#they’re selling fire hazards I mean | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dream.He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs to the gods in the wind.

(Loosely inspired by Kimi No Nawa)

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s for my mother’s birthday’, Akaashi says, and the florist tilts her head in thought, a dimple appearing on her right cheek.

‘What about pink carnations? They’re pretty and well within your budget’.

‘Good choice – plus it means that I’ll never forget her’ he says, nodding in approval and she bustles around to gather her materials, fingers nimbly twining tissue and ribbons around the blooms.

‘Oh - ’, he begins to say in surprise when he notices she’s included a bunch of baby’s breath in the little bouquet, because a university student’s budget only stretches that much.

‘Don’t worry, it’s on the house’, she hastily reassures him, her curly hair bouncing as she shakes her head. ‘I just thought it’s sweet you’re buying flowers for your mother.

‘Thanks.’ He smiles at her. She grins back and promptly trips over her own feet as she hands the bouquet over to him. ‘Watch out’, he calls, reaching over the counter to grab her elbow in an attempt to steady her.

‘Sorry! That’s so clumsy of me. Um – I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time, but would you like to grab coffee with me someday?’ she asks, cheeks flushing as pink as the flowers in his arms.

‘Oh’, he says, dumbstruck. ‘I – uh’

She must read the hesitation in his face because she shakes her head self-deprecatingly, saving him from floundering awkwardly. ‘Sorry! I don’t know what came over me – please forget I ever said that!’ Then she bows and ushers him out of the store, waves away his apologies with a laugh and calls after him to ‘please come again!’

His mother fusses over him when he presents his bouquet of carnations to her, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek. ‘Why does it look like university is treating you so badly?

‘I’m fine, mum’, he tries to distract her with a hug, but she’s having none of that.

‘Are you really, Keiji?’, his mother asks, lips pursed. ‘I know my son well enough to know he’s not sleeping well’.

‘I try’, he offers, but he knows his excuse falls flat when she sniffs. He’s so irredeemably busy with school work and internship that sleep is practically the last item on his list of priorities and things to do and tasks at hand, but he knows if he breathes a word about the amount of work on his plate, his mother would nag him relentlessly until she’s convinced he’s taking care of himself again

So honed by years of dealing with Bokuto-san, he switches tactics to diversion. ‘So mum, tell me how auntie managed to talk Yuji-kun into going on blind dates?’ His mum brightens and immediately turns her mind to her favourite nephew’s dismal love life.

But his mother insists on him staying over that night, so he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his old bedroom, in a bed that suddenly feels too small for the worries that adulthood is cramming into his head. He’s patient, counting the spaces between his breaths but sleep eludes him and he sits up, determined to sneak in more work at the very least.

He tucks a pencil behind his ear, ready to get cracking on his thesis when he tilts his seat too far on the back two legs of his chair and loses his balance, falling onto the floor with a thump. ‘Damnit’, he curses quietly, hoping the noise doesn’t startle his mother awake, but from his vantage point on the floor, he can see the omamori he inexplicably refused to throw away on New Year’s Day hanging on the bars of his windowsill.

‘What are you doing here’, he mutters, untying the charm and running his thumb along its fraying seams. The charm obviously does not respond - it’s an inanimate object after all, but for some reason, he slips it in his pocket when he returns to the dorm when morning comes.

The frequency of his dreams starts to increase.

He’s back in her body, curled up under a pine tree on a cool autumn day.

‘I can’t believe you convinced me to spend an afternoon running around like a forest nymph when we could be studying to ace your exams’. There is a tinge of disdain in his words because he knows her grades are better than decent, though they’d be better if only she’d spend more time on her books instead of flower fields.

‘Aww, a nymph? Someone’s feeling extra poetic today’, she teases lightly.

‘Don’t try distracting me from the fact that you really should be studying’, he insists, displeased.

‘I do study’ she protests, but he hums disbelievingly, the spectre of Waseda’s devilishly difficult entrance exam looming in his mind.

‘Not enough to get into a decent university at this rate.’

‘I don’t want to go to university, Keiji, I’ve tried telling you this before’, she sighs.

‘You don’t?’

‘Nope’ she responds, popping the word in her mouth. ‘I just want to sell flowers to people someday, is that so bad? It’s simple - they make people happy, and that makes me happy in turn. If we only have a lifetime to spend on this earth, shouldn’t we pursue what truly brings us joy instead of dreams others impose on us?’

‘ I suppose that makes sense’, he says, sounding vaguely convinced.

‘Course it does’, she responds easily, a smile flickering in her voice. ‘I always make sense. Now. Let’s not squabble, it’s my turn to tell you a story today’.

So he listens, enthralled despite himself, as she spins tales of the Kodama, tree spirits dwelling in the ancient forest, how her mother taught her to always offer a prayer to the gods before chopping down a tree - and if the tree bleeds, to back away because it means it has a Kodama living, breathing within it.

‘Are they real?’ he asks her, when she finishes a tale of a Kodama who assumed human form after falling in love with a maiden blessed with cherry blossoms in her cheeks.

‘Of course they are’ she laughs. ‘If you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear them sing. ’

He closes his eyes, but the forest remains eerily still. ‘ I don’t hear anything, ’ he says, disbelief colouring his tone.

‘Maybe it’s because they know you don’t really believe in them yet.’

He wakes up with the scent of pine in his nose, the lingering touch of grass against the soles of his feet.

‘Electricity is a fickle beast in this household, so the first thing you need to do when you come home is to light the fire in the irori. Even Toya-chan knows how to do that, and he’s eight!’

He stares balefully at the sunken hearth lined with stone and filled with ash, situated right in the center of the old house. ‘This is a fire hazard’, he tells her stubbornly.

‘Fire is life, you spoilt city boy! It only becomes dangerous if you don’t respect it. Now come on, or you’ll end up freezing to death and I won’t be able to save you. I always keep a lighter in my pocket and in the store room there’s coal and if really necessary, some petrol I flinched from the petrol station – ‘

‘You better make sure the teachers don’t find your lighter and think you’ve been smoking – ‘ he interjects and she continues as if she doesn’t hear him.

‘So you light the fire and hang the kettle from the iron hook, and voila! You can cook porridge or soup if electricity runs out and you can’t rely on the rice cooker or stove. And when the night is too cold to sleep in your room, you can drag your futon out here for warmth. It’s kinda nice, almost like camping. Now, let’s see you try lighting a fire yourself!’

Her fingers are thin and nimble, but they’re unfamiliar implements to him, so he fumbles with arranging the coal and scrap paper around damp wood. He has to resort to using a drip of petrol to coax the damp wood to ignite in flames but he counts it as a triumph anyway as fire dances in the sunken hearth.

He can hear her cheer – ‘Congrats city boy!’ Ignoring the implied insult in her words, he smiles.

He’s back in her skin again when her voice echoes in his mind.

‘Y’know you’re not gonna be able to learn how to put on a bra if you don’t open your eyes when doing it right?’ she says, amusement ripe in her voice. ‘Every girl has tits, Keiji . If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen your dick ’.

‘What?’ he yelps, eyes still stubbornly closed.

‘How else was I supposed to use the urinals? Goodness, being a guy is so convenient when it comes to peeing, you just point and shoot - ’

‘Right, that’s too much information, thanks’, he huffs.

‘Well, you’re gonna make me late for school if you don’t open your eyes’’, she sing songs, and he knows she’s banking on his reverence for punctuality and perfect attendance records to get him to look in the mirror, but he’s not sure it outweighs his mother’s lessons of being a gentleman.

‘Keiji-kun ’, she says again, amused. ‘I do appreciate that you’re trying to protect my modesty, but those rules don’t really apply when we’re in a situation like this, you know? If it makes you feel better, I give you explicit permission to look at my breasts when strictly necessary.’

‘Can you not say it like that’, he grouses before cracking an eye open, somewhat persuaded, and somehow manages to snap the tiny hooks in place. ‘Bras are like torture devices’.

‘Don’t I know it’, she chuckles. ‘Be glad you only have to put up with it every once in a while’.

He snorts, more comfortable once some semblance of her modesty is secured. ‘I’ll count my blessings then’. Twisting at the waist to zip up her skirt, his breath catches at a glimpse of freckles on her back in the mirror. He forgets he’s still standing in front of the mirror as his fingers idly ghost over the constellation, a spray of stardust on bare skin.

‘Keiji ?’ she asks, confused.

‘Sorry!’, he startles. ‘It’s just - I never noticed you had freckles on your back before.’

‘Yes - I’m aware I have them, and?’, she replies archly, and the irony that she’s completely fine with him staring at her breasts but not her back does not elude him, but he holds his tongue.

‘They’re arranged in my favourite constellation’, he tells her honestly and he’s relived to hear her chuckle again.

‘I’ll show you the real thing next time’, she promises, before switching seamlessly to berate him - ‘And you can stop staring at my back now, we’re gonna be late for school! ’

The next day is spent wondering if he’s a creep for dreaming about half naked sixteen year old girls – even if there’s nothing remotely sexual about his dream.

He sees her run through the woods like a fawn discovering spring for the first time, watches her come to a stop at an open clearing framed by trees. There is a shrine in the center of the clearing, cracked and covered in moss, but she approaches it reverently, dropping to her knees.

‘There is old magic in this shrine’, she whispers, brushing leaves and branches away before laying her omamori down at the altar. ‘ Do you remember the wish you made? ’

‘I wished for more time - I got greedy and asked for yesterday to come again ’, he answers, voice hushed.

‘And I wished for the exact opposite. I got impatient and asked tomorrow to arrive, as fast as it can ’, she replies, tilting her face up to the sun.

‘I suppose that’s what happened ’, he says. ‘Our wishes got tangled up, and our bodies and souls got thrown through time and space’.

‘Hm. Do you think we have souls, Keiji? ’ she asks him.

‘Yes ’, he says, sounding perplexed. ‘What else would we be swapping?’

‘What colour d’you think your soul is? ’ It’s a strange question, but he’s used to anticipating the unexpected from her.

‘Blue. It reminds me of the summer sky ’, he replies.

‘Fitting’, she laughs with a cheeky grin on her face. ‘Since the sky is a star’s domain’.

‘What about you’, he asks, so accustomed to ignoring her teasing about Bokuto-san. ‘What colour do you think your soul is?’

‘Yellow, I hope ’, she says dreamily. ‘It’s warmth and life - like flames lighting up wintry nights, or daffodils on the first day of spring’ .

He wonders if it’s a coincidence that the strange dreams hit him in full force right after he brings back the omamori.

But Kenma’s right, he’s become strangely addicted to the narrative his dreams are showing him. It’s like the books he snuck under the covers at night, emerging bleary eyed in the morning because he was intent on seeing the story end. And if he’s being completely honest with himself, it makes him feel like that he - quiet, bookish Akaashi Keiji is the protagonist in the Ghibli movies that Bokuto-san makes him watch, so he doesn’t put up a fight against the dreams that re-invade his sleep.

Taglist:

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official @bongofrito

49 notes · View notes

mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

Blacksmith

So I had my first ask from @sloth-and-gluttony-are-my-sins, so the absolute first thing I had to do is mess it up. Tumbler, you are mean when they ask a question and then I ask a question and it doesn’t leave the original dohickey in my mail here so I can use it to respond and then I got all confused but...the important part was someone asked and I wrote and here it is. Enjoy. Especially Sloth&allthat.

You first meet the students at Garreg Mach in the summer of the last classes ever held there. Your friend Anna requests your services because the regular blacksmith fell ill. You feel the need to expand your horizons. Working for your father for years, perhaps it was time to start setting up a shop of your own. What better chance than to take this job. Everything is here already except for a smith. They have plenty of horses that need shoes, weapons that need repair and new weapons to be forged.

Getting up with the sun, you load wood and coal into the forge, regularly working the bellows to get the heat high enough to soften the hardest metals. Each blacksmith has their own tried and true methods of working and molding the metal into their desired shapes, resulting in weapons and tools to sell in markets. Your family has a history of great craftmanship, you must carry the torch.

Today you are working on fine pieces of steel that slowly will become beautiful custom daggers. The blades requested by the handsome gentleman were specifically ordered to be perfectly balanced, incredibly sharp, shiny and deadly.

Pumping the bellows a few more times, you check the glow of the metal, it is glowing brighter, soon you will be able to work on flattening the steel into shape. You pull the strap of your thick leather apron over your head, tying it behind you. Thick leather pants also protect your legs, your heavy leather boots protecting your feet from metals shards that constantly fall and cover the ground, a hazard of working with metal. Your naked hands grabbing the metal long handled tongs, reaching into the superheated forge and grabbing the brightly glowing hot steel, placing it on the anvil. You reach for your twenty pound hammer with a muscular arm that few, if any, in the monastery could compare to. Your shirt is sleeveless to allow the 100% freedom of movement necessary for your work, your arms forever glistening with sweat from the heat of the forge and materials you work with. You spend an average of 12-14 hours per day working with the metal, molding it under your power, shaping it into beautiful deadly tools.

