo of pretending to care about him and proceeds to break the lever that controls the gold fountain. Next thing we see is a huge rush of liquid gold flowing into the stadium. The Timbercats rush to help them.

11. Scarlemagne is flying away to make his escape but his flamingo’s wings get caught by a stream of the liquid gold and they both fall into the audience section of the stadium, causing Scarlemagne to hit his head and become unconscious.

12. Oh and our boy, Benson gets reunited with Troy again. Yayy! And the same song that was played when they first met last season is playing here once again. Benson is definitely a disaster gay; He couldn’t form proper sentences around him; How cute is that?!

13. Lio notices that Scarlemagne is lying on the staircase and he makes the decision to save him. It’s a good call in my opinion. However, the others mutes (that can’t fly) are stuck in the audience and they can’t escape the rising liquid gold. Kipo tells everyone that she has to fully transform so that she will be strong enough to knock a tree down to stop the liquid gold from rising further. Therefore, she is willing to risk losing herself to her Mega Jaguar form to save the mutes. I now have a feeling that the anchor is with Dr. Emilia. Let’s see if I’m right.

14. Despite everyone’s objection, Kipo proceeds to quickly transform and with the help of her mom, Song, both of them combine forces to try to push down the tree. However, the tree isn’t budging over. As she’s seeing the gold rising closer and closer to her friends and family, she somehow gathers enough willpower to uncover a new transformation and becomes an even stronger jaguar with 3 tails and 6 legs. Dang, that was sooo cool. And so, the both of them are able to push over the tree to stop the liquid gold in its tracks.

15. Kipo is trying to turn back into a human but she isn’t able too. Meanwhile, the humans bump into Dr. Emilia in the tunnel and she gives a speech about humans needing to rise up and mutes needing to be cured and be turned back into animals. I would be so disappointed if they decide to join her.

16. Lio assures Kipo that their relationship with her isn’t going to change despite her being a Mega Jaguar. Wolf then tries to remind Kipo of all the good things that she has done and how much she means to her. I’m getting teary y’all. And on top of that, Wolf starts to sing “Heroes on Fire” to Kipo and she’s then accompanied by Benson and Dave.

17. It does manage to get through to her somehow and we then see Kipo’s inner head-space, where she comes face to face with her own jaguar form but it starts to chase her. She then suddenly hears her friends singing and it reminds her of all the amazing moments they shared together in the past two seasons. And Wolf’s idea is a success because Kipo manages to transform back into human Kipo. OMG I’m crying so bad right now. What about Song though? *sniffs. Well, Kipo reassures her mom that if she can turn back, so will she.

18. We’re approaching the end! Yumyan happily agrees to let EVERYONE stay with the Timbercats back at his village and we also see Scarlemagne being taken away by them. Is he going to be imprisoned at the village? He seems like he was impressed by Kipo’s brave act to sacrifice herself for the mutes. I really hope he joins their side in season 3 (if there is one).

19. Troy reunites with his dad but Roberto tells everyone what went down with Dr. Emilia just now and I was right! She has the journal and she plans to use it to reverse all the mutations in the mutes. The season ends with Kipo announcing that she and everyone else are going to stop her.

20. Well, that’s the end of my episode to episode review of Season 2 of Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts. I must say; this season trumps the first season in my opinion. I absolutely love all the backstory we had gotten, especially regarding Kipo, Lio, Song and Scarlemagne. I also plan to make a couple of video essays about this particular season that will be posted to my YouTube channel (peterstanslizzie). So please check that out for when I have them ready for you to watch. Thank you all so much for reading my reviews. I absolutely can’t wait for a Season 3 to be announced. *Fingers crossed. I’m pretty confident it will get greenlit. Till next time; Bye!

35 notes · View notes

dainty-baneberry · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt #9: Lush

“Pbb bbbb pbbbppp.” “Oh. I see.” Cid Garlond, owner and proprietor of the Garlond Ironworks answered patiently to the cranky Au Ra currently submerged up to her nostrils in the Chakra Falls of Rhalgr's reach. The tips of her pale, raen horns were dipped into the water she was sunk so low. The slight glow of her orange limbal rings reflected on the waters dark surface. It was 3 bells past midnight, and the Reach was deserted of anyone except for a supposedly soundly drunk Warrior of Light and an entirely sober Garlean Engineer. Rumor of Dainty being an angry, and mean drunk had gotten Cid's curiosity a-running. The thing about Dainty was that she was an utter lush. Everyone knew that. She had been since she was a green girl. The Drowning Wench was mere steps from the Marauders Guild where she had started her training in Limsa Lominsa, after all. It was no secret she liked her wine. And her ale. And her vodka too for that matter. But Dainty was not a mean drunk. She never had been and Cid had known her for a long time. A sarcastic drunk. A provocative drunk. A teasing, taunting, sometimes slightly sharp drunk. But not mean, and certainly not angry. Never, ever angry. Booze made Dainty nice. It was sober Dainty that had anger problems. Cid never could resist a good mystery so he had tracked the woman down, and found her sulking in the Chakra Falls, half a dozen empty bottles of wine littered around the messy shoreline. He lowered himself to a laying position on the shore so that they were closer to eye level. “Care to run that by me again?” Cid requested. Dainty huffed, but lifted her mouth out of the water enough to snip; “I said, I can't sleep.” Cid instantly realized why she had been mistaken for an angry drunk from her crystal clear tones, her voice holding not even the slightest hint of a slur.

She wasn't drunk, that was the problem. The wine she had chugged was not alcoholic enough to knock her out and she was pissy about it. All those years of being a lush, coupled with her Blessing of Light, and couple years of piracy had given her one Hells of an alcohol tolerance. “Any particular reason why?” Cid questioned and, it was hard to tell in the dark, but he got the faint impression that Dainty was embarrassed as she sank back down into the water. Only the top of her head and her glowing, limbal ringed eyes were visible in the dark and when she spoke it was muffled by the water covering her mouth. “Pbb ppbbb cbbb pb molting.” “Er...what?” Cid questioned, very well aware he was the only person who could question her like this and not get his head bitten off. Anyone else would have been told to fornicate with a flying pig and leave her alone by now. It was part of the reason he had sought her out, despite the fact that he was sorely missing his own bed to do so. He was one of only 2, or 3 people on their star that she would let help her. Let soothe her and comfort her. He was well aware he held that privilege, and that he had earned that right by being there to soothe and comfort her when she needed it. “I am itchy because I am molting.” Dainty finally clarified with an unwilling little snarl that Cid interpreted to be directly mostly at herself than him. A frown puckered his brow at her tone nonetheless. “I didn't know Au Ra's molt.” “How the sodding Twelve do you think I bleeding feel?!” Dainty fully bellowed, the water she was currently residing in and the shape of the Chakra falls amplifying her voice twice-fold. The curse of being an amnesiac was biting Dainty in the ass again. Having once been one himself Cid could understand all too keenly how frustrating it was when ones body did things that you did not understand, nor knew how to rectify. He therefore did not take offense at her ire being momentarily hurled at him. Dainty's current location in the bitingly frigid water of the falls now made perfect sense to Cid. He had assumed she was trying to sober up when he had first heard of her state but now it was clear that the cold water was soothing some of the itch on her scales and skin. It was the best solution she could come up with quickly when taken by surprise by her scales starting to shed their top layer of skin. Cid considered what he knew about reptiles, and his limited knowledge of the Anata peoples that were native to the region while Dainty pouted in the cold waters.

“T'would seems there is only one thing for it.” Cid commented after a length of silence. Dainty cocked her head, waiting for him to continue and curious as to what that genius mind of his had cooked up this time. “Walnut shells.” “...what?” “Walnut shells. Very, very finely crushed, of course. There is naught finer for sanding when a surface is too delicate to sand blast. The Ironworks keeps a sack of crushed shells around for that purpose and I would wager if we give you a sound rubbing down with it that would get all the dead skin off. If that don't fix the itch, I cannot imagine that anything will.” It was dark but Cid got the impression that Dainty was pleased by this suggestion, and perhaps impressed. “T'is a better solution than any I managed, I'll grant you that.” Dainty admitted, giving a slight gesture from beneath the water at the wine bottles. Her singular answer to her problem had been alcohol and it hadn't even worked.

“Its got to be better than sleeping in a water fall.” Cid added.

Dainty had the somewhat legendary ability to nod-off just about anywhere, and had been blessed with the ability to breathe underwater by the Kojin's Gods. That didn't necessarily make her present location a good idea, however. The waters of the Chakra Falls were skin numbingly cold, and, Warrior of Light or not, she could presumably still get hypothermia.

Dainty gave a little laugh but nodded and began to climb out of the water.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite

6 notes · View notes

overthelillies · 4 years ago

Text

fic recs for my friends

yeah okay so most/all of these are davekat im sorry!! arranged in no particular order also some of them are second person I Am Sorry.

Your Interpersonal, Intergalactic Relationship: A Beginner's Guide (8,400-something words)

A beginner's guide to playing hopscotch, overcoming internalized homophobia, and falling in love with your alien best friend.

friends to lovers! p cute

So It Goes (56,845 words)

They managed to win the game somehow. He's not really sure of the details, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. He's stuck in an unfamiliar body with a thirteen year old little brother who's terrified of him.

Somehow, he is sure this is his fault.

// i have not read this one. but strider angst and davekat yes please

Red Converse (26,648 words)

Due to a seizure, Karkat Vantas now has to learn how to live his life with two speech aphasia. He goes to therapy three times a week, suffers from awful headaches, and tries to avoid people as much as possible.

Due to a traumatic experience, Dave Strider refuses to use his words, preferring to relay his snarky comments and witty banter through sign language and typing on his phone.

They meet in a waiting room.

//THIS IS REALLY GOOD Altho they do have sex just skip it dw i promise it’s worth it

how...did you tell your friends (7,906 words)

Unfortunately, you don't fancy your brother's suggestion on how to break the news to John...

There's no other way out of it, you're going to have to just tell him.

//set after homestuck, dave tries to tell the most oblivious person in the world and also his best friend (john) that he and karkat are dating and it’s literally so good

Dave Strider’s Stupid Fucking Jawline (11,607 words)

Generic high school AU. Dave's jawline is really distracting and Karkat does NOT have a crush on him (shut up, Kanaya).

//high school au. lovely. good eating.

Gray and Red (16,084 words)

In which you only see color once you meet your soulmate, and the first color you see is the same as your soulmate's eyes.

//SOULMATE AU SOULMATE AU this is kinda very Angsty (Karkat do be pining doe) it’s p good

We’re All Friends & Family Here (And Frankly, We’re Sick Of Your Shit) (68,000 somethin words)

It's been about a year since the big Fast Forward, and sure, things on Earth C aren't perfect for everyone. But they're fine. Really. It's fine. Everything is super fuckin' swell, and that's that.

It's not like one night is going to change anything.

//post homestuck GOD THIS. IS SO GOOD okay so this fic is mainly dirkjake being fucking stupid with rosemary and davekat and also a lil roxy/calliope in the bg and it’s long but!!!! so very good

Red Ties (10,705 words)

Dave Strider's eyes never turned the color of his soulmates. With his rare eye-color, there's next to no chance they simply share an eye color.

One day he meets Karkat Vantas.

//another cute soulmate au! again. love the soulmate aus what can i say

i’m at the combination dunkin donuts & urgent care (3,920 words)

Karkat Vantas is convinced beyond a doubt that his neighbor is some variety of murderer, until they actually meet in person. Highlights include blood at the laundromat, Dave's weird obsession with candles, and a box of shitty swords.

//this is SO FUNNY short n sweet i promise

the calculation (2,481 words)

the fic in which Dave gets the flu for the first time since before the game and Karkat takes care of him.

//this fic is really funny and also sweet

Start At The Beginning (9,304)

//post-homestuck, Dave and karkat falling in love. the ending to thsi made me cry

I Love Cheap Thrills (4,773 words)

You’ve been trading memes with an international pop sensation, and your drunk ass had no idea.

Classic.

//this one is verrie funnie

Locked Up (9,272 words)

Dave had always been the one best prepared for the game. He was able to handle the shit it threw at them and push it down a lot better than everyone else could.

It might have fucked up everything else about him, but that didn't matter.

He was fine.

He was always fucking fine.

//angst. very nice

I’d Tap That (oh fuck i didn’t mean to tap that) (17,041 words)

Karkat finds his old school bully on Grindr. Dave doesn't know how to shut up.

// really funny!! sorry if these are getting redundant i don’t remember the details about some of these

Pale as Bone, Pale as Water (5,305 words)

//another davekat sickfic

Apple Juice, Chips, and Bandages (5,335 words)

Every time he comes in he gets the same three things. A bottle of apple juice, a bag of chips, and bandages.

//really cute!! they’re liddol and they’re friends it’s nice

The Land of Blood and Childhood Trauma (8,242 words)

When two dreambubbles collide, two anti-social assholes are forced to help each other through it.

//not quite as Angsty as it sounds! it’s good

ecdysis (6,077 words)

Karkat goes through his adult molt. Dave does his best to take it in stride.

//so i actually haven’t read this thought I did but Uh have it anyway it looks good

Self Sabotage and Other Symptoms of a Damaged Soul (10,698 words)

//basically dave grapples with his internalized homophobia, etc. very good

turntechGodhead is offline (36,999 words)

//I’ve already ranted to you guys enough about this you know what it’s abt it’s SO FREAKING GOOD

A Ten Step Plan For Wooing Karkat Vantas, Featuring A Multitude Of Illustrations By Your Esteemed Authors, As Well As Tips For The Aforementioned Wooing (11,261 words)

Kanaya, because she's a saint, makes you a list.

The list is entitled "A Ten Step Plan For Wooing Karkat Vantas" and features a multitude of illustrations in purple pen.

"So we're doing this," you say. Your mouth threatens to twitch into something dangerously smile-shaped.

"Yes," says Kanaya. "We are making this happen."

"Hell yes."

//dave n karkat! they go on a date. stuff happens. it’s really good

Catching Colds on a Rock in the Middle of Space (15,887)

Rose catches a bad cold and it slowly spreads to the rest of the meteor crew. None of them are particularly good at admitting they're sick, let alone looking after themselves, but at least they're decent at caring for each other.

//rosemary and davekat! VERY sweet

Dave’s Girl (2,527 words)

The thing is no one knew anything more about "Kitty" other than her delicious cooking (Dave obviously doesn't want to share – ever) but the guys are more or less already in love with her. Drew insists she's probably this blond bombshell with big, blue eyes, all curves with legs that go on forever and a great rack... Practically everyone in the team has their own opinion.

//this is so funny and also im a sucker for these kinds of tropes so it’s great

Songs Made on the Meteor (27,762 words)

Dave makes music and they fall in love.

//on my to-read list! it looks good

Looks Just Like The Sun (12,231 words)

“Holy shit,” you whisper. Dave joins you at the window.

There are no stars left in the sky. Nothing but blackness and a faint soap bubble sheen.

“Is that a dream bubble?” Dave says.

And then it swallows you.

//okay. does this have explicit sex? yes. does it have a very explicit image? yes. HOWEVER (hear me out here) I firmly believe that if you whizz pass those parts, this is a very good fic with great characterization and fun banter. send tweet

aight happy reading

#im sorry to anyone i dont know

7 notes · View notes

taki118 · 5 years ago

Text

Different Paths (A DA2 Personal Challenge) Merrill & Anders

Reposting some of my favorite ficlets from this on going writing challenge of my own making read the rest here this one has a bit of a tw for implied sducidal thoughts.

Maybe it was nostalgia that made Merrill come this way, a rumor leading her to a run down path, why she could hear Varric’s raspy voice complaining if she closed her eyes. Or perhaps she was being childish, being what was essentially a keeper to her group of elevan followers was more taxing than she’d anticipated and indulging in such childish curiosity was a rarity. Whatever the reason that lead her down the old path Merrill could hardly say mattered much when she saw him there.

The rumors said a ghost had taken residence deep in the woods, that it glowed an unnatural color and was fierce in protecting the forest. But such a thing was not what Merrill found.

“Anders?” She called carefully. Were it not for the ripple of that blue magic swirling his form she’d hardly recognize him. Even from so far away she could see he was thin, alarmingly so, his hair a tangled long mess, and those black feathers she’d once admired looked as though they’d molted, dirt and blood clearly visible on the black fabric. One thing was certain as she approached he was not well.

“LEAVE!” The magic forced her back, were she not a mage Merrill would never have withstood it. This force would surely frighten anyone away but she knew this magic well.

“Hello Justice.” She spoke calmly to the spirit. Though at a glance he might have looked fearsome merrill could see whatever had befallen Anders was effecting him too.

“LEAVE WITCH!” The spirit roared but that seemed all he could manage now. His breathing ragged and legs shaking so much merrill was sure he would not be able to stand were it not for the staff.

“You are unwell.” She replied calmly walking ever closer, from here she could see the glimmer of healing magic under Justice’s aura. Anders was injured in some way, a way magic could not heal. Her green eyes searched for the source, only then noting how much he was sweating. “I can help.”

“I DO NOT NEED YOUR MAGIC.” Justice tried in vain to force her back once more but faltered losing his footing. Grasping the staff tighter his breathing growing more ragged, just how long had they been this way?

“No magic can fix this.” But it seemed Anders had known this at least at first. Around the small camp the elf saw many potions and ingredients to treat the illness, but none looked right as though the mage was making due with what he had. “You are ill I have supplies at my camp that can help you I just need to...”

“LEAVE...” Justice sounded so weak, it crushed her heart a little. The spirit was so strong before seeing them like this....

“Please Justice just let me help.” Merrill pleaded softly standing so close she could touch him if she dared. “If this keeps up you’ll be nothing but a walking corpse!”

“GO!” For a moment the elf wondered why she was trying so hard? It wasn’t as though they’d been particularly close in Kirkwall and even if he were aware Anders would never accept her help. Or anyone’s. In fact it seemed as though....

“He wants this, doesn’t he Justice?” The spirit stilled and Merrill had her answer. This was just like after the Chantry seeking retribution for his actions. Merrill wondered why he felt this way, if it was for the same act or something new? Maybe he thought it a poetic end.

His body flinched as she palmed his forehead, it was so hot and clammy she was shocked anders was even alive.

“Please let me help him.” She spoke softly her fingers lightly brushing his loose hair back. “There’s so much good he could still do... No, that he needs to do.” Once the words left her the glow faded and a small smile appeared on her face. “Thank you, I’ll get Anders help.”

As Merrill made her way back to her clan to help bring anders someplace safe to rest she realized what had brought her out here and why she was trying so hard. She’d been lonely. Lonely for a long while.

——————

Merrill hadn’t told her clan members who anders was only that he was a man in need of help. And that was very true. It looked like every second was painful to him. At the very least he had no wounds to make it worse. But he was far skinnier than she’d expected.

As she worked on his medicine anders stirred. He wasn’t awake per-say, he was too weak for that, but he muttered some words. Not coherent enough for it to mean anything to Merrill but his expression told her he was afraid.

“Rest.” She cooed, gently rubbing the balm she’d mixed over his forehead. “All will be well.” Slowly his brow relaxed “See feeling better already.” The elf smiled gently it was so odd being the one to care for a healer. An odd luxury she knew as he’d never allow it were he conscious.

——————

Anders awoke slowly feeling oddly good. The serenity of waking however was quickly replaced with fear. This wasn’t the woods, it was a tent, how did he get here? Did Justice... his head hurt too much to concentrate. All the man knew was that he needed his staff and he had to leave.

He tried to get up off the small cot but found his limbs to weak from atrophy and over use of magic. Justice had warned him of this and now he wished he’d listened. The sickness itself wasn’t helping matters.

As he tried to move Anders was vaguely aware of sounds from outside the tent. People a good lot of them going about their business. He had no idea how he might make an escape with so many walking about so he stopped trying to move allowing himself to rest.

If he was to die so be it, that was the plan anyway.

“Oh good you’re up.” The familiar chipper voice of Merrill called. Anders had not expected to see that she was the one who moved him.

“Merrill how did..” He asked before doubling over in pain as he tried to sit up.

“Oh no! here let me help.” Placing her bowls down she carefully helped him sit up, glad he was conscious. “You’re still ill not to mention all that magic you used, it’ll be a bit before you’re body can support you again.”

Merrill looked older Anders noted to himself as she went to retrieve a bowl, it was something in her eyes mostly rather than her face that still seemed youthful. But there was a tiredness to her, more cautious less excitable.

“Here try to eat something.” She offered with a spoonful raised and ready for him to eat. Anders hadn’t seen real food in what felt like years and the porridge she offered smelt wonderful, but...

“I can feed myself.” His reply was met with a soft chuckle.

“You’re shaking hands say different.” Merrill was right and she knew it, still it felt a little odd for Anders he wasn’t a child. “Cmon now I can’t give you more medicine on an empty stomach. And feeding you asleep was no good.” Carefully she blew on the food as Anders chuckled in dismay at the idea.

“Are you serious? Why would you..” Was all he could get out as the spoon was shoved in his mouth.

“There not so bad right?” She had a smug look on her face and while he normally would have retorted that what she’d done was dangerous all he could say was,

“That’s really good.” Gladly opening his mouth for another spoonful, given more gently this time.

“It’s mushroom porridge, Karah’s specialty.” She giggle enjoying this act of feeding someone else.

“How have I never had it before?” Another eager mouthful and another sweet giggle.

“It’s a Daelish dish that’s why.”

“Then we Shems are missing out.” They both laughed at that, while she scooped more.

“I’m glad. That you can still laugh.” If she took away the tent and the longer hair and the obvious lack of eating Merrill could almost pretend they were back in Kirkwall. “I was worried when I found you like that....”

A person with more tact might have told Merrill ‘thank you’ or reassured her worry. But then Anders was never very tactful.

“How did you get me out of there?” Was what Anders asked with a bitter tang of suspicion. One so obvious even Merrill picked up on it.

“Well I didn’t use blood magic if that’s what you’re inferring.” One thing she never wanted to relive was Anders constant nagging on the subject why he was worse than the keeper. “I just had a talk with Justice then got some help carrying you is all.” Her matter of fact tone struck him for a moment.

“What do you mean you had a talk?” Justice wasn’t the sort to be reasonable on the best days. But Merrill wanted the subject changed and shushed him with the porridge.

“Come now it’ll get cold and I’d like to eat my share as well.” Anders found he had to relent there for good manners if nothing else. He was alive and recovering due to her charity even if he’d have rather...

“They dont know who you are.” she spoke up once he finished eating getting her own bowl.

“What?”

“My clan.” She explained between mouthfuls. “They just think you’re a human I know.”

For a moment he considered what she just told him, lying to the clan that he was sure she was running wasn’t that....

“Alright then, time to get to work.” She announced abruptly taking the empty bowls as she moved.

“Um Merrill about your clan...”

“Oh yes isn’t it great!” She exclaimed with a glee she hadn’t shown since Kirkwall. “I never thought I’d be with a clan again let alone be the keeper of one. I’ll introduce you to everyone once you can walk again.”

Anders panicked a little at that promise causing him to feel dizzy for a moment. His body steady at the feeling of Merrill’s small hands over his, a small vile placed inside.

“Do you think you can manage to drink this?” She asked gently, worry clear in her eyes. Carefully he nodded, he’d already imposed enough on her. “Good. Drink amnd get some rest.”

After doing as she bid Anders fell into a deep restful sleep, waking up hours later once more to the smell of food. A comfort he hadn’t known for a long time.

“Merrill there’s something I have to ask....” Anders interrupted the meal with some reservations.

“Don’t worry I was the one who changed them.” Merrill reacted quickly enjoying her food.

“What?”

“Your clothes. I was the one who changed them so don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I... Wait you what!?!?”

Anders had been too tired to notice before but sure as day his old worn clothes had been replaced with a loose pair of slightly short linen clothes. His cheeks turned red at the realization then that his underclothes were as well missing.

“Oh don’t be so embarrassed you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” Yet even as she said this a hint of red could be seen on her cheeks. “Though I must admit it was a bit....different from what I expected...”

“WHAT?!” His head raced trying to understand why she even had expectations about his, neither regions.

“Oh well you know from the way Isabela use to describe it.” She giggled at the memory while Anders frowned. Isabela was hardly accurate in her story telling and while a part of him wanted Merrill to clarify what she meant another did not want to know.

“You are aware Isabela only saw it once right?” He grumbled taking a large bite of the cooked fish she offered him, glad to have control of his hands once more. Still Merrill only giggled to herself.

