#ships burning oh dearie me-

[likesdoodling]

Guess what I just finished ehehehe >:D

Oh yeah- the 'I see your wife' was a bit hard to do so I just replaced it with the next best 'murderer plus innocence' parallel I could think of-

(and the tags I got to cover the last few bits got cut off, so I have decided to include the last minute of dramatic commentary here instead-

:(:( Alas alack~ poor Finrod-

Oh look it's Gondolin! And Maeglin too, fancy that. Wonder why he's there, anyway, moving on-

Fingon gets some more screentime, -and no. I am not naming the Balrogs involved. They don't deserve it >:(

And after that it's pretty self explanatory.

I mean.

If you know who Feanor and his sons are you probably get what's going on here. :'(

>:)

[circusgoth-dotcom]

A Man And His Woes

Ship: Gabriel Conifer x Professor Henry Higgins

Word Count: 912

Summary: An introduction to Gabriel and Higgins' dynamic, in which the two discuss Higgins plans for Eliza Doolittle, a young woman of low income whom he wishes to pass off as someone of higher status just because he believes he can. CWs for classism, alcohol consumption.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife @dudefrommywesterns

Gabriel was just about to let himself into Higgins’ study when Mrs. Pearce’s arm suddenly blocked him.

“I wouldn’t go in there now, dearie,” she warned, “Mr. Higgins is in a bit of a mood.”

He frowned. “How so?”

She sighed. “He’s taken on a… project, shall we say. Brought in a lass with the thickest accent I ever did hear, wants to make a duchess of her, and you know how he is… needless to say, they don’t like each other very much.”

“Why ever did this girl agree to work with him if they can’t stand each other?”

“She’s a poor one, you see. He offers her a room, warm meals, new clothes, and in return he thinks he gets to treat and teach her however he likes.”

It was Gabriel’s turn to sigh. “Why am I not surprised? His head’s too big for his own good.”

Mrs. Pearce nodded in agreement. “Now that I think about it, maybe you ought to go in. Soothe him. He could never be frustrated with you and you never seem to get exhausted with him. It’s an admirable feat if I do say so myself.”

He gave her a small smile as she stepped aside. “Well, I was going to tell him that the laundry’s done, but I suppose I’ll play shrink with him instead,” he quipped lightly.

“Good luck.”

Upon entering, he found Higgins sprawled out on a loveseat, pinching his brow in annoyance. “What is it now, Mrs. Pearce?”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I hear we’ve another guest, besides Colonel Pickering.”

Higgins sat up, quickly looking over his shoulder. “Oh, Conifer, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was you. Yes, but I’d rather not talk about her. I presume you’ve just done the laundry for Pickering’s stay?”

Gabriel nodded. “Is there anything of the girl’s I’m to clean, then?”

Higgins stood and walked over to his desk, waving his hand dismissively. “Heavens no, I’ve ordered Mrs. Pearce to burn her clothes. Wretched things, they were more dirt than cloth, I’d say.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Surely those were not the only things to her name?”

“Why should I care? I’m providing her with plenty of new, clean things. Ladies things.” He began pouring two glasses of brandy as Gabriel approached him.

“It’s not that that’s not a gesture of goodwill, sir, but think… she may’ve had a certain attachment to them, coming from a place of low worth… appreciate what you have and so on.” He took one of the glasses, eying Higgins tentatively. They paused as he drank, stalling for time.

“We're doing the exact opposite of what I wanted… how is it that you always get me to do that?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Gabriel smiled behind his glass of alcohol. “Now, don't try to change the subject, Mr. Higgins. Who is she?”

He huffed. “An Eliza Doolittle, and a pain in my eardrums to boot, listen to this.” Higgins quickly slipped over to his phonograph and turned it on. A harsh Cockney accent repeating vowel sounds shortly poured out of it. “Tell me, what kind of sound is that? ‘Owww,’ she sounds like an alley cat. She may as well have manners in common with one.”

Gabriel swallowed his drink. “It’s certainly kind of you to help her… though, if it is my place to say, may I suggest exercising some gentler language? Especially when she’s around. It might make things easier for both of you.”

“Of course it’s kind of me to help her. Who else would?” Higgins gazed at Gabriel for a long moment, completely breezing past his suggestion of speaking more pleasantly about Eliza and her “predicament.” “You’re so easy to talk to, Conifer.”

He finished his drink and set the glass aside. “I’m glad to hear, Mr. Higgins. But you’re changing the subject again. What’s the desired result here? Mrs. Pearce said you want to make a duchess of her.”

Higgins bit back a reluctant sound and briefly began to pace. “Yes. I want to pass her off as a lady at the upcoming Embassy Ball.”

“Six months,” Gabriel mused softly.

“Precisely.”

“But why her? Are you doing it just to prove it can be done?”

“Why else?”

Gabriel folded his arms. “You know I hate to criticise, but it all seems a bit selfish if you ask me.”

Higgins whipped around, appearing alarmed. “Selfish?! It’s selfish of me to give her everything she doesn’t have, and all I ask for in return is her cooperation?!”

“It’s selfish because you’re doing it for your own benefit, Mr. Higgins. Just so you can get a kick out of making a silk purse of a sow’s ear. What happens to her when you’re done?”

“She lives a long, happy life in the upper class! Preferably far from mine.” He set to pour himself another drink, but Gabriel put a hand on his arm.

“And if she's found out?”

“It's none of my business.” Higgins stiffly shook him off and poured more brandy.

“It's all of your business,” Gabriel muttered under his breath, turning away. “Very well, sir. I won't question you further.” With that, Gabriel left Professor Higgins to his alcohol and his headaches, waiting to be assigned another chore in the meantime.

“So, how was your day?” Higgins spoke, long after the door had closed and he had downed his second drink. He looked around, realized he was alone, and buried his face in his hands.

[eddieheart]

CANADIAN WEREWOLVES IN HAWKINS

(Part 1)

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairings: NONE

Words: 977

Description: Lola didn’t want to move, but that didn’t mean her new town was all bad.

"All my friends are back home! I-I can't just leave mom."

"Look honey, I know it's hard for you but-but with your... condition... it's better for you here, Hawkins." Deep down she knew her mother was right. But it's not likes she was going to tell her that.

Her... condition as her mother put it was... complicated to say the least. Lola had been out for a run when she was attacked, at first she wasn't sure what it was. But after waking up half mauled and bloodied, yet feeling no pain, she knew.

Sometimes at night she could still see it's eyes, shining red, burning into her soul. She could feel the searing, ripping pain, scorching a trail through her body.

Every full moon since then, Lola had transformed into something else, something otherworldly. All alone she’d stay hiding in her basement, never being able to run to the woods.

Lola loved her grandmother, she was a sweet lady, a little cooky, but sweet none the less. She lived in a cabin in the woods, just down the way from the chief of police, believe it or not.

That wasn't to say she was happy with her mother's decision to ship her off to the middle of bum fuck nowhere with her senile grandmother.

That’s how she got here. In the middle of the woods with a satchel in hand and a suitcase sitting behind her. Lola’s mother had sent her on the plane all alone.

The melodic sound of birds surrounded her completely. The smell of the wild was a welcome surprise, her senses were singing in delight. The wolf inside of her smiled, they would like it here.

Licking her lips, Lola took a step forward and knocked on the door. It swung open with a cry and revealed her grandmother in all her glory. Messy, unkempt, greying hair, flowy dress, no bra, and a bright yellow scarf tying up her hair.

“Who are you? I don’t like solicitors!” She yelled out head whipping around.

“Hi Baba, it’s me Lola.” She said cautiously.

“Lola? You look different!” Her grandmother was at least half blind, she didn’t look any different.

“I know Baba, can I come in?” Her grandmother stepped out of the doorway and ushered her in. The old lady pushed Lola through the house and into her new room.

A loud scratching filled the house and her grandmothers head shot up.

“The squirrels are back! I have to hide the cutlery! Don’t let them get your pillow knife deary!”

“Okay baba.” Her grandmother ran off through the house and with a sigh Lola fell onto her new bed.

She reached a hand above her head and under her pillow. Oh, there really was a knife under her pillow. With a sigh she sat up, unpacking could wait, she needed a run.

Her grandmother was too busy yelling at the squirrels and grabbing silverware to notice her slipping away. Stripping naked in a forest was, weird to say the least, but you gotta do what you gotta do when you’re a wolf.

Hiding behind the back wall of the house, she allowed herself to shift. Bones breaking, fur sprouting, nails growing, falling to her knees and feeling them break and readjust.

After what seemed like days of pain she was finally free. She shook her fur with a huff and sat back on her haunches, listening. Lola took off running, the forest blurring around her.

Lola was panting when she finally stopped chasing after the sun. A small cabin came into view, did she dare venture further? A voice in the back of her head said ‘yes’.

Stumbling forward she tripped over something, a wire of sorts. She fell forward and screamed at the sound of an alarm, just as she was about to run off her paw got trapped in another wire. A snare.

Screaming and yelping wildly she thrashed around. The door swung open and she was face to face with a stranger looking young girl. Fear struck her like a bullet. She must have set this trap, this girl was going to kill her.

Lola thrashed even harder as the girl walked out of the house, knife in hand. Hands outstretched the girl got closer and closer. When she was finally just an arm swing away Lola stopped fighting. She crushed her eyes closed and let out a pathetic whimper.

The sound of a knife cutting filled her ears, she braces herself for pain but was met with none. Opening her eyes she looked to the young girl, she wasn’t trying to kill her, she’d freed Lola from the snare.

The young girl reached a hand out her, Lola flinched back but didn’t move or growl as the little girl hand a hand through her fur. Something on the girl’s wrist caught her attention, 011. Lola lunged forward and the girl jerked back in fear.

Staying in a submissive position Lola took a small step back before venturing forward again. She nosed the girls wrist lightly and huffed. Lol gave the girls hand a small lick in thanks. She was salty.

Suddenly the girls hand was on her forehead and Lola was met by a vast darkness. The girl stood alone in a small puddle of water, Lola was in her human form. She looked up in fear, the little girl was gifted too?

Opening her eyes she looked at the girl, not breaking eye contact she nodded and walked away slowly. Lola carefully limped a few steps then started running.

When she returned home it was dark outside, she quickly shifted back and shimmied into her clothes. Sneaking into her room, Lola met her bed with a soft sigh. She wasn’t alone. Tomorrow she would see the girl again. Maybe bring cookies or something. She wasn’t alone anymore.

@buggylad

[loup-warrrior93]

You got that crown, baby, don't give it up now

Oh-na-na-na, say it loud

Runnin' that shit like a goddess

They call me the fire breathin' dragon that nobody can slay

Athena in the beamer blow 'em all away

Raja Kumari, daughter of the king

Royal like I'm Xena, better bow down and kiss the ring

You know this, I'm here to get ya goin'

I know you feel the rhythm levitatin', got you floatin'

So you can light the fire, go deeper than the ocean

My body is a temple, baby, show me your devotion

(art commissioned from the ever-lovely artsy-hobbitses . Thank you so much for this, deary!!)

(Set in the RiD15 universe but still a Human-formers rp thing)

Daughter of PredaKing, to be precise.

Ever since she can remember, Cassía/'Wildcat' knew she wanted to be the next PredaKing (not a Princess!). She knows the Predacons have remained hidden for so long for their own safety to be avoid being furthered slaughtered/hunted by both humans and Bots alike, but her hope and goal when she takes up the PredaKing mantle is to bring forth the her Brethren from the shadows.

“We are Predacons! Strong, Enduring, and Defiant! I will not remain in the shadows while the World continues to turn a blind eye, and neither will our people!”

Cassía was born into secrecy after the fallout of the War and what happened between Predaking and Megatron.

Many believed Predaking to be DEAD after said fall out.

No one anticipated that he would survive, or that he would indeed take up the mantle as THE PredaKing to all Predacons that were in hiding around the world, or that he had a human mate who blessed him a daughter with such a strong and fierce spirit to match his own.

Raised deep heart of the Amazon River basin and away from the scrutiny of others, Cassía was by no means raised delicately. Predaking made sure that she would know HOW to fight and how to survive as not only as a Predacon, but as his Heir; This did not put a damper on her sweet and nurturing side. Rather it fueled her protective and already fiery personality which she demonstrates in the clear mastery of her Jaguar heritage (many of the remaining Predacon Elders believed since Predaking was revived/cloned from the Dead, that it was only natural his firstborn would display such a miracle). Growing up with other Predacons in her hidden rainforest village that would later become her Knights and brothers, she’s a force to be reckoned with her stature of a 6’ even stature, solid build, and Capoeria Martial Arts. Thanks to her Jaguar heritage, her mentality, mannerisms, personality, and abilities are that of the afore mentioned jungle cat.

Unfortunately, such blissful times couldn’t last long for her and her family.

On the eve of her birthday, her village was raided by hired mercenaries, both Bot and Human. Her and her father worked to protect their now-burning home while everyone fled into the forest, unfortunately it wasn’t enough.

Cassía along with a few other Predacons were captured and taken aboard a ship bound for the Quintesson’s lair, and even the journey there was no less agonizing.

The Predacons were not the sole captives of that forsaken ship, but they endured the harshest of experiments and treatments. Cassía especially so as she should the highest enduring points and their Quintesson Captain knew they had the Heir to the Predacon Kingdom in their grasps. If they could control her, then one of the greatest weapons would be at their command. As the result of her captivity, Cassía now has scars on her wrists from where her cuffs chaffed and cut at her from all the yanking she did on her restraints.

Though much like her father, she rallied the other prisoners against their captors and took the ship, taking down all who had a hand in their torture.

Unfortunately, this left Cassía and the remaining survivors with a decrepitude ship that was barely able to go 10 knots and it wasn’t for some time until the Autobot enforcer ship, New Ranger, stumbled upon this seemingly tattered ghost ship….

[arcgeminga]

WHAT FLAVOR IS YOUR SOUL?

Tagged by: @starlightofdream​ (Thank you dearie!) 

Gemini Aspros and Defteros

Necromancer Byaku ( @albisnecromantia )

Ares Avenir ( @crysomallos ) 

SeaDragon/Gemini Kanon ( @kryomonaxia )

♕┊ Gemini Aspros - honey

"sugared mel e lingua serpentis." sugared honey from a serpent's tongue. oh dearest, look how you gleam. how the sunlight dances off your shoulders, how the heavens shine across your wingtips. but you are hollow, hollow, hollow. even the taste of nectar can choke a man. sometimes the sweetest flowers hide the sharpest poison. you lie to yourself, the worst lie of all. you needn't be so obsessed with perfect. the greatest beauty lies in our faults. do you think the moon apologizes for their mara? no, their craters add to their glow. my dear, breathe. you are not an island, breathe, before the honey drowns you. you wish to be lovely, you long to be loved. but did aphrodite trade her powers for perfection? she did not. you can be beautiful, and also whole. be whole above anything else dear. a heart of diamonds is worth nothing if inchor oozes from it. inward. look within and question how well do you know yourself? little petal are you trying to be a god? why? can a god bloom from sullen soil? no. you are whole as you are.

♛┊ Gemini Defteros -  cinnamon

oh child of spice you are bound to the core of the earth. can you feel the heartbeat of nature pulsing through your veins. you are the mouthful of autumn that scorched through your throat, you are the pepper of life that wakes up the weary. the foolish and shaking will attempt to dilute you with sickening sugar, do not let them. your spark is what keeps us alive my dear. keep burning, little star. you see the beauty and the light, but oh you have been fed poison and refuse to drop it onto other's tongues. be wild. I know what your heart is chanting. run. run. run. run dear, find your story. do not trade your spirit for safety. you are a child of the earth, forever seeking, forever dancing.

۞ ┊Necromancer Byaku -  rosemary

ah, the old soul, nice to meet again. the time of ages is etched into your bones, you see clearly. you've watched the heartache in this realm and sworn to solve it. but kindness without limits is self destruction. oh little leaf, strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence. I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort, but you mustn't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. you wish to please everyone, to protect them all. but if you shield the saplings from the sunlight they will never grow, and you one day will wither. protect yourself too. you know there are no happy heroes, so don't be one. be a friend. your loved ones will not forsake you for not being perseus slaying all their demons. you have your own monsters, why not meet them first before you conquer anyone else's nightmares. oh true-hearted paladin you are brave, and you are good enough. you know that right? be true to yourself, one cannot do anything saintly if they did not tend to their own wounds first.

♈︎  — Aries Avenir -  lavender

oh moon child, restless sleeper, tell me what it's like to dream? you float along the margins of reality, picking up the pieces of fallen memories to sculpt into your own realm. you are searching, but your tongue is quiet, quiet, quiet. open your mouth and sing my dear, silence only does you good for so long. and here you planted roots in the darkness, where not even the moon can reach your leaves. there is such a thing as being too practical, for you sail your ship on perpetually calm waters, and never have you spotted land. your mind has wings, uncage them! allow yourself to dream, you are not too far gone. there is no such thing! trust in yourself dear.