You begin hammering the metal in a rhythmic pattern, giving a heartbeat to the marketplace. You switch hands every so often, glad that you are ambidextrous, developing the thick strong muscles on both arms evenly. It makes you chuckle-some smiths you know who have a single heavily muscled arm, the other tiny compared to the first. Not that the rest of you is underdeveloped. Your legs, stomach, back, even your neck is muscular having to constantly lift heavy pieces of metal, armor, logs, you name it. You pick up the glowing metal with your clamps, it stretches well under your will, nice and evenly drawn out and ready to be fired again for its next hammering.

You look up in time to see a young blonde haired man. Dimitri as you recall, standing watching you work. Tossing the steel back into the forge, you turn to speak with him.

“Good morning, what can I assist you with?” You greet him as you wipe your hands on your apron, black bits of carbon staining the front.

“I was hoping you could help me with this?” The blue eyed man blushes as he produces a steel lance with the spearhead bent at a very incorrect angle.

You take the lance turning it around and look into his handsome young face. “Were you using it as a lever? Trying to get rocks out of the ground? How many of you were pushing on the handle?” You smile at him.

“Oh no, I was just sparring and, well, I guess I hit the wall and well, here we are.” His blush has crept down his cheeks and into his neck.

Turning the spear again, you find the point where the metal has given way. You move to the right, standing with your legs and knee holding the handle of the spear against your anvil, using both hands you are able to bend the spearhead back towards its original position, then toss the end into the center of your forge. Pumping the bellows a few times you turn to the owner.

The prince’s eyes are as wide as saucers, he had tried to straighten it back out himself and it would not give at all. You simply grabbed it and straightened it back in the blink of an eye.

“Well, Dimitri, what would you like me to do? Just straighten it back out? Reinforce it to make it harder to bend?” You ask as you pull out another piece of the dagger steel and begin hammering it.

“Yes! That would be wonderful if you can reinforce it some. If it would be of no trouble to you.” He looks away shyly.

“That’s what I am here for. I don’t have the fire built for it today, but I do have some welding set for tomorrow. Should be ready in the afternoon.” You answer, not missing a beat with your pounding the metal, drawing out the furthest end into the point of the blade.

Dimitri stands mesmerized as you continually strike the metal, the sweat rolling down your arm muscles then suddenly drops of sweat are flung into the air with the next strike of your hammer. Suddenly he realizes that he’s been staring at you.

“Just how heavy is that hammer?” He asks.

You hold the hammer out to him, your arm straight, the metal head close to his chest. “grab the handle just under the large metal end. It may be a bit hot if you grab the end itself. “

Dimitri takes the hammer in one hand, not expecting it to be that heavy, quickly he gets a second hand on it before he drops it completely. He grabs the handle with two hands, raising it above his head before bringing it down to waist height, then handing it back to you. “It is quite impressive that you can swing it over your head all day long.”

“You could do it too, just need practice. You are incredibly strong to be able to bend your weapons like you do.” You smile, turning back to your work. You wave to him saying his spear will be ready tomorrow afternoon.

After a nice lunch break you are back at work on the daggers. Fine tuning the edges calls for a smaller hammer and more finesse work. Clangity-clang! The higher pitch of the five pound hammer working the metal to a fine sharp edge.

“Hail good Blacksmith! If I may have a moment!” A cheerful voice pulls you from your concentration. You grab your tongs and place the blade in the forge for reheating.

You turn to see a Noble Gentleman whose hair color could rival the center of the forge, glowing as orange as the coals in the middle. His wide smile beckons for your attention. “Good day to you sir. How may I assist you?”

“Lady Blacksmith, if I may inquire.” Ferdinand begins, a look of awe is upon his face. He had no idea the muscles that he was admiring belonged to a woman, a very healthy, muscular woman. He coughs into his fist briefly. “In my last battle I incurred damage to my left gauntlet. As you can see the plates on the outer fingers have been bent, making it difficult to grasp my lance properly. I would pay anything if you are able to assist me with this problematic situation.”

You hold yourself back from laughing in the face of this apparently naive noble asking a woman for assistance with the grasping of his lance. You kick the anvil to keep yourself from smiling as you answer. “I would be happy to assist you with the repair of your gauntlet.” You hold the metal glove in your hands turning it and getting a gauge of the metal that was used for the plates.

“You have excellent maintenance skills. A well oiled and maintained piece such as this will last you many years. If you could give me 3 days to complete the work, I can have it back to you then, good sir.”

“Excellent. My name is Ferdinand Von Aegir. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.” He proudly announces as he holds out his hand so that you may place yours within it for a kiss.

You shyly back away, hands behind you. “You wouldn’t want to kiss these hands right now. They’re covered in coal and oil and smell like steel and grease.”

“Another time, perhaps.” He bows. “It would be an honor to kiss the hand that makes the finest steel bend to its will.” The smile he gives outshines the sun as he bows, heading off to merge in with the crowds, long strides taking him halfway through the marketplace in a scant moment.

The rest of the day is spent finishing the daggers, straightening the lance, and pounding the steel to the correct thickness to replace the bent portions of the damaged gauntlet. Bending the metal around rods of the correct thickness, matching that of the removed parts then finally hammering the punch to make the hole in each side, allowing the piece to be fastened to the glove and inner plate.

The next morning is cool and the heat from the forge is most welcome. Today mostly coal is in, the fire needs to be hot hot hot to work on welding the additional metal to the spear. Tempering the daggers and gauntlet bits. Twelve new spearheads requested.

You begin with the weld, everything pristinely clean the fire exceptionally hot as you heat the spear and steel to be welded. Placing the first piece of steel on the spearhead and removing them both from the heat. Placing them on the anvil quickly and lining them up with shorter clamps, you immediately hammer the two pieces of metal together, joining them into a single piece. Now you must reheat the spear to weld more steel on the other side.

While waiting you grab the first of the three new dagger blades that are on the outer edge of the forge. The metal is heated to orange, not nearly as hot as the welded pieces. The oil in the metal tub close to the forge is warmed sufficiently and you quickly dunk the blade into the oil, swirling it in figure 8s to cool it quickly, tempering the metal and strengthening it. The flames on the oil dies down as the metal cools. You place it back in the forge, tempering the other two blades.

Now the spearhead is hot enough to weld the other side. You hammer the pieces together tossing them into the firey forge to heat to tempering.

Grabbing your waterskin you take a long drink. For being so chilly this morning, it’s gotten quite hot in the shop. You swear the pink haired girl standing close to the side of the front is just there to warm herself. Dimitri begins to walk past and notices you taking a break.

“Your lance is coming right along. I’m well on track to have it done around lunch.” You lean with an elbow on a huge log standing on end at the front of the shop.

“Wonderful. I was hoping to get in some sparring this afternoon. Not that we always practice with regular weapons, but it’s good to keep the muscles toned.” Dimitri smiles at you. He can feel the heat radiating from you even a few feet away. His eyes watch the drops of sweat dancing down between the muscles in your arms. He jolts when you speak.

“I can tell you work hard. Be proud of yourself. I’ll be here to make sure you’re well equipped.” You give him a big smile and wave as he heads off to his friends.

The daggers are ready for the next tempering, followed by the spear and gauntlet pieces. Now you pull out your files, working the edges of the metal on the spear so there are no sharp bits, making it smooth and shiny. Only a few files are needed for the spear. The daggers however need much more work, fine tuning the angle of the blade, then having to switch to stones, finely oiled and the edges drawn out until they can cut a hair. You almost have one dagger complete when Dimitri returns for his weapon.

You’ve polished it up, removed any burrs, smoothed the handle and sharpened the edge.

“Thank you so much, your work is magnificent.” The prince starts off well, placing his payment on the anvil, then reaching for his lance. However once his fingers brush yours, his shyness gets in the way. “Such a beautiful spear completed by a sharp...Uh..no..Sorry. I brought you a muffin.” He says grabbing the lance and stuffing a bag with a large blueberry muffin contained inside into your hands before he turns beet red and runs off.

You laugh, realizing you had not stopped for lunch yourself. Grabbing a bite to eat you finish your tasks for the day.

The next morning you finish the gauntlet for the red haired noble, polishing the whole thing until it glows. You decide you’ll make the deliveries during lunch. The schedule is light for today and you’ve always wanted to see the students in their ‘natural environment’. You spend entirely too much time trying to knock the smithy smell off of you. Now you smell like coal, oil, iron, steel and lavender. At least your skin is more pink than black on your arms and face. Your hair is pulled back, you’re wearing a fluffy gray blouse and dark gray tight pants with leather shoes.

Most of the students are gathered in the dining hall. It isn’t hard to spot the tall young man with his glowing red hair that is just brushing his shoulders. Of course, for some reason, he has announced his own name, confirming you have found the gauntlet owner.

“Such an unexpected surprise!” Ferdinand says as he stands and bows to you. “It looks magnificent! Do you mind if I try it?”

You nod, smiling at him.

He stuffs his hand into the gauntlet, the fingers wiggling and grasping at his other hand. He looks into the gloved portion, slipping it off. “It is perfect!” the redhead announces loud enough for everyone to hear. “There is something different, there was a spot inside that somehow does not bother me at all.”

“I attached a bit of moleskin to some places that were rubbing at the base of your fingers.” You point to the area.

“Simply magnificent! Your work is perfection with every effort! Thank you! Thank you!” He says graciously as he hands a bag heavy with coins.

You look at him curiously, this was far more than you were expecting, a whole new gauntlet would have been cheaper. “Are you certain?”

“Ahh yes! It fits me like a glove!” He smiles, holding his hand out, waiting for yours.

You cautiously take his hand and he gently brings his lips to your knuckles. You find this cute and can’t help but giggle.

He laughs cheerfully as he turns and heads back to his room to retrieve the missing match for his review.

You head out towards the classrooms, looking for Professor Byleth. As you’re walking you hear a voice approaching from the right.

“Ooooh. Looks like a lovely, gorgeous lady is about to find out this is her lucky day” A male voice schmoozes as his footsteps come closer, suddenly a deeper voice chimes in “That’s the blacksmith, idiot. She will break you like a toothpick.”

Alone again, you enter the classroom. Byleth looks up from the desk where she was grading papers.

“Almost have your order complete for the lances. Have you seen Yuri?” You ask, holding out a box.

“He just left, I bet you can catch him if you hurry, just head towards my room, right by the sauna.” Byleth answers, giving you a wave.

You run out heading towards the entrance to Abyss. You hope you can catch him before he heads down. Something about being underground just gives you the creeps. Like at any time the roof is going to collapse on you. You’re running and thrilled to spy him just around the next corner.

“Hey!” you call out, gasping for breath. Your job doesn’t normally call for you to run.

“Hello there, friend.” He sweetly calls back. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“Needed a change of scenery, so I thought I would make a few deliveries, here.” You say as you hand him the box.

“Oh, these are nice. I knew you would come through.” He says as he takes one of the daggers out, twirling it in his fingers. “Sharp as an eagle’s eye too.”

“It’s buy two get one free day.” You nudge his shoulder, fortunately he catches himself before you knock him completely to the ground.

“I pay fair a price. I don’t like owing anyone for anything.” Yuri frowns deeply.

“Well I heard there’s someone you know that makes a wicked fruit tart, one of those would be payment plenty.” You grin.

“That can be arranged.” Yuri smiles and winks.

#fe3h #Fire Emblem Three Houses #feth #fe3h x reader #dimitri x reader

45 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

Text

Strength in numbers

Accountancy is more likely to be mocked than celebrated (or condemned), but accountants, far more than poets, are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.

Though "bean counters" are employed by firms, they are notionally bound by a professional code of ethics every bit as serious as the Hippocratic Oath: "count things honestly." Without an accurate accounting of quantities, you can't make good decisions on quality.

Though accountancy concerns itself with counting things, it is inextricably bound up with the realm of ideas, and accounting conventions (how you account for things) are philosophical matters, not empirical ones.

It's no coincidence that Modern Monetary Theory owes more to accountancy than it does to economics. Economic accounts of the economy have an unfortunate tendency to proceed from first principles, creating models based on pure reason, without checking in on the actual world.

For example, neoclassical econ's "homo economicus," the rational value-maximizing actor who populated so many models; or economists' insistence on targeting inflation with interest rates; or treating national "debts" like they were household debts.

It's telling that the greatest economics revolution of my lifetime was "behavioral economics," which could also be called "checking to see whether real people act like we've assumed they acted."