“I miss her you know, she sends letters but... it’s not the same.” She sighed looking off from her seated place beside him. “I’ve been missing a lot of things lately...”

Silently Anders had to agree there was, after all, a time back then when he was actually happy in Kirkwall. A hazy warm glow of comfort that no one could take from him, not even himself.

“Oh but you wanted to ask me something.” Merrill chirped once finished moving to a chest at the other side of the tent to remove her bulkier armaments.

“Yes I just....” For once Anders wanted to think of his words carefully looking down to poke at his food in thought. “Look I’m grateful for everything you’ve done but...why did you do it?”

“You needed help so I helped you.” Was her simple response as it was a simple question.

“Can’t you see you’re putting your clan in danger?” He shouted maybe a little louder than he had intended, but couldn’t she see how foolish she was being? Then again to Anders Merrill seemed to regard he choices far too simply.

“I’m not about to have you lecture me on what is and isn’t dangerous.” Her voice never raised but there was an edge to it that told Anders to drop whatever point he was thinking of making. In an odd way it reminded him of Aveline. With an almost maternal sort of care Merrill took the plate Anders and long since ignored.

“If however you feel indebted then there is something I wanted to ask of you once you’re well.” She spoke in her normal tone. An olive branch that Anders nodded to take. “There’s a young girl here with us, a mage.”

“You’re more than capable of teaching her.” He spoke up for all his taunting he knew Merrill to be an excellent mage. But she softly shook her head.

“Not for what she wants to learn. Her mother was a healer and she wishes to follow in her footsteps.” And then Anders understood. “I never really had a knack for it, I’ve taught her the basics but....what she wants to learn i can’t teach her.”

“But I could.” With a soft smile she nodded. This wasn’t the reason she’d helped him but she’d never turn it down.

“The clan would benefit greatly if you taught her your skill.” She’d always been impressed by his healing magic, he made it look so easy.

“Would a daelish really want to learn from a Shem though?”

“Oh that’s not a problem, she isn’t dalish.”

“What?”

“You’ll see when you meet her, but for now sleep.”

While Anders wanted to know what exactly merrill meant but that the question was dropped as the elf crawled onto the other side of the cote.

“Is this where you’ve been sleeping?” He had wondered that briefly before as there was only one in the tent.

“Where else would I sleep?” She replied with a yawn settling in as she’d done the nights before. As her head rested though she felt his body move. “What are you doing?”

“I....well I just thought...” it felt wrong taking so much from her.

“It’s not a problem Anders besides...” her hand reached out tugging him back in place. “It gets cold at night.”

With that he relented lying down with ease beside her. As he began to relax he felt a pair of hands on his back. Gentle and warm.

“Merrill...”

“I joked earlier but.....” she moved her hands in soothing circles that mirrored her voice. “The scars, they’re very old aren’t they?”

“....yes” there were a million things he could say, that he wanted to say but they all failed in comparison to her gentle care.

“I’m sorry.” At that Anders let out a bitter little laugh.

“Oh did a blood mage make those? Could’ve sworn a Templar did.” But Merrill didn’t take his bait only snuck her arms around him in a loose embrace.

“Someone ought to apologize.”

He didn’t fight her after that, she was right it got cold at night.

—————————————

To say Anders was confused by the sight of Merrill’s clan once he finally made a recovery was an understatement. He viewed them as they went about their day curiously, not that that was the odd part. Amongst those clearly elvan dalish or otherwise there were humans and quite a few half elves or those with elvan blood. He’d seen dalish clans take in those of their blood but humans? Never.

Merrill found herself rather amused at his surprise, after Kirkwall she doubted she could ever live among only the dalish again.

After helping the elves of Kirkwall many chose to stay with her some out of respect others out of a desire to understand the old ways. It grew slowly over the years, dalish like herself frustrated with the rules came to join and humans who found themselves the lover of an elf sought her to take part for them. There were even some humans with a genuine interest in the old ways and living simply that were welcomed.

“I suppose it’s a clan of odds and ends that just don’t fit anywhere else.” She explained and Anders thought it suited her well.

She introduced him to the girl that would be his student, a young half elf. The girl was quick to study and eager to learn the task Merrill had given him hardly a challenge.

Months passed as he taught the girl not that they were ever at a loss for practice. The clan was by no means small and there was always someone with a problem to attend to. Not to mention word slipping out of a new healer in the woods. And that’s all he was here a human healer.

Anders days were spent in anonymity, teaching those you wanted to listen and assisting where he could. It was in these days he saw the troubles of the elvan, troubles he chose to ignore when Merrill had told him back in Kirkwall. It shamed him a little his past self, he wondered if it was Justices tendencies for fixation or his own.

Merrill enjoyed watching Anders go about his day, he looked well and truly alive. But if she were honest she was truly grateful for the nights. It was nice to speak so casually with someone, to complain and whine without worry. Sometimes it shocked her how much the little things piled up. As nice as it was though she rather expected this conversation to come.

“Merrill I heard your idea about moving the clan....”

“Can I braid your hair!” She blurted out quickly causing great confusion to him.

“What?”

“It’s just it’s soooooo pretty and I’ve wanted to ask you since back in Kirkwall

I just could never figure out a good way to do it. So I figured why not just ask.” Before she’d lose the chance to.

“I um I suppose that’s alright.” He shrugged he never thought his hair all that special but the glee in her eyes told him otherwise.

“Oh thank you! You won’t regret it.”

Quickly she got her supplies before settling herself behind him all the while Anders laughed softly at her. A kind good natured laugh he’d almost forgotten he could make and she rather enjoy coaxing out.

Merrill was slow in her work and careful, her comb and fingers gentle as they worked the knots out from the day. Anders couldn’t help but sigh contently at the treatment.

“It occurs to me that this is the first time someone has combed and braided my hair for me.” He confessed, when he was a boy it was much too short for his mother to have done as such. If he remembered right.

“That’s so sad..” she replied gently parting the hair as she made her way.

“Is it?” He’d never really thought of it before but...

“If you like I could do it for you once a week.” It was a kind offer, not meant as true temptation but it was one all the same. Merrill was not very good at hiding her intent.

“Merrill...” He signed out. “You are aware I’m nearly done teaching Karel.” It wasn’t a question it was a statement, they both knew she was very aware.

“Oh! Well that’s good.” She avoided his insinuation easily pretending to be focused solely on her task.

“And I heard about your suggestion to use a nearby deep roads for travel.” She tugged a good deal tighter in her work then. “Hey! Not my fault you’re bad at being sneaky.” That only earned him another harsh tug at his hair and silence. “Honestly What were you planning to do after that?” To that merrill finally replied.

“I hadn’t planned that far ahead.” She confessed.

Anders had a dozen different questions or accusations for the elf that continued to fuss with his hair. But one ate him more than any other and had for some time.

“Why do you always do this?” He let out causing her to stop in confusion.

“Braid your hair?” He snorted at that.

“No. Not braid my bloody hair. This! This...” he tried desperately to vocalize what exactly it was. “Helping me, protecting me, acting like I’m something....like I’m something worth saving....when I’m not.”

The tent grew quiet then save for the noise outside. Neither moved or spoke at his words. Even Merrill was at a loss for what he’d confessed to feeling. Of course she’d thought this the case but never that he’d say it. Carefully she set back to her work weaving a simple braid around his temples.

“Because you are.” She said softly and earnestly, only for him to scoff.

“No I’m not, everyone knows it. Even Hawke...” he could still remember that day so clearly the look in her eyes still haunted him.

“Hawke was just hurt,” She corrected him weaving the two braids together at the middle.

“I would have died that day if not for you.” His tone was filled with resentment at that. “I saw it in her eyes if you hadn’t spoken out for me...”

“She would have regretted it.” She tried to ignore what his tone meant, tying off the end of the braid. “Hawke misses you so does Varric and if you would just...”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why did you speak for me then?” He turned to look at her confused face. “I’ve wondered that for years. We were never close, I undermined you at every turn, we’re the positions reversed I’d have told Hawke to kill you.”

There was no surprise on her face at his words Merrill had always know this to be true. The look of sympathy for him in her eyes though, that had him unable to look at her pacing about the tent to try and focus on anything else.

“I just...it would be better for everyone if..”

“If what? If your perished and Justice walked about in your corpse?” It was the first time she snapped back at him Anders wasn’t sure what surprised him more. Her tone or that she knew what he was thinking.

“Yes it would.”

“Well I disagree.”

“Why?” He growled back not wanting to shout and wake everyone.

After a moment of thought she answered. “I suppose it’s because you’re a lot like the Eluvean.”

“Well that stings.” He laughed bitterly kicking the dirt underfoot. “But accurate, a cursed thing of magic that should be left to rot....” she frowned at him.

“That’s not what I meant.” Merrill replied sternly.

She closed the distance between them quickly. Long delicate fingers hooking under his jaw to force him to look in her eyes as she spoke. For she refused to let him sully her words in self depreciation.

“You are a lovely broken thing Anders, and there’s still good you can do in this world.” Her words were sure and strong, and so very gentle as her thumbs made soothing circles on his cheeks. “I see it, Justice sees it, he’d have never let me help otherwise. It pains me so that you can’t see it.”

He was in awe of her words and sighed in defeat, his own hands covering hers.

“This coming from the elf who saw her own life worth less than a mirror?” He tried to joke.

“Well I suppose we both have trouble seeing our own values.” She replied with a soft laugh, enjoying the feel of his hands.

“Even if I stay Merrill....it wouldn’t be for long. The taint will catch up with me if nothing else....” he couldn’t say if he was trying to scare her off or convince himself to leave but she only smiled.

“Then it’s a good thing you have a blood mage sleeping by your side.”

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #da merrill #da anders #merrill and anders #da fanfic #fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

renaroo · 5 years ago

Text

Resonance (2/15)

Disclaimer: Spider-Man, Miles Morales, and associated characters are the creative property of Marvel Comics. Into the Spider-Verse and associated characters are creative property of Sony Pictures. Both of these things and neither of them are true, all I ask is to not be sued. Warnings: Teen Angst, Pregnancy, Mourning Pairings: PeterxMJ in many forms Rating: T Synopsis: Miles Morales is the brand new Spider-Man with all the responsibilities, burdens, and heartache therein. With the crowds being harder to please and his rogues gallery looking more formidible by each day, Miles doubts his competency as the one and only Spider-Man. At first, he looks to his predecessor’s support group for advice, and what he ends up getting is a lot more complications.

A/N: I am late by a whole day and I absolutely cannot apologize enough for those of you who were waiting for this update yesterday! There is no good excuse. As much as I’m still working and teaching, I had time to get this done before today and the delays were all my own laziness. I am so sorry! Hopefully I’ll get better and back in the swing of writing regular updates and have the next chapter out Friday!

That being said, I had a blast writing this chapter and am so excited to lay the ground work for the larger world Resonance will be taking place in! And I’m grateful for everyone who has shown their support for this fic so far!

Special shout outs to @babybatbrat, @secretlystephaniebrown, and @notatroll7 for their support on tumblr and AO3!! It means so very much, thank you!

Chapter Two: A Visit to Forest Hills

Miles looked into the mirror, hands gripping the sink, and turned his chin slowly side to side.

“This sucks,” he surmised to his reflection. He groaned as he reached up and drug his hands down his face only to predictably flinch at the pain from his bruised jawline.

The bruises on his jaw were molted looking, purpled and pinked shining against his dark skin. It was noticeable, especially in how puffy his neck had grown overnight. But, he supposed, it at least wasn’t over his cheek or one of his eyes. That would have been near impossible to cover.

Sighing, Miles looked over and poked suspiciously at the scarf Ganke had offered him.

His thoughts on the scarf did not have too much time to develop, however, as the bathroom door came swinging open. Said roommate shouldered on in, carrying a load of books and papers.

“Hey, man, you need to knock before busting on into places like this!” Miles croaked, voice still sounding off and sore.

“I knew what you were doing in here, you were starring in the mirror and complaining,” Ganke said, putting down the laundry basket full of books and beginning to dump them out on the floor. The moment it was clear, he began picking up the towels sprawled around the tile. He still hadn’t looked up to make eye contact.

“Dude,” Miles groaned, dropping his shoulders to give further effect to his full-body eye roll. “I’m not complaining!” As the eye roll ended, Miles’ shoulders hitched and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. From the new angle, he could see even more of the bruise purpling the skin just beneath his ear. He reached up and tenderly stroked it. “Aw, man.”

Catching himself, Miles glanced down toward Ganke just as Ganke was looking up to raise an eyebrow at him.

Forcing a cough, Miles cleared his throat. “A-anyway, thanks for the scarf. Looks like I’ll definitely be using it today. But maybe I can, like, spider-heal up quick or something.”

Ganke’s brows knitted together in confusion. “You still don’t know all your powers?” he asked critically.

Despite himself, Miles shrugged. “Hey, I had like ten minutes with the first guy and, like, less than a day with everyone else. I’m lucky I learned the web-shooters were mechanical.”

Any time Peter Parker — their Peter Parker — came up in conversation, no matter how casual Miles attempted to make it, Ganke shifted uncomfortably. It was like he suddenly couldn’t get enough room between the two of them when he remembered that Miles was not that Spider-Man.

It was enough to make Miles mildly uncomfortable as well.

“It’s something you’ve got to find out,” Ganke said determinedly. “You’ve gotta find all of this stuff out about your body and your powers and, well, how you don’t end up Spider-Splat. It’s really kind of negligent for you not to, Miles.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Miles said, glancing at the mirror again to get more of a look at the rest of his body.

His jaw had its workout, but it was the rest of Miles’ body that had taken the brunt end of the punishment from his tangling with Electro the day before. And it had definitely been the rest of his body that he had felt that morning after he rolled out of bed an hour later than his morning workout schedule had required.

As far as he and Ganke had been able to determine, there were no broken bones, but Miles’ arms, legs, and ribs were a patchwork of angry bruising.

Worst of all, though, was the ugly open sores on his back, black and red with the skin singed. He had made the mistake of brushing his fingers over it the night before when Ganke was helping him clean them, but he hadn’t attempted again.

“Imagine if that suit wasn’t insulated,” Ganke whistled, his gaze following Miles’ own.

“Dude, after yesterday, I’m not even sure I believe it is,” Miles whined.

“Oh, it definitely is, or else you’d be crispier,” Ganke replied easily, picking up the basket of dirty towels to take out of the bathroom. “Remember those pictures we looked up last night?”

Gagging, Miles shivered. “How could I not, dude? I’m scarred for life now!” He looked worriedly at his back. “Um, hopefully only metaphorically.”

“Look on the bright side,” Ganke offered, shrugging his shoulders. “The worst of it can be covered with your uniform. People may notice you walking stiff, but at least it’s not going to be visible like it is on your face.”

“Yeah, real great,” Miles sighed, finally reaching for his neatly folded uniform on the side of the sink’s basin. “Guess I should think ahead for those situations, though. Never really worried about it before, but I guess that could be something kind of regular if that’s what one of the old Spider-Man’s basic baddies is capable of doing.”

“You could just not get hit,” Ganke deadpanned. “Always the best option in my opinion.”

“Gee, thanks for the stellar advice, man,” Miles grumbled as he pulled on his undershirt. Try as he might maneuver around it, the fabric grazed over the burns and caused a chill of pain to rush outward through his spine. He bit his lip to keep from getting too loud, but couldn’t avoid the rush of strung together expletives from sputtering out of his mouth.

Panting, Miles felt the wave of shock pass him. He opened his eyes to see Ganke’s shocked expression.

Grimacing at himself, Miles finished tenderly pulling down on the rest of his undershirt. “Um. I meant ow.”

“Hmm,” Ganke said in response, leaning back against the doorframe.

“Hey, my dad’s a cop. I’ve picked up a few choice expressions,” Miles defended, grabbing the rest of his uniform.

“It’s not that,” Ganke dismissed, tilting his head curiously. “Did you think about what I said yesterday? About getting some medical-grade supplies to keep in our room for stuff like this? I think it’s going to be a smart move.”

“I thought the best option was to not get hit,” Miles retorted.

“I’m being serious here,” Ganke said in earnest.

“And I’m definitely not using my weekend trip to stock up on my mom’s nursing stuff,” Miles groaned. “Do you know how much she’d freak if she even saw this bruise? I got a scab on my knee once and she had me elevate it and ice it for the rest of the afternoon!”

Ganke hummed again, glancing toward the door to leave. But he lingered instead of making his way out.

“Miles, you gotta get supplies, start being more prepared,” Ganke lectured. “Like with your web-shooters.”

“I know, man,” Miles grunted, popping his head through the cream vest of his uniform and finally putting on the last layers of clothing. “How quick do you think we can whip up replacement fluid in chemistry lab today?”

That caused a sputtering of noise from Ganke before he violently shook his head. “What? No way, dude, I told you. Until I know exactly what I’m doing, I am not going to make that web shooter fluid for you. I don’t want to—“

Throwing his head back, Miles moaned at the ceiling. “I know, I know. You don’t want to be the guy who killed the new Spider-Man. I get it.” He rolled his head carefully, avoiding the sporadic shots of pain from his jaw as much as he could. When he met Ganke’s gaze, he tried to look as emphatic as possible. “If we don’t make our own, though, I’m going to have to go get some. And if I do that, it means I’ll have to, you know,” he motioned with his arms, “go and see, like, her again. And I just don’t know if I can handle that level of awkward.”

“You’re going to have to,” Ganke said pointedly. “And why wouldn’t you want to see her? She seems like a cool old lady. And you said she was supporting you. And made tea. What more could you want?”

“Uh, to not remind an old lady constantly that her nephew-slash-son died and I’m going around wearing his hand-me-downs like a skin suit and taking his identity,” Miles countered quickly. “That’s kind of how I would like to live my life — spider-wise or other — if I could.”

“Well you can’t, at least not today,” Ganke argued, shouldering the door to leave.

Miles was more than prepared to leave the conversation where it stood. He stepped forward, though, and immediately felt his foot slipping from beneath him. Catching himself on the wall, Miles glanced around the floor of the bathroom. Where his foot had been was one of the several notebooks and papers.

“Hey! Wait!” Miles called, just in time to get Ganke to half step back and look over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Ganke asked back.

“Why’d you throw all my books and stuff on the floor? What was the point of that?”

“Oh, while you were healing up last night, I did some partial work for the classes you skipped the homework for,” Ganke answered nonchalantly. “It’s not everything, but it’s better than zero and failing.”

Miles blinked in surprise. “Whoa, really? I don’t even know what to say to that, dude, that’s really cool of you. And unexpected. Thanks.” He then looked back down to the mess on the floor. “Wait, no, that still didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, I knew the teachers needed to believe it was yours and had been shoved into a backpack overnight, so some wear and tear needed,” Ganke shrugged again.

“You are an evil genius, Ganke Lee,” Miles grinned, bending over to begin picking the books up.

“If I were, you chose a poorly in who to reveal your identity to, gotta say,” Ganke answered, rotating his wrist as he walked on to finish up his morning. “Please don’t ruin my scarf. My mom got it for me.”

“Scarf?” Miles repeated before snapping his fingers. “Oh, right! Good call!”

He grabbed his books from the floor and Ganke’s scarf from the sink counter before finishing up his morning.

From his morning onward, Miles’ school day was a practice in anxiety. More than once, he felt the eyes of his peers falling onto his scarf and looking perplexed or snide over it. It was enough to make the hairs on Miles’ skin stand on edge. He’d whirl around in the halls to see the faces of the people staring at him.

Each time he turned, however, he never found any eyes lingering on his wardrobe. At least not for long enough to equate to the rush of anxiety deep in Miles’ person.

In hindsight, it made sense.

Miles didn’t have many friends at school still, and few would notice a change to his wardrobe which still fell into the dress code.

In fact, Miles saw several scarves and scrunchies worn by students which were out of academy colors and arguably could have been called out but weren’t.

After lunch, Miles’ tension had left his body and he was instead looking more toward the anxiety of his chemistry lab with Ganke. Despite Ganke’s pleas, Miles was determined to talk his roommate into making some web fluid for him. He argued, mostly to himself, that it only made sense to become self-sufficient. To not bother May Parker all of the time.

He was so consumed with thinking through his debate with Ganke, that by English lit class, Miles had forgotten himself and began feeling very stuffy and hot.

Pulling on his scarf, Miles sighed and leaned back against the metal desk chair.

A jolt of pain radiated out from Miles’ back and he leaped to his feet with a yowl. His arms stretched back, reaching for the source of pain before Miles head began to throb with sharpened anxiety.

Looking around, Miles realized the entire classroom plus his teacher were staring at him. The looks ranged from surprise to giggling.

“Oh,” Miles muttered before offering a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry about that.” He lowered his hands and began to sink back into his seat only for the teacher’s throat to clear.

“Mister Morales,” he fussed, eyes beady behind thick wireframe glasses. “Is there something you would like to share about Wuthering Heights? Or do you have a spider crawling down your back?”

The students giggled in response, many shifting to glance toward their friends.

“Uh, probably the last one,” Miles said, sinking toward his seat again.

“Probably?” the teacher asked. “As in you aren’t sure if there’s a spider crawling down your back?”

Shiftily moving his eyes around the room, Miles grimaced. “I mean, I’m not a fan of, uh, spiders, so hopefully not? We could just, uh, keep talking about the old British people.”

That earned a few other giggles from the students, but they didn’t work to relax Miles exactly. Especially not when he realized the teacher was still staring intently at him.

“Mister Morales, is that some sort of rash on your neck?” he asked.

“What?” Miles asked before reaching up to his jawline and realizing there was no longer a scarf covering him. “Oh, uh,” he stuttered before his mind clicked with an idea. “Oh, shoot, I think maybe it was a spider after all. I should, like, go to the nurse!” He glanced toward the teacher, watching as the man straightened his glasses. “Please?”

The moment his teacher nodded in affirmation, Miles gathered up his belongings and booked it out into the hallway. As soon as the door closed behind him, Miles leaned against the nearest wall and let out a long, heralding breath.

He was not going to the nurse, but he suddenly lacked his appetite for class and for debating Ganke to make his new web shooter fluid.

Rubbing a hand down his face, Miles sighed. “Aw, man,” he moaned to himself and shook his head.

While he had only had the opportunity to be with his mentor for the better part of a day, and the other Spider-People even less, Miles had learned quite a few things from them. Things that had carried into daily life ever since.

Some he wished he had paid more attention to from the start, like with using the bus whenever possible.

Perhaps if he had, it would have saved him some web fluid over the month.

Miles took the advice more that day, though, because he had no web shooter fluid and even with spider-heightened endurance, Forest Hills was a fairly long walk from Brooklyn.

While Miles had made a point of not visiting the Parker house, he had the memory of the location burned into his memory. The neighborhood played out easily in his nightmares.

Walking from the closest bus stop, Miles couldn’t stop himself from pausing at a gated off alley, his eyes falling on broken pavement and tattered brick.

It made his chest tight and his body heavy to look down on the alley. It was barren save for the trash bin. But, for Miles, it was as haunted as any place in the city could be.

Mouth dry, Miles glanced over to the wall where he threw up the memorial to his uncle a month ago. It was already faded some, the sun must have hit the alley more than Miles estimated. He should have risked putting a finish on it, but then his father would have eventually noticed it and had questions about how Miles knew where Uncle Aaron had died.

It took a painstaking moment for Miles to finally rip himself away from the alley and continue the less than a block from the bus stop to the two-story home of May Parker.

In the last month, Uncle Aaron’s onsite memorial had faded obscurely in the background for most people, but the stacks in memoriam to Peter Parker seemed to be ever-growing, ever-changing. Wooden stars of David lined with bows and web decorated masks, candies and stuffed animals, pictures, melted candles, paper floats, weighted down balloons. It was impressive and daunting. And, a month later, more than a little messy.

Just from his small contact with May Parker, Miles had to imagine that she was not a fan of her yard becoming a cheap reminder of her son every day. The pain of it — similar to that pain for Uncle Aaron which had kept Miles away from Forest Hills — had to be unbearable.

For Miles, though, the real surprise came from the bent and folded signs which underscored the same message. RIP the REAL Spider-Man. Missed NOT FORGOTTEN OR REPLACED.

The last one caught his eye as he stood at the start of the sidewalk.

Thinking back to his missed lit class, Miles pulled out one of his fat sharpies and frowned. He leaned over and scribbled a messy N onto the sign so that NOR read more correctly on the board.