κρύο-μοναξιά ▾     SeaDragon/Gemini Kanon - cinnamon

oh child of spice you are bound to the core of the earth. can you feel the heartbeat of nature pulsing through your veins. you are the mouthful of autumn that scorched through your throat, you are the pepper of life that wakes up the weary. the foolish and shaking will attempt to dilute you with sickening sugar, do not let them. your spark is what keeps us alive my dear. keep burning, little star. you see the beauty and the light, but oh you have been fed poison and refuse to drop it onto other's tongues. be wild. I know what your heart is chanting. run. run. run. run dear, find your story. do not trade your spirit for safety. you are a child of the earth, forever seeking, forever dancing.

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 1

1

“You can all bloody kiss my ass!”, I growled at the men standing around me. “There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”.

“Breathe, Y/N”, Eist tried calmingly. “This is what’s best for everyone”. “Best for you and your bloody war!”, I snarled.

In the corner of the great hall stood a mess of cases, containing most of my earthly goods. None of it had any importance to me; except for the small chest of knickknacks I’d gathered while on trips around the smaller islands of Skellige, and the one time Eist had brought me to Cintra Capital with him.

“Y/N, you’re not a child. Stop acting like one”. I smacked him across the face. A murmur of stifled laughter rose among the leather clad men surrounding me and Eist.

King Eist Tuirseach. The great leader of our lands; and my pain in the ass older cousin; who was getting ready to ship me of to a place far away – that I had no intention of going to.

“What you’re really trying to say, is that I’ve gotten too old to marry of to someone worth while; so now you’re using me as payoff to a sweaty sister-fucker!”. I picked up a goblet, and threw it at the wall; mead dripping down from where I’d hit. “You don’t know that he’s sweaty”, Eist smiled.

“Eist…”, I said, trying for sweetness. He looked at me pointedly. “When we are in public, you’ll address me as is fit my title”.

“My liege”, I sneered. “Great majestic cousin, and king of these isles. I am merely trying to explain to you, that if you intend to proceed with this plan of shipping me off to Temeria; there is a great chance that I might burn this whole fucking castle to the ground, and piss on the ashes!”.

I heard a gruff chuckle from a dark alcove connected to the hall.

Eist sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to keep you away from fire until you’ve boarded the ship”.

Rage boiling inside me, I stomped my foot into the ground, and screamed.

Eist closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows; shaking his head. “You can scream all you want, my dear. This is happening”, he said calmly. “No!”, I yelled. “Yes”, he answered. “You are going to Temeria. You are marrying Foltest. You’ll bear him whatever children he wishes to produce. And you’ll do it all with a smile”.

A stranger stepped into the light from the alcove. He was tall, and built like a boulder – muscled and strong. His eyes shone a strange shade of amber, and his hair was grey- verging on white.

“Why does he even want me? I have no real title…”, I said. “You’re my cousin. That is title enough”, Eist interrupted. He sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a new goblet of mead. Apparently the one I had thrown was his. “Foltest needs a queen. You are a highborn woman; with a dowry that goes with it”.  He took a sip from the goblet. “You also happen to be a bloody pain in the ass; with the reputation that goes with that as well. You are lucky Foltest has agreed to this union. You weren’t exactly an easy sell”.

I laughed out loud, and sat at the table, a few seats from him; worried that I might stab him with a fork if I got too close. “There it is. A sell. I’m a commodity to be traded with”.

“You will do as you’re told, woman!”, Eist said, patience clearly running thin. I wasn’t having it.

“Would you say that to Calanthe?”.

Eist slammed both his fists into the table. “Enough!”, he roared. I froze in place. He breathed deeply, collecting himself. “Y/N; you are my favorite cousin. A fact that has unfortunately let you to run wild and do as you’ve wished for much too long. I cannot allow that to continue anymore”. His pained but resolute eyes met mine. “I know you won’t believe this, but I am doing this for your sake as well. You can no longer call Skellige your home”.

“You’re right”, I said, swallowing tears. “I don’t believe you”.

He looked down, clenched his fists, and sighed. “We’ll speak later. I have to finish planning your travel arrangements”, he said; and stood up, walking in the direction of the whitehaired stranger; who’d been watching our exchange with a smirk on his face.

“Geralt, I wish to discuss something with you”, Eist said, before turning to his men. “Take her to her room. Make sure there are no ropes for climbing out the window; cut up her sheets if you must”. He and the man walked towards the door leading to his private chancery.

“And hide the matches”.

---

I stood in front of a mirror in my now barren room. Thrude – my nanny turned hand matron, and dear friend – was desperately trying to cheer me up.

“Chin up. You’ll be a queen, m’lady”, she said smilingly. “I’ll be a puppet”, I answered. She raised a sponge to cover my face in powder. “Don’t”, I said. “Let them see that I’ve been crying”. She sighed. “At least brush your hair”. She handed me the hairbrush; and went to get my dress for the feast.

It was a ridiculous thing; nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. Black velvet with puffed sleeves, white laced trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. They’re dressing me up as the Temerian fucking flag, I thought.

I brushed my hair; and allowed Thrude’s old hands to run through it, braiding it into and intricate crown on the top of my head. When she was finished, I grabbed her hand, and put it to my cheek. “Tootie”. She smiled at my use of the nickname I’d given her as a child. “I could go with you! I could live with you in your cabin. You could continue to train me as a vöelve!”.

“I never trained you to become any such thing”, Thrude said indignantly. I smirked at her. “Teaching me about herbs, healing and monsters? That’s a proper lady’s education?”. “You’d do best to forget those things where you are going”, she said. She put her hands on either side of my face; and looked at me kindly but sternly.

“Listen to me, girl”. I hadn’t been a girl for quite a few years; but her age and the respect I held for her made me accept her choice of words. “Skellige is not the place for you anymore. You are off to a better future than you could ever have here... or anywhere else”.

I snorted in a quite undignified way. “A future as the wife of someone who is only taking me, for the money my cousin will pay him to do so… as a stepmother of a girl conceived through incest; and whose age I am closer to, than I am her fathers!”. I swallowed bile. “I’m going to be sick”. I put my head between my knees; my nose touching the velvet of the dress. She patted my head comfortingly.

“You must leave this place behind”, she said. “Become what is expected of you”. “Instead of…?”. I looked up at her.

She looked down and shook her head. “That’s for another time”. She shuffled her old body in the direction of my bed – the bare mattress reminding me of my cousins’ heartless elimination of my escape plan.

“But there won’t be another time”. I stood up. “I leave tomorrow”.

“Then cherish tonight”, she said.

From under the bed, she pulled out a small pouch; and handed it to me. “My own mother gave me this on my wedding night”, she said; tears in her eyes. “I was saving it for you; for when you’d finally stop being a little imp, and settle down with a good man”. She shook her head. “At least he’s a king…”. I chuckled through my tears, and took the pouch in my hands, opening it. Inside was a silver chain, adorned with an appendage shaped as a small frog.

“Ma’ told me that sometimes you get a frog; but shower it with enough kisses, and it might turn in to a prince”. She helped me put it on. “In your case; I believe it’s the other way around. You are stubborn, you act before you think, and you jump around too much”. She kissed my forehead. “But you can be something more”.

She took both my hands into hers and squeezed them gently. “You can be a queen. And one to be reckoned with!”.

I sniffled. “All I have to do is let a man I don’t know and don’t want, kiss me… and touch me… and…”. I heaved. “I really think I’m going to throw up!”.

She chortled. “He managed to bed his own sister. He must have some charms”. She winked at me. “Might even have a good enough cock to go with them”.

“Tootie!”, I cried out.

“Oh, calm yourself, girl! You know your way around a mands body. We both know that”. She wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of an answer. In stead I rolled my eyes at her.

“There we are, dearie. Now I recognize you”, she smiled. “Remember, it is not unheard of, for queens to take lovers other than their husbands. You might not even have to bed him that often”.

I sighed. “What am I going to do without you?”.

She patted my cheek. “You are going to grow up”.

---

The great hall was filled with laughter and dancing.

A bard from the continent was playing his lute; surrounded by red-cheeked girls, all vying for his attention. He seemed to me to be an absolute windbag; but I could understand the effect he had on them; blue eyed and brightly smiling.

As I stepped into the room; the music stopped, and the crowd turned to look at me. A roar of cheers and well wishes from all sides; and my strongest impulse was to turn around, and run back up the stairs. Thrude took a firm hold of my hand, and pushed me forward. “Go on, girl. This is your night”.

The bard began his music again, leading the room into a singalong of a gay tune; about a selkie and her lover. Dancing continued, and drinks were flowing. This was a joyous event – and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock; and die.

We were stopped in our tracks by a tall man, I had not met before. “Lady Y/N”, he said haughtily. “Let me congratulate you on this glorious occasion of your engagement and upcoming marriage. I must admit that my master had hoped a different arrangement could have been made. But, alas, here we are”. “I’m sorry”, I said, caught off guard. “Who is your master?”.

“My apologies, my lady”, the man bowed. “I am a representative of Nilfgaard; Gaunter O’Dimm. Loyal servant of the true emperor of the fore mentioned lands”. “Usurper”, Thrude said, and spat at the floor. She pulled at my hand.

“I am sorry, sir, but I must take my leave. I must see my cousin”, I smiled, voice shaking. “Of course, my lady. I wish you good health”, O’Dimm said, and stepped aside for us to pass.

“Who was he?”, I asked Thrude. “No one good”, she answered quietly.

I sat down at the head table, watching the festivities; completely numb. The small silver frog rested between my breasts, cold against my skin.

“You look beautiful”; Eist said from next to me. “I look like a pig for market”, I answered, pulling at the uncomfortable corset Thrude had squeezed me in to. “Well; a lovely pig none the less”, he said.

I spent most of the night staring into space; not touching any of the food placed in front of me. The mead and schnapps on the other hand; I had my fair share of.

“You must eat”, Eist grumbled. “Not fat enough for slaughter yet?”, I sneered. “You’re not being slaughtered. You’re getting married”, he answered. “What’s the difference?”, I mumbled.

A fight broke out in front of the table. Well; not so much a fight as a beating. A drunk distant cousin of Crach an Craite’s new wife, had apparently taken a disliking to the bard reciting a sonnet to his fiancée; and was now dragging him by the nose to the floor in front of us.

“Witcher!”, the drunkard growled. “Control your pet!”.

The whitehaired stranger was leaning against a pillar; staring into a mug of ale. “He’s not my pet”, he muttered with a gruff voice. It sounded like it came from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it on the continent”, the drunkard said, “but here in Skellige, if a mutt is acting wild; we cut of his balls!”.

The bard looked terrified. “Geralt!”, he pleaded. “Do something!”. The angry man pulled out his dagger and started waving it in front of him; swaying from side to side – obviously having trouble focusing through his drunken haze.

“Ger… Geralt!”, the bard shrieked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

Eist looked at me. “Rognir! You’ve made the lady smile! Thank you!”, he laughed. “Now let the poor lad go”.

The man burped. “Bugger that”, he said, and stepped forward, dagger raised.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back. The stranger was holding the drunkard in an armlock. “That’s enough”, he said. “Leave the bard, drink some water; and go remind your woman why she chose you in the first place”.

The bard ran to safety behind a group of girls; who all began to fuss over him.

The stranger let go of Rognir; who shuffled away into a dark corner; where a plump girl was waiting for him.

“Wolf”, Eist said. “Join us”.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table from us; accepting a new mug of ale from a servant.

“Y/N; this is Geralt of Rivia”, Eist said. My eyes met the strangers; who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Geralt, let me formally introduce you to my cousin; Y/N. The future queen of Temeria”.

“Princess”, the man nodded at me. “I’m not a princess”, I answered, and drained my fourth serving of mead that evening.

“She’s right”, Eist said, and took away my goblet. “Princesses don’t usually drink like sailors”. The stranger chuckled. “Y/N; Geralt is a witcher”, Eist continued. “I have asked him to accompany you on your journey to your new home”. The witcher looked at me again, his eyes narrowed.

“Him?”, I asked. “What happened to me being a future queen? Don’t I get a dozen soldiers on white horses?”, I snorted, and grabbed my glass of schnapps to replace the mead.

“No, you don’t. Mostly because I know you’d either annoy them until they leave you on the side of the road; or try to seduce some of them into letting you run away”, Eist said. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that, Y/N; I’m not stupid. Poor Eyrick’s heart is still broken after your tryst last spring”.

Eyrick – firm, handsome… dumb as rocks. I’d made it clear I was in it for one thing. He’d taken that as a sign that I was playing hard to get; and sold his only goat to buy an engagement ring.

“Did he ever get his goat back?”, I smirked. “I bought him two new ones”, Eist answered. “The other one had already been made into dinner”.

I laughed heartily. “Poor Eyrick”. “Poor goat”, the witcher said. I caught his gaze. Had the situation been different, I might have flirted with him; handsome as he was… in his own rugged, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-I’m-wearing-as-long-as-it’s-clean way. I corrected myself as I saw a black stain on his sleeve. “Nekker”, he said, studying my expression. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, and returned to my glass.

A sudden rush of blood to my head reminded me that Eist had probably been right about me eating. I was well and drunk.

“So”, I said, “Eist has asked you, but you’ve not accepted? Coin not good enough?”. “I don’t make it a habit to meddle in politics”, he rumbled, and took a sip from his mug.

“See, cousin?”, I smirked. “Even the witcher knows a livestock trade when he sees one”. “Not the time, Y/N”, Eist muttered, and put a chunk of bread on my plate. I took a resentful bite of it.

“Geralt”, Eist said. “I am not asking you to take a side in the war. I am asking you, as a friend, to keep my cousin safe until she is in the arms of her new husband. Nilfgaard has been making moves north of their boarders, and I worry she will be in danger from kidnapping on her journey”. The witcher sighed. Eist leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You are many things, wolf, but you are not heartless. You’ve already shown me this once. You know what might happen, if they get to her before she reaches her destination”.

“And what is that?”, I interrupted. Eist sat back. “You won’t have to worry about that, if the witcher agrees to my proposition”. He smiled solemnly; before looking back at the witcher. “I will pay what you ask”.

They were both quiet for a long minute. Something unspoken passed between them, before finally the witcher grunted; and nodded. He took another sip of his ale.

“How is the child?”, he asked. “Last I heard, still growing in its mothers’ belly”, Eist answered. “She’s well, and will – along with the child – have the best care both during and after the birth. You know I would not lie about this”. The witcher nodded again.

“So, you will do it?”, Eist asked. “I will. On my terms”.

“Of course”, Eist answered, seeming relieved. “Anything. I have the ship ready for tomorrow afternoon, and will send any men with you that you might need. The lady’s belongings have already been packed, and horses will be waiting for you in Cintra Capital once you make land. Nilfgaard will be relentless in their search for her. They want nothing more right now, than to stop this wedding”.

“No”, the whitehaired man said. “We leave tonight. She packs light; and we take a fisherman’s ship to Attre; travelling on from there. Just her and myself”. A giggle was heard from behind a pillar; where the bard was charming one of the maidens from his fan-club. “And him. If he stays here longer, I’m afraid he’ll become a gelding in no time”, he said, glancing at a stout and angry looking old man; who was probably the girl’s father. Eist nodded.

My head was beginning to clear, as I was realizing what was happening. “You’re sending me with him? On a fisherman’s boat across the ocean; to then traipse across the continent in nothing but my plain dress and boots?”. “You can bring your sgian-dubh”, the witcher chuckled gruffly. I was surprised he knew the word for my hidden knife.

“I don’t have one”, I said, and looked at him defiantly. “Yes you do; you’ve strapped it to your leg”, he said in a bored voice. Eist bit his lip to stop from laughing at my affronted face. “Calm yourself, girl. I haven’t been looking up your skirts. The velvet in your dress gave away the shape of the knife against your thigh”.

I scoffed at him. “Well, you were looking at something, since you noticed my thigh”, I said. “You’d be better of slipping it into your boot. Makes it easier to reach when needed”, he smirked.

I did not like this man. 

“Eist…” I began. “It’s done”, Eist answered. “I’m begging you…”, I pleaded, “in the name of the love I know you have for me – please. Don’t make me do this. I can fight. Make me a shield maiden!”. “That would require that you actually were a maiden, dear heart”, he said. “Y/N, I do love you. That is why I am doing this”.

My heart dropped, and tears began to well up in my eyes, as I desperately tried to control my panicked breath.

“Wolf; I’ll send the ship to Cintra tomorrow afternoon, as planned, packed with men and the lady’s luggage. They will travel to Temeria; pretending to be transporting her – but the carriage will be empty”. “That will give us some extra days before they come looking for us”, the witcher answered. He turned to look at me.

“Princess, finish your meal calmly, then make your way to the courtyard. Pretend to be going to relieve yourself. I will meet you there”. I was breathing heavily. “No…”, I whimpered. “Not yet. Let me have tonight. Let me sleep in my own bed. I want to say goodbye”.

Eist was pretending to smile, his eyes miserable. “This is goodbye, Y/N”, he said, and took my hand to kiss. “I wish I could have made things different for you, child. You have my heart and my brotherly love; always”. He stroked my cheek.

“Now go!”. He turned away from me.

From behind me, Thrude put her hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. Not breathing, I grabbed it, and we walked briskly towards the door nearest our table.