If it seems weird that economists would spend generations operating on the incorrect assumption that people behave in a certain way without ever checking, consider that Aristotle assumed women had fewer teeth than men, - and never bothered to count.

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/aristotles-error/

Accountants check, and what they find is…gnarly. In "An Accounting Model of the UK Exchequer," Andrew Berkeley, Richard Tye & Neil Wilson offer a mindbending account (heh) of where money comes from (hint: not taxes), and where it goes ("poof").

https://gimms.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/An-Accounting-Model-of-the-UK-Exchequer-Google-Docs.pdf

The authors did a two-part MMT Podcast interview describing the paper's findings, and it is the most extraordinary 2.5h audio you're likely to find: not just the realities of money, but the deliberate obfuscation thereof.

https://pileusmmt.libsyn.com/84-andrew-berkeley-richard-tye-neil-wilson-an-accounting-model-of-the-uk-exchequer-part-1

https://pileusmmt.libsyn.com/86-andrew-berkeley-richard-tye-neil-wilson-an-accounting-model-of-the-uk-exchequer-part-2

One thing the Exchequer paper reveals is that accountants bat for both teams: team clarity and team obscurity. As many finance scandals and finance dramas have reminded us, accounting can be turned to obscuring and dazzling rather than revelation.

After all, somewhere in HM Exchequer is a team of accountants who know *exactly* how money works - and know that it's nothing like the account produced by economists or politicians. They know it because they are in charge of it. They do money, all day long.

When accountants go rogue, things get bad. And thanks to neoclassical economics - and its emphasis on the "efficiency" of monopolies - we are living through a golden age of ghastly accounting fraud.

Just four companies - EY, KPMG, PWC and Deloitte - audit the books of 97% of the 350 largest UK companies; but they make far more selling these companies consulting services, and have made a habit of lying about those books in order to boost their consulting income.

Accountancy is meant to be a profession that understands that conflicts of interest are a moral hazard. But just as doctors convince themselves they won't get addicted to their own painkillers, accountants talk themselves into believing that conflicts won't corrupt them.

That's how the Big Four accounting companies came to sign off Carillion's fraudulent books. The company hid £7b worth of debts, took on management of vital government services up and down the country, then collapsed, leaving the nation stranded.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carillion#Financial_difficulties

For the Big Four, Carillion's collapse was a feature, not a bug. After all, the only accounting firms large enough to oversee its bankruptcy were...the Big Four, who billed millions for cleaning up the mess left behind by their own fraud.

Accounting fraud is a fascinating potential fracture line in economic reform. After all, fraudulent accountants may help *some* plutes get rich - like, say Bernie Madoff, or Donald Trump - but they often do so at the expense of *other* plutes.

Like Exxon, which lied to its investors for 11 years about the value of its shale-gas holdings, which it purchased at the peak of the fracking bubble and whose revenues and liabilities it has buried in its financial statements ever since.

https://www.desmogblog.com/2021/02/02/whistleblower-sec-complaint-alleges-exxon-fraud-overvalue-fracking-assets

The company is finally writing down $19.3b worth of those assets, but the true figure is more like $50b. And yes, Exxon's big investors include a lot of passive funds that invest pension savings, meaning this hurts Main Street as well as Wall Street.

But as ever, those pension-savers are the Lucky Duckies here, because - joke's on us - Americans have basically no pension savings, thanks to the wage stagnation and asset inflation that left almost all working Americans facing penury in old age.

Hey, at least they're not getting ripped off by Exxon! The real victims of this decade-long, multibillion-dollar fraud are the same people who got snookered into buying into shitty Trump casinos and luxury buildings: rich people.

By definition, rich people deal in quantities that exceed their ability to personally count so they are especially vulnerable to scam accounting. It's only when the frauds tank a company we all suffer, as jobs and businesses disappear, screwing workers and cities.

The absence of a neutral ref and scorekeeper is a really big deal in online business and policy circles. The ad-tech duopoly isn't merely content to price-gouge advertisers - they also lie about what those sky-high prices are paying for:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#wannamakers-ghost

But each member of the duopoly has a different scam. Google's frauds are complex, behind-the-scenes market manipulations, an abstruse, mathematical grift that leverages complexity and monopoly to fleece its customers.

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3500919

Facebook is much more straightforward. It just lies. Back in 2016, FB lied about how many people were watching videos, and encouraged hundreds of media company to beggar themselves to chase fraudulent video dollars:

https://www.wired.com/story/facebook-lawsuit-pivot-to-video-mistake/

Accounting fraud is in Facebook's DNA. After all, this is a company whose primary sales-pitch is, "We will count everything you do and then charge people to help them sell you stuff."

This proposition is intrinsically hard to evaluate. How can a customer know if their FB ad generated a sale, or whether it was an ad elsewhere, or random chance, or even that elusive beast, customer loyalty?

The main source for the belief in Facebook's efficacy is...Facebook. It's not a neutral party, and the accountants who sign off on its books have repeatedly shown themselves to be untrustworthy.

Here's the latest scandal: since 2018, FB's been defending a class-action suit brought by its customers who claim that FB lied about "potential reach" - that is, how many users would see their ads.

https://www.ft.com/content/c144b3e0-a502-440b-8565-53a4ce5470a5

And while FB strenuously denies that the inaccuracies in "potential reach" metrics were just normal, unpredictable variations in user behaviors, a whistleblowing FB product manager has produced emails in which they warn execs that they're committing fraud.

The execs who got these memos rejected them, telling the product manager that acting on them would have "significant revenue impact" - that is, "Our customers wouldn't buy our products if we were truthful about them."

The fraudulent reach figures begat fraudulent revenues, and those revenues were fraudulently reported to investors. Those investors will now take a haircut if FB loses in court.

Accounting fraud's pathology is bimodal: it abets the wage-theft and austerity that harms the poorest and most vulnerable - but also the reporting scams that harpoon finance's biggest whales.

It's a curious alliance of interests. For now, it seems like Big Tech is going to be antitrust and anti-corruption's harbinger, but I wouldn't count accountancy out - it's got exactly the right kinds of enemies to fire sustained political will.

#pluralistic

33 notes · View notes

thelittlestcheshire · 3 years ago

Photo

even if you have to cry, don't let your crown fall

a love letter to luxor’s ches elswood

Well, it’s finally time that I feel ready to post this, and while I’m aware it may be bittersweet with my upcoming departure, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Today I present to you a three hour Ches playlist, divided into sections and covering her entire time at Luxor, from when I first picked her up in June of 2019 all the way to now. There’s quite a few plot references, and small (and not as small) references to other muses throughout, especially when it comes to Elliot, so keep an eye out for those as well!

I’d like to thank Lex for giving me the idea to make these, and her support throughout the process because without her, these playlists wouldn’t even exist. And thank you to everyone who has gone on this journey with us, while I’m sorry I need to dip out early after this event to focus on my health, I love y’all so much.

The standard Ches tws apply (poor mental health, alcoholism, etc etc), and anything I think may be a bit abnormal / section exclusive is noted on the sections.

twist me like a key, then you open the lock | pre-luxor:

the section of time before I played Ches at Luxor, very James heavy. additional tws: Death (Sign of the Times), Toxic relationships (nothing explicit tho)

Sign of the Times (Jasmine Thompson) [ Remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here. ] // Sweet Ophelia (Zella Day) [ Singing like it's a full moon, careless now that he has you. Turns you on to the right songs, promises that you're hooked on. ] // Couple of Kids (Maggie Lindemann) [ Now I'm fallin' heavily, recklessly, trying not to lose my sensibility; but gravity, it pulls me into you. ] // Glowstick (Sofia Karlberg) [ You play me like a line-up; long con, you make me wise up. ] // Crying in the Club (Camila Cabello) [ Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, let the beat carry away, your tears as they fall, baby. Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, with a little faith, your tears turn to ecstasy. ] // Ember (Katherine McNamara) [ Reignite; you lost your grip on me, and now I blaze wild and free. ]

nobody shows up unless i'm paying, have a drink on me cheers to the failing | summer & fall 2019:

the first time I was at Luxor playing ches, from June - October 2019

7 rings (Ariana Grande) [ Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch. Who woulda thought it'd turn me to a savage? ] // I'm a Mess (Bebe Rexha) [ “It's gonna be a good, good life;” that's what my therapists say. ] // OMG (Little Mix) [ Oh my gosh, I did it again. He said I broke his heart, it keeps happening. ] // Only Angel (Harry Styles) [ Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short, but I think that's what I like about it. ] // LA Devotee (Panic! At The Disco) [ Drinking white wine in the blushing light, just another LA Devotee. ] // Woman Like Me (Little Mix feat. Nicki Minaj) [ I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly. I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve. ]

all of this emptiness i've been sharing, it never comes when i want it to | winter 2019:

the period of time Ches went home to be with her family and was away from luxor additional tws: vomiting (Habits (Stay High))

Carmen (Lana Del Rey) [ Darlin’, darlin’, doesn't have a problem lyin’ to herself ‘cause her liquor’s top shelf ] // How You Remind Me (Avril Lavigne) [ And I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream, "Are we havin' fun yet?" ] // Playing God (Paramore) [ This is the last second chance (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm half as good as it gets (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm on both sides of the fence (I'll point you to the mirror). Without a hint of regret, I'll hold you to it ] // Habits {Stay High} (Tove Lo) [ Staying in my play pretend, where the fun ain't got no end. Oh, can't go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain. ] // Bedroom Window (The Pretty Reckless) [ As I look out of my bedroom window; is it all real or just fantasy? I have lost touch with what makes me human, I have lost touch with reality. ] // Impossible Year (Panic! At The Disco) [ There's no sunshine, this impossible year; only black days and sky grey and clouds full of fear. ]

i wouldn't say you got the best of me, i'd say you got me somewhere in between | spring 2020:

Ches’s return to Luxor, and the months following leading up to her mass text about Leo’s dad following the Lake Bash

3 O'Clock Things (AJR) [ Would you go running if you saw the real me? Maybe you'd love 'em, yeah, maybe you'd feel me. ] // Wild Heart (Bleachers) [ Well, everything has changed and now I can't tell what matters. I will find any way to your wild heart. ] // Rise (Katy Perry) [ When the fire's at my feet again and the vultures all start circling. They're whispering, “you're out of time.” But still, I rise. ] // Don't Stop Me Now (Queen) [ I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course. I am a satellite, I'm out of control. ] // Princesses Don't Cry (CARYS) [ Girls, so pretty and poised and soft to the touch, but God made me rough. Girls, so heavy the crown, they carry it tall, but it's weighing me down. ] // Save Rock And Roll (Fall Out Boy feat. Elton John) [ You are what you love, not who loves you. In a world full of the word 'yes', I'm here to scream... no, no (no, no). ] // Making a Monster out of Me (Katherine McNamara) [ And I don't know how to recollect the morals that I always did possess. Don't know where its leading me. ] // We Don't Have To Dance (Andy Black) [ You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy. This is hell, this is hell. ]

tonight it's alright, i can see the tunnel at the end of these lights | summer 2020:

summer camp and the months leading up to a new school year

Night Owls Early Birds (Foxes) [ A wild fire inside me burns. Why do I look like I'm wear for worse? Save me, save me, go underneath the ground. ] // Too Much (Carly Rae Jepsen) [ When I party, then I party too much. When I feel it, then I feel it too much. When I'm thinking, then I'm thinking too much. When I'm drinking, then I'm drinking too much. ] // Royal Blue (Alberto Rosende) [ My regrets are a shade around my neck I know. It's torturous, and there's a burden that I can't let go. ] // Who You Selling For (The Pretty Reckless) [ And when Roger showed me I was building a wall. I've been waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting for it to fall. ] // Heavy (Linkin Park feat. Kiiara) [ You say that I'm paranoid, but I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me. It’s not like I make the choice to let my mind stay so fucking messy. ] // The Archer (Taylor Swift) [ I've been the archer, I've been the prey; screaming, “who could ever leave me,” darling. But who could stay? ] // Everybody Lost Somebody (Bleachers) [ And there's a reason I wake up alone in strange places, a reason I see myself in a million faces, a reason I can't stop it all from changing. So come on, motherfucker, you survive, you gotta give yourself a break. ]

no cameras catch my muffled cries. i counted days, i counted miles | fall and winter 2020(/21):

a new school year, from the start of the semester right until the aftermath of the kings’ party