Running out of distractions and delays, Miles finally walked up toward the house and reached out to knock on the door when he heard low voices from the other side of the wall. He hesitated, eyes narrowing intently on the doorknob before he leaned in.

“I should have been here more, May, I’m sorry,” he heard a faintly familiar voice say. “Truth be told, I haven’t been much of anywhere since…”

Glancing away from the door, Miles could see that the lone front window had the glow of light. He knew there was a living room on the other side and that it would be awkward to explain his presence to most company.

He should turn around and come back another time. But the voice was so familiar he just had to know where he knew it from.

Glancing around the neighborhood, Miles made certain he wasn’t going to be seen before he reached out with both hands and begun sticking to the siding of the house.

After crawling toward the window, Miles timidly stuck his head down to look upside-down through the Parker house and catch a glimpse of May sitting on the plastic-lined couch with her guest.

The flash of brilliant red hair, the designer coat — Miles knew almost immediately who he was looking at.

“Mary Jane,” he mumbled to himself.

May reached forward and took Mary Jane’s hands into her own, squeezing them affectionately. “I know,” May said affectionately. She sounded heartbroken. “The important thing now, though, is we’re in this together. And I mean that.”

That was all May needed to say before Mary Jane let out a loud sob, folding forward and only catching herself on May’s shoulder before continuing to cry.

The two women held each other for a long time.

It made Miles feel intrusive and dirty to witness the moment. He cringed as he pulled himself back and away from the window.

Whatever was going on with the two Parker women didn’t involve him, and there was no telling how long that they would be wrapped up in their emotions. As they deserved to be.

Miles knocking on the door and blurting out Hey, Ms. P, mind lending me more of your nephew’s stuff? was downright ghoulish.

Still, he came all the way out to the middle of Queens, and Miles needed to make sure he spent as much time away for the second time as possible.

Everything in Forest Hills was too raw. For him. For Aunt May. For everyone.

But Miles only had enough fare on him for a one-way trip to Forest Hills. He had nothing to get him back because he was supposed to be able to make his own way back.

“Man,” Miles whined to himself.

Sticking to the walls, Miles climbed upward, away from the window and the all-too-private moment. By the time he reached the rooftop, it was simple enough to flip onto the top and walk to the back slope of the roofing.

He glanced over the obvious patches and still present damage to the singles. For a moment, he hesitated and wondered if he should have done more to repair the damage from the large fight he brought to May’s doorstep. A pang of regret came over his system.

Pushing it down, Miles shook his head and tried to focus on the immediate needs he could address.

The moment his feet hit the grounds of the backyard, Miles could feel what he needed to do. May had told him before that she rigged the shed entrance to let him have access whenever he needed it. And Miles, while appreciative, had made a point of avoiding needing it until that moment.

The lock popped off, a faint glow of a spider emblem dazzling Miles again as he approached.

It was still amazing — that May and Peter had built so much with so little available to them. Miles knew they had connections, access, experience with science and fields that would have made Ganke’s eyes swim in confusion. But walking onto the platform and descending into the original Spider-Man’s lair still felt like a dream.

Once he began to descend, Miles noticed voices and explosive glows of alternating colors. His eyes widened as he recognized some of the lights and sounds to be of the other Spider-People’s portals — mysteriously showing up on the large computer screens below. There were also, though, images and people he had never seen before.

“That looks suspicious,” Miles said, flipping his backpack around and quickly changing while the platform still descended.

The moment his suit was in order, Miles threw his backpack over his back and crouched, eyes narrowed. His body flickered into nothingness as he easily camouflaged into the world around him.

There was nothing too out of the ordinary beyond the computer screens. He crawled in preparation of things changing, but it continued to seem ordinary.

“Maybe Ms. Parker still comes down here,” he decided out loud, circling the main areas of the lair.

He came to a stop in front of the gala of costumes where he had taken his own. He looked and, with some apprehension, saw a new suit where his had once been.

It was tattered and bloody, broken up in pieces, with the eye lens shattered out.

Miles had seen the suit before, but not on a mannequin.

Slowly, Miles dropped his camouflage and continued to stare at the suit his hero had died in. He could see himself — small and insignificant, his face barely overlapping with Peter Parker’s chest.

Slowly, Miles reached up and placed his hand on the glass, pressing against the spider of Peter’s chest, running his thumb across it. He didn’t know if it was an apology, an appreciative thanks, or if it was anything at all.

All Miles knew was that it felt like there was more than glass and a few centimeters of empty space between himself and the Spider-Man who used to be.

His senses blared, a tickling feeling down his spine and neck.

Miles pulled his hand from the glass and looked over his shoulder just as the lift began to ascend without him.

Irrationally, his first thought was ghost.

Again, screaming that time, his senses picked up and Miles dropped to the floor just before a green blur sliced through the air with enough force to bust open several of the glass display cases.

“Well, well, well,” a very familiar voice spoke in delight from behind Miles. He looked to her — seeing the familiar wild hair, eyes beady behind thick octagonal glasses, and a sharp, pointed face. “If it isn’t Peter’s little invisible friend back again.”

“Dock Ock?” Miles gasped.

#Miles Morales #Spiderman #Ganke Lee #May Parker #Mary Jane Watson #writing #spider fic #Spider: Resonance

7 notes · View notes

jpat82 · 6 years ago

Text

Wade and the Wedding Planner

It had been a week, a solid week of dealing with your sister. Tom kept sneaking hints at when she would leave and as usual Kay would make up an excuse as to why she was staying. You had just put Wade’s food bowl down, and you could hear the sound of his webbed feet making a straight line for the kitchen when your sister came into the door way effectively block the small bird from one his joys in life.

“I’m so excited.” She exclaimed clasping her hand together, grinning. Wade quacked behind her, trying to poke his head around her leg, but she shifted that direction. “You’ll never believe who I got to be your planner.”

“Planner?” You asked looking over, trying to figure out what was keeping Wade from his food.

“Your wedding planner, silly.” She remarked, the quacking intensified behind her. The bird started to angrily peck at the back of her heeled boots, his feathers starting to ruffle.

“Wedding Planner? I don’t need a wedding planner.” You stated, coming around the corner as Wade started to ninja chop your sister. “Could you please move, Wade is hungry.”

Your sister looked down, the angry bird glaring up at her making a low hissing noise in the back of his throat. She stepped out of the way, the bird slowly walked past her, his eyes never leaving her till he was at his bowl.

“Sis, everyone needs a planner. And this guy is the best there is. He’ll make it look like a royal wedding.” She gushed, reaching to grab your hands. You closed your eyes, knowing that even if you wanted to tell her no this she would still argue till you gave in on it.

“Fine, I’ll meet him, but I’m not promising to use him.” You remarked as she squealed with delight.

Two hours later your door bell rang and groaned internally, what your sister didn’t tell you until after you agreed was that he was already on his way. She knew how much you hated last minute plans, and yet like everything else she couldn’t grasp the concept. And that’s why you were opening the door to Rodney Barry, the worlds top wedding planner.

He was a short man, head full of white hair, small glass frames sat upon his nose, and false warm smile. He clasped your hands firmly as you opened the door all the way for him. Wade came sprinting to the door, feathers trailing in his wake. He stopped and waited a bit for the man to recognize that he was there. Rodney stopped before he said two words to you and look down as the duck tilted his head up at him.

“What is that?” He asked bewildered.

“That is Wade.” You replied with a sigh, picking the animal up from the ground, opening the tin and retrieve a mealy worm for him. He happily gobbled it down at you set him down. Wade waddle away, off to do who knows what.

“Oh, I’ve never seen one so featherless before.” He replied, as you shut the door.

“He has a condition that causes him to molt consistently.” You walked over to your couch, he sat down next to your sister on the love seat.

“So, isn’t this exciting, getting married.” He said enthusiastically. It almost made your eyes roll, like that was the only thing that mattered in life. “Let’s start with venues.”

“Actually Tom and I have found this beautiful church over near where his mom lives is so small and just breath taking.” You smiled remembering how perfect it had looked when the two of you stopped by his moms the last time.

“Actually there is Cathedral I think would be perfect, I mean you are going to have a large wedding. Your soon to be husband is famous and knows a lot of people.” He stated, leaning forward a bit. “And I was thinking that a spring time wedding would be absolutely perfect for the both of you.”

“Tom and I have talked about when and we are both in agreement on the fall.” You smiled politely, Wade came waddling in. He stopped just inside the living room, surveying.

“Dearie, you don’t want the fall, everything is dying back, and it’s dreary.” He said, waving his hand at you, Wade watched the man’s hand intently, taking a step closer. “The spring is about new beginnings, full of life, fresh.”

“Yeah, and it rains a lot, considering we are having the reception is outside.” You explained, already feeling annoyed.

“Outside?!” He remarked, like as if nobody held a reception outside.

“Yeah, we were going to having it in the evening, that way we can have lights strung up on the gazebos.” You replied, Wade inching closer as the man waved his hand again.

“No, there is this cute little place in down town London, it’s big enough to fit the crowd you’ll have and it’s hip enough.” He argued back, Wade was on the floor next to the wedding planner eyes focused on the tips of his fingers.

“Look Mr. Barry, I appreciate your input but Tom and I agreed on all these things.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“Sis, just listen to him, he’s the best there is.” Kay remarked, giving him a huge smile.

“I’ve helped multiple celebrities with there marriages, I know how to make them memorable. I know what I’m doing, so, let’s talk about cakes.” His forced smile was short lived, cause it was about that time Wade launched his attack.

The avian hurdled himself up towards the couch, feathers flying every which way. Half molted wings smacking and chopping at the planner. A series of squawks and angry quacks could be heard over the man’s yelps in pain as Wade bit down on the man’s thin delicate fingers. You jumped from your seat, grasping onto the bird as he squirmed to break free of your hold.

“It bite me!” Rodney exclaimed, staring at the wiggling bird in your arms.

“Sorry, I’m not sure what has gotten into him, he’s never just attacked like that.” You replied, setting him on your lap, waiting for him to calm down.

“I.. I’m just in shock, I’ve never been bitten by a duck.” He chuckled, looking over to your sister.

“Yeah, it’s a peach.” Your sister said, forcing a smirk.

“Back to cakes.” He said. And so you spent the next three hours arguing with him and your sister.

You knew what you wanted, you wanted a small wedding. You wanted that church, and the reception in the fall, you were going to do your own cake. Wade was going to be the ring bearer, you even had a suit ordered for him, yet this man thought you didn’t know what you wanted. After he left, your sister went out for dinner, finally leaving you alone.

Tom came home and immediately grabbed the mouse cage, taking it up the stairs. You followed him, confused at first until he took it straight to the guest room where sister had taken up residence. He came out with a smirk, till he saw the look on your face.

“Darling, What’s the matter?” He asked, wrapping his arms around you.

“My sister forced a wedding planner on me.” You said, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m working on getting rid of her.” He replied, kissing your temple.

“I know, by the way, Wade bit him.” You smiled as you leaned back in his arms.

“You mean kind of like he’s doing to me now.” Tom chuckled, you looked down and saw the bird pecking lightly at his ankle repeatedly.

“No, he’s just saying hi and wants a bug. This was ninja bird and angry bird combined. He was beating him and snapping on his fingers.” You explained.

“Good Wade!” Tom smirked down as the duck tilted his head up at him. He let you go and lifted the duck up.

Wade cocked his head, looking at Tom. Wade slowly stretched his head toward Tom like he’s done countless times for a nuzzle. Tom smiled, pulling the duck into his chest closer. Just at the last moment the bird opened his beak and snapped it down on Tom’s nose.

“Wade!” He said slightly annoyed. He walked out of the room and down the hall you following, chuckling softly.

“He just missed you.” You giggled as you followed him back to your room.

“I know, but don’t let the planner get to you. We’ll do what we want, the small wedding with our families, minus your sister, and friends. The evening reception, you want to do our cake and Wade is the ring bearer. Who cares what him and you sister think.” Tom said, setting the duck down, after giving him a bug. You could hear the front door open and you sister head up the stairs. “It’s our wedding, and we will do what we want.”

“Thank you.” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“For what?” He asked before holding up his finger. A blood curdling scream came from upstairs making your fiancé laugh.

“For being you.” You smiled shaking your head as you heard your sister come hurtling back down the stairs.

@kitkatkl @octobermermaid @ajosieface @instantnoodlese @crystlblu @coffeebooksandfandom @thisismysecrethappyplace @jewels2876 @theoneanna @devilbat

#tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #wade the duck #wadetheduck

102 notes · View notes

shewhowantsmouseears · 6 years ago

Text

fake wedding dimeshipping nonsense!

So I don't remember if I've ever shared this here (possibly not, it was years ago) but since I've gotten more Dimeshipping fans on here, why not upload it? Years ago I had this idea of Scrooge and Magica (1987 DT + comics, which explains why I mashed Ratface and Poe into one being) pretending to get married to get Magica's family off her back, with all the shenanigans that would naturally ensue. I've tweaked it a bit since then, but here are some scenes I wrote all those years ago! And for the unfamiliar, yes, these are all canon characters -

Granny de Spell - Magica's well-meaning but overbearing blonde Granny. Rosolio - Dim-witted warlock who's in love with Magica. (I did make him an oocly jerk, and sometimes to insane degrees, but, well, again, this was written years ago XD) Witch Child - Magica's niece, because everybody's got nieces in disney. Samson Hex - Magica's so-called apprentice, who's not that talented. (admittedly i've never read any of his stories, just gleamed it off INDUCKS)

Anyway, here we go! warning, LONG AS HELL.

The only sounds filling the gigantic dining room were that of clinking silverware, and mouths chewing food. To the left side of the table was Magica's family - Granny sipping her wine contemplatively while eyeing Scrooge, with Poe on her shoulder offering sympathetic looks to his sister. Witch Child occasionally hummed, enjoying mushing the fancy food together to create new concoctions. Samson Hex's fork rhythmically tapped against the plate, too nervous from the tension to even think of eating. Rosolio was also looking at Scrooge, but his look contained more anger than curiosity, glaring daggers at the man who "stole" his woman.

To the right side of the table was Scrooge's family. The triplets were hiding their vegetables under their napkins, exchanging glances with themselves, and Webbigail, who easily enough entered into a staring contest with Witch Child (and lost.) Daisy was the only one smiling, doing her best to try and lift everyone's spirits, often complimenting on how delicious the food was. Donald was clearly struggling to keep his beak closed, chest shaking with suppressed laughter.

At the front end of the table stood Duckworth and Ms. Beakly, ready to serve more food at a moment's notice, but also looking for ways to escape this clearly awkward situation. At the other end of the table sat the "happy' couple", matched in their miserable expressions. Scrooge was doing his best to ignore the looks on him, cutting so hard into his beef that his plate began to suffer damage. Magica was swirling yet another sugar cube into her tea, no doubt by now more sugar than actual tea.

Suddenly Granny lifted her head, arms crossed. "I've just noticed something, dearie."

Magica raised the cup to her beak. "Enlighten me."

"We've been here for an entire week... and I have yet to see you kiss your future husband."

Magica spat out what little tea was in her mouth, Scrooge's knife split his plate, Rosolio dropped his utensils, Donald burst out into hysterical laughter, Daisy elbowed Donald in the ribs, and now all eyes were locked on the "couple". When the noise had settled, Magica and Scrooge looked at each other for the briefest of moments before returning Granny's attention.

"That's... that's..." Magica hesitated for the right words. "That's personal!"

Granny merely smirked. "Is it? I've seen Donald and Daisy do it six times these past few days, and they're only dating."

Donald promptly shut up, and Daisy rubbed her temples. Scrooge attempted to retaliate. "We're not very 'in' to public displays of affection."

"Is that so." Rosolio cut in, hands gripping the table. "If I were in your shoes, I'd never stop kissing her! If I wasn't some fiance-stealing crook, I'd kiss her right now!" He hissed. "But I'm a gentleman."

Scrooge grumbled deep in his throat, and looked to Daisy, clearly demanding some aide. She seemed to shrink in her seat a little from his intensity. "W-Well, uh... you just haven't been here long enough! Give them the right time and place, and they smooch up a storm, let me tell you." This was met with gags from the triplets, and Donald shoving bread into his mouth to keep from laughing all over again.

"I don't see anything wrong with this time and place." Granny replied, eyes never leaving her granddaughter. "Is asking for a kiss really such a difficult demand?"

"You're ruining a perfectly nice dinner." Magica glowered, standing up, chair pushed back. "All you ever do is demand things! You can't ever believe, you always need proof!" Scrooge had fallen silent at this point, lost in thought.

"You don't find it strange that a couple never kisses? I've barely seen you hold hands." Granny reached behind her to pat Poe's head. "Isn't that right, Poe?"

Poe was ready to molt from the glare Magica was giving him. "Uh... w-well... that is... oh, wow, that ham looks delicious, is anyone else going to have a slice?"

"What do I have to do to convince you, and get you out of my life, you horrid woman!" Magica screeched, slamming her palms down on the table. "Do I have to throw a parade about how much I love him? Write a novel about all of our affairs? I told you I'd get married, so I'm getting married, you're never satis-"

The next instant was a blur in Magica's mind when she would recall it later on. The "blur" was Scrooge ever so calmly getting out of his seat, and then, with all the speed of a cheetah, placing one hand on her cheek, his other fingers in her hair, and pressing his beak to hers as deeply as possible.

Simultaneously, everyone's jaws dropped - save for Donald, who had fallen backwards onto the floor, nearly in pain due to how much he was laughing. Magica's entire face had gone redder than the wine in Granny's cup, her body unable to move, frozen in place. She didn't even appear to be breathing. Was she even aware that they had become the center of attention? Her wide eyes didn't seem to be looking at Scrooge, but off, in the distance, trying to pinpoint some place of coherent thought, like she couldn't decide what to do or think. Time had gone still for her.

Then, slowly, to the note of everyone, her eyes lost that distance, and her muscles relaxed. Her eyelashes fluttered, before settling on closing completely, accepting, or pleased, or both. The color faded from her cheeks, though it was eternal in doing so. Just as quickly as it had started, it was ending, as Scrooge's hands left her face, and he pulled away from her. Their eyes opened, and it was impossible to tell what they were "telling" each other in those looks. Scrooge then promptly sat back down, adjusted his spectacles, and dabbed his beak with a napkin, as if nothing had happened at all. "Duckworth, I think we're all ready for some dessert."

"... Yes, sir." He was just grateful to leave the room for a few precious seconds.

Scrooge looked to Granny. "Satisfied?"

Granny didn't reply, but managed to close her mouth. She did, however, clear her throat, trying to get Magica's attention. As for Magica, she was still standing, eyes still transfixed, giving the impression she was half asleep. When she sat down, it was with certainly less finesse than Scrooge, loudly plopping down, nearly falling over, as if she'd been struck by lightning. Scrooge caught the entire spectacle, and couldn't help but wear a prideful little smile. He still had it.

"And that's when they're in public!" Daisy chirped.

~*~

"What in all hells was that?!" Magica screeched at Scrooge, once they were alone in his bedroom and trying to settle for the night.

Scrooge was buttoning his nightshirt, rolling his eyes at the tantrum. "If I didn't do that, they'd never shut up."

"You couldn't have warned me?" She sat on the bed, kicking her feet to show off her displeasure.

"What couple do you know that warns the other before they kiss?" He placed his nightcap on his head, and turned to her. "If you want this charade to work, we're going to have to be a lot more..." He shuddered to say it. "...affectionate, when your family is around."

Magica groaned, clutching herself, feeling her skin crawl, and leaned on a bed post. "Disgusting... why can't they just get back on their brooms and go home!"

She began to ramble once more about how much she hated her family, and so Scrooge tuned out, used to the rant. Would it kill her to be quiet for more than two minutes? He shook his head, reminding himself that all these headaches would be worth it. Soon enough, he'd be rid of her, and would actually be able to relax for a while. He rubbed his spectacles with his fingers, in a cheap attempt to clean them. Yes, soon, he'd be able to relax, and he'd have this entire room sanitized to get rid of any sign that she was ever there, that she was ever on his bed, in his bed...

... Get rid of any sign that he ever kissed her, that he ever held her, that he ever ran his fingers through that black hair that seemed to pool over with such soft and silky tenderness that he could feel it it for ages, that he ever pressed her delicate frame to his own body to feel her heart beat rapidly against his chest, that he ever looked into those deep eyes that never really reflected him but instead had their own cosmos of stars glittering inside to pull him in and never let go...

She flopped on the bed, sighing heavily, perhaps unaware that her thin nightgown was riding up past her long shapely legs. "Well?" She turned her head to him, some of her hair falling down her face. "What are you waiting for?"

His heart leaped into his throat - she surely didn't mean that. "What?!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Turn off the lights, I want to sleep already."

Oh. Right. Yes. Lights. Surely. That and nothing else. Dammit, she was getting to him. "Don't go around demanding things, free-loader." But the spectacles came off, the lights came off, and the ducks were soon enough both in bed, as far apart from each other as possible, as per the norm.

Once again, they had something in common - both remained wide awake, thinking over the day.

~*~

Ever since Magica De Spell had been forced to live within his mansion, Scrooge McDuck made sure she was never alone, so she couldn’t pull any schemes involving his dime. So that evening, when he walked into his library and realized the woman was completely alone, there was a mild panic within him. Nearly slamming the door behind him, he nearly forgot why he had entered the room in the first place as he stormed up to her, temper flared. “And just what do you think you’re doing!”

The sorceress had been lounging on a long sofa, surrounded by photo albums, and casually glanced up at him. “What does it look like I’m doing?” His glare didn’t falter, so, with a roll of her eyes, she flipped a page as she answered. “Research.”

That drove him into an even further panic, fingers tightening on his cane. “I knew it! You can’t be trusted! I can’t believe I was foolish enough to ever let you in my house! If you’re not gone by the time I count to three, I’ll - ” But the threat was suddenly dismissed when Magica pulled out one photo and showed it right into his face, almost onto his beak. It was of a particularly plump bird, with blonde hair and a flower hat, standing proudly beside a decaying old riverboat. There was a squiggle of handwriting right on top of the woman’s dress, a signature, reading ‘Belle Quack.’ Scrooge was quiet.

“Ever since that Brigetta woman barged in here…” Magica slowly put the photo back in its place. “I got curious about what other women you’ve had.” There was an odd tone in her voice that the elder duck couldn’t quite place. It seemed like an imbalance between jealousy and disbelief.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his dignity. “For the last time, Brigetta and I were never involved. It’s all imagined on her part. And…” With this explanation, he waved airily with his hand, trying to make the entire matter less important than it was. “And… well, Belle is just a business associate.”

Magica quickly whipped out another photo. “Was Tilly Billbrook another business associate?” Judging by the flirtatious look this next woman was giving the photographer, the answer was obvious.

Scrooge quickly got defensive, crossing his arms. “Oh, what’s it to you? This whole marriage is a sham, what do you care if I’ve been with a few women?” Though he knew that "few" was an understatement, and wished she would just close the darn book already.

“I don’t.” She put the photo back, and sat up straight, her tone never changing. “I just find it interesting, that’s all. And I don’t want any other crazy women coming after me and accusing me of stealing you.”

He held up a hand, trying to placate her and end the conversation. “I can swear to you, that won’t happen again. I’ve made it perfectly clear my life is dedicated to my money, and not to having someone on my arm.”

The sorceress clicked her tongue to her cheek as her finger traced down a page. “Klondike Kate here doesn’t seem to think so.”

His cheeks were beginning to redden but he refused to believe it. “All right, those women don’t count, I was young, and it was a very long time ago.” Immediately he regretted saying so, as Magica whipped out yet another photo, this one only dated a few years ago. Signed ‘Fiona Rapson’, this one didn’t even look to be half his age. “That… no, you don’t understand, she was just doing a news segment…” Whip, another photo, ‘Mrs. Williams’, only slightly older than Fiona. “I was just lending that woman some help, and - ” Whip, again, now ‘Rosy Curenbois’. “Now that one is completely out of context!”

Finally, she closed the book, loudly and forcefully. The two glared at each other, though oddly unsure just why they were so mad. The staring context continued until Scrooge growled, deep in his throat, and turned away, ready to leave. “Put it back where you found it. Any mess you make, you have to clean up.”

A derisive snort came from her. “What I don’t get is how you kept getting tricked by so many gold diggers.” She stood, ready to put the photos and book right from where she got it.