---

We hurried down some stairs. Going in to the courtyard, I halted; making Thrude turn to look at me. “Come along, dearie. We must haste”. “Tootie… will I ever see you again?”. She looked down. “I hope so, child”. She kissed my cheek.

“Princess!”, someone hissed from the shadows. The whitehaired witcher stepped into the moonlight. “Follow me”. He walked towards the stables. Thrude let go of my hand, and patted my back to follow him. “Go on!”, she whispered.

I walked into the stable, where the witcher and the bard were waiting. “My lady!”, the young man said, and bowed in reverence. “It has been a great honor to perform at this extraordinary event, but unfortunately my friend here insists that we must leave”. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, beaming at me.

“She’s coming with us”, the witcher said; readying his horse – a beautiful red mare.

The bard looked from me to his friend. “She’s… the package?”, he asked in disbelief. “Yes”, the other man answered. “Geralt… are you sure this is a good idea?”; the bard said below his breath. “No”, the witcher grumbled, and looked at me indifferently. “Change”, he said, and threw a satchel on the ground in front of me. I was getting tired of being bossed around. “Why?”, I asked. “Because I said so”. “Go to Hel”, I said. The bard gasped at my words. “Bad-mannered words for a lady!”, he proclaimed. “Go fuck yourself, milksop”, I sneered.

“Geralt!”, the bard cried out. “Shut up, Jaskier. Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re doing?”, the witcher said; and walked towards me, picking up the satchel.

“Put on the clothes in the bag. I’m not asking you again”. I smirked at him defiantly.

He grabbed my arm, and looked at me; dormant rage in his eyes. His hold on me was strong, but not painful. “I will strip you down myself if needed”, he said.

I ripped the satchel from his hands, and went behind a wall to change. Inside the bag was a simple white chemise; and a blue, sleeveless peasant dress, which could lace up in the front, making me able to put it on myself. I reluctantly removed my sgian-dubh from my thigh, and slipped it into my boot.

From behind the wall I hear muffled talking.

“Geralt, this is madness. You can’t drag the future queen of Temeria across the continent on horseback”, the bard – Jaskier – said. “She needs pomp and… spectacle and ceremony; and everything else that goes with the title. Not to mention that she is rude; and will probably get in the way when we are fighting monsters!”. “You don’t fight Jaskier. You moan and whine, and run away at any sign of danger”, the witcher answered. “That’s not the point, Geralt… Geralt… Look at me when I’m talking to you!”. “What are you; my wife?”. “Gods forbid. I’m quite sure I’d be able to make a better match!”. “Well, if you come all the way to Temeria with us, maybe Foltest will choose you in stead of the princess. He does have strange tastes”.

“I’m not a princess!”, I thundered, and stomped out to face them.

The witcher looked at me, clearly about to roar for me to shut up. At the same moment, Thrude stepped in to the stable, carrying a gray cloak.

“Are you all ready to leave then?”, she said, and put the cloak around my shoulders, tying it under my chin. “Yes”, the witcher answered, and climbed onto his horse. “Come”, he said, and reached his hand out to me.

“She gets to ride?”, Jaskier asked woundedly.

I put my hand into the witchers, and he pulled me into the saddle in a swift and strong move; to sit in front of him, my back to his chest. He smelled like fresh dirt; musky herbs and metal.

“Pomp and spectacle, Jaskier”, his voice rumbled behind me. “Hood up, girl”, he demanded, and I did as asked.

I looked at the bard. “The grey stallion”, I said earnestly. “It’s mine. You can bring it as far as the ship”. Thrude smirked, and shook her head at me.

“Witcher; you will take care of her”, she said. A command; not a question. The witcher grunted behind me. “As promised”, he said. Thrude nodded.

With a last look towards my beloved old friend; I kissed the frog still hanging around my neck; and we we’re off.

---

We rode through the night, reaching a small harbor when the moon was at its highest. A fisherman was waiting for us, standing on the dock by an old boat; just large enough to transport all of us, and the witchers horse.

After Jaskier had gotten of the grey stallion, I smacked it’s behind, making it run of into the trees.

“Eist won’t like it when his favorite horse is gone from the stables”, the witcher said. Jaskier looked from him to me with horror on his face. “I’m a dead man!”, he whimpered.

The witcher chuckled silently, and handed me the satchel that had held my “new” dress. “Your name is Zaba. You are an herbalist in training, on your way to Lyria; to learn from your new master there”. I looked at him confused. “Zaba?” “It means frog”, he added, and turned to lead his horse onto the boat.

I frowned, and looked down at my necklace. Frog. Opening the satchel, I found in it some dried herbs, and a small book; filled out with what I recognized to be Thrude’s handwriting. There were recipes for draughts against headaches and simple stomach pains. Most of them I already knew; as Thrude had been diligent in her training of me as a non-vöelve. I had never been able to see the future, or predict next year’s crop; but I did know my way around simple healing of wounds and the occasional childbirth. I’d also managed to avoid pregnancy with the few lovers I’d had.

Along with my herbalist gear, there were fresh undergarments and stockings; and a few copper coins.

The fisherman giving me a hand; I stepped onto the boat; almost forgetting that this might be the last time my feet would be touching Skellige soil. The witchers horse brayed.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Roach. But we’ll be in Attre before you know it.”, the witcher said to it. I looked on in wonder.

“He talks to his horse. You best get used to it”, Jaskier said, stepping onto the boat after me. He didn’t look like he’d forgiven me for making him a horse-thief just yet.

I walked up to the mare, standing on the other side of it than the witcher. “Her name is Roach?”, I asked. “Yes”, he said, not meeting my eyes.

I put my hands on the horse’s muzzle, and blew gently at it; the horse responding in kind. The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Roach”, I said, and scratched a spot behind its ear. “Thanks for the ride”.

I went to sit at the stern. “Wouldn’t the lady be more comfortable below deck?”, the fisherman asked. “She’ll be fine”, the witcher rumbled in response; and sat down to lean against a barrel.

We set off; the wind in our favor. It wasn’t long before my home islands became dots in the distance behind us.

I might not have a home there anymore, I thought. But no one is going to tell me where I will make a new one!

---

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

[aka-irish]

Apex Legends: The Top Predator Part 5. Predators to Prey

A blue portal opens up in the center of King’s Canyon. *Thwapew* and in a flash of blue light the Legends all appear lined up, hands on their guns as they await this new foe. The electronic banners in the canyon flicker as the Doctor Traxler’s face appears once more. “Bravo, Legends. I’m glad you made the right choice. I wouldn’t have wanted to set those bombs off, anyway, but I needed an insurance policy. With that said, I wanted to test our new toy. Please...accept my boy as you have any other legend. He does have a bit of a temper” The doctor snidely remarks, a huge grin on his face. The months of laboring research and creation finally coming to fruition for him. “We will stop you” yells Wraith, a finger pointing up at the monitor. “Oh, I doubt that” replies the doctor. “And even if you do, you won’t stop us, for as the wheels turn, we do our part. Now. “The doctor turns to off screen. “Release Darwin!” commands Traxler. “Sir!” says a soldier before hitting a button. A whirring from a door can be heard and the glass tank is released through a hatch in the floor as it launches down from a ship. The Legends look up and in a few moments a large metallic container can be seen descending from the sky. As it approaches the ground below rockets kick in to slow the fall. Upon landing it begins smoking as the air pressure begins releasing, and upon opening, the glass tank can be seen with Darwin in it. The tank drains and opens and the large body falls out onto his knees inside the metal hatch. “Hrr..hrrrr.hrrrr” a mix of deep breathing and seething can be heard coming him, as his powerful lungs expand and inhale for the first time on their own. The muscles twitch and flex as he begins to stand up, his massive frame almost too overshadowing the tank behind, making one wonder how he could have fit inside it. He stands up and eyes the legends. Steel grey eyes locked on the band of warriors as his teeth grit. “HrrRRWAAHHHHHH” roars the abomination of man. “Play nice, Legends.HAAHHA” the doctor laughs before his signal cuts out and the monitors display the fight. Darwin steps forth. 

“Hmph” Crypto quickly breathes as he throws out Hack “I’ll keep Hack open to provide any data scans in case things go south.” states the Korean hacker. “Good” replies Bangalore. “Oh my God, enough talking. Let’s bake this freak. RAPIDO!” bursts out Octane as he injects himself with a stim and charges the creature solo. “SILVA, NO!’ cries out Lifeline as the daredevil runs full speed at Darwin. “Catch me if you can, pendejo! Octane aims his mastiff shotgun at the beast of a man and he begins to unload a buckshot. The spray from the powerful gun land directly at the chest of the 6′6 bald, monster. *Tink* a small shield absorbs most of the shots. “Shielded up, eh? No matter. I’ll whittle you down, you can’t catch me” says Oct as he stims up again, the brash stuntman remarks happily, loving the thrill of the challenge. Darwin lashes a monstrous arm out, swinging at the speedster but he misses. “Oooo..gonna have to do better than that. yehehehahahah!” he laughs. Darwin swings again, misses, but becomes a bit closer. Octane fires another shot, the bullets once again absorbed by the energy shield. Darwin leaps at him and Octane slides under him. “Those muscles make ya slow, haha!” He jumps up and throws a kick at his face. The robotic legs kick off Darwin’s face, not even staggering him. “GRAHHHHHH!” he roars in annoyance as he lashes out once more. BA-THOOM BATHOOM BATHOOM, one of Darwin’s massive hearts begins to thunder and accelerate...BATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOM, the second heart begins to beat faster and harder. As the two other hearts begin to catch up and speed up, Darwin begins moving even faster. He throws a wild punch as it grazes Octane’s mask. “The hell?” he wonders, the sudden surge in speed surprising him as a second fist connects to his stomach. “GAH!” he cries out in pain, never having been hit with such force in his life. He gets sent flying back as he coughs up blood in his mask. “HKHKHKHK!” he can’t breathe in the mask as he chokes on the blood. Darwin accelerates towards him, the added hearts pumping so fast in a way that his body is able utilize more oxygen to speed up his muscles to match even Octane. A blue portal opens up instantly between Octane and Darwin as a blue energy shield pops out to absorb the force. “Tch..you’re a strong one, huh” Gibraltr pops out of Wraith’s portal with his shield up. Wraith, having led the portal, grabs Octane and jumps back through, leaving the human fortress to fight the behemoth of Pinnacle. Gibraltr smiles as he his shield up and Maori club in his free hand. The shield absorbing the angry blows of Darwin and he counters with a massive club strike the face in an opening. The energy shield again absorbing the blow but the mighty Makoa, even being able to chop trees in a single stroke, merely knocks the monster’s head back slightly. BATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOM, the powerful connection of hearts begin to surge again as Darwin throws his blows faster, as he starts to overwhelm Gibby. “Damn..I’ve never faced anyone like you before” Gibby says with a smile on his face as his wild side starts to show. “GRAAHHHH!” Darwin screams. The massive fists colliding with the shield as it shatters. Makoa reaches behind and pulls out his favored Eva-8 automatic shotgun, he points it point blank at Darwin’s stomach and begins pumping in all 8 rounds. Each explosive shot manages to push Darwin back for some space, but the shield reduces the damage once again.

 Meanwhile, Wraith having appeared back with the group puts Octane down by Lifeline. “He’s hurt bad. Whatever that thing is can throw a punch” points out the Voidwalker. “I got him. Go help, Makoa” says Lifeline as she hooks DOC to him to help heal him. Wraith nods before heading back to the portal and jumps in. She ports back out just as Gibraltr gained some space with his EVA. “I don’t know what kinda shield this thing has, but my gun ain’t cutting it Wraith” Gibby remarks as he loads a new drum into his shotgun. Wraith just nods as she finally confronts the nightmare from the base. She pulls out her alternator and leaps in, flipping over the charging monster, firing rapid shots as the bullets just burn through in the shield, Gibby combining with her his Eva. Darwin staggers around, clearly feeling some pain but showing little to no effect of slowing down. “AYE! GET BACK, MATES! FIRIN’ ME KNUCKLECLUSTER!” yells Fuse as he rushes in, firing his signature grenades. “HRUUUUUUUUU!!” Darwin yells in pain at the explosions. “Let’s see how you deal with Salvo’s finest!” smiles the Bonecage Brawler. His 30-30 repeater locked right onto Darwin. The charged shots clinking against the energy armor. “Bloody hell, what’s this?” he questions as Gibby and Wraith both fire. “We don’t know. It’s not an Evo shield I’ve ever seen. “Well..just keep firin then” Fuse’s face turns serious from the fun loving fighting expression that he is known for. The Legends seemingly having the monster on the ropes for the moment. “Why can’t we go in? Lemme at the brute!” blurts out Rampart. “Because, we don’t know what he can do and look what happened when one of us charged in. Silva is out of commission in almost one hit. Guns don’t seem to be working all too well either. As Wraith, Gibby and Fuse continue their advancement, Darwin swings wildly once again. BATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOM, his hearts accelerating even faster, he charges forward and lands a massive fist to the face of Gibraltr between reloads, ignoring the shots from the other two. “AGH!” Gibby screams out in pain as he flies back, blood spraying immediately from his nose. Lands on the ground with a hard thud. ‘AGHRAARUUUU!’ roars Darwin again, as he swings around and turns his attention to Wraith and Fuse. Gibby staggers himself, the normally proud and happy disposition on his face is turned to, for the first time in a long time, doubt. “Damn” he whispers under his breath and he charges again. *click click click* Wraith’s gun clicks. “Oh no..I;m out” she thinks to herself. She pulls her kunai. “I’m going to phase guys!” she teleports as she ports around and jumps up to climb his distracted shoulders as she goes for a stab to his neck with her kunai. The blade bouncing off the shield...”oh no..” she stutters as Darwin reaches up and powerbombs her into the ground so hard it almost cracks. “Ghuhh!” Wraith bounces against stone and sand as the air immediately leaves her lungs, her body wracked with pain. 

Aboard the Pinnacle ship, Traxler looks on in intent amazement at his creation. The metallic doors open as Colonel Braxton makes his presence known. “You’ve done outstanding work, Doctor” remarks Braxton, his hands held behind as back as he watches the carnage of Pinnacle’s creation. “It really is incredible, isn’t it, Colonel?” questions the sociopath. “We have really done it, we have created the perfect soldier. We have played God here and are winning” he follows up, putting a hand on the Colonel’s shoulder. “And none of it would be possible without your leadership, sir. I hope we may continue to do business with each other.” “And I as well”, replies Braxton as both return to their gaze to the battle below. “Wraith is down! Horizon, retrieve her as quick as possible. Gibs! How is it hanging in there?” questions Bangalore amidst the chaos and commands. Gibraltr throws his dome shield over Wraith as he knocks the even bigger man back out of it. “Not good, Anita. This thing is tough and I don’t know how much more we can hold off” he admits through gritted teeth. A gravity disk is thrown by Wraith and sucks her up to her the Scottish scientist that is Horizon. “No dyin today, deary. We can take a wee nap later” she caringly mutters to the downed Wraith. “And up” Horizon launches another disk and floats back up to the group, landing softly and laying her down by Octane. “Horizon...Wattson...Valkyrie...Caustic, we need to hit him with everything we have, but it’s going to take and timing and work. Ajay, you continue providing care to Oct and Wraith. Loba, Mirage, I need you to go help Gibraltr and get Fuse back up here, we need his Motherlode. We only have one shot at this, guys” Bangalore sternly states before turning to look at Rampart. “P, can you set Sheila up and provide some suppressive fire?”she asks the modded machine gunner. “Can do, girl” Rampart whips around her massive minigun before slapping it a couple times. “Alright, girl, we got a big, mutant skull to crack.” she jollily chortles before running off to set up. “Mirage to the rescue. Dupes deployed” yells Mirage as he charges after the creature, his dupes appearing and running at it. Loba tosses her ring and lands in behind the creature as it continues to throw massive fists with Gibraltr. “Take this you sonofabitch” Loba roars through her teeth as she pulls out the R-99 and begins unloading the rapid clip at Darwin. “GAAAHGRRUUUUHHH” it yells as it now has dupes, Gibraltr, Mirage and Loba fighting. Loba flips between fists and kicks as dupes disappear from being hit while Mirage sets back, unloading his signature Wingman. The high caliber rounds knocking back the beast as it staggers but still seems unaffected due to the modded energy shield. “Bullets don’t see to be working, guys” Mirage remarks as he sends another dupe, Loba continuing to leap and unload clip after clip  with Gibby jumping in with his shotgun. “Fuse, return back” commands Bangalore over the earpiece. “Right” he returns and starts running back, catching the gaze of Darwin. “RAAGHH” he roars as he charges after him. As he does, a hailstorm of bullets comes from atop a cliff as Rampart rains down SHEILA at him. “Take this ya bloody bastard HAHAHA” she laughs manically in delight at the fight. As the barrage of high-caliber bullets hit him, the shield seems to almost crack. 