So It Goes (Guards) [ I don't know who I am but I do know who I'm not. I'm just looking for a friend, I'm still searching for the plot. ] // Wasabi (Little Mix) [ Love to hate me, praise me, shame me; either way, you talk about me. ] // Think Before I Talk (Astrid S) [ Maybe I should think before I talk; I get emotional and words come out all wrong. Sometimes I'm more honest than I want. ] // Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince (Taylor Swift) [ No cameras catch my muffled cries. I counted days, I counted miles to see you there, to see you there. And now the storm is coming, but... ] // Sober Up (AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo) [ Won't you help me sober up? Growin' up, it made me numb, and I wanna feel somethin' again. ] // The Show Must Go On (Queen) [ Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on. Does anybody know what we are looking for? ] // Waiting For A Friend (The Pretty Reckless) [ My head is like a prison cell, I'm all by myself. I'm waiting for my friend to come and break me out. ] // Sober (Demi Lovato) [ I'm sorry that I'm here again, I promise I'll get help. It wasn't my intention, I'm sorry to myself. ] // Eight (Sleeping At Last) [ I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut, and bury my innocence. But here's a map, here's a shovel, here's my Achilles' heel. ]

i got this handled, i don't need rescuing | spring and early summer 2021:

ches’s progress from the end of march until now

The Man (Taylor Swift) [ I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man. And I'm so sick of them coming at me again, 'cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man. ] // Princess (FLETCHER) [ But we're all going through it, so why do we do it? Why do we hide? ] // Humpty Dumpty (AJR) [ If I can't breathe, then you can't see, but aren't you excited that I'm giving you the best me? ] // My Mistake (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Am I jaded? Am I meant to feel this way? I'm a loser, getting beat by my own game. But if I falter, well, at least it was my mistake. ] // The Climb (Miley Cyrus) [ The struggles I'm facing, the chances I'm taking; sometimes might knock me down, but no, I'm not breaking. ] // breathin (Ariana Grande) [ Some days, things just take way too much of my energy. I look up and the whole room's spinning. You take my cares away. ] // Clean (Taylor Swift) [ Ten months sober, I must admit just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it. Ten months older, I won't give in, now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it. ] // Not a Pop Song (Little Mix) [ A hamster on a wheel that's how it feels tryna be real. These unrealistic expectations said we'll make it if we fake it. ] // Queen (Loren Gray) [ Eyes on me like I'm a prize but you better recognize I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me. ] // The Cure (Little Mix) [ This happiness was always inside me but Lord, it took a minute to find me. ]

#musings ( playlists )#all of my heroes died all alone ( musings )#death tw #abuse tw #alcoholism tw #alcohol tw #vomit tw #vomiting tw #vomit mention tw

6 notes · View notes

hiddenwiki13 · 3 years ago

Text

Fall In Love With HIDDEN WIKI

Reviewing the 1970s, "darknet" was truly not an awful term: it just inferred networks that were detached from the standard of ARPANET for security purposes. Notwithstanding, as ARPANET changed into the web and a brief timeframe later ate up basically the wide extent of various PC networks out there, the word came to perceive areas that were connected with the web yet not really of it, hard to track down on the off chance that you didn't have a guide.

The alleged weak web, a catch-all verbalization covering the pieces of the web not reported through web crawlers, is the stuff of shocking legend. Notwithstanding, as with most legends, the fact of the matter is a touch more ordinary. This shouldn't deduce that that astonishing stuff isn't accessible on dull sites, in any case, some of them murmured staggering stories you might've heard don't make up a large portion of the exchanges there.

We watched out for some security experts who offered to offer us somewhat a guided visit through the web's lower zones. Ideally, it will demystify things each.

New weak locales spring up dependably...

A 2015 white paper from danger data firm Recorded Future analyzes the linkages between the Web you know and the darknet. The ways regularly start on complaints like Pastebin, from the outset proposed as a direct spot to move long code tests or other substance yet now regularly where partners with the dark Tor network are saved a few days or hours for contributed individuals.

While looking for dull locales isn't only likely as essential as utilizing Google—the reality of the situation is to be truly subtle, considering everything—there are approaches to manage discover what's there. The screen gets under was given by Radware security analyst Daniel Smith, and he says it's the eventual outcome of "altered substance that go out there and find new URLs, new onions, dependably, and from there on show them. It's like Geocities, yet 2018"— an energy that is helped along by pages with names like "My Deepweb Site," which you can see on the screen get.

...besides, many are totally authentic

Matt Wilson, the central data security counsel at BTB Security, says that "there is a sensible/weak side to the weak web that would presumably shock an extensive number of people. You can trade some

cooking plans—with video!— send an email, or read a book. Individuals utilize the dull web for these smart things for a plan of reasons: an impression of the area, insight or following of web tendencies, or just to accomplish something in a substitute manner."

[ Prepare to change into a Certified Information Security Systems Professional with this broad web course from PluralSight. Before long contribute a 10-day free starter! ]

It legitimizes auditing that what thrives with the darknet is material that has been kept somewhere else on the web. For instance, in 2015, in the wake of the Chinese government stopping any tomfoolery with VPN relationship through the claimed "stunning firewall," Chinese-language conversations ended bouncing up on the darknet — all around flooding with individuals who essentially expected to exchange with one another in agreeableness.

Radware's Smith brings up that there is an assortment of media sources on the weak web, going from the news website from the hacking group Anonymous to the New York Times, which appeared in the screen get here, all considering individuals in nations that adjust the open web.

A few spaces are by hi from a certain point of view

Plainly, not all things are so faultless, or you wouldn't endeavor to look at this article. Considering everything, "you can't simply be starting up your Tor program and mentioning 10,000 Visa records, or passwords to your neighbor's webcam," says Mukul Kumar, CISO and VP of Cyber Practice at Cavirin. "A gigantic piece of the checked 'delicate' information is simply open to those that have been affirmed or welcome to express friendly events."

How should you get a hello to such dull locales? "They should see history of terrible conduct," says Radware's Smith. "From an overall perspective, it takes after a mafia trust test. They need you to show that you're not a prepared proficient and you're not law execution. In like manner, an enormous heap of those tests will be something that a specialist or law need genuinely can't do."

There is shocking stuff, and crackdowns mean it's harder to trust

In reality, as a year earlier, different weak web business networks for drugs and hacking associations included corporate-level client care and client audits, making exploring less staggering yet rather safer for learners. Nonetheless, since law essential has started to stop messing around with such protests, the experience is more stunning and more hazardous.

"The entire considered this darknet business center, where you have a partner outline, where individuals can survey calms that they're purchasing from transporters and get up on a get-together and say, 'in all actuality, this is real' or 'No, this genuinely harmed me'— that has been diminished since faint business living spaces have been taken withdrawn," says Radware's Smith. "You're seeing unapproachable vendors open up their own shops, which are all things considered, hard to vet yourself truly. There won't be any audits, there's not a lot of escrow associations. Also, in this way, by these takedowns, they've really fired up a business opportunity for extra misleads to hop up."

Surveys can not be right, things sold under contortions—and a ton is on the line

There are still protests where medications are evaluated, says Radware's Smith, regardless, review that they ought to be taken with a gigantic grain of salt. A specialist may get a high from something they purchased on the web, at any rate not like what the medication was that given it.

One explanation such errors are made? Different weak web drug makers will in addition buy pill presses and tones, which retail two or three hundred dollars and can make risky clone drugs. "One of the later alerts that I could imply would be Red Devil Xanax," he said. "These were sold as some super Xanax bars when truly, they were simply horrible medications expected to hurt you." Everything You Wanted to Know About hidden wiki and Were Too Embarrassed to Ask

The weak web gives discount things to striking nearby retailers...

Smith says that some standard remedy cartels utilize the dull web networks for dissipating—"it disposes of the subject matter expert and awards the cartels to send from their own stockrooms and spread it on the off chance that they need to"— yet inconspicuous administrators can also give the individual touch at the neighborhood level following to purchasing drug produced combinations discount from China or somewhere else from areas like the one in the screen get here. "You know how there are loads of neighborhood IPA microbreweries?" he says. "We in addition have a ton of nearby little investigation workplaces. Around there, there's obviously, notwithstanding, one child that is gotten canny and recognizes how to arrange drugs on the darknet, and make very few solutions to offer to his neighborhood affiliation."

...who utilize the gig economy

Smith depicts how the darknet meets with the unregulated and passed on the universe of the gig economy to help reasonable hold. "What about we expect I need to have something bought from the darknet transported off me," he says. "I'm not going reveal my authentic territory, isn't that so? I would have something like that passed on to an AirBnB—a territory that can be discarded, a burner. The case appears to be the day they lease it, by then they put the thing in a Uber and send it to another space. It winds up being astoundingly hard for law need to follow, particularly in the occasion that you're going across different domains."

Not all things are open to being purchased on the dull web

We've contributed an enormous heap of energy looking at drugs here purposefully. Smith calls narcotics "the genuine foundation" of the weak web; "cybercrime—selling attempts and inadequacies, web application assaults—that is the electronic foundation. Basically, I'd say a ton of the darknet is in reality medications and children analyzing little encroachment on get-togethers."

A piece of the truly terrifying sounding stuff you get some answers concerning being open to being purchased as frequently as potential breezes up being by and large gossipy treats. Take weapons, for example: as Smith puts it, "it would be less hard for a criminal to buy a firearm, truly, versus the web. Going to the darknet is adding an additional development that isn't huge for the association. Precisely when you're administering confirmed hoodlums, they will recognize somebody that is selling a weapon."

Unequivocal specialties are in

Notwithstanding, there are some sure darknet specialty includes out there, regardless of whether they don't have the very impression that tranquilizers do. One that Smith made me notice was the universe of skimmers, gadgets that fit into the openings of genuine credit and ATM card perusers and get your money-related harmony information.

In addition, giving another outline of how the darknet weds certified articles open to be purchased with information available to be purchased, similar complaints likewise give information manual sheets to different standard ATM models. Among the jewels accessible in these sheets are the default passwords for a couple, praised web-related models; we will not give everything away here, in any case for a couple, it's a similar digit emphasized on different events.

Visit Our Website: https://hidden.wiki

Twitter

Instagram

#hidden wiki

2 notes · View notes

sserpente · 5 years ago

Text

As a last resort

A/N & Synopsis: Based on a prompt sent to me by @imboredsueme:

The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes--they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble: “...didn’t know where else to go...”, then collapse into the villain’s arms.

Sometimes, inspiration strikes you and when it does, you have to strike back. Featuring one of my favourite AU’s. 😉

Words: 2542 Warnings: Loki wins AU, mentions of drug use, drink spiking and attempted rape, fluff

Things were different around New York City ever since the Chitauri attack. Ever since the Avengers, hope of civilisation, society and humanity, had lost Earth to a man as beautiful as he was dangerous and the disappointment and anger the people had met you with on the streets had driven you further into living a hazardous life in the shadows.

Loki had announced a hefty bounty for your capture. Yours, and that of his adoptive brother Thor, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. Heavens knew whether Tony Stark, Bruce Banner and Clint Barton were still alive after they had disappeared in the Avengers’… Loki’s tower around six months after the alien invasion. But the remaining Avengers were out there somewhere, hiding and planning to overthrow his ruling.

You had long given up on them trying to find you. Perhaps they thought you were dead—that you, a young woman with mere combat skills and two failed assassination attempts before you were recruited by the man you had been assigned to kill and became part of the Avengers only a few days after the God of Mischief had arrived on Earth to claim it, could not possibly survive this long in a realm ruled by chaos and malice.

They had left you and given up on you, choking you with all the hope that had swelled up in your chest every night before you curled up in a dirty rain barrel you had found to sleep in. Realisation had hit you after almost two years hiding among the homeless. You were alone in this world. You always had been. You had just been naïve enough to believe that the Avengers would finally change that.

Sure. The word, in the truest sense of its meaning, had sealed your fate tonight. You had shaken the devil’s hand, unsuspecting of the fatal deal you had struck. He was supposed to be an ally. Henry lived near the eerie scrap yard in the suburbs. He made money by stealing cars and selling the parts to shady dealers and they paid him enough to afford a flat he shared with friends. You had never asked but according to their looks, they were both drug dealers.

You had agreed to join them for a drink in a bar they knew would be safe for you to stroll in. Your face was all over the news, after all, the sum announced on your head making most people around New York City dizzy. It was high. Not as high as the bounty promised for the capture of Thor but higher than the bounty placed onto Captain America and Black Widow. Loki and you had fought in the past, regardless of you getting overwhelmed by the much stronger Asgardian, numerous times. He had offered you a way out to join him and you had refused. Now, self-preservation and the will to survive this hellhole New York City had become urging you on, you wished you hadn’t. Loki was a cunning and arrogant man. Something about you had fascinated him enough not to kill you when he brought you to his feet, disarmed and breathing heavily. But he had sworn revenge for your denial and rejection, for attempting to foil his plans.

When you realised that Henry’s friends, having asked for his consent prior to their actions, had spiked your drink, it was already too late. Whatever drug it was that now attacked your blood so aggressively and messed with your mind and thoughts, it burned like liquid fire in your stomach.