However, Scrooge stopped where he was, having been ready to grab the door handle out. Slowly, he turned his head back, making sure he heard right. “Gold diggers?” There were a few in the batch, but to say "so many"? That wasn’t right at all.

“Of course.” Though she had returned the book to its original place, she was now scanning the others among them, wondering what else was good reading material. “Digger after digger, until they nearly dug your grave for you. I would've thought you'd have learned your lesson after a while.”

After a moment, Scrooge caught the underlying message of her spite. “You’re implying all of those women were only attracted to my money and not me?” His pride had taken a direct hit. Granted, many of those women and those incidents were ones he longed to forget, but he had earned those stalkers fair and square.

“I’m not implying it. I’m saying it. What woman in her right mind would only go after you?” Such a notion made her laugh, her devilish cackle that usually came with a magic spell. “Take it from me… wrinkled, whiskered stubborn men aren’t high on a woman’s list for men we want. Those women probably flocked to you the second you opened your wallet.”

His fingers began to tape on his cane, irritation building. Bad enough that this implication was being made, but being made by her of all people? This had to be fixed as soon as possible. “Did it ever occur to you that I could go after them?”

Now Magica laughed even harder, leaning on a book shelf for support. “Oh, please! Like you could get any woman on your own! Scrooge McDuck, the casanova!” She began banging her fist against the bookshelf, shaking with laughter. The very idea! Of course all of those women had been only after his money; it was the only thing that made sense. He was old and ugly and miserable, and she couldn’t wait to be rid of him after this fake marriage ordeal was over. So she laughed and laughed, trying to calm herself and catch her breath, and even when her body had settled, snickers still escaped. Maybe she could think of another good insult to lobby at him, one he wholly deserved.

Magica would have come up with one; had not a single finger pressed behind and onto her, between her shoulder blades, and rode itself past her neck and into her hair. The startled screech that came out of her could have shattered glass, and in an instant her head was turned to look at her attacker. Naturally, there stood Scrooge, though now he stood so close to her that personal space no longer existed. She could also glance at his eyes, and knew the look he was wearing at once. It was that expression when he was angry, but didn’t look angry, and instead was bottling up the anger so he could do something calm and precise. A tranquil fury, one could argue, that allowed him to get revenge in a given situation.

She had seen that look many times during their heated battles when she had been trying to get his dime, and knew she was in big trouble. Though her eyes widened in fright, she would not admit her fear, and returned her face to the books, beak high in superiority. “Very funny.” Her eyes tried to look at the titles of the books again, but again she was startled by his touch, as now his hands were on his shoulders, giving her a comfortable squeeze. For a man his age, the touch was very firm. Now her laughed was forced, and obviously so. “Ha… ha ha. Did I hurt your ego, Scroogie Darling? Ha ha… haaa…” How was he working the knots out of her muscles? She didn’t want to know.

Instead, she rolled her shoulders hard, trying to shove him off with a grunt. His hands retreated, but then located elsewhere, one arm wrapping around her waist, pressing her back into his chest. His other hand listlessly weaved through her hair, making sure not to tangle as he played with it. His touch was very gentle, yet containing a trace of power in it, saying that she couldn’t stop him if she tried. Magica stared straight ahead at the books, her entire body freezing up defensively. “W-what… do you think… you’re doing?” Even though she was perfectly aware what he was doing, she just didn’t want to admit it was her fault things were leading this way.

“We’re engaged.” Scrooge replied, but even his voice had changed to fit his vengeance. “I believe this is what fiancés do with one another.” Now he stressed heavily on his accent, yet his voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He was breathing directly in the direction of her ear, and she could almost hear his smirk. “Is there a problem, Magica?”

To hell with him, she would not admit what he was making her feel! She’d rather die! With that resolve, she shut her eyes tightly, ignoring her beating heart and flared cheeks, trying to think of distractions. She tried to conjure up images that would anger her, upset her, make her laugh, do anything that would make her stop feeling the soft caresses he was administrating to her neck. Think of something, anything, she told herself! Being in jail, trying to stitch together old dresses, memorizing old spells from hundreds of years ago… Yes, she could focus on that… Focus on the crinkled old paper with that distinct smell…

… Or focus on his hot breath on her neck - damn him to the furthest pits of hell!

All of a sudden, his support was gone, and she found herself falling backwards with an outward cry. She was caught with one arm, as it turned out Scrooge was just dipping her low, and it was a wonder none of his bones were breaking at his age. Holding her close yet still dipping her low, he leaned in so that their beaks were just barely grazing one another. She could nearly see herself reflected in his eyes, and inwardly swore at how stupidly flustered she was looking. But the assault wasn’t over, if Scrooge’s continued speech was any indication. “Magica, darling.” A few of his fingers came under her bill, and tilted her head up even more. “What in the world makes you think I couldn’t have you if I wanted you?”

In all of her years, Magica had never been looked at or addressed to in such a way. She did have men sometimes after her, but they were nothing like this. None of them carried such intimate passion in their voices, nor carried a supreme sense of dominance in their eyes. They had wanted to woo her, whereas this man looked like he wanted to capture her. It was becoming very difficult to come up with any kind of rebuttal. Scrooge McDuck was not supposed to be like this, and she had never even dreamed he could be like this. It just wasn’t making sense, and her mind was fizzling out. It took all of her remaining strength just to speak, and even then, it was stammered and weak. “Y-Y-You… wouldn’t d-d-dare, McDuck.”

He dared. Magica, by this point in the sham, had thought she was used to kissing Scrooge, and being kissed by him, in order to fool her relatives and the press. Proving her wrong yet again, when his beak came on top of hers, she was lost. She wasn’t foolish enough to think it contained love, but she did know it contained hunger, possession, and that there was no use fighting it. If that wasn’t bad enough, a hand was cradling the back of her neck, delicately pressing all of the right spots in her spine. There was definitely experience in these movements, lessons had been learned, and he was implementing all he knew.

Perhaps she would have had a fighting chance if it was just a single, solitary kiss. However, the old man wanted her to remember this, and to make sure she never doubted his abilities again. So there wasn’t one kiss, but another, and another, and another, each one greater than the last, quick breathes of her name, not letting up even when Magica was nothing more than a sagging lump of a stunned sorceress. All other men were just cold fish compared to what he was doing to her. All of this power, combined with the fact it was Scrooge McDuck of all people doing this to her, it was more than her mind could handle. Frankly, she considered it a miracle she could hold onto her consciousness.

Finally, he granted her a small mercy, pulling his mouth back only to whisper to her ear again. “Do you still think all of those women were gold diggers? Or…” A small kiss to her cheek. “Do I have to keep convincing you?” He growled again – but unlike before, which had been a growl of petty annoyance, this one was pure predator, as if she didn’t have a choice in the matter. She felt she didn’t have it. She felt… she felt… oh, every god and goddess that blessed magic, she felt…

Then his supportive weight was gone again, and she landed splat on the floor in a heap. Scrooge stood up straight and tall, smoothing down his clothes, and adjusting his spectacles. Whistling a merry tune, he picked up his cane that he had set aside before he attacked her, and casually strolled out of the room. When he opened the door, his nephew Donald nearly ran smack right into him. Fortunately the younger duck managed to stop in time, skidding to a halt, and bent over to catch his breath. “I-I’m sorry, Uncle Scrooge!” he spoke quickly, wanting to get Scrooge’s rant at him over as soon as possible. “I know we’re not supposed to let her out of our sight, but I was just getting a sandwich, a really small one, and the next thing I knew…”

Much to Donald’s surprise, Scrooge didn’t rant, and even shrugged. “Not to worry, Donald. She’s in there.” He jabbed a thumb back into the room behind him. “And she won’t be doing any damage for a while.” Off he walked, whistling the same jaunty tune, and to Donald, he seemed relatively proud of something. Just what, the boy couldn’t guess, and assumed it was monetary matters as always. Curious, Donald entered the library, and found the witch still lying on the floor, twitching here and there, unable to move naturally of her own accord.

Donald took one look at her demented smile, and quickly turned back around to leave. “Nope, I don’t wanna know.”

~*~

Granny De Spell flipped a page, and, ignoring her granddaughter's protests, continued to show off the old photos of their past and homeland, with the triplets pestering her with questions. Scrooge continued to check his watch, waiting for the moment he could be free and attend to his work, instead of listening to nonsense he couldn't care less about. It wasn't until Louie said the following that curiosity finally reached him.

"Say, is that Magica?" The duckling prodded one photo. "She looks so different!"

All eyes went to that photo, and it was a general agreement that there were differences between the Magica of the present, and her in the photo. Aside from years younger, the photo showed her in a brilliant red dress that appeared to be swaying off her, a fresh rose placed within her hair, her hands waving about in jubilation, and, perhaps strangest of all, looking happy not for reasons of malice or misfortune upon others. Just an actual, pure happiness for whatever she was doing. She didn't appear to be aware her photo was being taken, dancing in the crowded street, attracting the eyes of many young fellows in the background.

"Ah, yes, that's her during one of our Romanian festivals." Granny chuckled lightly, pulling the photo out of the book. "It happened to fall on her birthday that year, so we splurged and celebrated as best we could. She had quite a fetch of suitors back then!"

Present Magica had burning cheeks, arms crossed, refusing to look at the group. "Are we quite done here?"

"What are you being so bitter over?" Granny clicked her tongue. "It's a nice photo. And you should dress like this more often. All of that black is so depressing."

"No one would want to see me in that." A roll of her eyes from the sorceress.

As the argument rolled on, Scrooge kept his eyes on the photo, and found himself, as always, disagreeing with Magica.

~*~

The overture hadn't even begun yet, so the ducks knew a long night was ahead of them. Scrooge irritably tapped an arm rest, glancing over at his "future wife". "When, exactly, is your grandmother going to stop insisting on these bonding moments?"

Magica didn't even look at him, eyes ahead, upper and lower beak rubbing together in a frustrated grind. "I don't like this anymore than you do."

The third in the row, however, was not as agitated, as the goose rubbed his hands together in excitement. "Isn't this exciting, Magica? When was the last time we got to see a play together?"

"If I recall correctly, never." Magica leaned back into her seat, sighing. She would preferred sitting next to anyone - blabbermouth Daisy, annoying Donald, busybody Granny, ANYBODY, but, no, there was Rosolio, gazing at her in a sickening wave of love while making several attempts to touch her hand.

These attempts did not go unnoticed by Scrooge, raising an eyebrow at the other male. "Rather unlike a gentleman to try and hold a married woman's hand."

Rosalio now looked at the elder, love turning into hate. "Rather unlike a gentleman to try and steal a fiance. I still haven't forgiven you, and I never will."

"My heart breaks." Scrooge rolled his eyes. They both went on to ignore the woman's groans.

"I'd be surprised if you had a heart, underneath all that ice and money!" The goose hissed, crossing his arms in indignation. "What do you have that I can't give her?"

"Money."

"Besides that."

"Power."

"Besides that."

"Respect for her personal space."

"Besi - hey!"

Magica straightened up for a moment to see if the other families were nearby. Why was she suffering alone? Rosolio was relentless, continuing on despite the fact the orchestra had begun playing the overture. "I've known her forever! I understand her better than anyone! You just want her for her beauty!"

Scrooge, at least, had managed to lower his voice, so he wouldn't shout over the music. "And yet, despite all that, I'm the one she's marrying."

"Just admit." Rosalio narrowed his eyes, and pointed an accusatory finger at his enemy. "You've got a hold on her, don't you? Blackmail, threats, you're forcing her to do this! A man like you treats women like another dollar!"

Scrooge didn't reply so easily this time. Not out of lack of answers, but the sheer idea that he did not treat women well - he, who loved his mother, who adored his sisters, who had all but adopted Webbigail, who always lifted a finger to aide Daisy - was something he would not take lying down. The duck and goose almost appeared to enter a staring contest of anger, and then, the richer one cleared his throat. "Magica?"

"What now?" A bitter snap.

His arm extended out and around her shoulders, and suddenly, she was pushed in close, her head on his shoulder. Keeping her pinned there with his elbow, he began running his fingers through her hair, being careful not to create any knots. "Is that more comfortable for you, darling?"

Two birds went a bright red. Magica, her cheeks with embarrassment, mouth agape in sheer shock. Rosolio, his entire face, a fury that was struggling to be capped. Scrooge happily smirked at his opponent, before returning his false attentions to his bride, using his free hand to take one of hers, and running a thumb over the top of it. As for Magica herself, her voice was a desperate whisper. "Scrooge, what do you think you're doing!"

"Just enjoying myself." He held up her hand to kiss the knuckles, and then was back to addressing Rosolio. "She does like it when you touch her hair, right? You are the expert and all, having spent, what did you say, 'forever' with her?"

"Scrooge!" Magica squirmed, but he wasn't letting her go anytime soon.

"What? It's an innocent question." McDuck desired a camera, just to catch Rosolio's expression, perhaps make a game out of all the veins that were popping. "And maybe I could ask him for advice about you, since you two used to be fond of one another. Or was that just him?"

"Leave me out of your idiotic jealous fists, you miserable old miser!" Was she shaking? She was definitely shaking, fully aware that several of the playgoers were ignoring the stage, preferring the performance going on within those three seats instead.

"For example!" Scrooge let go of her hand, stopping the hair action to support her back, and tilted her beak up with his fingers. "Perhaps you can tell me, Rosolio, my good man, exactly what way our darling Magica prefers being kissed?"

The straw broke on the camel's back, and Rosolio stood up in his seat, roaring, throwing off his hat, and reaching for his magic wand - and, with a single THWACK from Granny's purse - what do you know, the rest of the families just so happened to be right behind the trio - he was down, a knocked out mess on the floor. Seconds of awkward silence followed, as others turned back or forward in their seats to watch the play that had begun minutes earlier. Scrooge released his hold on Magica, allowing his hands to relax in his lap, wearing a grin of victory. Magica sunk into her seat, upset that there was no rock to hider under. "You enjoyed that far too much." She murmured after a moment.

He put a finger to his beak. "Shhh. I can't hear."

~*~

Though night had fallen, neither of them were ready to sleep just yet. Scrooge was at his desk, going over a few more tax forms, while Magica was standing before the large vanity mirror, looking herself over in silence. Eventually she huffed, Daisy's words still ringing in her head. "Scrooge. I want your honest opinion on something."

"What is it?" He continued his work, hardly caring for the question.

Hesitation, and then a sigh, adjusting herself, hands on her hips, smoothing her nightgown down. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"

Whatever question Scrooge had been expecting, it wasn't that. He looked up, then at her, to make sure his hearing was in tact. "...What?"

"It's a simple question!" She pointed at herself, growling. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"

Warning sirens blared off in the miser's mind. He had to get out of this line of questioning as soon as possible. "... Is this because of what Daisy said, because Donald told me-"

"Just answer!" She stormed up to him, grabbing his chair and turning it around so he would fully face her. "It's not that difficult! You either think I'm beautiful, or you think I'm not!"

Not that difficult, his foot! His eyes darted around for any sign of an exit. "... That's... It, I, Uh... Oh, what do you care what I think!"

Although he prepared himself for further argument, it was not given. Instead her face fell, and she released his chair, retreating to the mirror. "I see." Her fingers pressed her face, now easily seeing all the wrinkles and lines of time. It seemed she believed his answer meant "no"'.

"Jiminy Cricket." Scrooge groaned, and stood up from his seat. "I didn't say you weren't!"

"You didn't have to." And now she could see all the split ends in her hair.

"It's not like that... it's..." He faltered, trying to think of an adequate explanation. "I don't... I never... You'd never see me as handsome, would you?"

A quick glance his way. "Of course I would."

Goodness, she was just throwing him all kinds of loops tonight. His spectacles almost fell off due to the surprise on his face. "...What?" he repeated.

"I hate you, but I'm not blind." Her eyes went back to the mirror. "Not to mention all those girlfriends I keep hearing about."

"I've... they weren't... I explained those!" Now it was his turn to storm up to her. "I've lived a long life, and... and... Brigetta has never been my girlfriend, I don't know where you're getting that idea, and... further... more... will you knock that off and look at me!"

So she did, upset, holding herself. Women, honestly! Scrooge ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes. "Fine, fine... I've never actually looked you as, as a woman... so... I'll do it now. Then I'll tell you what I think."

"Fine." Hmph.

A deep breath was taken, trying to expel the past from his mind. Ignore his own hate, everything she had done to him, who she was... and just look at the body. Judge that, and only that. He opened his eyes, and looked from bottom to top. Her legs were strong and shapely, with one foot nervously tapping the floor in impatience. Though her frame could be seen as delicate, there were hints of muscle here and there, showing the years she had worked alone to get what she wanted, the trials she had gone through to get certain spells. Her hands were small, but firm, gripping her arms intensely. Her hair was growing longer, he noticed, slowly starting to go beyond shoulders, giving off an appearance of black silk. She wasn't wearing any make-up, and that was for the better, as her cheeks would be rosy all on their own. Though her eyes were worried and saddened, they still shone clearly, attentive, colorful and alive as jewels she longed to have.

He exhaled. "Yes, you are beautiful. Now will you be quiet?"

A pause, and then she nodded, turning away to head to bed. "There now, was that so hard?"

Scrooge scratched the back of his head.... Was that so hard? She had no idea.

~*~

Magica hadn't been invited to many engagement parties in her left, but she had a distinct feeling they were supposed to be a lot louder and less awkward than this one. The rented ballroom was full of friends, family, and even some news groups, that were timidly picking at the buffet, making idle chatter, but mostly staring and gossiping at her and Scrooge. She couldn't really blame them – Scrooge McDuck, richest man in the world, settling down to marriage? And to his enemy, Magica DeSpell, no less! What had been a simple plan to get rid of her annoying family had managed to snowball into a national phenomenon. Magica hated Scrooge for not giving her the dime, hated her family for that stupid wedding contract, hated Daisy for thinking of this plan...

And, right now, most of all, hated the outfit she was being forced to wear. It was an exact replica of the red dress from the photo album, except it had been tailored in size to fit her age. It wasn't uncomfortable, in fact it was a perfect fit, and she didn't dare ask how the numbers of her body had gotten out. It looked good on her as well, giving her a slim appeal, and there was no question she looked beautiful in it. The hate was not entirely with the dress itself, but of its origins. How shocked she had looked the other day, receiving the boxed cloth, arriving straight from Romania, and signed as ordered by her "future husband".

There was an addition to the dress that was not in the photo, however. The red collar around her neck, holding a single silver bell, carried plenty of hate as well. She was sitting next to Scrooge at a long table covered in a white cloth, and cast a glare at him. She flicked the bell with her fingers, the noise getting his attention, stopping him in his drink of tea to look over calmly. "What is this?" she lightly hissed. "I feel like a pet cat."

"It warns to me when you're getting close." His tone was of a cruel joke, smirking, but then he shook his head, resuming his drink. "I thought it'd look nice. And you'll pay me back for all of it when this farce is over."

"I can't afford it, and you know it." Her hands settled in her lap. "Why would you even get me this ridiculous outfit in the first place? Do you need to humiliate me that badly?"

He placed his cup down. "Your grandmother was right."

Now that was rare to hear. "About what?"

"You shouldn't wear black all the time." He left it at that, his cup empty.

She went silent, and fingered the bell again. How she hated that bell, that collar, that dress. She hated that he bought it all for her. She hated that he had thought of her and that he remembered the photo. She especially, deep down, hated how happy it had made her. The bell jingled with the lump in her throat.

~*~

Rosolio clutched his hand, having gotten used to the pain in his left arm – this new one to his right hand was out of nowhere, almost making him drop his wand. Ignoring his opponent for the moment, he looked to where the shot of magic had come from, up in the sky.

Hovering high above, Magica was firmly holding onto her broom, her own wand clutched firmly in her hand, aiming right at him. She appeared out of breath, using all of her energy to arrive there as fast as she could force herself. Upon her shoulder was Poe, and he was suddenly jerked off by his sister. "Go, get them out of here!" She snapped, never taking her eyes off of the enraged sorcerer.

"O-O-On it!" The raven stammered, stretching out his wings and flying down to the confused ducks below. The rental tuxedo store was halfway decimated, but Scrooge and Donald were still intact, though slightly bruised due to Rosolio's efforts. Poe grabbed Scrooge's cane, trying to urge him to move along. "Come on, we've gotta get outta here!"

"Wait a minute!" Scrooge yanked his cane back, using it to point at the goose. "What in blazes is going on with him?!"

Rosolio was distracted by Magica, sputtering and growling as he tried to get his wand to work again. "You should have stayed at the church! I'm going to end this!"

She began to hover in closer, taking her time, wanting to stall as long as she could make it. "If you continue using the Forbidden, you'll wind up killing yourself. Stop this madness, and put down your wand!"

"Never!" In defiance he raised his weapon again – a bright light emitted from the top, sucking in the air around it and making the sound of a hideous tornado.

"HIT THE DECK!" screamed the raven, and, joined with the male ducks, took cover behind one of the crippling concrete walls. Though they couldn't see the attack, they heard a tremendous blast hitting the wall, almost enough to deafen, and the wall suffered great damage, creating hot red cracks and dismantling the edges. It was obvious that it would not survive a second round of the same attack.

With her stalling tactic failed, Magica commanded her broom to head straight down, and once she was close enough, she jumped off, hitting the ground on her heels, and striking Rosolio in the side with her wand. Although he cried out, he parried with her, wands sparkling off fizzling lights as the two fought one another, using all of their strength to try and drive the other away.

Scrooge grabbed Poe roughly by the left wing, demanding answers. "Explain! Everything! Now!"

After some terrified crowing, the smaller bird managed to choke it out. "H-He's using the Forbidden! They're spells that cost you a year of your life every time you use them, because of their power! They do things that only the gods are supposed to have control over! He managed to learn two of them – the first one causes permanent love!"

Donald found his traditional hat among the debris, and plopped it back on. "Somehow I doubt that's the spell he's using on us now, so what's number two?"

The hideous whirling noise began to make itself known once more, as Poe's wing was released. "Death!"

Fortunately by the time the spell hit the wall again, this time shattering it apart, the boys had scrambled away, although they were scraped by falling pieces. However, with the store crumbling apart, and now other buildings beginning to take damage from the war of the wands, the hiding places were becoming few and far between. There was no way to get out, aside from the sky above, and Poe was very sure if he tried to get away that way, he'd earn yanked off feathers. As they tried to make due with what used to be front desk, they also got a good view of the fight, able to see that Magica was trying her best to disarm Rosolio, but he wasn't showing his love any mercy. Their wands were pressed heavily against each other, with colors and fires exploding off of the contact, flying off into the distances.

"The others will be here any minute." She hissed, both hands firmly on her long, thin wand, unable to tell in some places if she was sweating or bleeding. "Even you aren't strong enough to stand up against them!"

"Then I'll use the Forbidden on all of them!" He roared at her, madness gleaming in his eyes. "Even if I only wind up with one year to live, it will be more than McDuck will see again!"

"And you think that will make me love you?!" Her shoes were beginning to crack, she knew he was pushing her luck. Her fear was being realized – she wasn't strong enough to defeat him. Hoping that such terror was suppressed from being expressed, she continued pushing and fighting, hoping that if she could not defeat him, she could at least wear him out. "Be a man, Rosolio! Accept your losses!"

"I've – lost – nothing!" He wasn't even looking at her in the face anymore – no, he was staring hard at her neck, where that belled collar – that damned collar! - was STILL being worn, and it only added on to his rage, his wand changing colors – and then it was suddenly thrust to her stomach – it was not the Forbidden, for the wind was still in tact – but before anyone could blink, there was violet colored electricity at her gut, and she was sent flying, back – back- back - she was now laying several feet away, sprawled onto her stomach.

The scream of her name left Scrooge's mouth without him knowing it, and he abandoned the desk, much to the dismayed shouts of his nephew. He threw his cane aside, running without thinking to get to her side, becoming breathless in seconds. He knelt down on the streets now made of rubble, and took her into his arms – to his great relief, she was breathing, though a scarlet line was now trickling down her face. Her eyes opened halfway, and her voice was cracked. "What do you think you're doing...fool."

"Saving your hide." But as he pressed her close to his chest, he realized there was still no way to escape. Running down the now abandoned roads would just earn a chase from Rosolio, and with Magica's weight in his arms, his age, and the exhaustion he was feeling already, it wouldn't be much of a track record.