“Good, P. Keep it going” compliments “Rest of you, GO!” screams the former IMC soldier as the remaining legends rush down the hill. “Gibs, Mirage, and Loba. Get back!” they hear Bangalore bark. Mirage dupes, and Loba jump drives away. Bangalore launches a smokebomb at Darwin, it explodes confusing the almost frozen monster with Rampart shooting him. Rampart stops as Valkyrie flies by, dropping her missiles to stun him for a few moments. “Deploying fences” excitedly states Wattson as she slides down, putting up a square of super charged fences around the monster. “RAGHHHH” Darwin can be heard screaming inside the smoke cloud, lashing out but cringing back in pain due to the electric posts of the genius Ms. Paquette. “Singularity deployed” yells Horizon as she throws NEWT at him. The device opening and unleashing the gravitational pull, keeping Darwin centered. “Droppin the motherlode” as it’s Fuse’s turn to pull out his cannon as he launches the flaming ring over Darwin, the shield absorbing more and more damage, but despite that, Darwin can feel the heat and charge, yelling out in pain. “Gas grenade” calmly states Caustic as he throws his gas grenade. It explodes on contact, releasing the venomous mist inside. The powerful lungs of Darwin inhale the spray and begins choking, his lungs and extra hearts working overtime to metabolize and compensate for the poison. “Bangalore up top pops up a can of her rolling thunder before launching it. “Everyone, get in Gibby’s shield. We end this now” she yells. Gibraltr throws up his dome shield as the signal flare calling for the missiles to drop and line the ground around Darwin. “RUUUUUUAAAAHH!” he screams in the searing agony of the combined ultimates of the Legends. The missiles detonate leaving Darwin to get caught in the explosions, his energy shield reaching maximum capacity and finally cracking, as dust and sand, and gunpowder fills the air, engulfing him. Gibby’s shield finally fading. “Did we win?” asks Mirage, the other legends staring sternly at the dust cloud. 

“Sir, Darwin’s shield has been cracked!” a soldier at a monitor reports out. “And how is Darwin?” calmly asks the doctor. “He appears to have sustained minimal damage, but damage nonetheless” he reads back. “To be expected” states the doctor. “These are the legends after all, but I think it’s time we end this. Activate Darwin’s Cardiac Connection ultimate and drop the Devotions kit” he orders. The soldier nods as he pulls open a switch and hits the read button over Darwin’s screen. Another soldier pulls a lever as a container is launched from the drop ship, plummeting towards the arena. BATHOOM...BATHOOM...BATHOOM, Darwin’s three extra hearts begin beating in different rhythms. *Thoom-thoomp..thoom-thoomp...thoom.thoomp..THOOMthumpthump...thoomthom* Loba winces immediately yelling out in pain as she drops to her knees, hands clutching at her breast. Darwin’s 2nd heart *thoomp-thmp--thoomp-thmp..thmmpp..thmppthmp..BUMP* Mirage drops to his knees, clutching his chest, seething in agony. *BMPBMPBMP..bmp-bmpbummppthump* Rampart falls from SHEILA, hand almost ripping at her shirt. Darwin’s hearts beat rapidly and flail while the hearts of the three legends match them. “What’s going on!?” yells a confused Bangalore. Valkyrie puts an ear down on the convulsing Loba’s breast “THOMMP...thoompthumpthump...thmph......thmph” it’s like shes having a heart attack!” she cries out. “What the hell!? Is this thing still alive or did they cheat us again!?” Bangalore looks as the dust finally settles, and there is Darwin still standing, clutching an arm, cuts across his face, and body, blood dripping down an arm.” RAAAAAHHGHH” he roars, angrier than ever. The previous drop package from Pinnacle lands down in front of him. It opens and out pop two, fully kitted devotions. “Heheh..eheh” breathes out Darwin..almost as if he’s laughing. He reaches in and grabs the guns and aims them at the still standing Legends. Darwin pulls the trigger as the devotions fire their super heavy and powerful spray of energy rounds. The bullets shredding the shields of the Legends and knocking them. “GAH! aGH!” they can all be heard screaming except for one. The whole team, tired and exhausted from their almost fruitless efforts. Lifeline and Crypto, having been support run down, charging the monster as he shoots them down almost as quickly as they came to attack. Bangalore stands atop from her position...eyes wide and stunned at the events that transpired. The heroes...the Legends..the comrades and fighting family before her, all taken out by one person..one thing. She walks down the hill towards Darwin, the devotions hanging at his sides still smoldering before dropping them. She stands toe to toe with him, staring up at his cold, souless yet vicious, steel eyes. “Bastard” she mutters before aiming her G7 Scout at his face, he swats an arm at her, the massive fist connecting with the side of her head. She gets sent several feet away from the impact. 

The drop ship lands and a hatch opens before extending a walkway. Doctor Traxler and a few soldiers, armed with guns up, follow him out as they head towards Darwin, a sick smile spread across his face as he looks at the fallen bodies of the Legends that lay at his feet. “I’d say our experiment was a success, Colonel” cockily states the Doctor. “Good. Bring him” responds the Colonel. “Very well” says Traxler as he directs his attention to the soldiers. “Begin the retrieval process” he barks out as the soldiers head towards Darwin, wrangling him towards the ship. Traxler looks down at the nearly unconscious Bangalore. Anita looks up, and through foggy eyes, she sees that smile before he heads back to the ship. All she can hear, aside from the ringing in her ears, the ship engines firing up and the slow thudding of her own heart beating as she finally slips into unconsciousness. 

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

A Treasure for My Treasure

Jack Sparrow x Rex Lanning

Word Count: 734

Warnings: Brief alcohol use, brief blood mention.

Synopsis: Jack tries his hand at sewing to make his partner something special.

Tag List: @heartstringsymphonies @ghostlyvenus @the-schizotypal-cryptid @heavenshipped 

I had noticed over the past few weeks that Jack had been acting strange, stranger than usual. He kept to his cabin most of the day, and if I walked in on him, he’d always seem like he was hiding something, scrambling to look idle and ready to be confronted. I had tried to solicit an answer out of Gibbs, but his lips were sealed despite obviously being in on it.

I had decided to sigh and move on with my life. If it was all that important, I felt Jack would share with me when he was ready. I sat on the edge of the ship, legs dangling past the railings, enjoying a gentle breeze on my face and in my short, messy locks. I pushed my round, silver-rimmed glasses up my nose and felt a tap on my shoulder, making me look up.

“Jack’d like ta see ya,” Gibbs informed me before gesturing with his head back towards the captain’s cabin, “he’s in the cabin, though I suppose that doesn't surprise ye much, does it?”

I shook my head and got to my feet.

“And you’re sure you can’t tell me what he’s been up to?” I frowned slightly and dropped my voice, “he’s not… hurt, is he?”

Gibbs produced a light-hearted smile and shook his head, “Oh, don't worry, Lannin', it's naught like that.”

I exhaled in a relieved manner, nodded briefly to Jack’s first mate, and went back to his cabin. In the cabin, Jack sat restlessly behind his desk, feet propped up and hands fidgeting behind his back. He immediately sat straight as I closed the door behind me, grinning and bouncing slightly as he stood.

“Rexie darlin',” he slurred, wobbling over to me, “I know I've been runnin' around, avoidin' ye…” he shook his head, “I 'ave a gift.”

I raised my eyebrows bemusedly, taking joy in seeing how excited he was to give me something. “I worked mighty hard on it, luv.” Jack swallowed thickly, his excitement turning to slight anxiety.

“You made it yourself?” I asked, eyes twinkling with adoration. He nodded a few times before bringing his hands around to his front. In his grasp; a lopsided plush Kraken. He gently placed it in my hands, clearing his throat.

“I know 'tisn't much, but ye always told me tales about the toys yer father gave ye, I thought ye might appreciate me efforts.”

My heart swelled with appreciation and unrelenting love as my fingers brushed over the slightly coarse, white fabric of the toy. It had a singular eye, made of a large, brass button, and long tentacles. Though the plush was lumpy and its sewing was uneven, I could find no flaw in the gift. I swung my arms around Jack’s shoulders, making him stumble back slightly from the force.

“Oh Jack! This is wonderful! Thank you!”

His tan face burned as a smitten smirk played on his lips, “I be glad ye like it, dearie. Ye dunno how much blood I spilled trying t' teach meself such a crude hobby,” he mumbled into my shoulder. I stepped away from the hug and took his beaten-up hands, frowning half-heartedly at the freshly formed scabs.

“You poor, brave thing,” I murmured, kissing his calloused palms. I could sense him looking away, overwhelmed by such genuine affection. As far as I knew, I was the only one that could get a reaction like this out of Jack. The man was a pirate, through and through, one that hadn’t been set on the course of finding love that would last… until we crossed paths. I raised my head and he captured my lips in a gentle kiss, hesitating for a moment afterwards.

“I love ye, Rex,” he spoke softly and abruptly.

“I love you, too, Jack.”

“Ye'll sleep wit' it, savvy?”

“You, or…?” I raised up the toy, making Jack scoff and look away, flustered yet again and making me smile wide enough to hurt, “don’t worry, it’ll be both.”

I caressed his cheek briefly, staring into those deep, ocean-reflecting eyes, before putting the plush in an inner coat pocket and walking back out on deck, head held high.

“That Jack Sparrow sure is something, isn’t he?” I hummed to Gibbs, who simply nodded in response.

“Aye, I'll drink t' that,” he said with a smile, handing me a bottle before taking a swig from his flask.

[captain-emmajones]

in this life, we do not meet

Soulmate AU: The first curse never happened. Killian died 300 years prior to Emma's birth. They both live a life of loneliness, haunted by a love they never met, until death comes knocking at their door.

in which i made an angsty text post and people requested a fic out of it, hope you guys will like it <33

2000 words 🔱 angst 🔱 ao3 

dedicated to my dear friend @b99peraltiago because you’ve always been so supportive of my works i had to write you a gift :’) (sorry it’s not peraltiago :’)) 

The lyrics in italics come from Sarah Bareilles Once Upon Another Time, I had it on loop while writing and I really recommend it for the mood™️.

ORESTES: Where have I seen you before?

MOIRA: In a dream.

ORESTES: A thousand years ago.

.

Once upon another time, Before I knew which life was mine,

As Captain Killian Jones stands at the end of his life, on decks of his ship, still terribly proud in spite of everything, the waves tenderly cradling his boat are his last companions.

His crewmen were reluctant to leave him behind. They had all wanted to go down with the ship. With him. He couldn’t allow it.

“You are a part of my crew, mister Smee, and therefore you are also required to leave this ship –”

“— but Captain, I am your first mate –,”

“— I am well aware of that fact, Mister Smee. However, this is my last dying wish: to be left in peace.” To die alone.

His hooked arm guides the ship’s wheel, as always, while he presses a bottle of rum firmly against his lips. To distract himself from this poison inside of him, this hellish burn radiating from his chest – not only loneliness but the poison the Dark One infected him with.

It was yesterday. Or a week ago, difficult to be certain.

A seagull lands in front of him, completely unaware of his inner struggle. She sings.

He had been so close to killing him, after years, and years, and years…. And then she had appeared.

(He thinks he saw her first the day Milah died. Well, he didn’t properly see her.

But, as he lied sobbing in the safety of his own cabin, he did feel the warmth of a hand over his closed fist.

And it had suddenly felt a little less terrible, the hole in his chest, less terrifying the future to come, without her.

Perhaps is there so much loneliness the human heart can take before it begins to manifest something, someone, that doesn’t exist.)

She is an angel he has seen in so many of his dreams, visions, whatever bloody curse he is under.

Back on this very ship, the crocodile had come to taunt him and the blonde woman had begged him not to kill him. She said there would be repercussions beyond this life, and he wanted to believe her. Perhaps there was no other choice but to believe her.  

From the first moment he had laid eyes on her, years ago, he had known he was supposed to love her.

Perhaps not in this life. Perhaps one in which he is nobler, better, good.

The burn of a knife plunged into his chest had cut his thoughts short, and he had fallen down on his knees in front of his whole crew.

“Enjoy the ride, dearie! Your death will be slow and painful, just like you made my life when you took away Milah!”

The giggles of the Dark One still echo in his ears, but it is a fight he has definitely lost. It is a fight for the living, and he is dying.

He clenches his jaw as a brighter ray of sunshine plays on his eyelids. He frowns. He is drunk enough to numb the pain in his chest but not this gulf roaring within his throat.

As he is about to die, the sum of Killian Jones’ life is a lot of pain and wickedness.

(There is a tear at the corner of his eyes, one he firmly wipes with his hand.)

Dying alone is, after all, more challenging for the nerves than expected by the brave Captain.

A deep breath, to fill in his lungs with the salty sea air, one he’s loved his entire life.

Perhaps is he not so alone after all.

He has been haunted all his life by this angel of beauty, of love, perhaps of death. As if, maybe – just maybe –  things were supposed to end differently.

Bloody nonsense.

A flash of pain. The bottle of rum escapes his hand as his eyes shut in agony, a fire he knows sent from Hell overcoming him. His knees bend down, and his hand tries to hold on to the wooden wheel.

“Bloody hell, can’t it be a quick death?”

He chuckles to himself. What did you expect? The comfort of a loved ones’ arms?

Soon enough, he is unable to see clearly, and his head hits the floor, a muffled sob he isn’t aware of echoing on the ship.

Be quick. Be quick. Be quick.

And then, somehow, as darkness engulfs him and there is nothing but pain, a relief. A cold, white hand on his face – there must some comfort in death.

A smile splits his face open. “Oh, there you are… just in time, love…”

He thinks he sees tears on her face, and his heart screams: someone cares, someone cares,…  

One last breath, one last pang of pain, and he is gone.

(When the Jolly Roger is taken back by pirates with bright eyes and hopes, rumor has it that it is now a haunted ship.

The crewmen avoid at all cost to walk along the corridors at night, for a white figure lingers there.

She has blonde hair and translucent eyes and she seems to be waiting for whom will never come back.)

.

Truly, it is a happy life.

Although King and Queen of Misthaven, Emma’s parents offer her nothing but softness and love. She grows up sheltered by their good heart. (The one they share).

Oh, she does live a good life – one of very few heartaches.

(The few she endures are fighting against Regina, but it is never a lonely fight. Emma’s light magic is too powerful for the Evil Queen and she bends the knee. They evict her from the kingdom.)

Except perhaps when she wakes up covered in sweat, heart about to explode in her chest, eyes filled with tears, and she aches for whom she cannot reach.

It is not for a lack of trying. She feels like she’s dreamed of him her entire life.

Her mother has a knowing smile when she confesses her worries. Together, they decide to create an enchantment to find him, whoever he is.

(His eyes are of a forget-me-not blue, his hair of a dark brown, and there is so much pain in the absent smile he paints upon his face.

She wants to save him. Little does she know she is too late.)

It is truly a good life, except for that one moment, maybe, when she finds herself near the sea and she thinks she has finally found him and she discovers a tombstone with his name on it.

(“How can you tell it’s really him?” her mother asks.

She finds no shame in her heart when she replies: “He told me in a dream.”)

If she can make out anything in between her tears, it is the date: 1755 - 1789.

“He’s been dead for three hundred years,” she whispers in this foggy morning, one hand over the marble.

The sea breeze is cruel against her cheeks.

“Some things are just not meant to be”, Snow White tries to comfort her.

There is a moan that she muffles against her palm. But we were.

Being brought up in this environment of true love and happily ever after makes this burn over her heart even more painful.

(The pain comes from the birthmark she’s got under her breast, the shape of a knife enchanted with poison.)

But it is a good life.

It is however a short one.

The birthmark seems to infect itself, and the poison takes her over in a week.

Their princess is twenty-eight-year old when Snow White and Prince Charming lose her forever.

.

Killian Jones has always been a man of action and this after-life is a long agony of waiting.

Tik tok, tik tok,… Times flies but never towards the future.

At least, there’s still rum.

Rum has no taste back there, but there is a comfort in the habit.

One look at the clock. 8:15. The time of his death. As always. He drinks a mouthful of rum, waits for the burn that doesn’t come.

It is incredibly lonely there. It never gets more comfortable, warmer, it is forever dull and cold.

.

He is sitting in Granny’s when the air shifts. The door opens, and he instinctively looks up from his drink.

And then, a miracle occurs: the clock ticks forward.

There she is.

After all these years. He swallows down, tries to remain composed. His heart is about to burst out of his chest. The woman of his dreams is wrapped up in a dark red dress, a crown on her head, and void in her green eyes.

His blood becomes cold as his gaze meets hers and something within him urges him to stand up.

Welcome her.

There’s a flash of light in her eyes and he knows she recognizes him too.

“Killian,…”

It is awful to hear his name in the mouth of someone who cares for him, after all these years of heartache.

It is freeing.

The ghost haunting him for centuries is finally in front of him, in the flesh, and they are both dead.

A smile. “Well, I sure as hell have been waiting for you, your grace.”

Her smile then doesn’t reach her eyes but does break his heart.

.

“So, you are a royal lady?” a roll of his eyes.

He is playful to hide his discomfort.

They are both sitting outside of Granny’s, echoes of once upon another time dancing all around them.

She’s gazing at the furniture, surely taken aback, and no vision allowed him to fully grasp a glimpse of her beauty. Nor her kindness.

“Was,” she smiles, looks up at him and dives into his eyes.

She takes his breath away.

“And you are a pirate?” she enquires back, playfully.

Something hurts, in his chest. His blood turns cold. “That I am.” He is disappointing her.