They had underestimated your combat skills when they dragged your weakened form outside through the back door to tear your clothes off your body which resulted in ugly holes revealing your skin on your thighs, stomach and chest. And you had fought back, striking with all your might and reaching for every body part that might hurt upon being hit as they had almost taken from you what you protected and cherished so dearly. Blood was streaming from your nose and the throbbing cut on your lip as well as a wound on your forehead. There were more injuries, for sure. The adrenaline cursing through your blood merely shut out the agony.

Bruises already formed on your stomach, one of the straps of your bra broken and revealing another cut right above your breast. A knife. Henry’s knife had done that. You would kill him for that and this time your assassination would not fail… if your survived this.

You moaned in pain when you heaved yourself into a dark alley to shield yourself from unwanted gazes. This was bad. This was really bad. You needed help but a hospital was out of the question. They would not help you without costs you could never cover without any insurance and if they recognised you…

Tears spilled from your eyes when another wave of sharp pain tore through your body, numbing your senses. You knew what fainting felt like… and you would lose consciousness soon if you didn’t act now and wanted to die in this alley. Your threw your head back, taking a deep breath which turned into a desperate sob.

Your sight blurred when you looked up into the cold night to see Loki’s tower protruding from the other buildings like an active volcano.

There was no need for Loki to guard the lobby downstairs, his Chitauri had made sure of that. He had made sure of that. People who walked into his tower usually did not make it back out unless they worked for him.

Sighing, he ran his fingers over his lower lip and tore his blue gaze away from the blond man who, only weeks after his victory over the Avengers, had volunteered to operate as his personal assistant and spy. He was a decommissioned politician, his motives questionable even to him—but thus far, he had proven to be useful.

His daily reports were beyond tiring and Loki could certainly think of more interesting activities to spend his evening. It was dark out already, thousands of artificial lights illuminating the nightly skyline of New York City and turning the many buildings beneath him into a murky sea.

He could use some distraction right about now. An attack, perhaps. Thor paying him a visit and starting yet another futile and brainless attempt to overthrow him with the sheer strength of his beloved hammer… sighing once more, he dismissed his lackey mid-sentence and leaned back in his cosy armchair, enjoying how silence spread in his living room and for once, letting his guard down.

That’s why the silent pling of the elevator caught him off guard, surprise and confusion rumbling inside of him as he stood to face the metal doors open to reveal… you. Loki closed the distance between the armchair and the elevator so fast any other human would have been intimidated but in your current state, you did not even notice.

What in the nine realms had happened to you? What were you doing here? If the Chitauri had caught you, one of their leaders would have been with you. If a bounty hunter had dragged you up, they would be demanding their reward right now.

Narrowing his blue eyes at you hostilely, he only took the time now to inspect your pathetic form. You were bleeding from several wounds, your clothes torn, skin covered in bruises and even cuts. Angry handprints and marks staining your flesh. Finally, you gathered the physical strength to look up at him shivering and scared, your eyes glazed and somewhat… abstracted. It was obvious you had been drugged by someone. What had happened?

“…I didn’t know where else to go…” You croaked out. Then, your eyelids flattered close and you collapsed into Loki’s arms.

The room you woke up in was not familiar. It was huge and spacious, neatly filled with dark brown furniture accentuated by golden engravings and green fabrics. The bed sheets covering your almost naked body were green too. Swallowing, you bit your lower lip to help ignore the pain and sat up a little to study your foreign surroundings.

A hot wave passed through you when your memories returned and hammered against your brain like Thor’s mjolnir, the amount of green and gold in the room a mocking reminder. Loki.

“You are awake.” Flinching hurt when his voiced pulled you back to the present. Next to him, the entire room appeared meagre and tiny, like his mere presence shrunk it all down. Your eyes locked with his, a scrutinising glare boring into you. Another memory. You had passed out in his arms. Your lips parted to respond but Loki cut you off before you could utter a single word.

“Tell me what happened to you.” It was not a question, it was a demand. But an explanation for why you had showed up at the very man’s doorstep who had suspended a bounty of a million dollars on you was the least you owed him.

I didn’t know where else to go, you had mumbled half-unconscious. Loki doubted you remembered your words and yet they had been echoing in his head ever since he had called for some nurses and a doctor. They had patched you up quickly, sewing the laceration on your forehead and tending to the wounds on the rest of your body. They had taken a sample of your blood, too, quickly finding the right antidote to fight the drug in your blood. You would recover.

What had you meant by “I didn’t know where else to go”? Surely, whoever was left of the Avengers would have come to your help nobly sooner or later. Loki wondered, genuinely, why they hadn’t. But even more important was the question why he had helped you.

He could have let you die and bleed out on his green carpet then and there, saving the bounty and announcing yet another victory to the already terrified people living under his reign in New York City. To decide against it had been impetuous and he had spent hours watching your sleeping form in his own bed attempting to figure out his motives.

And he had come to a conclusion. No matter whose side you had fought on two years ago, the moment you had stepped into that elevator, you were an innocent and likely assaulted woman in the need of help. You had come to him, of all people, knowing there was a chance he would bury his pointy sceptre deep in your stomach as soon as you stepped over the threshold. You had laid your life in his hands, presenting your head to him on a silver platter… and despite everything that had happened, you had trusted him enough to save you.

His question stirred up memories you did not want to harbour. Squeezing your eyes shut, you took a deep and painful breath.

“They tricked me. My drink… it was spiked. Outside, they tried to…” Your voice broke, tears worsening your sight. “They tried to rape me.”

Loki’s poignant expression darkened. “Who?” He growled. Would it make any difference to him if he knew? He could send for the Chitauri to kill whoever had dared to lay a hand on you and ravish you against your will. He clenched his fists. But why, by the Norns, would he care?

“Henry… his friends… I should have known better, I considered him a friend! He… he shared his food with me.” Out on the streets of New York City, starvation was one of the most common causes of death, right after death from exposure, drug use and alcohol poisoning and murder. Sharing food was a big deal.

Another look into Loki’s blue and nearly unreadable eyes made you burst out crying. You had no power to stop it, nor to hold it in until he had left. It must have been some kind of delayed shock that made you shake and sob uncontrollably with a start, hugging your knees to your chest for some sort of comfort.

Loki began pacing up and down his bedroom, unsure of how to deal with the situation in the most calculated way possible.

“You came to me fully aware of the consequences.” He stated bluntly, his voice surprisingly quiet. Another sob of yours tore through the air before you looked up at him so helplessly Loki felt a strange sting in his heart.

“You… treated my wounds. You won’t kill me now, w-will you? I know you are not that cruel, Loki.” Loki demanded respect and he demanded being addressed properly. As of right now, he was the king of this realm—he was your king. The provocative undertone in your voice when you spoke his name, despite your devastation, did not go unnoticed. It suited you and intrigued him. You had not lost your fire then.

“I just… I’m all alone. I didn’t know where else to go and you…” You did not finish your sentence as you did not know how. But there it was again. I didn’t know where else to go. You were right, of course. He would never kill you. You might have been an Avenger but you had not been so with all your heart. You acted out of desperation and the need of recognition, affection and praise—in which aspect, when he had first met and fought you, he had seen himself.

He had approached you before he knew himself, his feet taking control of his actions. You leaned back intimidated when he came to a halt right in front of you. Your fear of him was palpable. Loki was right. You had come to him knowing the consequences. Without probing you knew that he would not let you out of this tower again—and only Heaven knew if you would live long enough to deal with the gravity of your actions.

Yet, at the very same time, you felt an overwhelming gratefulness washing over your mangled body when your eyes locked with his once more. Loki could have let you die pathetically. He could have killed you the moment the elevator doors opened to reveal your weakened form… and he did not.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

What he did next surprised you both. Loki lifted his arm, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. Long and soft fingers caressing your wet skin. It was a light, gentle and hesitant touch as if he was trying to figure out what to do with you—and the odd sensations in his chest ever since you had collapsed in his arms.

Your lower lip was shaking as your eyes fell shut upon his tender touch. You did not realise you began sobbing again and wrapped your arms around his middle until you were already holding onto him, desperate to forget your assault. Loki… held you. Hesitantly and rather maladroitly, he pressed you against him almost possessively. In any other situation, you would have snorted at your stupidity. You were hugging the villain. Why… did this feel so right?

He would positively kill Henry and his friends, slowly and intimately, to avenge you. But first, he would have to thank them for driving you into his arms.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! kofi.com/sserpente ♥

Additional disclaimer: The original prompt that inspired this story seemed to have originally been posted by @one-lonely-whumperfly.

771 notes · View notes

niqhtlord01 · 5 years ago

Text

Human are weird: Bullshitting through situations

Alien: The law clearly states that no may not have nuclear missiles. Human: These are not nuclear missiles though, they are nuclear material storage tubes. Alien: They have booster rockets on them and you launch them from your vessels! Human: They are launched from cargo tubes and those are thruster rockets that help guide it into containment areas as it is safer when no crew are involved in transporting hazardous materials. Alien: You fired it at a planet and blew up a city!!!! Human: A tragic accident which resulted from faulty guidance software. Our thoughts and prayers are with the Gloven people for their tragic loss. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: You are forbidden from selling narcotics to our system planets. Human: First off, these are medical supplies. Second off, we are not selling them to you, our client just happens to be on the other side of your border. We are just traveling through your borders. Alien: Then why did you stop on our capital world? Human: We were ordered to stop for a local inspection. Alien: Where you then sold drugs. Human: Why we would never! Our cargo was inspected by your trustworthy inspection crews. In the process several containers were damaged and could no longer be safely transported. Rather than file legal claims against the inspection crew they agreed to pay for the damaged cargo and then even went so far as to take it into their custody for disposal. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: You think you could get away with selling battleships to our enemies?! Human: I would never even consider it! Alien: Then why did we catch your ship en-route to be sold to our enemies? Human: This warship has been decommissioned by the human government and has been sold to the Halvaki nation as scrap. Alien: They will use it against us! You’re giving them weapons to use on us! Human: The contract clearly states that the ship is being sold as scrap, that was the agreement made with humanity. Humanity is not legally responsible if our trade partners decide to break the agreement and use this ship for unintended purposes other than being scrapped. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: We are banning the sale of our rare metals to you. What are you going to say about that human? Human: We are going to buy every vehicle you have. Alien: *surprised* Alien: Wow, I honestly wasn’t expec- Human: Then we are going to melt them down for raw metals. Alien: You little sh- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: Your products kills people! Human: We did mention that on the label that a chance of death was possible, which is why we recommended you see a doctor first for advice. Alien: Why would you sell products that have a chance of killing your customers?!?! Human: That is an unfortunate side effect considering it is intended to restore hair. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: For the love of Morrog human! Stop selling weapons! Human: These are just large kitchen utensils. Alien: I just saw someone use this to stab someone else to death! Human: We have warning labels clearly saying you should not do that. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: Are these torture devices? Human: All I have to say is that our clients are into some weird kinky shit. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: Next. Human: *Steps into full body scanner* Scanner: *Goes off* Alien: *looks at screen* Alien: Why is there a plastic bag inside your rectum? Human: It’s.......not a pleasant story. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien and human meet for questionable deal in a public place. Alien: Show me the goods. Human: First the money. Alien: *Hands human the money* Human: *Pulls out gun* Alien: Why do you have a gun? Human: I don’t, but you do. Alien: Wha- Human: *Tosses unloaded gun to alien who catches it* Human: *Shouts* OH MY GOD HE’S GOT A GUN! *Surrounding area goes crazy, security tackles alien to the ground while human escapes* ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien Police: *Pulls over drunk human* Alien: Sir, do you realize how intoxicated you are? Human: By ur *hicup* stadbers or by human ztandars? Alien: What? Human: Bezuaze you guy’z can drink three tiz more dan us humanzz. Human: Soooze dat means I’m not driving while intobercated! Alien: *Whispers to partner* Are they right? Alien: They’re human. For all we know this is their standard default. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: There is no racing allowed here! Human: They aren’t racing, this is a scientific study in progress for new auto parts. Alien: Then why are two vehicles driving as fast as possible side by side? Human: One has the new parts and the other doesn’t for a control factor. Alien: and what are these new parts? Human: Air fresheners. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien Police: Put down the money bag! Human: I’m just making a large withdrawal from my account. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien from before escapes security and tracks down the human that swindled him. Alien: You won’t get away this time human! Human: Why is that? Alien: Because i have a loaded gun this time! Alien: *Draws gun* Human: Are you sure it’s loaded? Alien: Yes. Human: Like really sure? You aren’t just remembering another time you loaded a gun and forgetting you forgot to load it today? Alien: I am positive I loaded this gun before I came to see you. Human: Well that right there is sending all sorts of red flags because the amount of time needed to track me down must’ve been several hours and that’s a long time to forget about if you loaded your gun or not. Alien: I am going to shoot you now. Human: Make sure you have the safety off before you do. Alien: I am not an idiot. Human: i’m not saying you are I’m just saying after all this build up to killing me if your gun doesn’t fire it’ll ruin the moment. Alien: How could it be ruined? You’d be dead! Human: And if it doesn’t kill me every time you think back to this moment you’ll remember the gun not firing and then feeling embarrassed. Alien: Fine! Alien: *checks safety* Alien: See! It’s off. Human: While you’re at it might as well check if it’s loaded as well. Alien: *Sighs and checks mag* Human: *Rushes alien and punches them in the face before escaping* ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: I can’t believe you strangled them! Human: On my planet we call it a “neck hug”. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

693 notes · View notes

thecandywrites · 5 years ago

Text

Of Heaven and Fire Part 2

Woo! Part 2! @probablyclever wanted to be tagged, so here you go- and if anyone else wants to be tagged- let me know.