Speaking of the disgruntled goose, the sight of the lovers together caused him to hold onto his wand so tightly, his fingers dug into his hands, creating deep cuts into his palms. "Get away from her!" His voice no longer sounded of this world, so tangled up in jealousy and insanity. "She's mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!" With every chant of the word, the whirling noise and the light became whole once more, becoming terrible warning signal atop his weapon.

Magica gave Scrooge a light shove, trying to sit up, and aim her wand right back at Rosolio. "Get out of here. I can handle him."

"Are you daft?" Scrooge's arm came around her shoulders. "You can't even stand up." His free hand joined hers, holding the wand with her, and his voice became soft. "I'm not leaving you alone."

She said nothing, but the wand now pulsed under their hands, gaining power. No spell can defeat the Forbidden, she knew this, it was one of the earliest things all those of the magic world learned. Yet there were other lessons that rang in her head, as Rosolio's light grew brighter, as her own wand changed colors.

Magic is connected to your emotions, to your belief, to your body, to you. It cannot give without receiving something in return. The harder you try, the harder you believe and wish for it, the stronger your spells become. That is why it is discourage using it for money and for power. Those things can only last you so long, and your magic will suffer for it. Only when you have something true to fight for, will your magic be supreme.

Her wand lifted, Rosolio's wand lifted, they aimed, and, feeling the rush of confidence and sheer strength rushing from her arms and throughout her entire body right back to the wand in a circle of infinity, she shut her eyes tightly with a single tear escaping, and exhaled, felt she needed to tell him, must tell him, if anything else he had to be told, "Scrooge, I - "

THWACK!

Rosolio fell onto the ground, face flat down, his wand rolling out and away from him. A lump was on top of his head, and, standing behind him, holding Scrooge's cane, was Donald, now twirling the lump-maker in his hand. "So, I guess that means I finally give that ten cent raise?"

~*~

It was around noon, and thus Ducksworth was in the dining room, ready to help serve the residents of the mansion. As he entered, he noticed Scrooge had already sat down, and was jotting down notes on a small piece of paper. The butler cleared his throat to make his presence known. "Tax season again, sir?"

The duck shook his head, looking up for only the briefest of moments. "Just experimenting with something." Tapping the pencil to his beak, he decided it was safe enough to share his findings. "You know the belled collar I got Magica for the engagement party?"

"Of course." the butler walked over to be next to McDuck. "She wears it constantly now."

Scrooge's beak twitched, suppressing a smile that fact brought. "I know... but I've noticed something. This is just a guess, but I think any time she's pleased by something, she fiddles with that bell."

The dog raised his eyebrows, a bit intrigued. "What makes you say that?"

"Little things." The pencil now tapped the paper. "For example, let's see... ah, yes. When Rosolio got her that bracelet, the one with the emeralds, she played with the bell, and we all know how much that witch loves jewelry. Then she did it again when she got that letter fro Madam Mim, her best friend. Then, today, when Daisy was asking what color the wedding invitations should be, she touched the bell when Daisy suggested red. And I told the chefs to remake the lobster salad from the party, because I saw she had three servings of it, and will definitely ring when she has it for lunch today." Scrooge looked up, a little proud of his accomplishment. "So what does that tell you?"

Ducksworth bit his tongue, wondering if he dared really comment. "...To be frank, sir? That tells me you pay rather... close attention to the likes and dislikes of Miss De Spell."

The smile vanished from the duck's bill, eyes wide and a hint of red on his cheeks. He slammed the pencil onto the table, his cheery voice now a grating growl. "Don't you have lunch to serve!"

"Of course, sir." Off he went to the kitchen, hoping his pay wasn't cut for pointing out the obvious.

Scrooge began to cross out what he written, hoping to hide his embarrassment, and mentally remarked on the foolishness of his servant. It had been harmless observation, that was all! Moving to erase his frustration, he stopped when the woman herself strutted in, wearing the collar, and sat down a few seats away from him. True to form, she crossed her arms, already impatient. "Well, where is it?"

"Professional meals take longer than boiling noodles over a cauldron." He quipped, relaxing, and watching the doors to the kitchen carefully. Mere minutes later, Ducksworth had returned, and placed a bowl of lobster salad in front of each duck, and then went about fetching glasses of water for them.

Magica idly poked the leaves, huffing. "Can't your chefs make anything original? Didn't we already have this?"

"Either eat it, or your next meal will be ice cubes." But his tone wasn't bitter, stirring his fork in his bowl as he kept his eyes on the collar. If she rung it, his theory would be correct.

The sorceress made a "hmph" noise, before eating. A few bites into it, she paused to take a drink, and one hand pushed some hair back, stroked her neck... and then touched the bell, echoing a small "ding ding" noise.

Triumphant, Scrooge pointed a fork at her in his victory. "I knew it!"

Glass half empty, Magica placed it down, staring at the accuser. "What?"

"You ring that bell every time you're happy about something!" He gestured to her neck with her utensil, grinning and absolutely ignoring Ducksworth's knowing look from the corner.

The woman took a quick look at her hand, and then was quicker to remove it. "Don't be stupid, it was a nervous habit." She didn't even appear to notice she had been doing it in the first place.

"You're like a little girl." There was sneer with that, leaning back in his seat. "Just admit you do it."

"I will do no such thing." Her arms were crossed once more, the meal ignored. "Because I don't do any such thing!"

"He has a list." Ducksworth was at the table again, grabbing the slip of paper before Scrooge could make a jump for it, ignoring the yell of his name from the writer. He handed it over to the surprised sorceress, and much to Scrooge's chagrin, she could read it despite the crossed out lines. When she was finished, she crumpled it in her hands, throwing it behind her, which the butler went to go clean up, and use an excuse to exit the room.

She was instantly on her feet, agitated, tapping her foot on the floor. "Do you have nothing better to do than study my neck?"

"How am I supposed to ignore that constant ringing?" He jabbed a fork into his food, preparing himself for the fight that was about to ensue. "Why don't you ever take it off!"

"If you hate it so much, you shouldn't have bought it in the first place!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have!"

"Then don't buy me anything ever again!"

"As if I would ever waste my money on someone like you!"

They spat insults back and forth at each other, loathing increasing with each lobby, until Magica stabbed her salad with a fork, and menacingly jabbed the utensil at him, threatening to shove the implement and the leaf attached to it in a place where the sun didn't shine -

Until the door to the living room was knocked, followed by the cheery voice of Magica's grandmother - "Hello, sweetie!" - and without waiting for the all clear, opened the door anyway, gazing upon the frozen scene of her granddaughter holding a fork of food to the supposed fiance. Silence followed as Granny adjusted her glasses, making sure she was seeing correctly."'Husband" and "wife" took their time looking at each other, wondering how to fix the mistake, and keep playing the game. Granny spoke slowly, skepticism clear. "I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?"

Gears whirled in Magica's mind, and, shaking a bit, she placed her empty hand on Scrooge's shoulder. "Not at all, Granny! We were just enjoying lunch." Continuing to use a voice laced with a mix of sappy sweetness and acidic adjectives, she waved the fork to the man's mouth. "Say 'ah', Scroogie darling."

Wishing he could say a few words that weren't for ladies ears, he complied, allowing the fork to enter past his lips, and quietly chewed the greenery as Magica sat back down, wiping the utensil with a napkin. She spoke again once she deemed it clean enough. "What brings you by this hour, Granny, without a call or a single word of warning?"

Not believing the act for a second, the old woman strode up to her granddaughter, hands behind her back. "I just wanted to ask about the music that would be played at the wedding."

"A church organ is all we need." Scrooge replied, once he had swallowed the forced food.

The relative scooted next to Magica, blond hair falling past her glasses. "Haven't you thought about it? Music can set an entirely new theme for a wedding! How about a choir of-"

"No." Said the couple in unison, trying to get back to eating.

"Then how about the jazz styling of - "

"No."

"We could always spring for country-"

"No."

"Not even a classical waltz theme?"

"No." But this time, after the duo had said it, there was a faint "ding ding" that followed. Magica went perfectly still upon realizing what she had done, and her face flushed deeper than the lobster's shell in the salad as she felt Scrooge's smirk boring into her from the back of her head. She was on her feet fast enough to knock her chair backwards, grabbing her bowl and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Granny stared where the chair once was, puzzled at what had just taken place. "What on earth was that about?"

Scrooge held up his glass of water, taking a steady sip. "Why, I haven't the faintest idea." He waited until Granny had left to chase after her granddaughter to admire his smug appearance in the reflective glass. Of course he had been right, his theories always were. Why, he had even more examples of her doing that action that he hadn't written down.

When Daisy showed the witch family the McDuck photo album, and displayed the one of him in his younger Klondike days, ding ding.

When he had asked her to dance during the engagement party, ding ding.

When he and Rosolio were arguing who really did know Magica better, ding ding.

When they had to fake kiss again in front of the family along with some new reporters, ding ding.

His confident expression faded, as each new recollection began to create a startling theory in his mind that was wholly unwelcome.

~*~

"What is magic?"

Tea on the patio, with the fading sunset, that is where and when the strange question had been asked. Magica held the cup in her hand, having paused in her drink once the words had left the miser's mouth. She looked at him, making sure she had heard correctly. Since one of his eyebrows was raised and his gaze was curious, the question had been real. Quietly, she resumed her sip. "Why do you ask?"

"It bothers me..." He replied, voice already annoyed. "... when things happen with no explanation. I've seen you buy potions and wands, and buying a weapon is something anyone can do... but you also can conjure up spells all on your own. It should be one or the other. What's the difference?"

She traced the outline of the cup. "... Yes, almost anyone can buy weapons. But that doesn't mean everyone can use them. If a man who has never used a gun before picks one up, he will not fire straight, and he might even wind up injuring his hand in the process. One needs experience before mastering bought weapons."

"But even then... a gun is a machine. You speak of experience with the supernatural."

A shrug with one shoulder. "I could teach your nephews how to use bought spells and potions for the rest of my life, but even when they turn gray, they would never be as powerful as myself, or other sorcerers and sorceresses."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the insistence of that term. She always got angry if she was called anything but a sorceress. For the sake of learning, he'd put that aside for now. "And why is that? What makes you and your ilk different from me and my nephews?"

"Blood. Genetics." Catching the skepticism in his expression, she smirked. "Is it that much of a surprise? Like any genetic anomaly, magic is inherited. If a man with blue eyes and a woman with blue eyes have a child, there is a stronger likelihood that their child will also have blue eyes. My father had magic, my mother had magic, so Poe and I had magic."

"Poe doesn't use magic." He refilled his cup. Some stars were beginning to shine out. The moon was hidden behind faint clouds. "I've never even seen him try."

"It's a part of his transformation." Her eyes looked away, uncomfortable with the subject, yet still willing to relent. "When I turned him, I didn't just change his outer appearance... I changed his blood, his DNA. The only thing left that is truly him and our family is his memory. We are no longer blood related."

There was a tense silence. At first, the elder was ready to ask if Poe knew... but... it became clear in his own mind. If Poe hadn't been told of it, the raven would have figured it out on his own, when he couldn't perform even the most simple feat of magic. Perhaps that was why Granny treated him as more of a pet than a grandson, since he "wasn't" a grandson to her anymore. Yet as the older one kept thinking, he could recall moments where Magica treated Poe not quite as an equal but still as family. Even now Magica looked decidedly unpleasant, with an emotion he thought she wasn't capable of - guilt.

Scrooge cleared his throat. "That still doesn't explain some things... all right, so you got it from your parents, who got it from your grandmother, and back and back... where did it all start?"

She took another drink before getting back into the conversation. "With the gods, of course."

"Of course." A derisive snort.

"It's natural of you not to believe... but there were ancient times where it was commonplace for everyone to believe in gods. But as science and technology advanced, people disregarded their beliefs... but not everyone did. Those others, in fact, praised the gods for these advancements. But the people also became worried that, at this rate, belief would be stomped out everywhere, and future generations wouldn't believe in the gods. So they prayed and sacrificed, begging the gods for a way to keep belief alive. The gods decided to bless these people with magic."

"I've seen more believable nonsense in Donald's comic books." A wag of the finger. "Where is your proof?"

"Our own history books... which are up to interpretation. No one is alive from those days, so for all I know, it could be false. But it's just easier to believe that story." Her cup became empty.

"I still don't understand it all. How can your body, just because of a few select strands of DNA, be able to do things mortals can't?"

She looked down at her hands, placing the tea cup away. "... Desire."

"Desire?"

The only light between them was a single flame, flickering brightly over a red candle. Magica took the candle holder, a faded golden color, grasping it lightly in her fingers. With her other hand, she held up her wand in preparation. Then with a soft and quick breath, the fire was gone. "You can light this again easily enough with a match, you can do it all by yourself, with your own hands. With magic... it deeply depends on what you want. You must want it with all of your heart." She pointed the wand at the burnt tip, and they both glowed deeply - in the blink of an eye, the candle was lit again. "I desired warmth and light. Desire... and desperation. Us of the magic cannot blend so simply into mortal society. Sometimes our lives are not easy. We become desperate to continue living, as our kind die out."

The candle was the same as it had been minutes ago, as if it had never been blown out. Night was settling in. The fire was reflected in her eyes, and her face was illuminated. How much time had passed since he invited her to tea out on the patio? She placed the candle back down on the table. He watched it a little more before speaking. "If you don't have any children, the De Spell line dies with you."

"And another magical family is eliminated from the gene pool." A snap of her fingers, putting her wand down. "But I don't care. I've never cared too greatly for children... I can barely stand your brats. When I have the amulet granting me the power of the Midas Touch, I will be rich enough so that my line is eternally remembered. Our wondrous last stand. It's the same with you."

He did not respond, and felt no need to. Just a nod. He could see where she was going with that reasoning.

"Even when the worms are eating your bones, everyone will still remember the name Scrooge McDuck. No nephew of yours carries that same last name. You are the last of the clan McDuck, and with your wealth, you will be remembered forever. That is a magic no sorcerer could create... the power of immortality."

This time, he crossed one arm over, and pointed a finger at her. "About that, immortality... and I don't mean that whole 'remembrance' thing. Why can no sorcerer do that? I imagine wanting to live forever would generate tons of powerful desire."

One of her legs crossed over the other. "... That is even stronger proof that the gods gave us this power."

"Explain."

"There is a branch of spell work that is called The Forbidden, because it is exactly that - forbidden. Using those spells threatens to expose magic to the entire world, and would create havoc, making us the new gods of the world. As punishment, whenever someone uses such a spell, they lose a year of their life."

"That's hardly proof."

"Well, it's not like when they use it, a god suddenly appears and smacks them upside the head. They just die much sooner than expected. After it happened enough times, the mathematics were figured out."

"Have you ever used one?"

A soft chuckle. The sun was gone. "I'm not stupid, as much as you're inclined to think so. I want the rest of my life to enjoy my riches."

"So what are The Forbidden?" A few fireflies were making themselves known in the close gardens. Scrooge would silently shoo one away if one get too close, but Magica would allow one to crawl along her arm if it wanted to.

"Extending someone's life span. Shortening someone's life span. Death. Love-"

"Now hold on." he cut her off, leaning in. "I've seen you use plenty of love potions and spells."

"Mediocre things." A dismissive wave of her hand. "Those types had time limits, and only seized part of the heart. The Forbidden Spell Of Love captures the entire heart and mind, for all time. It's a love akin to madness. The victim cares for nothing but the caster... not even their own health. That spell has been the cause of much bloodshed. Helen of Troy was a victim, as was Romeo and Isolde..."

His brows furrowed. "... Wait... do you mean Romeo and Juliet? Tristan and Isolde? Those are made up stories."

"So is magic, to some." A smile, and then she stood. "It's getting cold. I'm going inside."

"One more question." He stood as well. "Do you actually know how to use The Forbidden?"

Her eyes met his. "Yes. For the sake of our dying history, sorcerers and sorceress are even taught those spells. Granny, Samson Hex, Rosolio, even Witch Child could use one, if their desire was strong enough."

He picked up his cane, that was previously laid against his chair. He appeared amused. "Should I take it as a compliment that you've never desired me dead that strongly?"

She approached the doors. "Fool. If you died, that dime of yours becomes worthless. Then I'd have to find the next richest man alive." Though her hand was on the door handle, she did not press on it. She could feel his eyes on her, still inquisitive. A sigh. "All right, what else?"

"Those gods... if they gave your people magic, that makes these supposed divine beings useless. They wouldn't need to help your people anymore, since they could help themselves. What became of them?"

She stayed where she was, even as he walked up to her. Slowly, she turned to look at him. "We believe they help the non-blessed. The mortals. They give you strength... you just aren't aware of it. When you desire something that desperately... they are there to lend that power. Fate changes. Miracles occur. They can't do this to everyone... without belief, their abilities grow weaker all the time. But they will live on so long as humanity does. Because desire... always exists."

They stared at each other. The candle was still lit. There was no wind.

"You're saying, if I desire something strongly enough, the gods will help me?" He had desired many things in his life, he knew that well.

Desire and need are two different things, they both thought. People need food and water, need comes with survival. Need is primal, and can over ride the mind in order to get it. Deaths can be as a result of an unfulfilled need. Desire is different. Desire is a pain that cannot be described, yet, with time, it can be pushed away. People can live without desires being fulfilled. Yet there is not a single person who has ever lived who has never felt desire at least once.

There are also people who let desire consume their lives. They feel without this wish being granted, they are better off dead. If they allow it, a desire can control a person. That's when the desire becomes a need. That's when the gods can no longer help.

The door handle was gripped. "It's possible. But they have better wishes to grant than the ones of a rich old miser. So, probably not." The door was opened, and she was soon gone.

When he could no longer hear her footsteps, he returned to the table, and picked up the candle holder. He blew it out. "Yes," he murmured, touching the remains of wax. "Probably not."

~*~

When, exactly, did he realize she was a woman? It felt like such a ridiculous thing to think about, but during the course of their lives, he supposed he never really acknowledged that about her. Of course he knew she was female, but due to all of her aggravating attacks on his dime, he had just molded her into 'that person'. He had always been satisfied with that state. She was his enemy, there was no need to change that. Things could have stayed like that, if it wasn't for this entire ruse.

Now here he was, hugging her, having her lean onto his body, fully aware of what she was and who she was. She felt so small against him, as powerless as a doll, her head resting on his chest. No objection had been made to the embrace, as it had started out as an accident. They were descending the stairs, ready to get some lunch before having another dreadful afternoon with her family, when suddenly, nearing the last steps, she had tripped and fallen forward. He not only caught her, but instinctively his arms had gone around her. Though now she was capable of standing up and walking on her own, neither made any attempt to leave.

The gigantic mansion of a home was silent. The only thing that could be heard were their light breaths, and his heartbeat so close to her ear. She wasn't even returning the gesture, her arms curled up on his chest. Of course he was in no rush to see Magica's family again, and there were other reasons not to leave this moment. He just couldn't think of them right now. Frankly a lot of his mind was refusing to work right now.

Wasn't she supposed to be pushing away to make some scathing comment? He was almost afraid to see what kind of expression she was wearing. The more time that passed, the more sense reached into his head. With great reluctance, he moved his hands, grabbing her by the elbows, and ever so lightly pushed her away by mere inches. Her wide eyes showed that she was initially surprised, but her look settled in understanding. Except he still hadn't really let go, and judging by his grip, still wasn't planning to.

He apparently wasn't planning on doing anything at all, yet she appeared to be expecting something. Maybe she understood this situation better than he did. His grip eased, not entirely holding her in place, but still enough to be felt. It became a staring contest, his confused and slightly bewilderment to her anticipation and patience.

Just then, the door to the dining room creaked open, and Ducksworth stepped in, mouth open to announce, again, that lunch was served. But when he caught sight of the ducks in such a position, who were now staring right back at him, he hesitated, then stepped back, closing the doors and leaving them. The spell broken, Magica abruptly shook her arms loose, and stuck her bill up high, indignant. Once again, they had become enemies. It was if nothing had happened in those past few minutes. That was completely fine with Scrooge.

Yet as she walked by him, her arm brushed against his, and for the faintest of moments, her cold fingers ran up his arm. Feeling his heart jump into his throat, he turned to look at her, but she was already at the door, opening it to leave. She glanced back at him, still wearing her usual expression of distaste, leaving him to wonder if he had just imagined that fleeting sensitive touch. She left the room, and he would only join her once he was positive his face was no longer red.

#scrooge mcduck #magica de spell #dimeshipping

31 notes · View notes

letitrainasunnyday · 6 years ago

Note

Hellou! Another ask for you darling, because I'm struggling to put this into words in the fic I'm writing and I need help and to talk it out... In NY, what made Ran realise that she liked/loved Shinichi? Bc I've always been inclined to think that the speech about "The Reason" makes Ran realise she did good when she saved Rose, but now I'm not really sure... Any insights? If you don't know, just random rambling about ShinRan will make my day anyway! Abraçades!

HOLAAAA

Good point, good point.

I’m with you, I always thought it was his speech about helping someone what made her fall in love with him –or, rather, realize that she’d been in love with him since, like, forever.

I think it’s kind of what you said. It’s not the speech in itself, but rather the emotions that Ran felt because of it. Ran blames herself for a lot of things that aren’t actually her fault, and saving Rose was a pretty big one of them. So the fact that Shinichi says that, Shinichi who she loves, Shinichi who she’s known since forever, Shinichi who she can always depend on and trust in… It means the world. It means that she can take those words to heart immediately. It means that he’s right, and it wasn’t her fault.

Beyond that, Shinichi has just helped her save someone who people wouldn’t usually save. So he’s proved to her that she did well, that he would do the same thing, that they’re the same in that sense.

What I’m trying to say, in the simplest way possible because it makes sense in my head but I didn’t quite know how to put it into words, is that with that speech, Shinichi makes Ran realize that she shouldn’t be afraid of who she is. He makes her realize that her great heart, that her kindness, her will to see the best in people and to give everyone a second chance is what makes her strong. It’s what makes her unbelievably beautiful. And it’s also, mainly, why he’s enamored with her.

And that, for a person like Ran who is constantly doubting herself, is so important. Because she honestly believes that she caused someone to die because she was kind enough to save someone. Do you know how terrible that is to think? How much that eats at someone from inside?

And Shinichi just knows. Even before Ran realizes, when they’re in the taxi, immediately he’s like “please don’t think it was your fault.” Because there’s no one in the world who understands her better. But of course Ran wouldn’t believe him if he told her directly, because that’s who Shinichi is, because he’s her best friend, because he wants to make her feel better always.

But if Shinichi says it to a serial killer they’ve just saved? Maybe he does truly believe it. Maybe it is really true.

Maybe Ran didn’t cause a man to die after all.

Ran, of course, doesn’t process all of that immediately when she hears Shinichi say that to Vermouth. It’s something that, through the years, she understands. She understands that that one speech made her realize it was okay to be who she is, that being so open-hearted was an amazing thing. And Shinichi made her realize it. The same Shinichi that had done so much for her during NY. The Shinichi that took the time to get into an abandoned building and face a serial killer just to get her handkerchief back. The same Shinichi that’s now, almost officially, a detective.

The same Shinichi that has saved her time and time and time again.

And not only physically.

Shinichi’s speech in that precise moment speaks to her because it saves her soul from being consumed by her guilt.

Ran saves Shinichi, I’ve said this before, but look, perhaps Shinichi saves Ran as well.

In any case, I have to add, on a personal note, that’s it’s hard not to fall for Shinichi when he says that. I remember watching it as a kid (I was maybe 10 years old) and understanding that there was so much truth to his words, that I had to take them to heart and live by them. And I was 10, and Shinichi was a character on my television.

So imagine what that’s like for Ran, who treasures and loves and adores and cherishes this boy more than anything else in the entirety of the universe.

(Petonets, molts!!)

#detective conan #shinran #i'm not sure this helps #or if this is what you expected #but this is what i got #la veritat és que mai m'havia parat a pensar-ho i ara estic com més profundament enamorada d'aquell moment aaaaaaa #otp: diu que vol que l'esperis #conan #dcsr392 #conan ask #shinran ask #ran ask #shinichi ask

23 notes · View notes

fableweaver · 6 years ago

Text

Arc of the Masked Queen

Music played a lively background to the Court of Miracles. The hall was well lit and brightly decorated with streamers and flowers. It was the anniversary of Arian Drasir I coronation as High King when he over threw the Aldan rule. Lucia sat watching the performers as endless platters of food passed before her. The mood of court was merry; you’d never think that the princess and other members had died two months ago. Her transformation into Jeanne was complete, for two months now she had been Jeanne without anyone the wiser.