You disappoint everybody.

“Well, my mother was a thief,” she quickly adds, she is perceptive.

Tough lass.

He smiles at her. And it is terribly tempting to fall in love with her in the blink of an eye.

.

As things turn out, she is so willing to love him and he is unable to believe he deserves that kind of love.

“I’ve known you my entire life,” she assures him as they sit on a bench by the underworld sea.

She wants to reach for his hand but he is cold and distant and terrified.

The air in this goddamn hell is unbreathable, and perhaps is it because they are not supposed to be breathing. It constantly smells of smoke and ashes, and she still smells like her old self, vanilla and cinnamon, and hope.

“You don’t get it,” he mumbles, remains as far as he possibly can on this tiny bench. He stares at his knuckles. And exhales: “You were the only flicker of light in an ocean of darkness.”

So many times, the only reason he had hold on to life was her face under the sky of a starless night.

A pause. “But I never deserved hope.”

I never deserved you.

.

She surely doesn’t expect him to believe he is a villain. In her visions, she has never seen one. She’s only seen somebody incredibly lonely.

She knows she cannot save him unless he wants her to.

She understands. He wasn’t raised with tales of true love and happy endings – and for heaven’s sake they are both dead and their skin is cold, but lord is her heart beating for him in spite of everything.

He’s waited three centuries. She can at least wait for the rest of eternity.

.

It takes a lot of patience, and kindness, and affection, to melt the ice around Killian Jones’ heart.

Hades doesn’t help her, mind you, is quite determined to keep them both in the Underworld.

“We can move on,” she tells him, still by the sea, “Together. Start over on the other side. Be happy.”

He nods. It isn’t much, but it does give her hope.

And when she grabs his hand, he lets her.

.

It is a very bright light, moving on. For the first time in this life, they do so hand in hand, ready to face all of eternity together.

But mostly, I believed in yellow lights, and tire marks. Sun-kissed skin and handle bars, And where I stood was where I was To be… No enemies to call my own, No porch light home to pull me home, And where I was is beautiful Because I was free.

[wingedquill]

over the mossy roots

@geraltwhumpweek

TITLE: over the mossy roots

SHIP: Gen

PROMPT DAY: Day 1: Ostracism

  MEDIUM (Netflix, Books, Games, Hexer): Netflix

WARNINGS: Child abuse (of the magical mind manipulation variety), Hurt/No Comfort, Unhappy Ending

SUMMARY: Ciri has been running too hard for too long. When Visenna stumbles across her in the woods, it's no wonder her mind welcomes in the warm, comforting feeling of her magic. It's no wonder she bends to her suggestions, becomes the perfect daughter Visenna has dreamed of since she was forced to get rid of her last child. And, when Geralt finds them, it's no wonder he's horrified.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is the second part to a lil series I’m working on where Geralt has inherited some of his mother’s druid magic. You can find the whole series on AO3 here

Ciri is so tired of being wary. Of looking at every stranger like they wish to rip her heart out.

It’s a necessity to keep her alive, she knows that. If even the familiar is dangerous—she still dreams of Mousesack twisting into a monster—then the unfamiliar is even more so. The Nilfgaardians wouldn’t even need to disguise themselves, they could just send a soldier to pose as one of the dozens of well-meaning women that have tried to adopt her.

And yet, part of her—a very large part of her—is begging the rest of her to just take the offer. To let herself be someone’s daughter again, to live in a simple, warm house, and take whatever name her new mother might want to give. To stop running, to stop looking for a man she suspects doesn’t want her. To be safe.

Right now, she’s huddled in her makeshift camp in the forest, shivering as the wind skitters across her back on icy feet. Her fingers are growing numb, but she can’t risk a fire—not so close to the nearest town. So she keeps them clenched into fists in Dara’s gloves, tucked under her armpits. Hopefully that’ll be enough to stave off frostbite.

Something growls.

She snaps her head up, staring intently into the undergrowth. Four pairs of yellow eyes stare back at her.

Shit.

She should have built that fire after all.

She stumbles to her feet and takes one step backward, then another, not breaking eye contact with the wolves. She fears that, if she does, they will take the opportunity to attack.

Breathe. Stay calm. Don’t let them smell your fear.

Sweat pricks at the back of her neck as, pools in her gloves. One of the wolves slinks forward, slipping from the undergrowth, followed by his fellows. He’s a monstrous thing, gray fur stuck through with twigs and burrs, the fur around his mouth already matted with blood. He’s just eaten then, but he’s clearly still hungry, drool dripping out of his mouth as he stalks towards Ciri.

He snarls and Ciri trips over a tree root, jolting her wrists as she tries to catch herself on the muddy, mossy earth. The wolf seems oddly satisfied as it moves towards her, like it can taste her panic in the air. Easy prey.

She reaches inside her, tugging at the part of her soul that tore a rift in the Earth, that fell the boys that tried to hurt her, but it feels stifled, buried deep beneath something else. Something stronger.

“That’s enough, dearies,” a voice says. It’s a woman’s voice, clear and calm, and that something else shifts over Ciri, rolling across her mind like a warm wave. Her limbs feel heavy, fuzzy with sleep, the aches of five months on the run sliding away from her as easily as a shed coat.

The woman moves forward, into Ciri’s line of sight. She walks through the forest as if it’s her court, and it bends to her like a loyal subject. Roots moving away from her feet, clearing the path between her and the wolves. The wolves that are no longer, snarling, bloodthirsty beasts, but docile puppies, whining and wagging their tails as she kneels down before them.

She’s never seen this kind of magic before. Nature magic, yes, from the women of Brokilon, from Mousesack. But never something this warm and weighty.

“Hush now,” the woman says, stroking the lead wolf’s nose. “Hush.”

The wolf goes to the ground, closing his eyes with a huff as sleep rushes over him. His pack follows suit, and soon, the woman is surrounded by snoring wolves.

The woman turns her head over her shoulder, locking eyes with Ciri.

“They’ll sleep for a while,” she says. “Would you like to pet one?”

The warmth slips through and around her brain, enveloping her in a feeling of safety so full and complete that she thinks she’ll cry. She doesn’t trust herself to speak so she just nods, slipping forward to crouch down next to the lead wolf, the one with the bloody muzzle.

She wonders if he ate some other little girl without a druid to protect her.

“These ones aren’t scared of people,” the woman murmurs as Ciri rests her hand on the wolf’s head. It’s softer than she imagined it would be. “They see them as prey.”

Ciri knows what happens to wild animals that aren’t scared of people.

“Are you going to kill them?” she asks.

“Oh no. It’s not their fault they’re hungry. Not their fault they were born with the taste for blood.” She keeps stroking the wolf’s head. A glow forms at her fingertips, the sickly yellow of half-rotted flowers.

“This will keep both them and the humans safe,” she explains as the glow covers the wolf from nose to lazily-flopping tail. Ciri feels like she’s being lectured by one of her tutors. “It’ll cause them pain to be within fifty feet of a person. They’ll turn and run when they feel the pain, and while it might hurt them a bit, it’ll cause less death and suffering overall. Does that make sense?”

Ciri nods.

“Good,” the woman says. She moves her hand to the next wolf. “I’ll teach you how to do this someday. You should be able to. I can sense your power. It is strong, but misguided at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” The nearly-forgotten wariness is back, shoving insistently through the artificial safety.

The woman smiles, but there is sadness in her eyes. She brings her free hand up, stroking her fingers through Ciri’s hair, and Ciri can’t stop herself from flinching. She half expects the yellow glow to cover her too, a punishment for her chaos.

“When you’re in danger, your first instinct is to lash out,” the woman says. “To kill. There is no need for this.”

They tried to kill me first, Ciri wants to protest, to defend herself. But her tongue feels very heavy in her mouth.

“I’ll take care of you,” the woman says, and then her arms are around Ciri, hoisting her into the air. Panic coils in Ciri’s throat, but it is quickly soothed away by safe, safe, safe. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a child in my house.”

“But I have to find—”

Who does she need to find again?

“You just need a place to rest,” the woman says. “To grow. To become something wonderful.”

She’s forgetting something. Something important, slipping further and further away from her brain as safety, warmth, home, comfort, quiet, quiet, QUIET, slips in.

The woman turns her head to look at the place that Ciri had fallen.

“I am Visenna,” she says. “But you will call me Ma. And you…”

“I’m C—”

“I will call you Moss,” she says decisively, shifting Ciri—Moss—Ciri, her name is Ciri, she won’t forget that too, she can’t forget that too—so that her weight rests against her hip.

“Why are you doing this?” Ciri manages to ask as the warmth floods her brain. She knows she won’t be able to hold out against it much longer.

“I told you,” Visenna says, running a finger over Ciri’s cheek, almost lovingly. “It’s been so long since I had a child.”

Ciri sleeps.

***

Moss wakes up.

She stretches lazily, staring at the first rays of sun as they play over her bedroom wall. Something is lingering in her brain, a dream of a forest, a star, a pair of flashing golden eyes. She shakes her head, blinking back the last bits of sleep and readying herself to start the day. Ma said she could start learning taming magic today, start coaxing restless piglets into contented slumber. She can’t wait.

She climbs out of bed and heads into the kitchen, where Ma is already up and slicing up thick slices of bread.

“Morning, Ma,” she yawns, snatching an apple out of the bowl on the table.

“Good morning, Moss,” Ma says, dropping a kiss onto Moss’s hair. Her touch is soft and gentle, her voice is soft and gentle, her magic is soft and gentle. And part of Moss thinks that that isn’t quite right, that her Ma is supposed to be burning violet eyes and fire and fierce protectiveness.

But that isn’t right.

She’s lived here all her life.

Must just be the remnants of a dream.

***

She’s happy.

***

She’s safe.

***

But some days she feels like she’s not supposed to be happy and safe. She’s supposed to be grieving something, something greater than a single person’s death, something huge and all-encompassing. She’s supposed to be terrified of something equally vast. Something coming for her.

She’s just a simple druid. She has made no enemies, has lost no family, has no reason to be sad and scared in this warm, bright forest.

And yet she is.

***

Ma teaches her how to coax the flowers out of the earth, how to calm piglets and wolves alike, how to soothe away small storms, how to encourage trees to grow into useful shapes—houses and walls and the like. She cultivates a gentle kind of power, and the urge to scream, to run, to get away(and why does she feel that anyway, in her own home?) lessens day by day.

***

There’s a knock at their door.

A man standing there, all shining white hair and fierce yellow eyes. He balks at the sight of Ma, staring at her like she’s a monster, like she’s dangerous. Moss bristles in indignation, glaring at the man as she comes to stand by Ma’s side.

(Part of her hollers in triumph, that someone else recognizes Ma for who she is.)

“Can I help you, sir witcher?” Ma asks, looping an arm around Moss’s shoulders. There’s frost threaded through her voice. She noticed the man’s stare too.

“I’m here for Ciri,” he growls and Moss—

That name sparks something in her, clamps down on her heart until it hurts, until she’s biting down on her fist to stifle a sob. Ma gently steers Moss—that isn’t your name, and that isn’t your mother, wake up—behind her, putting herself between her and the man.

A wave of warm safety rushes over Moss and she leans into it with a sigh, letting go of the fear that had flooded her system at the sound of a name that she’s quickly forgetting. The man shakes his head like he’s shooing away a fly.

“Stop that,” he says.

“You’re strong,” Ma laughs. There’s no humor in it. “Even for a witcher.”

“I always have been,” the man says. His voice is shaking, no matter how tough he tries to sound. “Give up the girl.”

“I have more than mind magic you know.” She steps forward, but the man doesn’t flinch.

“So do I,” he says evenly. It’s not just his voice that’s shaking now. Fine tremors run up and down his body, making him tremble all over except for his right hand, which rests steady against the hilt of his sword.

“You won’t take my child,” Ma says. “I’ll die before I let that happen.”

And the man laughs. It’s bitter. Wounded.

“That’s a new tune for you,” he says. His knuckles are turning white. “How long will you want to keep her then,Visenna?” He spits Ma’s name like it’s poison. “A year? Five years? Until she gets a mind of her own?”

Around them, the trees that make up the framework of their house creak in warning. Ma stretches out her arms, trying to cover as much of the space in front of Moss as she can.

Run. Go to him. He’s here to save you.

SafetyWarmthQuietQuietQUIET

She stays still. This feels more like a dreams than her dream had.

“You’re breaking her,” the man says. He sounds close to tears. “You’re shattering her mind, surely you must realize that—”

“I’m helping her,” Ma insists. “Her chaos is destructive. Dangerous—”

“As is mine,” The trees shake more violently. Three of them break free of their contorted (wrong, wrong, they shouldn’t growlike that) positions and curl inwards, branches snapping threateningly.

Ma stretches her fingers up and the trees fall still. Her shoulders heave as she takes in the man.

“So what will you do with her when her chaos escapes your shackles?” The man storms forward. Branch after branch peels away from the ceiling. “Take her off to market? Leave her alone by the side of the road?”

Leaves spin around them like a gathering storm and Moss doesn’t even know how to counter this kind of power. More than that, she doesn’t know if she wantsto counter this kind of power. Because Ma isn’t denying the man’s accusations.

“Aspen,” she breathes instead.

“Not my name anymore.”

The branches descend.

Moss thinks, for a moment, that she’s about to watch Ma die. Fear and relief burn through her, so intermingled she can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Her head burns like something is tearing apart her brain piece by piece. Just when their home is about to pierce through Ma’s heart, she waves her hand and they freeze in the air.

She’s trembling, clearly straining against the man’s power, but she holds fast.

“You want me dead,” she whispers.

“I kill monsters,” the man says. He draws his sword. There’s pain on his face, stark and stricken, flashing in his eyes and twisting down his mouth. “And I’m sorry that you are one, but you are.”

“I’m not the one trying to pull apart a mother and her daughter,” Ma says, and she twists her right hand in a familiar pattern.

“No,” Moss says, as her hand glows sickly yellow. She’s seen this spell used before, on countless wolves and bears and kikimora. The thought of using it on a person is just—it’s unimaginable. Unthinkably cruel. “No!”

QUIET.

Her mouth snaps shut and she falls to her knees, the pain peaking in her head. The man growls and charges forward, swinging his sword at Ma’s head. She ducks under the swing and darts past him, brushing her hand across her chest as she goes.

The glow spreads over his skin, eating up every inch of him, and he drops to the ground with a scream, his limbs jerking uncontrollably. He curls in on himself, the scream still piercing the air, writhing and gasping like a dying fish.

“Wh—Wha—?” he chokes, reaching for his fallen sword. Ma takes a step closer to him and his hand curls into a useless claw. His question cuts off as he chokes on air, curling even tighter as agony racks through him. Moss can practically see the pain shuddering through him, wave after wave, his muscles twisting and jerking against it.

Her mother did this.

Her mother cursed a human being to feel pain whenever he goes near another person.

Her mother has effectively cut this man off from the rest of the world.

Moss is going to be sick. She’s sure of it.

“I had to,” Ma—no, Visenna, this woman doesn’t deserve the title of mother—says, cupping the man’s cheek in her hand. He wails as soon as she touches him, jerking backwards in a feeble attempt to get away from the pain. “You’re dangerous. You’d murder your own mother. You can’t be trusted around people.”

“Wha—?”

“Fifty feet,” Visenna says, getting to her feet. Her voice is clinical. Instructive. “That’s how close you can get to humans, before the burning starts. It’ll keep you and me safe, both. And keep others safe from you as well.”

“Y—You—” He’s trembling, and Moss isn’t sure if it’s from pain or fear. She wants to go to him, comfort him, but that will only make it worse.

“I’m sorry. Truly, I am. But we wouldn’t be here if you’d just listened to me, all those years ago.”

She sighs, regretfully but not mournfully, like she’s discovered one of her plants—not even her favorite plant—is infested with aphids.

“Be well, Aspen,” she says, ignoring his earlier insistence that that isn’t his name. Ignoring the fact that he could hardly expect to be well with this kind of curse, that killing him would have been kinder.

She turns around to pick up Moss, and for the first time in a long time, Moss struggles against her grip.

“No!” she screams, as Visenna hoists her into the air and carries her towards the door. “No, no, you have to undo it, you can’t just leave him like this, you fucking—”

“Language,” Visenna says idly as a wave of safetywarmthquietquietquiet rushes over her. She fights it with everything she has, thrashing against it like a fish caught in a net. But Visenna has always been stronger than her, will always be stronger than her, and she can feel her mind slipping out of her control.

And then, another command. One that she dimly realizes she’s felt before.

Forget.

The man lies on the floor of their house, shaking and shuddering as the pain pours through him.

Forget.

He tilts his head and meets Moss’s gaze with panicked golden eyes.

FORGET.

And she remembers. The White Wolf. Geralt of Rivia. Her destiny.

FORGET. SLEEP.

Ciri closes her eyes.

***

Moss wakes up.