The next day you managed to wake up before sunrise, creeping up over the horizon, you managed to leap out of the skylight and sit on the roof, your leg and the chain hanging down into the room, gently letting your leg swing as the sun rose, your feather cloak turning into a large fan like disc around you, the feathers turning black with a holographic sheen to attract and keep the sun’s rays. The first light was always some of the best light.

“There you are.” Came a voice as you turned to see Rhoslan walking up to the roof before she sat next to you. “Good morning.” She greeted you as she was wrapped in a heavy shall before she offered you one of her own which you gratefully took and wrapped it around you.

“Good morning.” You returned politely as you two sat next to each other and soaked up the sunrise for a few long moments in companionable silence.

“Am I really going to grow old here?” You asked softly after a while.

“That’s up to you. Don’t moura’s only age when they’re happy and in love?” She returned.

“To a degree, yes, but even hundreds of years age anyone.” You countered, keeping your voice a soft murmur.

“Well, then it’s a good thing orcs don’t live that long.” She pointed out as she pulled her shawl a little tighter around herself.

“How long do orcs live for?” You asked curiously.

“Most don’t live to see thirty.” She sighed. “It’s because orcs have such a violent life, with all the wars and raiding. It’s a hazardous life. But this clan is lucky, we have a port, it’s small and humble and we do a lot of fishing, less raiding and warring, well except for last night of course. Otherwise, the average life span in this clan is twice that.” She smiled fondly. “Drad is 40. An elder by orc standards.” She added as you stowed that piece of information away.

“It’s a decent life in this clan though. We get to buy whatever doesn’t sell at either Suchi or the other colonies, but the vendors make it sound like they are being charitable by even selling to us, they give us the leftovers so they can make it out of the river into the sea with all their gold. Most don’t even come through this port even though this port is on the best river that leads to the mountains, the others are barely creeks, even the shallow flat bottomed boats get moored, they’re trying to build a canal over there, to redirect the river outside of our territory so they can avoid us altogether.” She revealed as she pointed south as you followed her line of sight to see a construction crew just now coming to work.

“The problem is that if they succeed, half our clan will starve because the estuary has fish that only exist in estuaries and they make up a large portion of our diet. The next estuary is over there.” She pointed out as she pointed her arm in the opposite direction as you turned and followed it again.

“And that estuary is the territory of a much bigger, stronger, fiercer clan who would kill us in our sleep and take over our territory if they knew what real wealth would be coming through our river.” She added.

“So what am I supposed to do about any of that?” You asked.

“Nothing, just telling you so you know. Besides, the one with all the big plans, that would be Brock, I’m sure he has an idea or two about how you could help if you wanted to.” She answered.

“Why him?” You asked, your lip curling in disgust and the very thought of him.

“Because he’s the first born son of Drad, he’ll inherit the title and station of warchief from his father. It’s his job to do all he can for the clan, if he doesn’t have any good ideas on how to improve things or at the very least honor the old ways, the clan could over throw him, leave this one to join another.” she sighed as she nodded over to the larger clan’s territory.

“Like any other king.” You realized.

“Yup. So far Brock has done good, last night was the first time he’s ever seen defeat and he took it better than I thought he would.” She revealed.

“Considering a nobody with absolutely no military training with nothing but magical abilities was able to talk her friends into doing something that cost us everything, especially our most precious possession, our secrecy, I’ve put every moura into jeopardy.” You explained.

“Nah, I wouldn’t worry about it, everyone you told has very good reasons to keep it to themselves, mainly their own lives- because if that clan finds out- it wouldn’t take but a few hours for them to come over here and stomp us out, just the fact that you’re tethered to us is enough of a temptation for them to do so.” She reassured you.

“Then why attack Suchi?” You asked.

“Bruised egos and hurt feelings are powerful motivators and make you deaf to reason.” She huffed a laugh.

“That’s true, the adults tried to stop us and talk reason into us, but we wouldn’t listen either.” You revealed in turn.

“Wait, so all those hawks were all younglings?” She asked.

“Yeah, all of them were teens, the youngest I think was 15 and the oldest was not even 20. To turn all those meteorites and weapons to gold took all of our reserves. Usually those reserves are reserved our entire childhood until we are old enough to participate in our coming of age solstice flight. This summer was supposed to be our first. Even if I wasn’t captured, my friends and I wouldn’t have been able to participate. So it cost all of us our chances at finding a mate this year. Which means we would have to wait for next year and would have missed out on everyone else in our age group. Now all of us will just have to make due with someone younger than us, which will suck because most of us had our eyes on several others but very few of them would ever wait for us.” You answered as you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your folded arms over your knees, continuing to watch the sun rise over the horizon.

“Well I for one am sorry for your loss, hopefully one day we’ll be able to make it up to you.” She genuinely offered.

“Thanks.” You thanked her graciously.

“Believe me, if it were up to me you’d be free now but Brock is...he’s incredibly stubborn, once he sets his mind and heart on something, he doesn’t stop until he finds success. So what I can tell you- is to be patient, your time will come.” She explained before she looked out over the sea and groaned.

“What?” You asked as you followed her line of sight and saw a fleet coming back into the port, half the ships half crusted with ice though.

“That damn dragon.” She growled.

“Dragon?” You frowned.

“There’s an ice dragon, just on the horizon, all the fish swarm around it’s cave because all the currents seem to converge on it. But every time they get too close, the dragon freezes the ships and then it’s a lot of work to chip all the ice off the ships and the fish gets frozen in the holds and it’s almost impossible to get them out. She grumped as an idea bloomed in your head.

“If I could get the dragon to not- ice your ships, do you think Brock would let me go?” You asked hopefully.

“I don’t know but I know the whole clan would be grateful to you if you did.” She figured.

“When will the boats go out again?” You asked.

“Not for another couple of days, it’ll take time to de-ice them now. Brock’s cousin Cugas is the captain of the fleet. You can’t miss him, he looks like Brock’s twin, but you’d actually like him- he’s a hard ass to his crew because he’s particular about how things are supposed to be, but when everyone listens, things go really smoothly. But otherwise he’s as easy going as a summer breeze when he’s off the ships.” She revealed.

“Well, most mouras are in alliance with dragons, I could try communicating with it. The fact that the dragon is simply icing the ships instead of drowning them- that shows benevolence and a patience in giving warnings, the ice ships being the warning. You’re probably encroaching not just on it’s territory but food supply too.” You reasoned.

“True,” Rhoslan nodded in agreement before you heard everyone else start to stir awake.

“Since there are a few kinds of ice dragons, do you think you could take me down to the docks to inspect the ice?” You asked.

“Yeah, after breakfast.” She nodded in agreement before she beckoned you off the roof, taking the stairs down this time as you gathered the chain and held it yourself and tuck it into a pocket.

You managed to get through breakfast without arguing with Brock, but you did give him several long suspicious looks and after breakfast, the family went with you to the docks to look at the ships.

Jade green ice crusted the ships. That was your first clue that you were dealing with a breed of oriental water dragon, who spewed that particular shade of green in their ice, because the color of the waters themselves were a gorgeous aquamarine that melted into a gorgeous sea blue before you pulled another feather from your cloak to make a chisel and chipped away at it. The ice was particularly thick and very hard and opaque, just like jade. A small hunk came off and you picked it up to inspect it more closely. You tasted the saltiness but you also tasted something more, you could smell the sulfur and taste the other minerals, the dragon was over a vent, not in a cave. There is only one reason why a water dragon would be over a vent- nesting.

You looked up and noticed Brock talking to someone who looked eerily just like him, like he could be a twin or something. Must be Cugas you supposed. You picked up your hunk of ice and found your feet and walked over to them as they were talking at the end of the docks.

“Excuse me.” You interrupted them.

“Yes ma’am?” He answered. Oh he was respectful, you liked that which made you smile. And while he matched Brock in appearance, something about his voice was wholly different, not bad but just different.

“Hi, I’m Benyana, pleasure to meet you Captain...” You greeted respectfully as he smiled in turn.

“Cugas,” he answered as he shook your outstretched hand.

“Pleasure to meet you Captain Cugas, now, can you tell me more about this phenomenon?” You asked him politely as you put the ice in your skirt to keep it from freezing your hands because this ice was somehow even colder than normal ice.

“Uh yeah, sure, this has been happening for a number of years now, we know there’s a dragon there and we try not to fish directly over it. But it’s like it’s not there all the time, usually right before the fish migrate here in the spring and stay all summer until the fall when the fish migrate south to warmer waters then it stops.” He answered.

“So about 4 months, 5 months?” You surmised.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Do you ever see it? Right before it ices your boats?” You asked.

“No, well, a little, it stays about 50 feet under the surface of the water and spits ice and then dives down again.” He answered. “It’s huge though and very long.” He answered.

“Do you ever see hints of other colors? Gold? Red? Black? Or any patterns?” You asked.

“It’s actually more green than the ocean around it, but sometimes it has more pattern, sometimes not, I guess it depends on the clarity of the water.” He realized.

“Do you notice any whiskers?” You asked thoughtfully.

“Yeah, sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t, they look, orange, with purple ends.” He realized.

“Ok, well, as I’m sure my captor has informed you,” You explained with a pointed look at Brock who rolled his eyes. “I’m a moura, mouras are allies with dragons, and while I’m not an expert by any means, I have an idea of what you might be working with, when you unpack your ships from all this ice and try to fish again - if you would take me out with you, I think I may be able to get somewhere. Mouras have a way of communicating with dragons, I can try asking it not to ice your ships.”

“Forgive me ma’am but that thing would no sooner eat you than listen to you.” He tried to gently argue.

“It won’t. The fact that it’s just icing your ships, shows it’s being benevolent, trust me, with this kind of dragon that you’re dealing with, it could just as easily open it’s jaws and chomp each of your ships into pieces the way we would take a bite from an apple. It could also just grab your ships with its claws, which are definitely big enough to wrap around your ships and crush them like you’d crush an insect in your palm. It could even just leap out of the water and topple all your ships. It’s trying to deter you from fishing there right now. Do you smell the sulfur and other minerals in this ice?” You asked as you picked it up and gave it to him to sniff before he did and it was like he was seeing and smelling it for the first time before he handed it to Brock to inspect as he followed suit.

“Yeah,” they agreed.

“Water dragons suck in a big “breath” of water -if you will- right before they spit. Because this smells like sulfur and other minerals, that means it’s sucking in water where it is at the bottom before it comes to the surface and the water it’s sucking in…”

“Is from a vent.” Cugas finished for you.

“And the only reason a water dragon stays in one place for five months straight in a place that’s super heated…” You hinted.

“Oh! It’s because it’s nesting! How come I didn’t think of that?” Cugas grinned brightly.

“Exactly. You have on your hands oriental jade water dragons, that’s why the ice looks like green jade despite the blue of the ocean. And you have a mated pair. Females are drab but have whiskers, males have more vibrant patterns but smaller whiskers and the whiskers have their own lures at the end, that’s why you see bulbs. But they’re old, which means they’re wise, older dragons have a routine pattern and migration, if they keep coming back year after year to the same spot- it’s because they know that it’s a successful nesting site, it’s safe they won’t be disturbed, at least by other dragons, except by your nets which they find a nuisance, younger dragons would defend the spot with deadly force, older dragons have learned that sometimes a little goes a long way and if they actually harm the ships, more ships come and investigate. They’re doing just enough to try to deter you. I would suggest, raising your nets so that they run at a higher depth, the lower the depths of the nets, the more you’ll disturb them and try not to take too much of a mated pair’s food supply, especially when they’re guarding their nests because dragons rarely like to leave their nests to guard from egg theft or egg replacement.” You suggested as you gestured to the hunk of ice still in their hands.

“Consider it done, easy fix.” Cugas nodded.

“Awesome, just let me know when you’re ready to leave, I’ll be ready.” You promised him sweetly as Brock finally smiled- happy that you were helping before Kari pulled you away, wanting to go get a snack before you tossed the ice into the water.