She had taken two beauty sigils, surprised at how they had been applied. One of the court mages, Harper, used a brand to sear the sigil into Lucia’s upper arm. The burn had hurt for a moment, but then Lucia had felt an almost euphoric sensation as the burn healed and she was granted the beauty she never had. Her features weren’t changed; it was more like they were richer and more vibrant. Her hair became luxuriant, her skin clear, and eyes a bright golden hazel.

“Do you think I can hit that oaf with a dagger from here?” Elrik asked breaking into Lucia’s thoughts. He looked at her with a wicked glint in his blue eyes, a grin on his face.

“Yes milord,” Lucia answered in a deadpan voice. She wasn’t acting the part; two months in Elrik’s bed had not been pleasant, even after she had told him she would be fragile because of the mage healing. Elrik nodded and tossed the dagger, the blade flying and just missing the poor acrobat performing. Elrik laughed as the acrobat missed a step and dropped the balls he was juggling.

“I must say you are much more accommodating,” Elrik said as he put on hand on Lucia’s thigh, squeezing. Lucia closed her eyes, trying not to wince as his fingers probed an old bruise. “Rape seems to be the medicine you needed.”

“Yes milord,” Lucia said quietly.

“Though it isn’t really rape is it?” Elrik said leaning close enough Lucia could smell the wine on his breath. “You want it like a bitch in heat don’t you?”

“Yes milord,” Lucia answered and Elrik kissed her cheek and then neck. He stopped as a new dish was set before them and he turned to eat. Lucia noticed Elrik ate a lot; he had youth’s broad shouldered build that would turn to fat when he got older. Lucia looked away from Elrik to the court, scanning the crowd.

She had learned most of the members now, the dukes and lords from Regis or other Kingdoms that gathered to drink and cavort. Lucia was only a minor piece; she still hadn’t gathered who was whose enemy and who could be an ally. She knew to trust Sherah, who they had confided the secret of Lucia’s identity and Jeanne’s mutilation to. But she had no idea what argument she might step into, whose private wars or alliances made up the court.

A familiar face warmed her heart as he stepped up at the edge of the performers. Bower was walking along the edge of the performers, stumbling like a drunk. At least Lucia hoped he was acting, she couldn’t be sure as he had a wine bottle in one hand. Elrik laughed at his antics though as he gracefully bumbled around into the performers, avoiding balls and clubs being juggled in the air. One man juggling knives threw a blade and it clipped off Bower’s funny patchwork hat.

He stopped and felt his balding head for the cap, a comically puzzled frown on his face. Lucia laughed as he pointed to the hat enjoyed. He stumbled over to it and bent to retrieve it only to fall on his face, an acrobat tripping over him and sprawling into two more acrobats. He put his hat on and stood, turning to the heap of people with a puzzled frown again. He just shrugged and took another pull from his bottle.

He made a sour face and then raised his face, spitting out a spew of fire into the air. The audience gasped and the fire faded quickly, Bower fanning his lips comically. Everyone laughed at his antics, but Drasir.

“Get off the stage fool,” Drasir growled to Bower.

“I am sorry majesty,” Bower said as he made a tipsy bow. He moved off and the jugglers and acrobats continued. Elrik however flagged him over grinning, Bower walking over to them. He made another clumsy bow, smiling at Lucia.

“I must say milady you are looking ravishing,” Bower said smoothly. “And you milord are dashing, I thank you both for your laughter.”

“You have a silver tongue for a fool,” Elrik said. “How would you like to lose it?” He slammed his dagger down on the table, Lucia knowing he was happy to have a new victim not angry at anything Bower had said.

“I’d hate to lose it milord,” Bower said nervously, or acting nervous. “Then I couldn’t tell any jokes.”

“Very well, tell me a joke,” Elrik said serious now. “If I laugh you can keep your tongue.”

“Very well,” Bower said. “What beats a Lirian whore?”

“I don’t know what?” Elrik asked fingering his dagger.

“Only her master of course,” Bower said and Elrik laughed.

“Very good fool,” Elrik said. “Another.”

Lucia was impressed by the flow of raunchy and dark jokes Bower gave then, Elrik laughing loudly at each. She even blushed at a few, which pleased Elrik even more. Elrik had a fair amount of wine already, his cheeks flushed.

“You can go off to your rooms now,” Elrik said drunkenly glaring at Lucia. “I’m not in the mood tonight, I have other arrangements.”

“Yes milord,” Lucia said. For Elrik other arrangements didn’t mean a mistress, it meant he was going to torture someone. She hoped it wouldn’t be Bower but telling by his jokes Elrik was probably going to let him live at least. She stood and left, bowing to Drasir and Cecelia as she left.

It was a relief to get out of the hot hall where court was held, and as she stepped out her two shadows followed her. Sir Bedivere of Sereaux was the third son of Count Sereaux, a wealthy Regarian noble. Lucia didn’t know where Sereaux was, or even how to spell it to find it on a map. Sir Bedivere was a holy knight of the Sect and had been assigned to protect Jeanne, swearing his loyalty to her as her champion.

The second was a Sect of Lun, Marie De Lorue. Lucia didn’t know her rank, but gathered she was another noble. She had also been assigned to Jeanne as a personal spiritual adviser; Lucia had never known a noble had so many people following them. She hadn’t been alone in months. Both the knight and Sect were perfect images of Regarians, fair skin and hair, bright blue eyes, and clothes that screamed wealth despite their occupations.

“You are not going to Elrik tonight milady?” Bedivere asked as they walked through the halls. She looked back at him, he always walked two steps behind her and it was a bit unnerving. She couldn’t be sure if he was relieved or disapproving. Marie never said a word; she was as silent as Lun.

“No Sir Bedivere he has dismissed me,” Lucia answered turning back to continue walking.

“I am sorry to hear that milady,” Bedivere said, but Lucia did not answer. Marie walked up next to her, her silence both unnerving and soothing. Her silence often seemed like she knew everything and so saw no need to speak.

Lucia ignored them both as she walked back to the women’s wing and to Jeanne’s rooms, leaving Bedivere outside with the other guards there. Marie followed her in, but only to the sitting room before she went off to the servant quarters. Lucia hurried to Jeanne’s room, locking the door behind her. Jeanne lay in bed looking less like the noble woman she had been.

Her skin was now ashen, her hair lank, and painfully thin. Bryony stood by her bed gently washing Jeanne’s face. Cicely and Viola sat by the fire playing Check looking bored. Now that Jeanne was married she didn’t need her maids of honor following her to swear on her purity. Bryony had also wanted them here to tend to Jeanne, to help keep her spirits high.

“You’re here?” Bryony said surprised.

“Elrik chose to torment someone else tonight,” Lucia answered. “How are you Jeanne?”

“The same,” Jeanne said tiredly. They had learned that the mage’s healing had been worse than just making Jeanne sterile. Urinating and menstruation were painful, her bleeding spotty and lasting weeks. It had killed her appetite, and even made it hard to move about. She was withering like a plant in winter.

“Have you eaten?” Lucia asked. “I can send for some food.”

“I am fine,” Jeanne snapped, rolling over in her bed. She didn’t like to be coddled. Lucia sighed heavily, knowing when not to push.

“Voila, can you help me undress?” Lucia asked.

“I’m not you’re servant, you’re ours,” Voila said crossly.

“Voila!” Bryony snapped. “I know you’re bored, but Lucia has taken the greatest burden. Help her get out of her gown, she can’t do it alone.”

Voila grumbled as she stood and joined Lucia behind the changing screen. Her grumbles stopped when she stripped Lucia of her gown and saw the bruises. Old and new bruises molted her skin from toe to shoulder, but Elrik had confined it to under her garments.

“Lucia…” Viola said horrified.

“I’m lucky,” Lucia said mildly. “Elrik doesn’t dare draw blood or he might lose his head and kill me accidentally. Of course that means he really thinks I’m Jeanne.”

“I’ll draw you a bath,” Viola said as she looked away, hurrying off to Jeanne’s private bath. Lucia drew a robe over herself before she stepped back out into the room, her bruises would distress Jeanne. She went to the bedside and took Jeanne’s hand in hers. On the nightstand Lucia saw a book, a big dusty tomb.

“Have you been reading milady?” Lucia asked, unable to read the spine or cover to know the title.

“Nicodemus has come by often to read to me,” Jeanne answered with a slight smile.

“Milady…” Lucia said starting to warn her, but Jeanne cut her off.

“It doesn’t matter anymore if I stay loyal,” Jeanne said fiercely. “I cannot bear children, I’m no longer in the spot light, I am no longer Jeanne Lonna Princess of the Mark!”

She drew the covers up over her head and Lucia stared at her shocked. All she had wanted was to protect Jeanne from harm, yet she had stolen Jeanne’s identity and crippled her. No wonder she hadn’t left her bed, Jeanne felt lost now without her title and status. Lucia had nothing she could say to Jeanne, the only thing that had kept her going was the knowledge she was protecting Jeanne. She stood and went to the bath, deciding to soak her troubles away.

A few days later Lucia was once again in the Queen’s solar during tea time. She spent much of her days here tittering over idle court gossip with the other women of court.

“I must say my dear you look much better after those sigils,” Cecelia said as she stirred her tea. “Much easier on the eyes.”

“Thank you, majesty,” Lucia answered. She was now sitting in Lilith’s chair, and Pricilla did not look pleased that she had taken her dead sister’s place. Cecelia didn’t seem to care as long as she had someone fawning over her. “You are looking radiant today my queen,” Lucia said, and Cecelia fluttered her eyes.

“Thank you…”

A clatter interrupted the Queen as the servant dropped a platter. The old Elmerian servant hurried to clean up and Cecelia glared at him across the room.

“Honestly!” Cecelia said disgusted. “What happened to that old servant? He was at least silent and polite.”

Lucia could say nothing as her throat suddenly closed with a lump of emotions. She had not seen Seth since the night Jeanne had been raped, and she feared he had left Cair Leone. Part of her was glad he did not have to see him, not after her nights spent with Elrik. Yet another part of her wanted to weep in his arms.

“I don’t know mother,” Pricilla answered. “He was Aunt Sherah’s servant.”

“Sherah,” Cecelia said shrilly. Sherah sighed and put her book down, walking over to the Queen’s table. “Where is that servant of yours?”

“I sent him away,” Sherah answered mildly. “I had a message I wished to send back to my late husband’s family. I could only trust Gray to carry it.”

“What message?” Cecelia asked crossly. “We needed that servant to serve tea. You had chosen a good one in that one.”

“I am sorry Cecelia, I had hoped your husband had better staff,” Sherah answered dryly. Cecelia flushed insulted and Sherah quickly bowed and left. Lucia had to wait and listen as Cecelia ranted on and on about Sherah. Pricilla nodded and agreed when she could, Lucia doing the same.

At last Cecelia decided to retire, having worn herself out over Sherah’s insult. Lucia quickly went in search of Sherah, Bedivere and Marie close behind. She wasn’t in her quarters nor in the library. Soon she was just wandering around looking for her, eventually she found her in one of the gardens. The autumn had changed the gardens, the trees already shedding leaves. The gardens were now bright oranges and reds, leaves carpeted the ground faster than the gardeners could tend to.

Sherah was sitting under an oak tree on a bench there, reading once again. Lucia went to her, but she didn’t even look up from her book.

“Nicodemus told me everything,” Sherah said and Lucia sat next to her on the bench.

“Is that why you sent Seth away?” Lucia asked.

“If you mean Gray no,” Sherah answered. “I knew what he was when I vouched for him to be a servant in the palace.”

“You planned to employ him?” Lucia asked.

“I wanted to see what he could do before I did,” Sherah answered. “He is quite good actually, bit unusual at times but he’s never been caught which is important.”

“You sent him off to kill someone,” Lucia whispered and Sherah put her finger to her lips. She glanced meaningfully at Bedivere and Marie who stood out of earshot.

“We do not know who might be listening,” Sherah said cautiously. “Yes, I did send him away for that purpose.”

“Who? Why?” Lucia asked.

“I sent him after the man that ordered my husband’s death,” Sherah answered.

“King Rue?” Lucia asked shocked.

“Of course not,” Sherah answered. “Son never ordered his brother’s death. Emperor Feng Loe ordered my husband’s death.”

“Emperor?”

“Lir has had the most kings of different houses in the history of the nine Kingdoms,” Sherah answered, sounding much like her son talking of history. “Rue is an old house, but they only grabbed the throne fifty years ago. The first family to be the kings of Lir was the Loe family. They had been called Emperors for most of the Cursed Age, until the kingdoms were united and they were changed to Kings.

“The Loe family supposedly died when they were over thrown in the early 100s, all the members massacred by the Wu family. Rumor had it a baby survived and was raised in secret out on the steeps. Feng is said to be the descendant of that family and has returned to claim his throne. He came to court, in rags and furs like any other steep man, fifteen years ago. He announced who he was and demanded King Wan to hand over his crown and throne.

“Wan laughed in his face and threw him out of the palace. Two days later my husband was killed. I heard Shu, Wan’s second son, died in a hunting accident. Son has no children; my son is now the next in line for the Lirian throne. Only I’ve heard rumors that Feng is in the Court of Whispers, I don’t know how he got in but my guess would be money. But he’s played his hand, now I know where he is and have sent my hunter after him.”

Lucia shivered at the cold tone in Sherah’s voice, like she didn’t care or cared so much she dare not feel a thing.

“Did you love him?” Lucia asked and Sherah looked at her with a raised eye brow.

“You mean Lon?” Sherah asked. “Yes and no, he was kind but cold at times, still as husbands go I felt I was lucky. He never beat me, never had a mistress or even whores. But the only thing he really loved was War; he could play that game all day long. He was always distracted by that game, a little like Nicodemus with his history.”

Lucia saw Sherah cared for her dead husband; it was a fair match but probably not love. There was no passion driving Sherah to order her husband’s death, only duty. She was justified more by the fact that Feng seemed like he could be a threat to Lir and King Son.

“Do you love him?” Sherah asked and Lucia looked at her to see her grinning at her knowingly. She felt a deep blush spread over her face and she looked at her hands.

“He’s nearly ten years old than me,” Lucia said embarrassed.

“He is still young, and women are often more mature than men,” Sherah said. “Seth is hard to read, under all that casual joking manor is a cold-blooded killer, and under that a lonely soul seeking warmth. He does everything he can to redeem life in his eyes; that is why he takes in those tortured animals. I think that was why he tried to take in you. Of course, you wouldn’t be sheltered; you are too brave for that.”

“I don’t feel very brave,” Lucia said feeling low. “I don’t feel worthy of him.”

Before she knew it, she was weeping in Sherah’s arms, the older woman stroking her hair lovingly. Lucia’s mother had only held her when she was a child; she still remembered the last time when she was four when she scrapped her knee. Her mother had held her and hummed to her just as Sherah did now. Self-loathing made Lucia cry more, like she was unworthy to be loved. She broke down completely, until she was lying in Sherah’s lap unable to cry anymore.

“Dear Lun what did he do to you,” Sherah said at last.

“I’m sorry,” Lucia said ashamed as she sat up. Sherah handed her a kerchief and she cleaned her face.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Sherah said. She seemed on the cusp of saying something comforting but then changed her mind. “Come with me.” She stood, and Lucia followed her out of the garden.

“Where are we going?” Lucia asked.

“I think since you are living your life as a noble you should get the chance to see what we actually do,” Sherah answered. Lucia didn’t know what she meant, but she followed Sherah from the gardens and through the lower halls of the palace. They passed through several great halls full of paintings, sculptures, and tapestries; useless decorations of wealth that seemed to serve no purpose.

They headed towards the marble hall where often trials and meetings of state were held. Trials were rare in the kingdoms; usually a criminal was just hanged without an inquisition or assassinated if they were a noble. When they reached the doors, Lucia saw a good many knights before the entrance, telling her that a meeting was taking place. The knights didn’t stop Sherah as she pushed open the doors and entered the hall. Bedivere joined the other knights to stand guard, but Marie entered after Sherah.

Lucia followed, staring amazed at the polished green marble that covered the floor. Blue and green marble pillars supported a ceiling of paneled wood, mage lights shedding light down on the meeting. Lines of chairs sat in a semicircle around the far end of the hall where a table sat. About half the chairs were occupied by nobles, mostly Regarian but a few Hyrians, Lirians, Xinians, and Dridians were there as well.

Lucia was used to the rich apparel of the court, so she did not stare at the men in rich silks or heavy jewelry. There were no women here, but no one objected as Sherah and her walked down the aisle and sat in the front row. Lucia looked at the head table, there sat the King and the eight other representatives of the Nine Kingdoms.

Arian only glanced at his sister before turning back to pay attention to the cleric in the center of the room. The cleric was reading a dry legislature that Lucia couldn’t understand; he was a cleric of Cael and of the Iron Order. She looked back at the table, but she only knew one of the men there, Varas Lonelove.

“Varas became the mage’s representative after the King’s Wars,” Sherah said softly, Lucia barely hearing her under the droning of the cleric. “Myrddin sent him to watch over his daughter at court, of course Ileana was sent to seduce Arian. She succeeded in seducing him, but Cecelia got pregnant first and to marry Arian. Varas was livid, but he still has a place on the king’s council.

“Next to Varas is Lindir Roth Ai, Duke of the Sleeping Woods.” The man was Aldan, and very old, his long white beard and hair thinning and skin sagging. His long ears were full of hair, and he seemed to be asleep in his chair. “Arian chose him as the Aldan representative because of his age, and the Aldan agreed because of his age. An Aldan only looks old when they are close to death; still Lindir has lived for twenty years. He’s half deaf and blind though, I doubt he even knows where he is. Arian raises his hand for him when they vote on anything.

“Next to him is Gan Wu.” The Lirian man was in his prime, dressed in rich silk robes and a silk hat. He had a thin mustache which he was stroking as he listened to the cleric rapt. “He is the brother of Duke of Ren-oza. He likes young girls, younger than you.”

“Next to him is Huros Nejem, the King of Xin’s brother.” Huros was a fat man wrapped in many silken kaftans and his head wrapped in a turban. Jewels winked from his thick fingers on many rings, a few decorating his turban and kaftans. He was nodding off, his turban bobbing on his head as his head nodded up and down.

“He is King Nejem’s bastard brother; he was castrated so he could not sire children that could threaten the Xinian throne. The Xinians have the most bastards actually; the harem of the Court of Fortunes is the largest in the Kingdoms. A male born of the harem is castrated and made a guard or in some cases an adviser or emissary to the king.”

“On the other side of the king is Runn Brago, brother to the Duke of Volga.” The Hyrian was a young man, looking bored at these proceedings. He was dressed like any other Hyrian, baggy pantaloons, a tight vest, a tunic, and blue tattoos over his limbs. His black hair was done up in a topknot, a few strands framing his long face.

“Next to him is Urtha Tussock of the Mark.” Urtha was a great meaty man, looking to be a great warrior by his large hands and many scars. He wore mail under his tunic and was glaring at Arian occasionally. He looked to her and nodded, Lucia returning his greeting wondering if he knew Jeanne. They hadn’t spoken at court and she wondered why. “I’ve been told Urtha was sent here because he is a great warrior but has a low opinion of women. Rumors go he raped his wife and several other maidens. His brother, Count Tussock, asked the King of the Mark to send him where he could have access to whores.”

“Next is Borr Ulson, Baron of Van’s Fjord.” Borr was a thinning man but tall and wiry, his blonde hair thinning and long. His beard was plaited and straight, his face sagging with deep bags under his eyes. He wore shabby furs, some looking patchy; his silver pendants tarnished, and mail rusting. “His province is so poor Tyr didn’t mind sending him and he can’t be ransomed. I heard in the King’s Wars he succumbed to battle madness. The only reason he stopped was because he ran out of men to kill. He’s never been quite right in the head since.”

“Last is Eoin Dubghal, Duke of Dubghal.” The man was only half Daunish, his blue eyes and lighter skin telling of Regarian blood, but his hair was still blood red. He was in his middling years, his eyes intelligent and bright. He wore fine Daunish wool but cut in the Regarian style tunics in fashion at court now. “His mother was sent off for a marriage to a Regarian lord before the King’s Wars. His mother was sister to the old Duke of Dubghal, who died in the wars. Arian made him the duke over his cousin, though his cousin is his steward, and made him Daun’s representative on this council.”

Lucia had seen these men at court of course, as well as the many lords that had gathered here. The relations here were very complex it seemed, not just familial but political as well.

“Over there is the court scribe,” Sherah said as she pointed to the cleric asleep with a quill and paper before him on a desk. “He isn’t needed right now since the cleric is reading an old deposition from an old law. It is regarding the role the High King has played in the past.

“The way it works here is the council meets and they go over old laws to see what is needed and what isn’t. The Iron Order serves as judicial judges and law keepers over the kingdoms, enforcing the law and working it, but never making it. That is up to this council, though only Arian has the power overall.

“Now it is interesting to note that while each kingdom has its own laws and legislature made by each king, there are laws that encompass all nine. It is these laws that the High King makes, and since Arian took the throne most of those have concerned taxes. The High Throne never taxed the other kingdoms until the Regarians took the throne.”

“Doesn’t the king need the approval of the council to make such laws?” Lucia asked.

“Yes, but as you can see he controls at least half the council,” Sherah answered. “His power is not absolute of course; Lir, Dridia, and Xin hold a fair amount of power still and can resist him on some issues. Hyria is always a wild card, Runn likes to vote as he pleases, and his king doesn’t care one way or another as long as no foreigners enter the river lands. He makes things interesting a lot of the time.”

The cleric finished reading the report and half the room came awake mumbling and rubbing their eyes. The cleric bowed to the king and took a seat by the scribe.

“Right so as stated in the law the High King can be elected absolute power in a state of emergency,” Arian said, and Lucia felt her blood go cold.

“And I say we are not in such a state yet,” Varas answered.

“The Sect is threatened, mobs run wild, and there are riots in the streets,” Arian answered.

“What streets are these, I have yet to see any riots here,” Varas answered.

“There are reports of problems in the marchlands in Nyrgard,” Borr said, his tone forced as if he had to push out each word. “I’ve heard Rhodin bands have been disappearing there.”

“Rumors?” Varas scoffed. “I understand this cult has been gaining power, but a state of emergency will only embolden them.”

“I am against it as well,” Gan said mildly. “Lir has seen very little problems in our lands, should the emergency not cover all the kingdoms?”

“Now that is a lie,” Sherah whispered, her brow furrowed. “I’ve heard the cult is strong on the steeps.”

“Same here,” Runn said. “Hyria has not even seen any members in the river lands.”

“And what of the border you share with the Mark and Nyrgard?” Arian asked annoyed.

“Those lands hardly matter,” Runn said with a shrug. “This cult is not all encompassing as Gan said; I don’t think we need to call it an emergency.”

“But should we not consider it?” Huros said looking worried. “After all many died in the wedding, and I’ve heard this cult has spread to the slaves. It could lead to another uprising among the slaves; my kingdom would crumble especially with Zar Ne Zar rampaging over the sands. A state of emergency means you will send aid to us right majesty?”

“We will seek out this cult wherever it is milord,” Arian said, but Lucia suspected he didn’t care at all about Xin other than the jewels he could get from them; he’d just as likely make a deal with Zar Ne Zar as to fight him.

“Which you can do without a state of emergency being called,” Varas argued. “Is this not all moot? It is up to the Sect to see religious matters dealt with.”

“Not when those matters threaten the stability of the kingdoms,” Arian said coolly.

“And is that not your duty to oversee not bully majesty?” Urtha asked mildly and Arian glared at him.

“Have I not put the Mark in its place Lord Urtha?” Arian said coldly.

“Careful majesty, you may start more problems than you can deal with,” Urtha answered levelly. Arian’s eyes narrowed and flickered over the room, looking for decent. His eyes widened when he saw Lucia.

“Lady Jeanne,” he said silkily, and Lucia tried not to flinch. “What do you think of this matter? You heard the recitation of the law did you not? Let us hear what you have to say.”

It was a power play; he was trying to lessen Urtha’s power by using Jeanne. He expected her to side with him and make Urtha lose face by the fact one of the Mark’s royals was now a Drasir. Her heart pounding Lucia stood and took a few steps, so she was visible to everyone. She took a deep breath, and felt a strange calm settle over her, shapes dancing in the corner of her eyes.