[intern-seraph]

i fell asleep afraid i would never wake again

in which they finally fucking kiss

has spoilers for literally everything bon ape tit

CW: death, murder, attempted murder, idiots kissing each other, fighting

Alfswen’s still not entirely sure when or how it turned into a co-sleeping arrangement. A few nights where she or Braham snuck into the other’s tent and crawled under the blanket turned into waking up every morning with her flopped over on his chest or his arm draped over her like a weighted blanket. It’s… nice. Though she’s loath to admit it, there’s something comforting about having someone there in the morning. It’s at his side that she finds herself now. He’s sound asleep, mouth half-open as he snores and his cheek smooshed flat against her bedroll.

Cute.

Today, though, there’s no time to sleep in. She sits up and gently jostles his shoulder. “Rise and shine.”

He grunts and shifts away from her. “Don’ wanna.”

“We have work to do today. Things to kill, people to see…”

“Can wait. ‘M tired. Lessgo back t’sleep?”

“I’ll drag you out if I have to.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh, I certainly can. Don’t forget, I have the power of the Mists on my side.”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Braham pushes himself up on his elbows and rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Gimme the rundown on the plan again?”

“Find Drakkar, corner it, beat the shit out of it.”

“Sweet.”

Alfswen rolls out from under the blanket and stretches her arms up to the roof of their tent. Their weapons lie in a pile in the corner, stacked on top of her armor and crowned with her discarded blindfold. “We should hurry and get dressed. Rytlock and Crecia won’t wait forever.”

“Bet I can get ready faster than you.”

“In your dreams.”

—

The Tribunes are gathered around the campfire when Braham and Alfswen emerge from the tent. Alfswen sits beside Rytlock with a wordless little nod. He cocks his head to the side, then hands her a skewered piece of meat.

“Morning, sleeping beauties. Was starting to wonder what was going on in there,” he comments.

“Braham was trying to sleep in. Don’t imply things like that, old man.” She jabs her elbow into his side.

“Eh? All I’m saying is that you two have been really cuddly lately.”

“Nothing like that is happening.” Her cheeks burn a bright gold. She chances a glance at Braham. His own face is pink and his eyes are wide. “Perhaps we’re just being friendly, Brimstone.”

Braham starts coughing. Someone nearby snickers and thumps him on the back. “Give them a break, Tribune. It’s cold out here. Canoodling isn’t the only explanation,” Arbreura drawls as she steps out of the shadows. She cocks her head at Alfswen.  “Good morning, sister dear.”

“You’re not coming.”

“I didn’t even ask!”

“You’re not coming.” Alfswen doesn’t even look up from her food. “You’re not suited for helping kill Drakkar.”

“Wh-hey!”

“The Commander is right,” Crecia interjects. She prods at the coals. “We won’t need a sniper for this mission.”

“Thank you, Crecia.” Alfswen sinks her teeth into her breakfast and tears a hunk away. Arbreura makes a quiet, horrified noise. Speaking through a mouthful of food, Alfswen continues, “You can stand watch at the door if y’really wanna be there.”

“I… will pass.” Arbreura turns on her heel. She pauses, then looks back over her shoulder. Her smile sobers. “Stay safe, dearie.”

“No promises.”

—

“You’re out of your mind. This stops now!” she shouts. She curls her hands into tight fists. Braham sets a hand on her shoulder and gives a squeeze. Her hackles raise and she snarls at Bangar. He doesn’t seem to notice or care to notice.

Instead, he smiles. It’s a prideful, terrifying grin that sends a chill down her spine. He raises Eir’s bow and nocks an arrow. “I couldn’t agree more.”

She doesn’t realize what’s happening until it hits her. The impact sends her stumbling back, her eyes wide with surprise. At first it’s a dull burn in her gut, but it builds into a searing pain that spreads out from her belly until it encompasses her whole body. She screams, hands scrabbling at where the arrow lodged itself in a blind attempt to wrench it out of her body. Rytlock and Crecia grapple her, wrestling her to the ground.

“Don’t let her take it out!”

“Dammit!”

It hurts to breathe. She gasps for air, but it feels like she’s drowning. “No. No, not… not…”

“Commander, stay with us! Focus!”

“R-Rytlock… what…”

“Focus on my voice!”

He rips off her blindfold, discarding it somewhere in the cave. Rytlock and Crecia are blurry figures, her vision shifting as she tries to stay awake. “I don’t… don’t wanna die… not…” Her mouth fills with hot sap. The world goes out of focus for a moment, then comes back. Balthazar grins down at her, face twisted with sick glee. Aurene roars behind him as she struggles against her chains. Alfswen reaches out one trembling hand as the pain in her chest turns her world black.

“Aurene.”

She kneels in front of the dias. The hatchling chirrups happily and taps her front feet on the floor.

“Aurene?” Caithe kneels beside Alfswen with a small, quizzical smile.

“Yes. That’s her name.”

“How did you come up with it?”

She cups Aurene’s head in both hands. There’s so much love in the little dragon’s eyes. She smiles and kisses the crown of her head. “I’m not sure. It just… felt right.”

Aurene coos and butts her forehead against Alfswen’s. She can’t help but laugh.

“You’ll do great things.”

Forgal smiles down at her, grim and determined. She shakes her head.

“No. No, Forgal you can’t do this. There has to be another way.”

“Kid, you need to protect these people. Get them out of here safely, okay?” He ruffles her leaves. “The dragons already took my family from me… I won’t let Zhaitan have you. I’ll give you a head start, but you need to run. Make sure to give Jormag a bloody nose for me someday, alright?”

“No, no, no!” She wants to lunge after him and hold him back, but she can feel the spirits in her body rooting her to the ground. Her breath chokes in her chest and she reaches out to stop him just as the gates shut. She screams and screams and screams and tries to force herself to follow but her legs don’t obey, they aren’t hers now and they carry her away away away to the ship and into the darkness below deck.

He’s gone. He sacrificed himself to protect others.

She tries to explain this to Ceera, tries to be gentle and understanding, but Alfswen can tell that she’s failed as soon as the grief in Ceera’s eyes turns to boiling rage and hatred. “You… you killed him!”

“I never wanted this to happen, Ceera. Tonn made his choice, though. He saved countless lives, even i—”

“Murderer!” The anger in her voice startles Alfswen enough to drive her back a step. “You killed him. You… you and your Pact.”

“That’s not… do you really think I wanted this to happen?” Her eyes well up beneath her blindfold and she grits her teeth to hold back a sob. “Do you really think I wanted Eir to die?!”

Braham stares at her, eyes wide with shock at her outburst. His mouth twists into a furious snarl. “Well maybe she would still be here if we’d moved faster, Commander.”

Alfswen freezes up. It feels like she’s choking. It takes all the strength in her to say, “You’re not the only one who lost family, Braham.”

“Hey, maybe we should all calm down for a sec here?” Rox suggests. She glances between them, raising her paws in an attempt to calm them. At this point, Alfswen can’t stop herself from crying. Hurts. It just hurts.

He’d been there when she had to kill Trahearne. He knew what she was forced to do. So then why, why..?

Braham grunts, turning his back on both women. “I’m leaving. Rox?”

Rox glances at Alfswen, wringing her paws nervously. Alfswen nods numbly at her friend. “... See ya, Boss.” Rox takes a deep breath and scampers after Braham as he stomps out of the cave.

Alone, she falls to her knees and pulls them up to her chest. The ship’s hull groans and creaks around her, amplified to a near-deafening volume. It’s loud enough that she doesn’t hear Trahearne approach her.

“Warmaster?” he whispers.

She tilts her head up. “A-am I… needed?”

“Oh.” He sits beside her and daintily removes her blindfold. Her eyes are wide and puffy and red from crying. “Oh…” He pulls her into his arms and rocks her as she sobs into his chest. “Breathe. It’ll be alright…”

“He’s gone. He’s… I can’t believe…”

“He wanted you to live, Alfswen.”

“It should have—hic!—should have been me. Why did… he do it…”

“Breathe in, breathe out…”

“I… why did he have to die?”

“You’re young. He likely believed that you have a better chance at a future.”

“I’m not… a good person. I don’t… why would he sacrifice himself for someone like me?”

Trahearne frowns, hidden by the darkness around them, and pulls her closer. “You’ll do great things. We can honor him together.”

It’s cold, and the salty sea air stings her nose when she breathes in. Her hands ball into fists, power coursing through her body. Captain Ellen Kiel motions to the mouth of the cave. Like a dog let off the leash, Alfswen rushes in. She narrowly avoids Canach’s first few traps, her spirits and the detector alerting her to each bomb. But her bloodlust overwhelms her better judgement, fuels her actions with a kind of blind fury that she sorely missed. The first bomb she sets off is poison. Her lungs scream and her stomach turns and she starts to feel a heady haze settle in.

“Is this what they sent after me?” Canach sneers. “A sapling?”

Alfswen laughs and laughs and laughs, her teeth bared in a feral grin. She slams her fist into one of the rock formations, channeling all her power both physical and magical through her arm. The stone crumbles beneath her gauntlet. “You think too highly of yourself, brother. I’m the hound that’s here to flush you out. Dead or alive, I don’t care. I’ll bring you back in pieces if I have to. I’m no sapling.”

She was a sapling once. Back in a time before Caithe, before Trahearne, before Forgal and Almorra and Canach and Marjory and Kasmeer and Braham and Taimi and the whole lot of them. A time when she was alone with herself and the voices in her head. Filled with anger and power that she couldn’t quite comprehend, she unleashed it on things that deserved her violence. She was meant to do great things, Mother said. She was built to be strong. A soldier. A dragonslayer. A godkiller.

“Why?” she whispers to the Pale Tree. “Why did I never get to be a child?”

The Avatar of the Tree cups her cheeks, wiping her tears away. “I’m sorry, my dear. I am so, so sorry.” She kisses her on the forehead, rubbing between her shoulders as she weeps. “I wish that we could change the past.”

—

Dull pain rouses her from her sleep. One of her hands immediately darts to her belly, groping for the shaft of an arrow that’s no longer there. She groans, attempts to sit up, fails. Warm fingers curl around her hand, tugging it away from her body. She startles for a moment, then shifts to her side with some struggle. Braham is still half-asleep when she sees him lying beside her. His eyes open slowly. They’re bleary with sleep and old tears. Without a word, he reaches over and pulls her into his side. His whole body trembles. Silence settles between them for a long, anxious moment.

“How’re you feeling?” he whispers into her hair.

“Like I just got shot with a magic arrow.” “Don’t joke about that! I was… I thought that…” His breath shudders. “We really thought you were gonna die there.”

She brings up a hand to grip at his arm. “Was it that bad..?”

“There was so much blood, Alf.”

Silence again. She shuffles closer to him. The idea of coming that close to death again…

“I was scared,” he admits. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You…” Her breath catches in her chest.

“I really… care about you.” He clears his throat and curls his fingers around the curve of her shoulder. She pulls away a little and looks him in the eye. He meets her gaze for a moment. Then, his face reddening, he glances down at her mouth. Back up again. “I…”

She processes his meaning after a second. Her eyes go wide, then she nods. His fingers slip between her leaves, stroking the fronds as he dips in to kiss her. She breathes out a trembling sigh through her nose and presses closer to him. The kiss is restrained, barely held back by propriety and concern for her injury. He screws his eyes shut, brow furrowing. The hand on the back of her head presses her ever closer, and his other arm wraps gently around her waist.

“Commander? Braham? Aurene said th—”

Immediately, they freeze. Alfswen is the first to move, rolling over onto her back. Braham slips a hand between her shoulders to help her sit up. Still, she leans heavily on him, the effort it took just to sit having sapped what’s left of her energy.

“Y-yes, Jhavi?” she stammers.

“I came to check in on you. Your dragon told us that you finally woke up. She was… definitely right about that. Was I interrupting?”

“No! Never! Definitely not!” Alfswen squeezes her eyes shut as if that will make herself invisible.

“Right. Well, it’s good to see you’re awake and well.” Jhavi half-grins, shaking her head. She crosses her arms. “You’ve been out for a while. We’ve set up a temporary camp here until you’re fully recovered.”

“Ah… where exactly is ‘here?’” For the first time since she came to, Alfswen takes in her surroundings. The entire… room? cavern? is made of translucent crystals that catch the light and bathe the whole area in scattered rainbows. It’s ethereal, unreal, yet familiar.

“Your dragon’s sanctum. She wants to talk to you, so we should get moving.”

“She’s not—alright, nevermind.” Alfswen moves to stand, but realizes right before careening forwards that no, she’s not ready to walk on her own by any means. Braham catches her before she hits the ground, wrapping his arm around her and holding her to his side. She groans. Being this weak… it’s unnerving. Still, she leans against him and lets him half-carry her.

—

She takes short naps throughout the rest of the day. Braham sits watch beside her. His warm hand never leaves hers. It’s only late in the evening that she wakes up lucid enough to hold a conversation.

“Hey, Braham… what exactly happened there? When I… yeah.”

He remains silent for a minute too long and squeezes her hand a little tighter. His face turns a deep, dusky rose. “I, uh, might’ve become the wolf.”

“You—what?!” She stares up at him wide-eyed and beaming. “You became the wolf? That’s amazing!”

“It was only for a little bit! I was just so freakin’ angry and-and then I just sorta… pop! I was the wolf!”

“I should get fatal injuries more often.” She laughs when he startles. As an apology, she places a kiss on the back of his hand. His blush worsens. “I’m proud of you. Just wish I could have seen it.”

“You’ll get a chance eventually. But no more getting shot! You literally scared the Wolf outta me!”

“I’ll try my best.” Alfswen tugs his hand, coaxing him to lie down beside her. “But no promises. You said it best way back when: I do cause chaos.”

“Way to use that against me,” he mutters. Still, he pulls her flush against him and taps the tip of his nose to hers. “No chaos for us right now. You need lots of sleep.”

“I also seem to remember a certain norn insisting that his broken leg was totally healed and he could do all the combat he wanted…”

“Shut up or I’m leaving.”

She makes a soft clicking noise in the back of her throat and nestles into his chest. “You wouldn’t.”

“... Yeah, I wouldn’t.”

—

“Braham?” she mumbles sleepily. The cavern is dark. Somewhere else in the Eye of the North, Aurene’s snoring. Or perhaps it’s Rytlock. It’s hard to tell the difference. Alfswen pokes him in the side. “Braham?”

Braham’s chest rumbles with a groan. He mutters something incoherent. Then, he says, “G’back t’sleep.”

“What are we now?”

His breath stills. The arm draped over her body shifts, and his hand caresses the back of her head. “Whatever you wanna be.”

“I’d like… to try out this lovey stuff.”

“Hah… so do I.” He snuffles, wiggling under their shared blanket. She can feel his lips moving against her scalp as he speaks again. “Now lessgo back t’sleep. Tired.”

[chibi-pix]

Click the image, it should have a transparency effect. 

Anyway! @rueitae, I believe you said you wanted to read them stargazing?  Well, my dearies! In the “keep reading” below, there is a small, 1,850 word ficlet of pure happiness, fluff, and stargazing!  I hope you enjoy!

VLD AU - Stargazing

“Okay.” Lance nodded as he checked over his supplies. Snacks, both of the junk food variety and substantial for his health. His waterproof sleeping bag. An extra pillow with a waterproof pillowcase. A small music playing device with waterproof speakers.

“You planning on a date?” Allura asked, standing on the deck of Lance’s boat.

Lance got tongue-tied and spewed out a series of sounds that couldn’t even be considered close to works. If one had to compare his lack of words to a physical manifestation, it would be just slamming your hands down on a typing keyboard and seeing what letters are typed. “What?! A date? What makes you think that?” he asked. I mean… maybe it is a date? But logically a date is just an outing between two or more people, right? Right! He thought, his mind getting defensive and praying Allura didn’t catch on to him meeting a mermaid. Plus, I’m just staying out with Pidge to watch the stars…

“Don’t get your flippers tangled, Lance.” Allura waved it off. “I’m just teasing you. But really… strange you’re going out alone and camping out… what’s up? There’s not even a lunar eclipse or a meteor shower tonight; if you want to see the stars so badly...”

“I like how the stars look from the ocean, no obnoxious amount of lights interfering and keeping me from seeing the view.” Lance sighed. “Besides, Hunk’s busy and Keith would rather work with his blog.” And this is a Pidge and me time. Not that we’re… you know… dating or anything… He did everything he could to fight the blush he was sure was trying to threaten to show up.

“Jeez, you really do like to spend more time with fish than humans.” Allura sighed, smiling a bit; she missed Lance going rigid at that claim. “You know, I was shocked at first but then amazed when I found out you had human friends. As friendly as you are, it was strange that you struggled to make friends.”

Lance nodded. Indeed. Technically speaking, when it came to humans, he didn’t have many friends despite him being the sort who was very welcoming and got along with anyone and everyone. He was even nice to school bullies! But somehow he struggled to make friends. His family was proud when he and Hunk became friends and then later Keith. And he’d honestly like to think Shiro was a friend, too. And Pidge. Pidge was definitely a friend!

“Well, the fish don’t mind when you speak a thousand words a minute and drop a lot of moods on them.” Lance stated with a shrug. Pidge didn’t mind, either; she liked listening to Lance.

“More than that, though, I’m surprised Dad agreed to this.” Allura sighed. “After the storm incident...”

“I was fine. And if a storm brews again, I’ll be certain to let you know I’m safe.” Lance assured, going over and hugging his cousin. “Anyway, it’s just a camp-out on the ocean; Uncle’s done that plenty of times himself, even you’ve done it.”