Once you were out of earshot Cugas whistled lowly.

“Wow is she pretty! She sure hates you though.” Cugas appraised as he watched your retreating form.

“She’ll get over it.” Brock insisted which made Cugas snort a laugh.

“Your head is still in the clouds then. She looked like she was ready to set you on fire.” Cugas insisted.

“She’s a moura, fire is in her nature.” Brock argued.

“Heaven is in their nature too but I didn’t see any heaven when she looked at you. She did when she looked at me though.” Cugas jabbed playfully which made Brock give him an unimpressed look.

“Hey she smiled at me and shook my hand and was all kinds of nice and polite to me.” Cugas noted.

“She was just trying to be helpful.” Brock dismissed.

“Sure,” Cugas placated. “I’ll see you at dinner, I got work to do.” Cugas excused himself and grabbed a chisel and helped his crew try to de-ice the ships.

Cugas joined you for dinner and brought huge bushel baskets of seafood with him, the servants in the kitchen very well pleased as you sat in the living room, helping Kari learn her letters and numbers before he sat down across from you, a peculiar look on his face.

“What?” You asked as his grin grew fond.

“Before today, I had never seen a moura before, especially up this close, only heard about ‘em. They say you’re born of heaven and fire.” He praised which made you smile as Brock frowned from his spot nearby.

“That’s true, we are.” You confirmed with a nod.

“So what does the heaven and fire refer to?” He asked curiously.

“Actually, heaven refers to the fact that we originated in the clouds themselves, if you could fly straight up into them you’d see how there’s a whole world up there, grand castles and estates that look like clouds on the outside but on the inside are magnificent palaces and estates. And the fire- well that comes from our ability to breath fire because one of our forms can be a phoenix- who breathe fire just like dragons.” You explained and Brock’s jaw was on the floor, as his brow could not get any more furrowed. How in the world had Cugas just asked that nonchalantly and gotten that from you so easily? He had to use a magicked shackle to tell him the truth.

“So you share ancestry with true pheonixs then?” Cugas wondered.

“Yup, we do. Angels are our closest relatives in species and it’s almost impossible to tell us apart when we are in angel form, but angels get to inhabit the different realms but we only get to enjoy this one, humans however are our second but we have very high compatibilities with other races too because shapeshifter genes are versatile. As long as they have our body layout as in- head up here, arms, legs, hands, feet and toes, that kind of thing.” You revealed casually as you gestured to your extremities.

“So if you share ancestry with phoenix's does that mean you can be reborn in the ashes?” Cugas wondered and you just grinned and playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Orcs were much smarter than you gave them credit for.

“Yes, however it is an extremely painful process with a lot of variables and should only be used in extreme circumstances. It’s primarily just the elders who do it when they feel their current form is getting too old to function, although currently there is a competition to see how long someone can go in one form. The current record is held by Elder TriKeng, he made it 145 years before he finally called it quits and was reborn in the ashes about 37 years ago…” you said before you noticed Rhoslan bristle at the name as you frowned and turned your attention to her.

“So..” Cugas began before you lifted your hand to silence him before you watched Rhoslan quickly leave the room before you gently got Kari to sit next to your spot before you got up and excused yourself before you followed Rhoslan out of the room and followed her to her own bedroom where she was finding some solace.

“Rhos?” You asked as you knocked on her door softly and put your ear to the door.

“Rhos are you ok?” You asked worriedly.

“No.” you heard a sob before you opened the door and found her at her vanity wiping her eyes.

“I’m so sorry if I said something upsetting.” You began before you touched her shoulder and she pulled from your touch and growled which made you recoil and step back.

“Sorry.” She apologized. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t...you’re not the problem and it isn’t your fault. But you are wrong about something, exactly 34 years ago, before you were born, there were two moura orc halflings presented to Suchi,” she began and you gasped before you pulled lira light into your palm and laid it on the center of her back which made her gasp and sit straight up as moura marks lit up her skin.

“What did you do?” She demanded as she looked at herself in the mirror. Having never seen her skin look like this before, like she had glowing tattoos on her skin.

“I...I...I’m sorry, I...I did uh, I did a lira light touch, it’s a tradition we do when we want to see if a person has moura genes and how strong they are.” You answered as you watched as there were moura marks haloing around her body.

“You’re...you’re the daughter of nobility. I haven’t seen moura marks like these...since…” You said to her breathlessly, her marks were beautiful, utterly mesmerizing as they began to swirl and dance around her body. “Sorry, these are extraordinary! I’ve never seen anything close to these, usually only noble heavenly moura have marks like these. These are far better than my own. How many forms can you change into?” You asked.

“None! This is the only form I have.” She growled in frustration.

“Surely when you get angry, you must be able to spew fire or heal or…” You began to argue.

“No! None of that, I have none of that!” She argued, you could tell she was frustrated and angry and hurt.

“All I have are these.” She angrily spat as she yanked open a drawer and it was full of tear diamonds as you gasped again, this time in sadness.

“Do you know what these are?” You asked her as you reverently touched them, the pads of your fingers barely touching the surface of them, feeling the pain and anger from them as your heart broke.

“Crystal tears?” She guessed before you crouched down next to her.

“They’re called benar- it’s a sign of extreme duress for a moura to cry them. I cried them myself last night, my first time, and they hurt like hell. This is a sign you have had extreme heartache and hardship in your life. My mother has a collection like this.” You explained as you reached up and held her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

“What happened that she would cry like this?” She asked before you grabbed a stool and sat down next to her.

“My mother is the product of an affair. Only the sire never came forward when- after she was born because she came out much different than my grandmother’s husband and the rest of her children. Now affairs are not uncommon, however among nobility, it’s more politically upsetting if a very prestigious figure is known to publically stray. Several problems arose from this. To heavenly moura- their lineage is everything. Because your lineage you can prove out your own genetic potential because those bastards have nothing better to do than have as many kids as possible to explore every conceivable variations of their genetics, on one hand you get some really amazing and beautiful results, you get magnificent moura marks- wing colors and shapes and aesthetics, but on the other hand- those inbred motherfuckers have bred out functionality and in some cases fertility and verilty in favor of aesthetics, to the point they’ve lost their own powers, their own abilities, they can’t change forms anymore, or if they do- they can only go human form or angel form- no phoenix, no bird, nothing. They’ve lost their fire abilities completely and their own strength and stamina is next to none- they get winded flying from cloud to cloud. LIke have you seen those dogs, bred until they’re nothing like the original and shouldn’t even be allowed to be called dogs?” You asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Same thing, only they do it to themselves. And they stud themselves out. And to them- your genetics, they dictate your worth as an individual, no one would be caught dead without their own pedigrees on them at all times. And to them- who and what you are as a person, is one of the last things they care about.” You explained. “So you can imagine, with my mother only having one side of her lineage and therefore one set of genetics, the other half was considered a mystery. And that is a gamble no heavenly moura would normally wish to take. My mother is also of nobility- but the majority of that nobility came from her mother’s husband, not her biological father, whoever he was. Such is the way for daughters of affairs- sons however- sons are usually always claimed. Only the extraordinary daughters are claimed, my mother was, for a heavenly moura- drab, which to them is as close to a crime as you could commit even though she was perfectly innocent. Granted perfectly healthy and functional too, the first in many generations to be so, things the heavenly moura count as non-consequential. Many lower ranking women practically throw themselves at the higher ups, hoping to topple the current ladies by producing handsome heirs. It’s a gamble. A gamble my grandmother made and lost. And she lost everything, her husband’s tolerance for her because heavenly moura partners simply tolerate each other most of the time.” You explained as Rhos listened closely.

“And so my mother because- as you would call it, is the black sheep of the family- she left at barely 20, very young for a heavenly moura, took her own benar with her and went to the same palace her sister was enlisted to go to. But her sister couldn’t risk her newfound political place and power to shelter my mother, so she was turned away and cast out. She tried exchanging her benar for coins, but she was stopped by my father, because who she was about to sell them to, would be taking all of them and only giving her a tiny fraction of a thousandth of what they were really worth. And my father just helped her- without any thought of being paid back because it was the right thing to do and the kindest thing he could do. He helped her find a nice if not very safe place to live- he helped her become money savvy because heavenly moura don’t use money,, they have no need or use for it. And when she got up on her feet and came to terms with her own situation and got her bearings, then they started to court. And he had to really compete for her. But he was the first to help her and not try to take advantage of her in any way and have nothing but the best intentions with her. So now they live in Suchi, aging beautifully together and my mother is making a mural of the family in her benar on the walls. Because she is choosing to take years of pain and turn it into something beautiful and to use that to celebrate what she has now.” You explained, your smile proud if not bittersweet, feeling sad yourself that you would probably never get to see the finished product of your mother’s mural, not for another 30-50 years at least.

“Now I’m not saying that that’s what you should do with these, these are yours and yours alone to do with as you please. However I know of some that would fill every room in this house with treasures for a handful of these. All those traders that snub your people? Oh they would be giving you the best of the best of what they have if they knew you had these and this port would be five times as big because all moura- any moura- is a friend to any merchant. And they would eat their words about you for the sake of business, I can only imagine the apology gift they’d offer if they only knew.” You mused.

“Well that’s just it, I don’t want anyone to know, no one can know this, now turn this off!” She demanded.

“Ok,” you agreed before you put your hand over the center of her chest and pulled the lira light back into yourself, her moura marks fading to nothing.

“Rhos, do you know who your father is?” You asked softly as the sensation of the lira light coming back into yourself revealed many things to you.

“No, my sister and I were presented to Suchi- we were wrapped in our feather cloaks and everything. But that damn council- in particular- TriKeng…” she spat that particular name with the most hateful disgust. “Wanted to weigh it over night- in the middle of the night- someone came in and stole our feather cloaks from us and all we were left with was a sack of gold. That didn’t even last us down the mountains and a warning never to come back for any reason.” She sneered. “And in our culture- that’s seen as a huge disgrace.” She whimpered as she cried yet more benar before she added them to her collection.

“That is an unforgivable wrong dealt to you and your sister. And clearly this is the depth of your pain. To take a moura’s cloak- especially an infant’s cloak- when that child is already…” Your voice wavered as tears came to your eyes and bile rose into your throat. “So vulnerable and defenseless.” you whispered. “It’s despicable,” you clipped, your own anger growing before you took a calming breath and looked at her again, noting her rather beautiful high cheekbones- typical for a moura and the more you looked, the more moura traits you found, wondering how you had not seen them before.

“Make no mistake- whoever did that to you- will suffer, if not by your hands, then by mine.” You swore.

“It has nothing to do with you.” She argued.

“It has a lot to do with me! Because I am of daughter of Suchi, the very place that houses the bastard who did this to you and such a thing is normal in the royal houses, because so few are born with it- it’s a gift stolen from one and given to another- only the most important ones wear them. Do you have any idea how many in Suchi are there because of this very crime had been done to them and it is a law in Suchi- that no child born either to it our outside of it would ever have that done to it ever again and the fact that it was done to you- proves that the bastard is the biggest hypocrite.” You growled, righteous anger blazing in your eyes.

“You say that as if you know who it is.” She pointed out.

“I don’t know for absolutely certain, but I have an idea- one that I would wager all of these on.” You said as you reached into your own coin purse and showed your own benar as they laid between your fingers. “I’m here now, I know I’m 34 years late- forgive me, I wasn’t born until about 18 of those 34 years ago,” You gently teased which got her to crack a grin. “But I’m tethered to this family. And damn it even if this chain were to fall off right now, I would still fly back to Suchi- expose the son of a bitch who did this to you, take his own feather cloak off of him and then slice him and barbecue him in a sweet glaze.” You threatened as she barked a laugh through her own tears which got you to smile brightly in triumph. “And I’d come back and offer it to you on the biggest silver platter I could find. Unless there’s a better way you’ve been imagining justice this whole time.” You offered as she just shook her head.

“I only want the best for my children and this clan, say nothing of this for now- to anyone.” She pressed.

“Ok,” you nodded in agreement.

“Are you at all related to who you think did this?” She asked.

“No, but TriKeng- that village elder who dragged his feet who probably incited a thief or two to steal your cloak because actual evidence of a moura coupling with an orc and you’re proof of that coupling being not only fruitful but alarmingly successful- let alone 30 something years ago, Oh, that would thrown Suchi and every other colony into an uproar because the elders are hypocrites, they love to talk about how warm and inviting and loving and perfect the mountain colonies are, but in the same breath but out of the opposite sides of their faces- want it to be like that only to who and what they deem worthy- mainly elves, another species we blend rather seemlessly with, fae- who hold the keys to the other realms because fey and moura children can cross over from realm to realm no problem to the point angels are more interested in mountain moura than the heavenly ones, which pisses those heavenly moura right off and let’s be realistic- everyone loves power, those elder moura have just as much power and prestiege over their own colonies than the council does over all the royal moura, same game- different rules and different ways to play it.” You explained.