“I think these members of the cult are very dangerous, they threaten our way of life and our homes. They wish to destroy all the great houses this is for sure. But if we declare war in such a way we only give them the stage they wish us to dance upon. Absolute power will only hinder you in your hunt majesty, is there not another law you can use to get what you need to fight them but not declare so publicly your plans for them?”

Arian did not look pleased she had disavowed his plan, but his eyes were calculating. She had at least given him an opening to leverage power, though it would not be absolute.

“Cleric, I want you to search the laws regarding witchcraft,” Arian said, and Lucia had the wild fear he suspected her of witchery. “There were laws written in the regards of hunting witches as I recall, I’d like to hear them. We meet on this matter next week to hear his findings. Dismissed.”

Lucia jumped as he banged a gavel and the lords all stood to leave. Pockets of conversations formed as lords gathered like minnows to feed, talking over what was said. Lucia froze as Arian came up to her, too scared to even move. Then she felt Sherah’s hand on her arm, the older woman standing next to her.

“So, you brought her here Sherah,” Arian said as he crossed his arms. “Why?”

“I thought to distract her from her husband’s beatings,” Sherah said mildly.

“Strange entertainment Sherah,” Arian answered and then he looked at Lucia. “I do not like being crossed Lady Jeanne.”

“Things weren’t going your way Arian,” Sherah answered. “And absolute power would only make your head too big for your crown. She gave you the opening you needed to try something else.”

“Don’t bring her here again Sherah,” Arian said about to turn away, but stopped and looked back at Lucia. “I will talk to Elrik about your treatment.”

“No!” Lucia said, and Arian looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Majesty he will only beat me more if you talk to him.”

Arian made a face, he knew his son well.

“Perhaps if you let him do something constructive?” Sherah suggested.

“There has been an influx of prisoners we need information from,” Arian said nodding. “I need the little toad out of my way. He can go to the prison and question prisoners; that should make him a little more docile.”

“Thank you, majesty,” Lucia said genuinely relieved. Arian looked her up and down, examining her, but not leering.

“And, how are you?” he asked in a very subtle manor. He meant was she pregnant yet, but Lucia still did not know. Her bleeding had not come this month, but it could be late or just skipping.

“I don’t know yet majesty,” Lucia answered.

“I will send a mage to examine you then,” Arian answered. “I will tell you this Jeanne; I hope your child will be a little more cunning than my own children.”

It was the closest he would come to admitting he would rather name an unborn babe heir than Elrik, though Elrik was legally the heir at the moment. If he named Anton or Nicodemus heir, the power of the High Throne could shift to Dridia or Lir. Arian turned and left, Sherah taking her arm and leading her away. Marie ghosted behind them and Bedivere joined them at the door.

“You didn’t tell him the truth,” Lucia said as they walked out of the hall.

“I saw no point in doing so,” Sherah answered. They both stopped when Ileana stepped in their path, the silver on her dress chiming musically.

“Milady Sherah, Milady Jeanne,” she said nodding to them both.

“Lady Ileana, a pleasure to see you,” Sherah said with a fake smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I had hoped to help Lady Jeanne conceive,” Ileana answered. “Or at least to see if she is already with child.”

“Thank you but my brother has already offered to send a mage,” Sherah answered coolly. “Now if you’ll excuse us I’m afraid Jeanne is not feeling well.”

Sherah hurried her away, Lucia looking back over her shoulder to see Ileana glaring after them. Varas stepped up behind her and began speaking to her, but they turned a corner before Lucia could see more.

“Are those two seeing each other?” Lucia asked. “Varas and Ileana?”

“No, Varas’ taste runs on the other side of gender and age,” Sherah answered. “He prefers young boys.”

“How do you know all these things?” Lucia asked startled, surely that secret was very well kept.

“Spies,” Sherah answered. “The Court of Whispers in Shin-Ra is aptly named. I inherited a few spies after my husband died and put them to work here in the Court of Miracles. So, you know, I am always keeping an eye on you.”

Lucia shivered a little, seeing the similarity then between Sherah and her brother. She was not ruthless like Arian, but she was cunning and had a wit that should not be trifled with. Sherah took her leave with a kind word and a kiss, going off towards the library. Lucia left to seek some comfort of a nap before the ordeal of dinner again.

That night however as she lay in Elrik’s bed she dreamed. She hadn’t dreamed in months, since Elrik beat her almost every night she often fell into a dreamless stupor. Now as she walked through the mist she felt almost washed clean by the veil. Feeling almost light Lucia walked through the mist and past the burning tree. As she walked through the trees she saw movement and quickly hid.

Once again she saw the Elven King walking through the trees in the form of a great stag. As Lucia watched however he changed to his more human form. He turned and looked into the trees and there Lucia saw a procession walking towards him. Riding great white unicorns were his elven kin. Lucia could hardly look upon them they were so beautiful, their features noble, serine, and grand.

The king mounted a unicorn, smiling at one of the women of the group kindly. His love for his people shown on his face, like the love a father gave to his children and grandchildren. He turned and the procession started off into the woods, the unicorn’s cloven hooves soundless and leaving a trail of fresh growing flowers in their wake. Lucia sadly watched the last of them disappear into the trees, before a sharp pain woke her.

Opening her eyes she looked up at Elrik kneeling over her. She groaned as he hit her thigh again with a clenched fist.

“I said open your legs whore!” Elrik hissed between clenched teeth. Lucia complied and he took her hips in his hands and pulled her to him. Lucia kept her eyes open; staring at a point just over Elrik’s left shoulder. He didn’t like her closing her eyes when he took her. The pain was a dull throb to her now, Lucia was numb to him. Her only solace was that Elrik finished quickly. He rolled off her and went to his washroom. Lucia turned her head to see sunlight streaming through the curtains, it was already morning.

She sat up and listened to Elrik washing, waiting for her chance to do the same. She thought it strange that she had lost her virginity to such a man. She had hoped to have lost it to Seth; he had stolen her first kiss after all. And yet Seth was no different than Elrik, he had more blood on his hand and unlike Elrik he killed men personally. Though Elrik had ordered Jeanne’s death and caused Egram’s, it had been Seth who had performed the act.

All the same Lucia wished it were Seth who had just finished with her and was washing in the other room. Elrik finished and came out to dress, not even glancing at Lucia. She stood and went to the washroom; he had left it a mess. She ignored the mess and washed quickly. When she came out Elrik was gone already. She sighed as she dressed, having learned to don the heavy gowns alone. She couldn’t lace them completely, but she could perform the task well enough, so the dress would stay on.

She left Elrik’s rooms, heading for Jeanne’s. Women bedded with men at court, but they kept their own rooms, to preserve some of their own dignity and power. Of course, Jeanne was taking full advantage of this by remaining in her own rooms. The women’s quarters were in the west wing of the palace along with the queen’s solar. Bedivere wasn’t with her; even he had to sleep and was in his own rooms somewhere in the palace. Lucia was walking through the halls from Elrik’s rooms, when Cicely came running up to her.

“Milady, Voila needs your help!” Cicely said, her cheeks flushed and eyes wild. Lucia quickened her pace and Cicely followed.

“What happened?” Lucia asked, wondering if Cicely was referring to Jeanne when she said Voila.

“Just hurry,” Cicely moaned. “This way is faster.”

Lucia just followed Cicely as she went down a servant’s hall, down some stairs, and out into the gardens. She didn’t question Cicely’s choice; sometimes cutting through the gardens was faster. They passed through a barrow of rose bushes and Lucia stopped at the sight of Anton standing in the center of the barrow. Lucia leapt back as he activated a sigil on the ground, lines of power glowing as the sigil activated. Lucia just barely avoided the trap, but Cicely was captured.

“Damn, I thought I got you,” Anton muttered.

“You aren’t very original milord,” Lucia answered glad she had seen his trick before. “Let Cicely go.”

“Why should I?” Anton said. “She failed to lead you into the trap.”

Lucia looked to Cicely and saw then that a sigil was drawn lightly around her throat. Anton had commanded her to lead her away; he must have caught her when she went out on an errand for Jeanne.

“I’m sorry,” Cicely said as a tear slid down her cheek. Lucia shook her head, Cicely had betrayed a double, not Jeanne; she owed nothing to Lucia. She shook her head, unable to say anything lest she reveal the truth. Anton activated the sigil around her throat and Cicely made no noise as it began to choke her.

“Please stop!” Lucia shouted.

“Only if you submit to me,” Anton answered. Lucia knew he had sigils to make sure he would get her with child, and when she bore a mage everyone would know the truth. Lucia looked at Cicely, her eyes were bulging, her face turning blue, but she had enough strength to shake her head. Though Lucia was not Jeanne, she was to be the one to bear the heir to the throne; it could not be Anton’s.

“She is a noble of the house Sinistra!” Lucia shouted. “One of the great dukes of the Mark. You cannot just murder her! I will take this matter to the king.”

“Take it to him then,” Anton answered unconcerned. “She will still be dead.”

Cicely didn’t collapse because Anton’s sigil still held her, but her eyes had rolled back in her head. Lucia watched pained as her body shuddered and she died, her face purple and skin swollen. Anton let both sigils go and Cicely fell to the ground dead. Anton grinned as he walked over to her, Lucia tensing to flee. She felt it first, a change in the air she couldn’t explain, and Anton felt it too because he whirled around.

A sigil in the shape of a tiny sun flew out of the rose bushes and caught Anton in the shoulder, sending him flying back. He landed on the ground groaning, the sigil having done little damage other than stunning him. Lucia looked to where the projectile had come from and saw Varas just stepping out of the bushes. He looked annoyed and disgusted as he walked over to Anton.

“A real Myrddin could have drawn a counter to that before I even drew mine,” Varas said with mild rebuke. He looked up at Lucia and she flinched at his burning red eyes. He looked at her so deeply Lucia feared he could see through her into her real identity. “I am sorry milady Jeanne for my countryman’s murder of one of your handmaidens. He was wrong to have attacked you so.”

Lucia had suspected Varas behind Anton trying to seduce Jeanne, maybe he had been, but he did not seem the type to try such heavy-handed methods. And telling by how angry he was, he did not approve of this latest tact.

“I demand compensation milord Varas,” Lucia answered in her best impression of Jeanne’s high anger.

“I will send Anton away to Myr,” Varas answered. “I think it time he had some proper education in his sigils, his mother will go with him. Is that to your liking?”

“I’ve lost much in the death of my friend Lord Varas,” Lucia said. “I would like to ask for his head, but I know that will never happen. Instead, is there a sigil that you can cast that will protect a child in the womb?”

“There is,” Varas answered and stepped forward. “If I may? I can see if you have a child yet already.”

“Procced,” Lucia said, knowing she took a risk, but Varas dare not harm her after Anton had tried to. Varas drew a sigil over her belly watching the invisible powers for a moment before nodding.

“Congratulations,” he said simply, and Lucia felt her heart skip a beat. “I will cast the protection sigil after you have had time to mourn. I will send a servant to tend to her body.”

“Lord Varas,” Lucia said, and he stopped from turning away from her. “I will remember your aid well, and perhaps in the time to come we can reach an agreement of some kind.”

“I might hold you to that Lady Jeanne,” Varas said warningly.

“I hope you do Lord Varas,” Lucia answered. “I know I can trust you as long as you stand to gain something from me. I trust you more than my husband.”

“Very well,” he answered with a dangerous grin. “Go, you must mourn your loss. I will take care of things here.”

“See that her body is sent to the stables,” Lucia answered. “I will send someone to accompany her home.”

Varas nodded and Lucia walked over to where Cicely lay. She kissed her once on the forehead before heading out of the garden. She hurried back to Jeanne’s room, getting there just as she began to weep. She stumbled to Jeanne’s room, ignoring Marie who looked at her startled. She collapsed into a chair, Bryony hurrying over to her concerned.

“Was Elrik rough last night?” Bryony asked worried.

“No more than usual,” Lucia said shaking her head, her voice thick with tears. “Anton killed Cicely.”

“What?” Jeanne said from her bed. Voila gasped and tried to keep Jeanne in bed as she stood up. Lucia felt sad to see her so thin, she had once been in excellent condition, but her pain had stripped her of her muscle and strength. Lucia told the tale through her tears and her talk with Varas.

“You should not have made such a promise to such a man in my name!” Jeanne said. “You should have demanded Anton’s head.”

“His is the king’s bastard and a prince of Dridia,” Lucia said. “Arian would not take his head for a lowly Duke’s daughter from the Mark. You know this Lady Jeanne; I got what I needed to protect you.”

“You mean protect yourself,” Jeanne said hotly.

“When I bear you this child you will be safe Jeanne!” Lucia said. “You can take the beauty sigils and take your place in court again. Once there is a child to be the heir you will not need to bear anymore children.”

“Only if you bear a son,” Jeanne said.

“Then until I do you do not need to take your place again. I cannot protect you forever milady, this child is the only thing that will.”

Jeanne only looked sour; she wanted blood for the death of Cicely. Lucia felt sad she was dead, but she was practical enough to see the reality of it. Anton would not be killed and demanding his death would only mean she could not ask for some other boon lest she seem shallow.

“Voila, will you accompany her home?” Jeanne asked and Voila gasped.

“Milady I cannot leave you alone,” Voila said.

“I would go too but my duty keeps me here,” Jeanne said. “Please go, I cannot bear anything more happening to my friends.”

“Yes milady,” Voila said saddened and lowered her head. Jeanne took her hand and they went to pack Voila’s things, along with Cicely’s.

“Congratulations,” Bryony said to Lucia.

“It is not my child,” Lucia said her hand going to her belly.

“I will see you are made the child’s wet nurse,” Bryony said kindly. Lucia only stared off at nothing, not sure she wanted that or not. She could not be the child’s mother, could not risk telling it the truth. She thought of the man that had force it into her, and the man she wished had been the child’s real father; all she felt was lost.

#fairies #fantasy #series #dragoon #writing #please read

3 notes · View notes

adavendescendants · 7 years ago

Text

Song

Man so this one took me a while to write, though thankfully it has a decent length. School has be keeping me busy but I’m still hacking away. This request was done for ff.net guest Midnight. I made up a minor backstory type thing for Ursula I guess? Not sure really. Hope you enjoy and as always let me know what you think, I love hearing your opinions.

Uma loved to sing. She loved the sound of lyrics flowing together, the harmony of tones coming together. Every song had a beat like a heart, thrumming through the air and crashing into all those who heard its rhythm. Yes, Uma loved to sing and she knew everyone loved listening to her. But very few had ever heard Uma’s song. The hauntingly wild and fierce song of the ocean that Uma would sing into existence. Her siren song. Very few had ever heard it, mostly because her mother either loved or hated her song and Uma was never sure which it was that day. Even so, when she was alone she loved to just sing.

The chip shop was closing up for the night. Uma was wiping down the tables, the shop eerily quiet. Gil and Harry were busy with tasks she had assigned earlier in the day, so she was alone. Not liking the lack of noise, Uma began humming quietly to herself. Slowly lyrics began mixing in, the chorus of What’s My Name bringing a soft smile to her lips. She really did love that song. As she moved into the kitchen the words faded, shifting into a different melody.

Her humming turned into waves, her words spoken in the ocean’s tongue. The lyrics burned her like the midday sun and flowed on a salty breeze. Her siren song fell from her lips and wrapped her in its warm embrace, her heart beating in sync as it thrummed with all the power of the ocean. Like this, Uma felt utterly invincible. She was the daughter of the sea, master of waves and a goddess of the ocean. She was Uma.

“You have a beautiful song,” a frighteningly familiar voice said. Uma spun around, nearly dropping the plate she was washing. Her mother was smiling in the doorway between the kitchen and their house, her tentacles spilling across the floor. Uma remained silent and guarded at the compliment and smile. Her mother was never nice unless she wanted something.

“I used to have such a song.” Ursula continued, her tentacles slowly shifting towards Uma. “Then Triton’s daughter and her little prince stole it from me.” She spat out. Uma frowned, knowing her mother’s words were only partially true. Ursula’s singing voice had been destroyed when Ariel’s prince had killed her, not even being resurrected had been able to fix that. But Uma also knew from her many conversations with the sharks around the Isle that her mother had lost her siren song, and thus connection to the ocean, long before Ariel ever made a deal with her. Dark magic done without restraint could alienate even the ocean. Ursula had lost her song, which was half the reason she asked for Ariel’s voice as payment. Uma’s heartbeat picked up, she didn’t like where this situation was going.

“Uma darling, let’s make a deal,” Ursula said, her tentacles creeping even closer to Uma, blocking her path to the door. Uma knew her mother was unable to make any actual deals, but the fear at her mother’s tone still rose. Ursula was dangerous on a good day, right now she seemed downright unhinged. Uma ground her teeth, she was all alone and against her mother Uma knew she was at a terrible disadvantage.

“I’ll make it worth your while girl, you’ll be free to do whatever you please. No more shifts, no more dishes. I won’t even say anything about your relationships with those pirates. All you have to give in return is your voice.”

“No,” the word was out of Uma’s mouth before she could even think about it. She meant it, as if she would ever give up her voice, her song. She would rather spend the rest of her life as a miserable waitress then give up her birthright. But how she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. Ursula's sickening smile turned into a scowl.

“No?” The word came out like a hiss. Uma tried to dodge the tentacles coming for her, moving towards the door into the shop. “You ungrateful brat, I gave birth to you! I gave you your voice and I want it back.” Uma had almost reached the door when a tentacle wrapped around her leg, making her fall to the ground as it dragged her towards Ursula. Another slid around her neck, tightening as she continued to try and pull away. She was lifted off the ground, making her gasp and claw at the appendage as she struggled for air.

“Sing!” Ursula commanded, her hand going up to her own neck, pausing when she didn’t feel the shell necklace.

“Where is it?” She asked, looking down, leaving Uma to hang from her grasp. It didn’t even take a minute for the full force of reality to come crashing back down on the sea witch, she had no true power. She screamed, her tentacles crashing into the floor and walls, Uma caught in the destruction. Realizing Uma was still being held, she tossed her towards the door, uncaring that she wasn’t moving. Ursula turned, her furious screeching heard outside the chip shop. Surrounded by tables and chairs in the dim light, Uma lay motionless. Several gashes were bleeding, staining the floor around her, dark bruises around her throat forming. The shop soon fell quiet once more.

Harry and Gil were both done with their business for the day and were walking towards the chip shop. They were supposed to meet Uma back at the ship but they had finished early and were hoping to surprise their Captain with a visit and help. The day had been good, Harry had earned a little extra money while terrorizing the citizens of the Isle while Gil had scared a lesser gang out of trying to take over any of their turf. Both of them were grinning, eager to tell Uma everything that had happened. When they reached the chip shop only one light was visible from outside. Taking it as a sign Uma was still there Harry barged in, Gil right behind him.

“Cap’n” Harry called into the silent shop. The usual sounds of Uma’s footsteps coming to greet them were absent and for a moment they wondered if she had already left. But Uma would never leave the lights on, something wasn’t right. They split up, circling around the edges of the shop hands on the hilts of their swords. Gil saw the blood first.

“Uma?” He said, worry rising at the bit of blood. He rounded the table and froze. “Uma!” His shout had Harry running towards him even as he kneeled next to his motionless captain. Red splattered the floor around her from several cuts. Quickly he grabbed her wrist and held his hand in front of her mouth. He sighed when he felt air rush against his palm and the soft flutter of a pulse beneath his fingers. Harry was then there, knocking his hands out of the way to check for himself, his eyes focused solely on Uma’s face. A bit calmer knowing she was alive, Gil scanned her body and the area around them, trying to figure out what had happened. His eyes landed on the molted skin around her throat, gently pushing aside her braids. A closer look easily revealed the sucker marks from tentacles, markings they had seen often enough on Uma before. Gil and Harry shared a dark glance as the pieces clicked into place.

“I’m gonne te kill her,” Harry said beginning to stand. Gil quickly caught his arm, standing firm even as Harry shot him a deadly glare.

“You’re gonna help me patch Uma up.” Gil said, using every bit of confidence and determination he had to stare back at Harry, not giving in to the heated look. “I’ll help you kill her tomorrow, today we gotta help Uma.” There was a beat and then Harry’s head jerked in some semblance of a nod as he carefully scooped Uma up into his arms. He held her close to his chest as they left the chip shop, Gil a step ahead of them shielding her from view. No one dared step in their way, both boys were ready to gut anyone who came between them and their ship.

A few members of the crew were lounging on deck when they neared. They quickly stood when they saw Uma lying in Harry’s arms, questions spilling from their lips. Harry and Gil didn’t answer them, solely focused on getting Uma to her cabin so they could patch her up. The door slammed closed as Gil started grabbing medical supplies from the cabinet, Harry laying Uma on the bed. They worked roughly in tandem. In all honesty they weren’t used to working at patching Uma up. Uma was always working with one of them to patch up the other. They always tried to take the blows so their captain didn’t have to. But today they had failed. Failed to protect her from her own mother and now she was bruised, bloody and unconscious. Harry and Gil loathed failing Uma.

There wasn’t a lot either of them could do. They cleaned the cuts and bandaged the worse of them, pulling a few blankets from Gil’s room to try and keep her warm and comfortable. Bonny had been by, but she didn’t know much else to do either. Everyone was just waiting, waiting for Uma to wake up and tell them what to do in such a situation. Harry was still out for blood but his longing to see Uma awake overrode it, leaving him sitting next to her bed inevitably falling asleep against it. Gil sat in front of the door, silently watching the pair until he too fell asleep.

Harry woke to someone prodding him. His head snapped up, instantly focusing on Uma who was staring at him. The room was dark but he could make out her hand gesturing towards her throat.

“Water,” she rasped out. Harry was on his feet, stumbling towards the table where they had set a glass earlier. Gil woke up to the commotion, standing quickly.

“Uma?”

“She’s up,” Harry responded, handing Uma the glass as he sat on the edge of the bed. Uma winced as she drank the bruising taking it’s toll. There was silence as she handed the glass back to Harry.

“I’ll kill ‘er,” Harry declared.

“No,”

“Wha do ye mean no? She almost killed ye.”

“She wanted my voice and she’s too strong,”

“And? I’ll still kill ‘er,”

“After-After the barrier is down. I’ll have magic then.”

“But-”

“No,” Uma said with as much finality as she could. Harry and Gil stared at her not fully believing what she said. But they would obey the captain’s orders.

“Somethin to look forwards to eh?” Gil said nudging Harry. The pirate boy was still frowning but his expression softened when Uma ran her fingers through his hair. Harry melted onto the floor, leaning against the bed again as Uma laid back down, exhaustion already getting to her. Gil sat next to Harry, his eye on the door. He started to hum a simple sea shanty he knew Uma liked, Harry quickly catching on. Uma sighed, her breathing evening out quickly to their shared melody, both boys falling asleep soon after.

#descendants 2 #descendants #harry hook #uma #gil #ursula #siren songs #i guess some random backstory?

27 notes · View notes

fearofaherobrine · 7 years ago

Text

Roleplay Server Log #255

“Flight of the Pinwheel, Harvestman’s Face, Firebird the Tutor, Baff For Hyrule, Traveler”

[Lie] After a few hours- Doc We could use some food...

[Doc] Was sitting in the front room reading a book. Over chat - I can oblige. But make sure Cp doesn't kick my ass for barging in.

[Lie] - Yeah I don't think that will be a problem

[Doc] Bustles around and makes some simple sandwiches and a bit of mushroom soup. Xe briefly throws some steaks into the furnace for Cp and then slips quietly into the bedroom- Lie?

[Lie] Is sitting up, having stolen CP's shirt to cover herself, CP is completely flopped on his part of the bed-

[Doc] Heh, I see what you mean. Probably too pooped to even flip me off. - Xe sets the food on nearby surfaces .

[Lie] - Actually... I think he might still have some of the venom in his system... he's just to exhausted to do anything right now...

[Doc] Gets a bit of an evil grin - I could shock him a few times to get the rest of it...

[Lie] Glances at CP, somewhat tempted to let Doc do so-

[CP] General mumbled disagreement into the sheets-

[Doc] Lets a bit of statick dance over hir fingers and winks at Lie-

[Lie] Sighs- No, he'll just be mad then

[Doc] Eh. That would be nothing new. - Xe puts the finger in hir mouth and eats the bit of interference.

[Lie] - So what exactly... Well, happened to me?

[Doc] Me and Flux found you running from Harvestman. He stabbed you from behind only seconds after you came into view. Flux captured your code and I created a distraction so she could escape with it.

[Lie] - If she hadn't... I would be dead, wouldn't I?