“Yeah… true… but… you’re still so young.”

“I’m almost eighteen, cuz. I’ll be fine.” Lance chuckled.

“I still worry.” Allura sighed. She then ruffled Lance’s hair. “Well, have fun. If you need anything, you got the radio.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lance mock-saluted before he finished getting ready. “Well, time to head out.”

“Be safe and have fun, Lance.” Allura called, stepping off the boat and back onto the dock. She waved Lance off as he set out, his sail catching the perfect breeze. Lance smiled and waved back.

Lance sailed his boat to Pidge’s territory. When he reached the best spot, he set up his electronic anchor and waited, turning to watched the sun as it set. He always loved how the sun looked, regardless if it was rising or setting over the ocean. The way it reflected off of the ever-moving waters, changing the colours of the ocean with its own light. The glow that seemed to illuminate everything yet changed with each ripple of water. It was truly a beautiful sight and he never grew tired of it.

Just like the stars. The stars were always beautiful and sometimes Lance felt the only place he could truly enjoy out in the ocean. Around AARC, due to the lights, he didn’t see them as well. Light pollution, he had been told before. But in the ocean where the only light he had was either natural or the small lights on his boat, which he planned to turn off, there was no interference and he could truly enjoy their beauty.

Lance looked over when he heard a splashing noise. He smiled when he saw Pidge there, surprisingly not accompanied by her brother. Meeting Matt, he could tell just how protective the older and much larger merman was over his little sister. It was sweet but definitely frightening with how big he was.

“Hey, Pidge!” Lance greeted, going to the other side where Pidge was.

“Did you get permission to stay out?” Pidge asked.

“Indeed.” Lance nodded. “So, as planned, tonight we go stargazing!” He laughed when Pidge splashed up more water than she expected in her excitement. “The sun’s nearly set, the stars beginning to show themselves.” He looked when Pidge offered her hand for him to step onto. “Let me do a few final things before we stargaze.” Lance said, to which Pidge nodded.

Lance first set up the music, letting a gentle melody play. Sure, he loved the sound of the ocean, but music was always nice. Then he turned off the lights on his boat, leaving the indicator light on; this helped show any passing ships, not that there were many in the area if any at all, that he was there and to not hit his boat. Nodding, sure that all was well, he returned to Pidge, stepping up onto the offered hand.

Pidge moved a bit from the boat, keeping it within Lance’s ability to see and hear the music and, if needed, the radio. Pidge found the right spot before shifting her position and laying on her back, being able to float in the water as though she were a human. She moved her hand, letting Lance sit on her chest.

“If we lay here, we can just see all the stars!” Pidge exclaimed.

“Yeah.” Lance nodded as he settled down, laying on Pidge’s chest. He had been against her chest before, especially when Pidge was keeping him safe from Matt, but he never actually stopped to listen to her heart as it beat. It was a slow and deep sound. He counted the beats, finding it to beat much slower than a human’s heart. It was about ten to twelve beats in each minute, just a bit faster than an average for the blue whales. Slow. Gentle. It was actually relaxing now that he took the moment to listen.

Lance laid there, watching the sky change colours until the deep blue, nearly black, surrounded them. The stars were bright and clustered, impossible to count as they glowed up in the sky, doing their best to reflect in the waters around them. Lance had various nights in the ocean, seeing this, but this had to have been his first time actually laying there, not being in a boat, and feeling like he was truly floating in space.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve seen the stars many times in my life, from many places… but no matter what, I never find myself not marveling at how they look from here.” He smiled. “And I never grow board of seeing it far from society.”

“Can you not see them in your towns?” Pidge inquired.

“Well, it differs; due to the lights in cities, it’s harder to see the stars.” Lance explained. “Smaller towns with less light, it’s easier. But out here? Hardly any lights around? It truly is a sight to see.” He put his hands behind his head, happy to lay there. Had he laid there without Pidge in the darkness of the night, he actually would have admitted to being intimidated, nervous for his safety. But knowing Pidge was there, keeping him up out of the water save for the occasional splash of the waves, he felt like no harm could come to him.

“Oh!” Pidge sounded excited. “Lance! A star fell! Did you see that?”

Lance chuckled. “Indeed. We call them shooting or falling stars.” He sat up and looked to Pidge. “They aren’t actually stars that fall, though.” He got to his feet and walked along Pidge, the mermaid not minding; or maybe she just hardly noticed due to their difference in size. He got up to her face, sitting close to the edge where her hair was.

“You see,” he said, “there’s so much more to space than the planets and stars. Nebulas. Asteroids. Comets. Dust. And that falling star was a form of debris, most likely a meteroid, as it fell, going through Earth’s atmosphere.” He watched the sky, seeing another one speed across. “The light is it burning up, making it look like a star falling out of the sky.” He looked to Pidge, seeing her eyes, wide and dark in the night. More than that, he saw the stars reflect in them, as though they were pools of galaxies themselves.

“Some people make wishes on them.” Lance explained. “Whether or not those wishes come true...” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t hurt to wish.” He watched the reflection in Pidge’s eyes as another shooting star darted across the sky. Pidge closed her eyes. Was she making a wish? When they opened again, he smiled. “Wish for something?”

“I dunno about you humans, but we sea-folk don’t tell our wishes, it brings bad luck.” Pidge hummed.

“Yeah, many humans feel the same way.” Lance chuckled as he got up, not wanting to leave Pidge’s eyes but deciding to return to her chest and gentle heartbeat. He laid back down again. And I don’t want to jinx my own wish of being able to have many more days and nights like this with Pidge. He thought.

He smiled happily. Stars. Music. The gentle drumming sound of Pidge’s heart. Before the human knew it, he had dozed off. Of course he would, he was safe and happy there.

Pidge had remained there for a while longer, maybe hours. Despite how tiny Lance was, she could tell when he fell asleep. After those hours, she shifted, carefully getting Lance into her webbed hand. She moved back to the boat and slid him off and onto the boat.

“I wish days like this can continue for as long as they can.” Pidge whispered softly. “For as long as you live.” She gently kissed the tip of one finger and moved it, gently touching it to Lance’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, Lance, I’ll be here when you wake.” She nodded and went under the water some, staying relatively hidden in the darkness but close enough for Lance to find in the morning or should he wake in the night.

I hope you enjoyed it!  Because of the image and for its transparency to be seen for both app and desktop, I had this post as a photo post rather than text post (with inserted images).  Until the next story and/or art!

[bangtan-gal]

Sailing on Clouds

Johnny Seo x Fem!Reader

Captain!Johnny Fairytale!AU Pirate!AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff, messed up relationships, mentions of past abuse, almost deaths, death

A/N: there will be no part 2

You were certain you hadn’t gone to sleep on a boat, but when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by a wooden ceiling and the ground gently rolling below you. With a groan, you sat up and struggled to adjust to the dim lighting. Sounds of waves slapping against solid surfaces were loud and the ship rocked wildly. You could faintly hear voices shouting at one another. 

You were given no time to figure out where you were or how you got there, because light slanted through the dim room. Wood creaked and heavy boots stomped along the floor. You whirled around and pursed your lips as a man shuffled through boxes. Then his eyes moved beyond the boxes and locked. A weak smile stretched over your lips as you tried to come up with an excuse. 

He didn’t even give you a chance to talk as his fingers dug painfully into your upper forearm and he dragged you up the stairs with him. You kept spluttering, random bits of words falling from your lips but you didn’t come up with a single sentence. You shielded your eyes from the light as you stood in the middle of the ship, surrounded by rugged men. 

“Cap’n!” The man holding you shouted. You cringed and tried to move away from his loud voice. “I found us a stowaway!”

You followed your captor’s gaze and watched as a tall man walked towards. Unlike the rest of the men around you, he wasn’t rugged or dirty. He had a handsome face with full lips, a sharp jawline, and dark, mischievous eyes. Nerves started to bundle in your stomach, worse than before as you looked around. You stood in a sea of bandanas, funky looking hats, eyepatches, and gold teeth. 

These weren’t sailors.

They were pirates.

The Captain stopped in front of you, his eyes running up and down your figure. Something stormy was brewing in his eyes behind the amusement. He looked his thumbs through his belt loops and motioned for the man holding you to let go. You rubbed your arm, sending a glare his way and then turned back to the man in front of you.

“Now how’d you get on our ship, dearie? We’ve been at sea for five days and haven’t seen you once,” he purred. His voice sent rivets running down your spine and the way he leaned closer didn’t help either. 

“Must be rather good at hidin!” Someone from the group shouted. It wasn’t remotely funny, but laughter roared through the men and even the Captain chuckled a bit. 

“I—” you paused, your thoughts racing desperately. Then you frowned. Your mother.  “I am really sorry, but I haven’t been here this whole time. You see here, my mother is this really powerful witch and she kind of randomly does these kind of things and calls them ‘tests’. I’m sure I’ll be gone in an hour… or a couple days. Who knows.”

Laughter picked up again after your explanation. The Captain leaned back and let out a scoff. He circled you like some predator and your skin prickled. He stopped behind you and you stiffened as his mouth was pressed against your ear. His warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of your neck and sent cold shivers along your nervous system.

“That’s unfortunate dearie, because where I’m from we burn witches at the stake,” he whispered. Then he grabbed your wrist and started to drag you away. You fought against him, a bad feeling roiling in your gut. You watched as men moved around and a dusty plank was thrown against the edge of the ship. 

“Wai—”

He nudged you towards the plank until you were on it.  It tremored underneath you and creaked. Your breath caught in your throat and you stared at the sparkling blue water. It was gorgeous, but you weren’t the best swimmer.

“I’m sure it was by pure magic that you landed in the bay dearie, now I hope you like freezing water,” he chirped and then his eyes darted past you to the water. A wide grin appeared and his teeth were shockingly white. “Oh look at that! A Kremefluse!”

Something clawed angrily at your stomach and it definitely wasn’t hunger. Kremefluse were nasty creatures with millions of legs and even more teeth. They were too small to attack ships and large boats, but small fishing boats and unfortunate swimmer were an easy snack. There was no way to outswim them either, they could go over a hundred miles per hour and were super agile.

Basically, you were dead.

“Hey, please, I swear I’m not ly—”

You were cut off as a cheer started to erupt among the madmen around you.

“Let the witch drown! Let the witch drown!” 

He grinned at you.

“Considering you got a little cutie waiting for you, I won’t tie your hands,” he said. You glared at him, but it disappeared once he shoved you to the edge of the plank. Were these people seriously this sadistic? “Jump dearie, anytime now.”

You pursed your lips and looked over your shoulder.

“It’d be easier if you just pushed me,” you mumbled. He rolled his eyes and then carelessly stepped on the plank. It leaned down under his added weight. His hands pressed against your shoulder blades and then he pushed you.

This was a test from your mother, just like all the others. The thousands of other test you’d done, in different places, with different scenarios, and different people. If there was one thing you learned, it was how to be quick on your feet. Your hand wrapped firmly around his wrist and with the momentum the two of you already had, the both of you tumbled into the ocean.

There was a moment of peace underwater, but that all vanished when you popped up above the surface and saw the monster moving towards you. The Captain was sputtering beside you and the men above you were screaming orders at one another. The two of you made eye contact for a quick second, his full of surprise and something close to joy and yours narrowed into slits. 

Then you were tugged down as the tentacles wrapped around your legs. You took one last deep breath, your hand tightening around his wrist as the two of you were dragged off. Your ears popped as the water raced around you and the creature sped through the water. No one really knew if Kremefluses ate you or if they just dragged you off. That was what scared you the most: racing into the unknown, getting dragged by a terrifying sea creature, and connected to a complete stranger who was completely ready to let you die. 

He was pressed closer to you as the speed picked up. His face pressed against your shoulder. As seconds turned into minutes you felt your lungs start to burn. You pressed your three fingers against your palm and crossed your index over your thumb. Your lips were cold when you pressed your fingers to them. 

The water around your head turned to air. Then you remembered the pirate beside you and although he seemed cruel and your mother always taught you to get revenge, you couldn’t. He was human, just like you. You did the same motion and pressed your hand to his mouth. His eyes flew open and he breathed in deeply. 

Your fingers grew cold and you lost track of time. Small fish and turtles zipped past you. The creature swam around a group of jellyfish and scared a herd of whales out of its way. Finally, it started to slow down and then it came to a stop. It’s tentacles loosened and the creature turned on you, head tilted and blue eyes wide. It seemed surprised to find you alive and then it made a shrugging motion and swam away. 

Real air filled your lungs as you popped above the surface. He paddles beside you, black hair matted to his forehead. You were exhausted from just the two spells and willingly let him drag you towards the shore. The two of you collapsed against the warm gray sand. Your breathing was shallow.

As you lifted your head, you frowned. You knew this place; actually, you knew it too well. This was your mother’s island, your home. You cursed under you breath as you scrambled to sit up.

“We have to go,” you hissed. You grabbed his hand and forced him to stand up. He was just as dazed as you, but he followed willingly. 

“Did you save my life back there?” He asked as the two of you stumbled along the sand. You pursed your lips, thinking about how you were probably going to have to try and do it again. 

“I couldn’t just let you die.”

       He went silent and you were grateful for that. If this was one of your mother’s tests, you had to get the hell out of here before she found you. This had been one of her newest lessons: teach you how to embrace the “dark side” of your powers. You’d refused and this time you had a feeling that if you did, both of you would die.

You stopped once you were by a grove of trees and searched through them, trying to find the raft. The boy followed behind you, not exactly being helpful, but his presence helped you stay somewhat calm. 

“Who are you?” He murmured out of the blue. You looked back at him and then stepped away from the bushes you were trying to look over.

“Y/N, but that’s not really important right now,” you huffed, pushing past him and trying to find anything that would like remotely like a raft. Sweat started to form on your hands as you struggled to find it. This wasn’t good. You needed a way off the island and you needed it fast.

“It is if I’m supposed to properly thank you for saving my life,” he retorted and then stopped in front of you. He held out a hand and you begrudgingly took it, rolling your eyes as you shook hands. “I’m Johnny.”

“That’s nice,” you said sarcastically, “now, we need to find a raft before my mother comes and tosses our blood about like flower petals.”

He raised his eyebrow, not seeming to be aware of the danger at hand. Then he turned to the ocean, eyes scanning the horizon. You continued looking, but kept an eye on him, unsure of what was going through his head. Johnny looked over his shoulder at you and then winked. He whistled. It was loud and clean and seemed to cut through the land. 

“You’re not the only one with a little bit of magic in your pocket,” he explained at your expression. “I’m Captain for a reason: my ship always comes back to me.”

Part of you was skeptical, but your gaze still hopefully looked over the horizon, waiting for the wooden terror to come zooming over the waves. And then there it was: on the far horizon you saw the vague shape of a ship. It grew closer with ease and there were the black masts and the head of Medusa. It came to a stop about twenty feet out and then a little boat fell from it and zipped through the water. 

Johnny grinned at you.

“Well, off we go,” he murmured, holding out his hand to you. You shook your head and backed away. 

“You can go… but if I go with you, I’ll put you in danger,” you sighed and then nudged him towards his escape. He frowned at you and marched back over to you. 

“You said we’ll die soon and I’m not going to leave you here to get slaughtered,” he huffed. You stared up at him, your heart started to pound. No one ever cared about you, the witch’s daughter. They all thought you deserved to die along beside your despicable mother.  But still, you shook your head and closed your eyes.

“I have a better chance of surviving if you’re not here,” you whispered and pressed your hand over his heart, staring at him. You willed him to leave and never come back to look for you. “I can protect myself.”

For a second he seemed persuaded, his eyes glazing over as your wishes filled his head. But it was broken when a shill shout of joy filled the air and then a loud cackling. You whirled around, eyes widening as you mother walked along the shore, her eyes focused not on you, but on the man behind you. You stepped in front of him, forcing her attention onto you. 

“MY dear daughter!” She called, “I see you’ve brought that insufferable man straight to my clutches.”

“No I didn’t, he’s leaving unharmed,” you snapped. She raised an eyebrow at you and then laughed again.

“Honey, I’ve always warned you.”

The ground beneath you rumbled and you stumbled backwards, making sure to keep Johnny behind you. Fire was swirling around your mother and it felt like you swallowed all your courage. She was stronger than you. 

You looked at the boat and then back at Johnny.

“Please go,” you whispered. He shook his head, his hand finding yours. 

“Duck!” He shouted, grabbing you and tumbling to the ground. Heat blazed over you and you shook, fear starting to creep like ice along your body. You looked up to find your mother gone from her spot. You hurried to stand up and found that now she stood behind you, merely two feet away. Once again her focus was on the Captain, malice and curiosity burning in her eyes. She approached him and you grabbed her hand before she could touch him.

“Mother, please,” you begged. 

She glared at you.

“Your patience for humans will always surprise me.”

She waved her hand and you were thrown away. You rolled through the water and pushed up, gasping for air. She stood over Johnny and you didn’t even realize you were crying as you screamed at her to stop. You struggled through the water towards them as her hand started to close around his throat. Desperation filled you as you scooped up a handful of wet sand, muttered the incantation under your breath, and threw it in their direction. It landed by Johnny and then he disappeared and your mother stood over a plume of black smoke that quickly dissipated. 

She glared at you.

“He tried to kill you and you still save his life?”She shrieked. You shook in your spot, your vision starting to swim. “You even cry for him! I’m trying to protect you and teach you our ways and you reject me. Humans will always let you down!”

Your mother marched through the water towards you, her hand wrapping around you wrist. Pain whirled through your body and you sobbed again, your head dropping. Heat started to race through your body and her grip on your wrist only seemed to become harder.

“Most of them have rejected me and let me down,” you cried, “but that doesn’t mean they deserve death.”

You bit your lip, struggling to meet her gaze.

“And he was the first person who ever really cared for me mom,” you whispered.

Her eyes darkened and the heat that was spreading over your body became unbearable. Then it all disappeared and everything around you faded into darkness.  You faintly heard a loud shout coming from far away but then you were gone.

And in your place sat a small tree.

[niksfiks]

Gotta Get It Right: Chapter 10

PAIRING: Loki/OFC

RATING: Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger warning: mentions of dubcon, violence, PTSD, sexual assault, and physical abuse in later chapters. 

Also on Ao3 

Feedback is always appreciated (just being an attention whore screaming for comments/reblogs). Taglist is open

Tagging @mischievousbellerina @fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @mrshiddleston-uk @amwolowicz

Chapter 10: Exit, Stage Right

Aleksa watched quietly as two guards moved along their patrol route, thankful that the back halls were monitored less frequently than the corridor she’d been led through from the dungeons. Accessing the ventilation systems was far easier than anticipated and the large conduits gave her quiet and unrestricted access to her goal. The waves of nausea that had plagued her since awakening had subsided, thanks in no small part to the bits of bread and meat she’d managed to pilfer from the kitchens. The pain was easing as well, a sure sign that her body was adjusting to whatever changes Terragenesis had brought. A silent prayer for not turning into something like Lash went up. 

Some fates are worse than death. Maybe Nick can get these damn implants taken out. Or Malik, whichever comes first. 

Her objective was close. She could sense the energy radiating off of it along with dozens of other objects suspected to be held in the vault. Perhaps something else would be of enough interest to the Council for her to buy her way out of her contract and vanish for good, maybe to some backwater third world country. Wakanda was nice, she’d heard. 

A newly arrived squad of soldiers drew her attention. They were more heavily armed than those standing watch over the vault, speaking in hushed tones. Aleksa was barely able to make out what was said but understood the implication. 

Time to go. 

The larger patrol moved away, dividing themselves down different corridors as they traveled. 

Longer I’m here, the more complicated this gets, she thought, slinking down the shaft. No one said Malik needed to know if or when I got... 

There.

Just beneath her lay the inner vault. The hum of power was nearly deafening. All of Aleksa’s concentration became focused on suppressing the noise until she determined where her target was. Once located, she recalled an old mantra to drown out all sound and dropped into the room. Drawing a deep breath, she concentrated on the energy patterns of floor and walls, noting the changes in color and intensity until she was confident of where everything was: the doors, the guards on the other side, additional ventilation shafts and hidden rooms. 

A lack of distinguishable security measures concerned her as she snuck along the floor, passing artifact after artifact. The concern was short-lived as the doors to the vault swung wide, admitting Loki and a pack of guards hot on his heels. 

Aleksa swore under her breath, breaking into a full run to her destination. The glowing blue cube sat on its pedestal, mesmerizing her as she reached out to take it.  

“Stop!” Loki shouted, Aleksa’s hand hovering over the cube. He approached slowly, followed by the guards, their weapons leveled on her. “You won’t survive if you touch that. You've no idea the power it holds.”

“Oh, really?” Aleksa smirked, looking at the cube and back at Loki, daring him to continue moving forward while she scanned the room again. None of the possible exits were going to be accessible from where she stood. The only option was behind her but there was no guarantee that there was an exit on the other side of the grating.  

“Better to burn out than to fade away,” she muttered and reached for the cube. 

Before Loki could respond, the soldiers behind him opened fire. An explosion of blinding blue light knocked them all to the floor. He rose slowly, trying to shake off the effects of the blast. Taking a cautious step forward in the rubble, he saw the woman laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, the Tesseract glowing in her hand. He stopped as she climbed to her feet, watching in awe while her eyes shifted from the same blue glow of the cube to gold to the hazel he’d seen when they met. 

“Give me the Tesseract,” he cooed, “and no harm will come to you.” 

Aleksa just stood there, her brain racing to keep up with the volumes of information being fed into it. She thought she heard Loki’s voice, but wasn’t sure she understood the words. The sound of rushing water caught her attention, spurring her to the newly formed opening in the vault wall. A river flowed below her, awakening memories of distant lands.  

Loki stepped back when new strands of light began swirling between them. Aleksa’s eyes went wide, a sly grin crossing her face as the room disappeared behind a widening circle of blue and white. She watched in awe as greens and browns came into focus. While the homes she’d known were gone, she was certain she was looking at her birthplace. 

A portal without a sling ring. Wait...what? W-why do I know that?

Aleksa blinked and the portal started shrinking. When the circle closed, Loki was almost directly in front of her, his hand outstretched. 

“You can’t hope to control it. Give me the Tesseract and I’ll send you home.”

“Already got a ride, thanks.” She spun around and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backward. “That’s twice,” she laughed.

Loki scrambled to his feet, watching her move to the other side of the hall only to launch herself through the open wall. When he saw her again, she was emerging on the bank opposite the palace, flipping the cube in her hand before taking off in a sprint across the plain. 

“I want her brought back alive,” he growled. He turned back to the guards, all staring in shock. “NOW!”

-----

Aleksa was able to hide easily enough from the ships patrolling above her and the two ravens sent out from the palace now and again, but her progress was slowed by the sheer amount of energy she had to expend to shield the surges of power the Tesseract would give off. She felt sure that if she could sense it from a distance, so could Loki. She was hopeful that the proximity of the Rainbow Bridge and observatory housing the Bifrost was helping to mask it, but couldn’t risk being discovered. The more she felt her own energy draining, the more she concentrated on her memories of the rescue plan and made for the fields between her and the Earth-bound portal. 

The portal. There was no guarantee that it still functioned, that the intervals were still stable, or how long she’d have to wait for it to open. Even if it was operating as normal, she had no way to know who would be waiting on the other side, if anyone. There were just too many question marks for this escape route to work. 

Another skiff roared over her head and she dropped to the ground. Perhaps commandeering one of those ships would prove a better option. Find a transport off Asgard and vanish into the universe. Surely, someone else would want Loki’s magic cube as badly as he did. 

Or...

She looked around and saw no signs of pursuers, then gently slid the Tesseract out of its pouch. It glowed brighter in her hand, sending a sensation of warmth through her body. 

Mesmerized by the changing light floating in front of her, she stared into the cube, imagining all of the places she could go. Her eyes fluttered closed as she relaxed, focusing on where in the universe she wanted to be. 

“Keeper of the Stone, master of space,” a soft voice whispered in her head. A voice that she’d heard a million times before but just couldn’t align with a face. “Come home.”

She held the Tesseract out in front of her and allowed the energy to surge through her, willing the portal into existence. White light began to arc around the cube, sending sparks into the air. 

Aleka’s eyes opened as the portal widened, giving the faintest glimpse of the ocean stretching into the distance. Sand appeared next, then the familiar beach grass and fencing. She stood, stepping toward the portal while watching her home materialize in front of her. The shouts of soldiers distracted her, sending the portal to another location. When she turned back, Aleksa saw sands scorched black and structures smoldering in the distance.

“No! Nononononono!” she screamed, falling to the ground. The portal hissed shut when the Tesseract dropped from her hands and rolled into a boot. Aleksa looked up to see a large, heavily armored man towering above her.

“Back you go, dearie,” was the last thing she heard before the world went dark. 

[celticheartedfangirl]

My OUAT Rewatch -- S5E19 -- Sisters

Link to Rewatch Review and Ranking archive

You know, I hate to admit it, but this episode. . . no matter what my ranking tally ends up being . . . . did NOT suck.

And it was written by Hales and Goodman too!  BTW this is the first episode that Hales has penned.  Could have sworn that she started writing sooner but I guess it took a little longer to indoctrinate her into full ass-kisser since that didn’t work on Kalinda and she bailed as a writer.  (Yes, I have conspiracy theories about that  -- I think Kalinda either quit because A&E are hacks or was fired because she refused to kiss their asses.  My money is on the latter.  I have no proof its true -- but I also have no proof that its NOT true so there’s that.)

Okay, its not that I didn’t enjoy Zelena and Regina as kids -- I just -- you know -- wish they’d done this SOONER, like season THREE, before Zee just became unbearable to me.  Because I like Bex as a person, and as an actress.  But I will never -- EVER -- like Zelena.  EVER.  And a lot of that is my personal resentment.  Because I fucking resent that the woman who MURDERED NEAL gets a family but Rumple is still persona non grata.  He NEVER gets a break, even from his own WIFE.  That’s some bullshit right there.  

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/143354978457/can-someone-sum-up-zelenas-sad-tale-for-me

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/143350871527/casual-reminder-that-zelena-murdered-rumples-son

By the way, you know what would have been BOLD STORYTELLING?

Let DAVID be the one that fell into the river.  JAMES takes his place.  THAT would be bold storytelling.  (Also look at the blond dingbat clinging to her dead boyfriend in the background.  Ugh.)

Also, Cora may be awful, but its always fun to see Barbara Hershey again.

Please note that I do NOT think she was redeemed enough to get her happy ever after, but whatever.  This show redeems everyone unless your name is Rumpelstiltskin, I guess. 

Some fandom fun times that occurred around this time . . . . 

1.  Right on cue, the pearl clutchers were squawking “ERMAGOD, ABUSE!!!” at Rumple talking to sleeping Belle.  By the way, most of these same people were people who praise Milah and think she did no wrong ever.

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/143351461657/ugh-the-pearl-clutchers-are-at-it-again

2.  Around this time there was someone coming into the Rumbelle tag to “knock some sense into us” for shipping them in case you were wondering the bullshit we had to endure.

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/143432731717/i-havent-been-this-pissed-off-about-a-post-in-a

3.  Oh, so here’s the point where I got kicked off the (now defunct) ABC Hook Advisory board.  In case you wanted some proof that ABC really wanted to only praise and didn’t want to hear from bitter Rumbelle fans like me AT ALL.

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/143459245517/emails-that-i-received-from-the-abc-studio

4.  After this episode aired was when I went to an OUAT con.  I’ll be honest -- I had a MISERABLE time.  It was too crowded, VERY poorly organized, and I just didn’t have much fun.  Here’s a sampling as to WHY:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/143693370917/you-know-maybe-im-just-a-bitter-dearie

I went to a con a couple years later that was much better, but this one just left me even more bitter about the show than I was when I got there.  

Points tally:

40 points to start

5 points for in character Rumple

10 points deducted for Hook and Zelena

20 points deducted for Hales and Goodman

Despite who wrote it, this episode wasn’t terrible overall, and the David/James stuff was good, so I’ll give the full 25 bonus here.  Also this:

You go, Rumple.  Burn the bitch to the ground.

Total points:  40

Follow #celtichearted OUAT ranking tag for more to come!

[newsnerd-ooc]

Watch the Shadows

(A week ago)

What happens in the prelude to chaos? To the arrival of something darker?

Months ago, the fall of Azshara in Naszjatar was a moment of victory for our heroes, a moment where one of the greatest mages was defeated by Azeroth’s finest...at least, we thought so until N’zoth passed on. 

Now we’ve been waiting in this eerie sense of peace. The war may be over, but underlying every fragment of the war was the touch of the Old Ones. Many people have gone on with their lives, but those with a hand on the dark or in the military know better. The Hammer is growing. Forces are gathering. It’s not over  yet. 

At least that’s what Shallas has been telling me.

The last 2-3 weeks have been spent working with him and his crew to gather the resources required to begin fighting N’zoth once he strikes. It’s difficult to ascertain when everything will escalate, but we all know it’s soon. Too much is in motion. 

-----

That  brings us to today. I was on the sky ship of Malrovar Roosevelt, a half-elf pilot who seems to cooperate with Shallas on some ongoing endeavors. He was pleasant, almost always joking but maintaining a professional demeanor.  His crew seemed to scamper about, maintaining the vessel in tip-top fashion. He also seemed fond of calling me “Miss Rommel” no matter what I told him. Not that it mattered. I fond myself growing fond of him in a short period of time, 

The vessel itself was beyond gnomish or goblin capabilities, using grav engines and fans to keep it in the air. Mal told us that he tended to keep it hidden most of the time, tending to stay near the oceans and only getting involved when it was needed. Frankly, I thought we needed more of him around. But that’s not my call.

But why were we out here?

We’d tracked a demonic incursion to the south of Deadwind. The whole canyon still gives me creeps, what with the local cults who’d tried to kill me here in the past. But they were gone and new threats arose.  Today. Just demons. There was an increase of both fel and void energies in the area, thus drawing our attention.  

Shallas himself was on the vessel, operating a tracking device as we arrived above the location, stored in a cave below. 

We were also accompanied by a trio of individuals, each one wearing the mask and garb that I had learned to identify as the Eternal Travelers, the group Shallas claimed to represent. While each one was dressed in such a garb, it was unclear what their race or even gender was. Purely androgynous, they stood before us, armed with their own form of magic. 

 Shallas himself was also dressed in those garbs, his form much bulkier thanks to the metallic curves that fill in the armor. 

And here was me. Dressed up like I was gonna go sailing in Boralus. 

Regardless, the vessel lingered above the cavern. We’d each strapped on a goblin glider kit.

“Alright. Remember. Observation is the primary goal. Once we have established what is there, then wait for my call.”  The trio of Travelers nodded. I hesitated, but eventually agreed, tightening the straps that would keep me alive as I descended....

At that, I dropped off the side....

After we had abandoned the devices, we slowly entered the cavern. It was large and looming. I could almost feel the moisture building up around my covered flesh as we went further and further in.

At first, the caverns seemed empty. Then we started hearing movement. Muffled murmurs. Chanting. All bad sounds when you’re somewhere called DEADWIND pass. 

Then they were upon us. Stone elementals, each one shaped like a person and armed with blade-arms.

We were quickly surrounded, but it did not last long. Between Shallas’ targetted use of magic missile to dismember and remove limbs and the travelers seemingly disintegrating the figures with a few well-aimed plasma pulses from their gauntlets.

However, there were more of them approaching.

“Seems our stealthy entry has been dismissed!” The muffled voice of Shallas would reveal, adopting a stronger combat approach as each of his hands seem to fill with arcane energy.  “Latilda. Find our men and signal us....”

I offer a nod before pulling up my own tracker, which seemed to point toward the lower chambers containing our target.

It was a long run, having to pause at each and every single break in the caverns to check for location, as well as making sure I was not being followed. I heard the sounds of combat above. It wasn’t until my fifth turn that I spotted her.

“Oh, dearie. What are you doing in here?”

Morwenna. My wretched aunt. The voidling. Her very presence causes my blood to chill and body to clench up. 

“I’d ask the same of you.” I barely retort, jaw tight.

“Well. this is my home, niece. And I don’t like people breaking into my home. Would you?” Morwenna’s pristine lips seem to pout at the thought before breaking into a sneering grin. “Or perhaps you were invited?”

I reflexively attempt to fire my gauntlet at her, a pulse of arcane energy flinging itself at her, only for it to pass through her form. (I keep forgetting she’s incorporeal.) With that, she seems to zoom off.

As much as I know I should not chase her, I still do. THe anger over what she did to my family still burns within me, and she knows it.

The chase ends up leading into a lower chamber that opens up into a cave big enough to hold the entirety of the Slaughtered Lamb. It’s filled with hooded figures, voidic portals and...demons?

I knew that we were hunting demons, but something about this was off. It took a moment, but I noticed them; the eyes. They were black. They were frozen. And the felguard, the imps...they all appeared to have some form of voidic infestation on their body.

“Mm. Aren’t they beautiful?” Morwenna’s voice whispered in my ears before I felt her shadowy talons clasp around my wrists. “Many people think the Legion was no longer relevant when their leader fell. But they continued to exist. Continued to thrive. They were simply inefficient without a leader.” She coos, a toothy grin visible in the side of my eye. “Now they have one.....but don’t worry. You’ll learn what we’ll use them for soon.....but for now...goodnight.” I’m then taken by shadow, and I lose consciousness. 

----

The next thing I remember is Shallas over my form, inspecting me. “Latilda. LATILDA!” 

I nearly screech as I awaken, reflexively swinging at his face. Thankfully he pushes it away. 

“Latilda. What happened. Are you okay?”

I pause to inspect my body, checking it all over before slowly nodding. “Yeah...fine...mostly. She...she was here...”

“She who?” Shallas gives me a concerned look as he  helps me up. My eyes scan the chamber. It was empty now. All the demons. All the cultists. Gone. 

“.....She...I...” I pause before sighing. “I’ll tell you on the vessel.” I could feel my heart sinking. I had found Morwenna again, after months of tracking her. And she got away again.