[Doc] Yes. He made a spirited attempt to kill me as well. Thankfully he hit a limb I can easily break off and still run away.

[Lie] - Thank goodness, so how did you get away?

[Doc] I used a trick TLOT taught me actually. I vomited a great quantity of bad code on him. I hope it fucked him up royally.

[CP] Muffled grumpy noises-

[Doc] Hmmm? Cp? Something to say? Now that you're not panicking, I'd think you'd be pleased that I did even some small damage to your mortal enemy.

[Lie] - I think he's a bit mad that you did something he hasn't been able to acheive

[Doc] Aw... Don't be mad. It's just something I can do. You can mess with peoples dreams, I can't do that. It's pretty neat really.

Besides, I'm glad I got to get at least a little bit of revenge for what he's done to both of you.

[Lie] Fingers her hair- So, why is my hair so long now?

[Doc] I'm not sure. I think it was just a slight coding error. Probably a misplaced decimal in the length it was supposed to be. I can cut it for you if you want.

[Lie] - I don't dislike it

[Doc] Suit yourself. Just watch out for Enderbro. He may pounce you and give you a fancy braid. Heh.

[Lie] - I wouldn't be surprised

[Notch] Taps on the doorframe, he's looking down at his phone and assumed with Doc present there wouldn't be nudity afoot. - OH! Sorry!

[Lie] - It's fine, I've got CP's shirt on and he's covered by a blanket

[Doc] What's on your phone Markus?

[Notch] I got a text. It's pretty gross though.

[Doc] Let me see. - Takes the small phone and lets out a small whoop- HA!

[Lie] What is it?

[Doc] Makes a cruel face. - A bit of my handiwork. Let me fix it to a piece of paper so it's bigger. This ones a keeper. - Fusses around and runs the phone like a scanner over a bit of paper.

[CP] Huffs a little-

[Doc] Gives Markus back his phone and walks around to Cp's side of the bed. Xe holds out the page. - Trust me Cp, it's worth raising your head for.

[CP] Grunts-

[Doc] Come on, you'll smile. I can almost promise it-

[CP] Muffled no-

[Doc] Holds it up where Lie can see it-

[Lie] Is a little disturbed by it- His face...

[Doc] I guess my code wasn't to his liking. That's what he gets for hurting my friends.

[CP] Peeks in his wife's mind to see the image so Doc can't tell-

[Doc] And this is another reason you should be looking to TLOT for help

[CP] Gives a very weak burst of "fuck you" energy-

[Notch] So was this the victory sex? Doc told me you finally got your memory back. You had us all very worried.

[Lie] - Er... Actually...

-A few of the bite marks are still visible on CP-

[Notch] Oh dear... was there an accident?

[Doc] Kinda.

[Lie] - I... Panicked when my memories returned... CP took the brunt of it

[Doc] It could have been worse I guess. - Xe sets the picture down near Cp.

[Lie] - Still, I'm not as sore as I'd thought I'd be

[Doc] You're tougher now Lie. You'll be healing a lot faster then before.

[Lie] - I see...- She reaches over for some of the food Doc brought- I'm just hoping CP recovers soon...

[Doc] grins- Ready for more sex already? You minx.

[Lie] - No, but like I said, I'm pretty sure there's still more venom in his system

[Doc] Hey Markus? You got any sleeves on you?

[Notch] Blushes - ...yeah...

[Doc] Let me have one please.

[Notch] Sure. - Passes it-

[Lie] - Er, actually, about that...

[Doc] What?

[Lie] - Well, the condoms are made for a normal sized amount of cum, right? Well, that doesn't exactly apply to brines...

[Doc] Oh fuck... what happened?

[Lie] - Well, it kinda overflowed...

[Notch] It what?!

[Lie] - Yeah...

[Doc] .... What would you like me to do Lie?

[Lie] - I don't know, but we should be okay for now, I doubt my body has had enough time to release an egg

[Doc] I'll check your files anyway. Thanks to Aven I know what to look for now. - Sets down hir command block and does a scan- I needed to do this anyway. Just in case.

[Lie] - Okay- She sits there patiently- Honestly I'm surprised nothing happened before my ovaries were removed...

[Doc] Just a bit of luck, I think, or incompatible file systems? Who knows? - But there's nothing new here, so I think you're safe.

[Lie] - Alright. Would you be able to tell if the files are incompatible?

[Doc] Maybe. And if something crops up... I can always delete it for you before it becomes an issue.

[Lie] - Thank you

[CP] Mumbled Fuck off towards Doc and Notch-

[Notch] Okay that sentiment I recognize. I'll just leave you to it. - Scoots out quickly.

[Doc] You're welcome

[Lie] - Thanks for the visit Notch!

[Notch] From the hallway- Likewise Lie!

[Lie] - Well Doc, knowing you I've probably kept you from Deerheart during all this, so why don't you go to her?

-After a few days things have finally settled down and CP has gotten all of the venom out of his system. Lie is at the castle, looking for Doc so xe can check her over again-

[Firebird] -Flies over Lie's house, only to circle back around to hover over it-

[CN] Is trying to teach his bird some more sounds-

[Firebird] -Glides down, letting out a bird call as he circles toward them-

[CN] Looks up- Pretty bird!

[Firebird] -Chirp and land on CN, completely disregarding that last time it'd knocked CN over-

[CN] Falls over again, his pet bird flapping a short distance away before barking like a dog-

[Firebird] -Hop off and strut a bit before transforming back to his other form- What's with the other bird? Got a new friend?

[CN] Picks himself up- Doc gave it to me... Said I couldn't pluck it, but that it would give me feathers eventually to add to my belt

[Firebird] Oh, makes sense. All birds molt, getting feathers that way tends to be pretty useful. Less harming to the animal.

[CN] - Molting?

[Firebird] We shed our feathers for new, healthier ones.

[CN] - Oh, the feathers I had gotten were from what I was able to kill. That way I knew how much I had eaten

-The bird mimics a vulpix-

[Firebird] -Chirps at the parrot- Makes sense, I suppose.

[CN] - And then I got your feathers! But then DN wanted me to shoot you so I could get more...

-The parrot flew up and lands on Firebirds head-

[Firebird] -Pets the parrot- You probably wouldn't have gotten any, so it's for the best you didn't. Getting things works a lot better when you ask. And when you're nice.

[CN] - I still don't see why everybody hates DN, he was always nice to me. He helped me our there in the void...

[Firebird] That was you, CN. He was nice to You.

[Firebird] He was everything but to everyone else on the server.

[CN] - Why are there bad NOTCH's?

[Firebird] ... Hm.... -Thoughtful look, continue to pet parrot-

[Firebird] It varies. Sometimes it's simple, an aggression module too high. A faulty ideal. Others, it's just the way they're made, I guess. Not sure.

[CN] - Then what about the one which made my brine lose all of her memories?

[Firebird] .. Hm.... Faulty ideals? Aggression module at +7777777. Chill module at -88? I wouldn't know. Maybe it just wants to hurt people. Watch people suffer. Gets some sick pleasure out of it? I can't pretend to know what they think, I can only guess. -Sits down on the ground and takes parrot off head, pets it in thought-

[CN] - But I've heard some of the others talk about digital entities going bad...

[Firebird] Hmm... Not sure. That's a thing too, but I couldn't tell you much, I was made bad, not much else to me.

[CN] - You were made bad?

[Firebird] Yeah. I was an egotistical prick. Thought just because I was so strong I could do whatever I wanted. Hurt a lot of people... -Pet pet parrot-

[CN] - What if that happens to me?

[Firebird] Remember you don't have to be like that. That it's better to be loved. To have friends. Sure, being feared is nice. Less people will bother you. But less people will interact. Will hang out with you. You want to keep Lie safe, right?

[CN] - But what about my purpose? I'm supposed to protect my brine, but once I got to her, she didn't need it anymore!

[Firebird] Then try to change. Sure, she doesn't need protection anymore. But does she need help around the house? Maybe someone to feed the animals when she can't? It's the little things, CN. Lie's a big girl, she can keep herself safe now. And when she can't, there's CP. But if CP can't keep her safe? Then you can. But the server's pretty safe, CN. *pauses and feels a few feathers on the parrot. Resist urge to preen because those feathers are bad and the Parrot will get to them..

[Firebird] Try asking Lie if there's anything you can do for her, next time you see her. Can I feed your horses? Do you need someone to water your plants, Lie? Is there anything you need in town? Things like that. *shrug a bit

[Firebird] Above all else, I guess.. Just remember you're more than your purpose. You're a person, and sure, you should take it into consideration, but you choose what you do, buddy.

[CN] - Easy for you to say, your an adult. The water buckets are heavy, I can't carry that much back from town, and it takes me four times as long to feed all of her horses!

[Firebird] There's this thing called asking for help, CN.

[Firebird] And practice.

[CN] Huffs- I don't even have any powers, I'm just useless

[Firebird] You're only useless if you let yourself be useless, CN. I couldn't fly for forever when I came to be. Hell, I didn't even know I could be like This for a year or so! *gesture at human body

[Firebird] You know who else doesn't have any powers? Steves. Sure, they can build. That's nice. Most can't walk in Lava, or fly or do half the things we do. But you know what? They find a way. You can do that too, can't you?

[Firebird] You can find a way to help around the house. You can find a way to help Lie, and if you need to ask for help?

[Firebird] Well, that's just fine.

[CN] - Okay...

[Parrot] Starts making sex noises-

[Firebird] ... -squints at parrot-

[Firebird] Gross.

[CN] - Lie and CP were making those noises the past few days...

[Firebird] Ah... They've been busy, I guess. And you've just been around the whole time? -Snort-

[CN] - Lie knew I didn't like being far from her, so my room is close to theirs

[Firebird] Makes sense. So, what've you been up to beside that?

[CN] - Coloring my books since Lie hasn't had the time lately to continue teaching me to read

[Firebird] I could teach you? Or anyone really could, if you want to learn that badly?

[CN] - You would?

[Firebird] Sure!

[CN] His face lights up- Okay!

[Firebird] -Smiles a bit- Got a book to use? I don't usually carry books with me...

[CN] Nods and races inside before returning with a very simple abc's book- Here!

[Firebird] -Take book, flip through pages a bit- Do you remember where you left off?

[CN] - J!

[Firebird] J... Next is... -flips book pages a bit- H!

[CN] - Like house!

[Firebird] Yeah, Like House. H-O-U-S-E. ... I think.. -Slight hesitance- Ehh.. Yeah, I think that's right.

[CN] - Oh, I forgot my pencil

[Firebird] If you wanna go get it you can? I think I have some charcoal though... Or a quill if you've got ink?

[CN] - I'll go get it- He runs back inside and returns with the pencil- Lie says if I do really good I can color in the big letters

[Firebird] Seems like a good trade.

[CN] Then proceeds to copy the letters with his pencils, both upper and lower case. Once finished he hooks it up for Firebird- Did I do them right?

[Firebird] Mmm.. Yeah. The lowercase is a bit off, but recognizable. Everyone has different handwriting. Onward to... The rest of the alphabet?

[CN] - Okay- The two then proceed to follow the same pattern for a few more letters

[Firebird] -Corrects CN's letters periodically. His writing is very elegant and proper, if a bit hesitant-

[CN] - Your letters are so pretty

[Firebird] Took a lot of practice.

[Firebird] Once you've got the basics down I could teach you that?

[CN] - Okay!- He shakes out his hand a little, not used to writing so much

[Firebird] Want to take a break for a bit? Writing for a long time can be pretty bad for your wrists.

[CN] - Okay, what should we do now?

[Splender] Over chat- I seem to have lost track of Pinwheel...

[Doc] Also in chat- I'm on it Splender!

-The door to Arden's room is open and there's a bit of peeping from his computer.-

[Lie] Had wandered into the lab looking for Doc and hears the peeping. She pokes her head into the room- Arden?

-More peeping from the computer as some text appears in a chat window-

[Lie] Not seeing the owner of the room she gets curious and walks closer to look at the screen-

[CollaredEverestCat] Hey Arden? Are you there? Don't you ever do anything but play Minecraft anymore?

[Lie] - Oh, must be one of his friends from out there... I should just leave it be...

[CollaredEverestCat] ...I'm worried about you buddy....

[Lie] Against her better judgment she sits in front of the keyboard, her fingers hovering over the keys-

[CollaredEverestCat] I know you're lonely, talk to me man...

[Lie] Gives in to temptation- Hey, Arden's not here right now, but I can tell you he's fine and not lonely

[CollaredEverestCat] ... who is this?

[Lie] - A friend of his

[CollaredEverestCat] An irl friend? Or did you hack his computer?

[Lie] Hesitates- IRL?

[CollaredEverestCat] In real life? Like in his presence? Not online? Wait, am I talking to someones mom?

[Lie] - Oh, uh, no, in real life. And no, I'm not a mom

[CollaredEverestCat] .... Wow. Good for him. I know he's not real social offline.

[Lie] - Yeah, he's actually made more friends since coming here and more things to research... Most of which are friendly

[CollaredEverestCat] Even better. I try to encourage him to get out there. I hate to be the guy to upsell relationships to my dudes, but... it's worked for me.

[Lie] - Well, I do know there's at least one person who's interested in him, just to shy to broach the subject

[CollaredEverestCat] Great... that's gonna go nowhere. He's oblivious.

[Lie] - So everyone has noticed

[CollaredEverestCat] Who are you?

[Lie] - I've already told you, a friend of his

[CollaredEverestCat] You have a handle at least?

[Lie] - Most refer to me as Lie

[CollaredEverestCat] Okay Lie. Can you give me some insight on exactly where Arden has vanished too? Because he and Ms. Cheshire and Zeke have been reported missing.

[Lie] - That's... Complicated...

[CollaredEverestCat] I know you probably couldn't tell me, but he isn't in the witness protection program or something, is he?

[Lie] - No, they haven't. They are in a... Sanctuary of sorts though

[CollaredEverestCat] Oh man... I worry about him getting in trouble with MIBs and such. I know what happened to Bender...

[Lie] - This is the absolute last place they could get, I assure you

[CollaredEverestCat] That's good to know.

[Lie] - You know, I don't believe Arden's ever mentioned you to me...

[CollaredEverestCat] Yeah, well, I'm into a lot of stuff, and I tend to lay low.

[Lie] - I won't pry then, I'm guessing your handle is based off of an old oc?

[CollaredEverestCat] Well... my girlfriend is into BDSM... I like that sorta thing....

[Lie] Immediately blushes- OH! I see...

[CollaredEverestCat] And my names Ever.

[Lie] - It's nice to meet you Ever

[CollaredEverestCat] You as well Lie. Should I be worried about my buddy at all?

[Lie] - No, he's safe and happy. He has a lot of things to document here

[CollaredEverestCat] Good. I know how badly he wants to just.. see stuff. He's the kinda guy who'd walk outside during a tornado out of sheer curiosity.

[Lie] - Well luckily we don't have any of those here

[CollaredEverestCat] Must be hilly country. As long as he stays safe.

[Lie] - We all make certain of that. I should be going we have a missing... Child to find

[CollaredEverestCat] That's harsh. Good luck! And nice talking to you, Lie.

[Doc] Peeks in the room- Hey Arden I... Lie? What are you doing in here?

[Lie] Jumps a little- Uuuuhhhhhhh...

[Doc] Skeptical look- If you want your own computer, just ask. Pinwheel is missing.

[Lie] - Yeah I saw- She steps away from the computer- I was just... Reassuring someone

[Doc] Hmm, okay. Well, I can feel her down here, so you should either come with me, or go quickly the other way.

[Lie] - I think I'll go. Oh, and by the way, if someone is bitten at least ten times by my pods, it takes about three days for the venom to leave the system

[Doc] Ouch... poor Cp. Did he make you sore again Lie?

[Lie] - No actually

[Doc] Good! Then you're acclimating nicely to the code I gave you.

[Lie] - I guess so, I wonder if it will hold up during one of his power surges...- She then turns and leaves

[Doc] Heads further down into the lab searching for Pinwheel-

[Silver] Comes out of his room with a fainted Espurr- Oh, uh, I think I found who you're looking for...

[Doc] Espurr! Did they get bit? I'm sorry Silver. Do you have a revive or do you need one?

[Silver] - I've got one, I'd just rather revive them outside

[Doc] As long as they'll be okay. I'll take care of Pinwheel.

[Silver] - Yeah, they'll be fine

[Doc] Pats Espurr and keeps looking.

[Pinwheel] Is hunkered down in Silver's room-

[Doc] Comes down the steps into the fire-lit room - Pinwheel?

[Pinwheel] - No

[Doc] Yes. And that was really naughty biting Espurr too.

[Pinwheel] - No

[Doc] Looks under furniture and such for Pinwheel

[Pinwheel] Tries to sneak past-

[Doc] No you don't! I understand if you're stir crazy. But you can't just run around biting people!

[Pinwheel] Growls and makes a break for the stairs-

[Doc] Chases after with determination-

[Pinwheel] Makes it about half way up the stairs-

[Doc] Grabs her from behind with one hand right behind her head. - Stop.

[Pinwheel] - Nooooooooooo!

[Doc] Carries her upstairs, and into the kitchen - YES.

[Pinwheel] Struggles a little- NO!

[Buff] Is putting seemingly random food items into a cauldron in the kitchen- What the? Is that dragon okay?

[Pinwheel] - NO!

[Buff] Um....

[Doc] 'No' is the only word she knows.

[Buff] Oh... - He picks up the entire cauldron and puts a hand over the top before shaking it vigoriusly-

[Doc] What the hell...?

[Pinwheel] Struggles and lashes her tail about a bit-

[Doc] Plunks her on he table and pets her- Calm down-

[Pinwheel] - No no no!

[Buff] Takes a sip from the slush in the cauldron- She's certainly mad...

[Doc] Goes a bit green - Buff... geeze...

[Pinwheel] Hisses-

[Doc] Is typing one handed- It's okay Splender. I found Pinwheel.

[Splender] - OH THANK GOODNESS! WHERE IS SHE!?

[Doc] In my kitchen-

[Splender] Teleports there immediately- PINWHEEL!

[Buff] Blinks - Who's this?

[Doc] She was naughty too.

[Splender] - Oh! I'm Splender! And she was naughty?

[Buff] Balances the cauldron on one hand and offers the other. - Nice to meet you. I'm Buff!

[Doc] She bit one of Silver's Pokemon. Thankfully it can only faint and he took it outside for a revive already.

[Splender] Shakes Buff's hand- I'm so sorry! I'm not even sure how she got away!

[Doc] By being a cunning little devil I'm sure.

[S[;ender] - But the bridge was up and everything!

[Doc] She does have wings...

[Pinwheel] Attempts a bite-

[Splender] - Well she has been jumping off the beds a lot lately...

[Doc] is still holding the back of her head- stop that!

[Splender] Reaches out for Pinwheel- Here, I'll take her

[Doc] Actually, let me play her a little bit. She's probably bored. Just hold her back so I can let go and get a toy.

[Splender] - Okay!

[Doc] Gingerly lets go and scoots away. Xe runs up the steps and fetches a feather toy on a string from the vine room before coming back in-

[Pinwheel] Eyes snap onto the toy-

[Buff] Drinks the rest of the mush in the cauldron and sets it back down-

[Doc] Wiggles the feathers enticingly

[Pinwheel] Lunges at the toy-

[BEN] Is laying exhausted on the bed while Hyrule plays with a few toys next to him-

[aven] -is laying on the bed as well but is lazily playing a game on the game system

[BEN] - Aaaaaaaaaaaaven

[aven] yea ben?

[BEN] - Why won't he nap?

[Hyrule] Giggles as he bashes two toys together-

[aven] i don't know

[Hyrule] Shakily stands and starts toddling towards the door-

[BEN] - Hyrule? Where are you going?

[Hyrule] - Dada, we go baff!

[aven] hyrule you need someone to be with you for a bath gem would help

[BEN - No baths!

[Hyrule] - Dada! Mama! Wa-er! Wa-er!

[aven] -pauses her game and gets up- lets find gem first

[Hyrule] Giggles-

[Ben] - Really? Why!? He doesn't need it!

[aven] yes he does ben our child like to be clean and that's good for his health so he doesn't get sick

[BEN] Groans, too exhausted to actually do anything right now although starting to smell himself-

[aven] -opens the door for hyrule to follow-

[Hyrule] Toddles out, and then trips and falls-

[aven] -catches him-

[Hyrule] - Mama! Mama!

[aven] yes?

[Hyrule] Opens arms wide for a hug-

[aven] -hug hyrule and picks him up to go find gem-

[Hyrule] Snuggles into Aven- Where Em?

[aven] maybe in the kitchen -goes down to check and she is there-

[Hyrule] Starts getting excited-

[gem] hello aven hello hyrule you need anything?

[aven] hyrule wants a bath

[Hyrule] - Em! Baff!

[gem] daw of course hyrule we can have a bath but we will need a bigger bath tub because your bigger -takes hyrule from aven- lets go to the tub down stairs how would you like that hyrule?

[Hyrule] Claps excitedly- Big baff! Big baff!

[gem] -starts to walk to the big bath- ok but you can't go to the big bat by yourself promise

[Hyrule] Shakes head-

[gem] -get the big bath-here we are lets get you all clean

[Hyrule] Wiggles around- Baff! Baff!

[gem] -puts on her shirt and shorts before bringing them both into the water keeping hyrule in the sallow end-

[Hyrule] Immediately starts splashing-

[gem] -starts to wash hyrule-

[Hyrule] Laughs and splashes-

[gem] -while washing him- when you get older I am going to teach you how to swim

[Hyrule] - Wim?

[gem] yes swim it allows you to move on top of the water so you can breath

[Hyrule] Smiles brightly- Wim! Wim! Baff!

[gem] -finishes washing hyrule- ok lets get out so you can get back to your mommy and daddy

[Hyrule] Whines-

[gem] don't whine hyrule I bet ben is worried about you

[Hyrule] - Dada?

[gem] yes he is scared of water because once got stuck underwater

[Hyrule] Doesn't understand yet- We go Dada?

[gem] yes we are going to go to dada -starts walking back to tree house-

[BEN] Is completely passed out on the bed-

[aven] -is barely awake-

[gem] -brings hryule in and hands him to aven- he is all clean

[Hyrule] - Mama! Play! Baff!

[aven] you just had a bath how about we have a nap

[Hyrule] - No!

[aven] but me and your dad need naps

[Hyrule] Whines-

[aven] please sweetie you need to have naps

[Hyrule] Starts crying-

[BEN] Sighs as he wakes up and pulls out his ocarina, gently playing Zelda's lullabye which calms Hyrule down-

[aven] -tries to rock hyrule-

[Hyrule] Finally starts yawning-

- An old and disheveled Testificate is resting on a makeshift chair. His eyes are nearly closed and rimmed from lack of sleep and his skin is an unhealthy pallor. A few zombies shuffle around in the darkness, but don't approach him. His clothes hang slack on his bones so badly he resembles a zombie himself. He remembers having a voice in his head, but it's been silent for a very, very long time. Suddenly, there's a little bit of commotion as a door squeaks open in the darkness and the zombies make a beeline for it. They're swiftly cut down and the only sound is their forms collapsing to the floor and despawning with a soft 'poof'.

The Testificate gives a baleful look to the intruder. "How dare you...?"

The newcomer runs slim fingers along the wall and is lit briefly by the redstone embedded in it.

His breath catches in his throat and he stammers out an apology. "I had no idea!"

[???] I understand you were occasionally useful to my predessor Slagathor...

[Slagathor] And I can be again!

[???] I think not. -

[Slagathor] There's the barest whisper of air and the Testificate feels a brief touch, like a feather whispering across his throat. He has only a moment to looks down before the blood washes his clothing in a fount of red. The former sychophant falls from his perch and despawns on the floor.

[???] The figure stares for a moment at the wooden chair and the dirty room before striking a flint and setting it on fire. They leave the shelter without looking back. - The Traveller needs no one.

-It isn't long before the nearby village sends their iron golems into the flaming woods to stamp and swat out the fire. When the remaining woods are clear of smoke and flames they find the small shell of a structure, and breathed sighs of relief that the seemingly evil wizard that haunted their woods and sent zombies after them now seemed gone or dead. It took several days for the news to reach Kore that a seeming champion might be wandering the landscape. And that precious notation was left in a plain wooden box with a few other things. Things the faithful kept to give to their Gods when they deigned to visit...

5 notes · View notes