“And TriKeng is basically my adopted grandfather. He’s sweeter than honey and so doting on my mom who’s he adopted as his daughter and therefore my family- despite not being blood related- are his family because the man is one of those former heavenly moura who supposedly has lost his virility through his own inbreeding.” You explained as she gave you a pained expression.

“But this doesn’t surprise me, he’s extremely speciesist. He’s been trying to set me and my siblings up with some fae friends of his most of our lives and me being here is probably throwing a huge wrench into those plans. And honestly? Don’t tell anyone- especially Brock but I’m kind of relieved I’m here so I don’t have to dance with those fae boys this year because I know they would have tried to find a way to fly with me this year and just...I don’t like them back that way.” You explained.

“But this, this makes us family,” You gestured between the two of you. “In a much closer sense than the way I am with TriKeng- all who carry the moura in both name, lineage, gene or spirit are. I will stay and help where I can. First I’ll get this business with the clan’s fleet and the water dragons sorted out. Then, it will take some work- but there is a way to find out exactly who you’re the daughter of if you want to know. But if you don’t- then we’ll get straight to work on improving this clan’s station and reputation and lay a foundation for generations to come.” You vowed.

“Is this why this clan brought war to Suchi?” You wondered curiously.

“No, this- me... I had nothing to do with it, no one in my family knows this about me, my sister and I have never told anyone, not even Drad knows.” She maintained.

“Ok.” You agreed before there was a knock on the door as Rhoslan quickly shut her drawers and locked them before you put your own benar away before you escorted each other to the dinner table where both Brock and Cugas looked particularly worried but a dismissive smile from Rhoslan had them at least looking less worried, but perhaps more concerned.

“It’s about time, it’s getting cold,” Cugas playfully complained before he sat right next to you as you once again sat and had Kari eagerly climb into your lap again, her and Cugas eager to show you how to eat all of it as Brock sat across from you.

“Ok, I don’t like the oysters.” You scrunched up your nose before Cugas reached out and booped your nose which made you laugh.

“Your nose is too cute when you do that, I couldn’t help myself.” Cugas laughed with you and you had to turn and hide your face with your hair in attempt to hide your deep blush as Brock just stared in outraged disbelief.

“So what about the clams then? The smaller ones are the sweeter ones.” He offered as he held a tiny little clam out as you craned your head out and slurped it from the shell before you chewed.

“They are sweeter, they’re ok. Prawns are my favorite still.” You maintained as you worked on taking a large one out of its shell, it was almost as big as your hand,

“Try this then,” Cugas urged as he picked up one shell and scraped the meat off the shell before handing you that one.

“Ooh!” You oohed as you chewed it. “What’s that one?” You asked.

“Scallop.” Cugas answered.

“Ok, yeah, ok, new favorite.” You conceded before he eagerly got a few more from the stock pile that had been cooked in a spicy chili broth and put them onto your plate.

“Thank you.” You thanked him as Brock just cracked those thick crab legs with his hands, his imagination imagining it was his cousin’s limbs as his jealousy ate him alive.

“Here, try this, it’s the king of crabs,” Cugas insisted as he took a leg from the pile and cracked it for you, feeding the luscious meat hanging from a knuckle.

“Oh my gods, that’s...that’s ridiculously good,” you agreed.

“Don’t moura eat seafood?” Cugas asked.

“Royal moura do, but us mountain moura- no, it would spoil before it would ever reach us. The only time we all eat fish is when we fly over the oceans and dive for it ourselves, changing to penguins who can dive for sardines or anchovy or mackrel, any swarming fish really, then once we eat we take to the skies again. We only take the flight twice a year, and it’s the only stop we make.” You explained.

“So what’s so special about the flight?” He asked as your blush came back full force.

“It’s a moura tradition- on the summer solstice- we make one big flight around the world, following the sun and it’s sunshine and again on the winter solstice, only that one we follow the moon and fly in the northern lights, surely you’ve seen the giant flock of birds that seem to glow and dance in the northern lights on the solstice.” You urged as everyone blinked in surprise.

“Wait that’s all you guys?” Cugas asked in marveled wonder and awe.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“I can’t believe it, two of the biggest phenomenons that we use to gauge our year- and they’re moura traditions.” Cugas grinned which made you beam happily.

“Not just traditions, those are our courting rituals.” You revealed as Cugas’ and Brock’s jaw dropped before Cugas just started laughing in delight.

“What?! That’s your courting ritual?!” He asked, his smile so bright it would shame the sun and Brock was ready to pull his hair out of his head. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. He was having a nightmare. Five minutes with his cousin and you were already talking about courting rituals like you were confiding in a lover? Just...just shoot him in the face with a fucking canon.

“Well that’s how mouras with the moura gene court each other- nothing proves the greatness of your own health like a 24 hour flight twice a year. Coupling happens in the air- you ever noticed how most of the birds seem to do feats? Fly in corkscrews and loops? Make hairpin turns and fly in a myriad of formations?” You asked Cugas.

“Well now that you mention it, yes, yes I do, I was always so jealous, wishing I could be that free.” He confessed as you smiled fondly at him. Oh if he only knew.

“So what about those who don’t have the gene?” Brock finally interjected and your smile dropped when you looked at him before turning back to Cugas, your smile returning to him, choosing to answer that question as if it had come from him.

“They dance the whole time. There is always a colony that hosts the event. For a week before the solstice, everyone converges, everyone camps in the valley of the host colony because all the colonies are always built in the mountains surrounding either one big valley or several small valleys and all the vendors from all the colonies come and try to sell the fattiest foods, the fattier the better. Everything is fried and- or smothered in rich sauces and gravies, there’s a few vegetables, but it’s mostly all meat and noodles and rice, lots of breads and stuffed buns and dumplings and things and sweets are king, we go through tones of sugar and honey and nuts, the easier to eat the better, everyone has these bowls with attached spoons and forks that they can walk around and eat and talk and it’s crammed with people, so much so that you squeeze through everyone and little kids have to be literally tied to their parents otherwise they’ll get lost in the crowds and the closer to the countdown- the crazier it gets, everyone is hyper and excited and trying to meet everyone else and everyone is trying to figure out who’s flying, who’s dancing who’s courting who, who’s available, who’s of age, who’s still underage because mouras age funny and it’s hard to tell sometimes. Courting mouras usually seriously court only six months at a time. Between each solstice. And usually if a pair keeps courting two consecutive solstices at a time- then it’s a pretty good sign that they’ll stay together. Now once the sun rises on the solstice in the host colony- the single moura who are taking the flight- take off. And once they do- then the dancing starts and every street in the colony is taken up by the dancers and they do not stop until the others get back. And it’s very vigorous dancing the whole time with only short breaks to eat and relieve yourself and crash. So much so that by the end of it- all the shoes are broken, your feet are swollen and they hurt, everything hurts but you’re so high off of dancing and off of being around so many people because most mouras are naturally gregarious and naturally extroverted. But it’s the best music you’ve ever heard in your life and your body can’t help but dance to it and the party takes up at the very least the very center of town, every street is lined with dancers and in the other sections of the city is where the other age groups converge, there’s even a section dedicated to the elders, although they only make it through a dance or two- usually the first dance and the last dance.” You smiled brightly.

“Gosh I can’t imagine having that much fun. I would wear myself out in just the first dance.” Cugas sighed dreamily as he rested his chin in his hand as Brock wondered if he reached across the table and smacked Cugas’ elbow if he would do a face plant into the table and crack a tusk.

“So who’s the host colony this year?” Cugas asked curiously.

“I don’t know, usually it’s on a rotation, but I can tell you it won’t be Suchi- since the attack I’m sure no one will think it’s safe enough to host such an event.” You answered with a long side eye at Brock who just exhaled out of his nose in defeat, shaking his head ever so slightly but kept right on eating as Cugas took a long sip of his ale and gave his aunt a meaningful look as she returned it.

“Well that’s a shame, I almost had hopes I could come and crash it this summer.” Cugas allowed.

“If you did, you’d have more dance partners than you know what to do with of every gender you could handle.” You promised.

“What? I thought orcs were a no go for mouras.” Cugas asked as you gave him a meaningful look and a mischievous smile.

“No, the elders are speciesist- us youngins and really anyone else? Oh no we’d eat you alive.” You cackled. “I mean come on- a culture built around strength, stamina, endurance and physical fitness? Aren’t orcs the epitome of all of that? I mean look at these arms.” You urged as you reached out and grabbed his arm muscles and jiggled them which made him giggle which you thought was adorable. “Like I could think of a dozen mouras right now who would love to climb you like a tree if you know what I mean.” You teased as Brock choked on his ale before you turned and considered him before he recovered.

“Aw, you recovered. Damn.” You snapped your fingers in disappointment which caused Cugas to choke on his own ale too before he practically spit it out at Brock before going into a deep belly laugh.

“Gods, you just hate him! I love it! You’re the first girl to ever hate his guts this badly. Every girl here goes gaga over him every time he sets foot out of the house and you’re the first not to, I like you! I like you a lot.” Cugas insisted.

“I like you a lot too!” You beamed happily right back at him before he just wrapped his arm around you and squeezed you tight and kissed the crown of your head as you laughed.

“Hey! Hands off!” Brock barked.

“He has my permission to be affectionate to me, just like Kari, your other sisters and your mother do.” You argued as Brock looked like he was about to either kill something or have an aneurysm and stroke out right there at the table.

“Fine,” Brock growled before he got up and walked out.

“What’s his deal?” You asked Cugas.

“You don’t want to know.” Cugas dismissed as you felt a pull on the chain and the shackle on your ankle and you felt something inside you pulled in that direction too as you groaned.

“And he says I’m dramatic.” You complained as you got up, the chain itself leading you out of the room and towards where Brock was storming away.

“Hey asshole! What’s your deal?” You called after him as the two of you got some distance as he came to the ocean and threw the biggest rock he could grab into the ocean as far as he could throw it.

“Go back into the house.” He ordered.

“I would love to but this shackle would break my ankle if I tried.” You countered as you folded your arms over your chest as the chain finally dropped to the ground at his feet.

“So I’m here, talk to me and tell me why you’re ready to rip your cousin limb from limb because he had the audacity to talk to me like a friend.” You urged.

“His behavior was inappropriate.” He finally hissed.

“Was it now.” You raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“Yes it was!” He insisted.

“Right and if you weren’t already green you’d be greener than an avacado.” You insisted as you walked past him and sat down in the sand and let the waves come up and wash over your suddenly bare feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked as you looked at him over your shoulder before you pat the sand next to you so he would sit down.

“It means you’re jealous of the instant friendliness I have with him that I won’t have with you because you’re my captor and the one I’m tethered to whether I want to be or not like a soldier of war.” You insisted as he sat down next to you, pulling up his pant legs so they wouldn’t get wet as he pouted like a little kid being asked to share his favorite toy.

“It’s something easy enough to fix though.” You added as he just sighed tiredly next to you.

“I’m not letting you free yet.” He insisted.

“Well, it would be easier to take this if I knew that there was hope that there’s at least a chance of me earning my freedom, sooner than later would be ideal.” You insisted as he was quiet for a long moment.

“Do you really think you can do it?” He asked quietly after a while.

“What the business with the dragon?” You assumed. “Yeah, it’s just a matter of getting to it.”

“How are you going to talk to it?” He asked.

“It’s something you’re going to have to see to believe.” You grinned.

“So, I get the dragon to stop icing your ships- I’m free- deal?” You bargained as you held out your hand for him to shake.

“Fine. Deal.” He begrudgingly agreed as he shook your hand.

#Of Heaven and Fire #Of Heaven and Fire Part 2 #orc #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #exo #female reader #orc romance #orc love story

55 notes · View notes

thedevilsmemes · 4 years ago

Text

THE CRIME BOOK ~ A SENTENCE MEME PART FOUR ~ ORGANISED CRIME.

“ The most hazardous of all trades, that of the smuggler. ”

“ They are so immensely rich that they bribe ye private men… who at this time harbour the outlawed persons in their houses and are the support of the whole affair. ”

“ In Sicily there is a sect of thieves. ”

“ My name is ____ and I will make people die! Crime must vanish just as this dust carried away by the wind vanishes! ”

“ We are at war… The Mafiosi are firing with machine guns and TNT. We can only hit back with words. There are thousands of them and only a few hundred of us. ”

“ No one should provide the police or judiciary with facts that help uncover any crime whatsoever. ”

“ They dare do anything. ”

“ I like to describe organised crime as the flu virus because they’re constantly mutating. ”

“ No more villainous, ruffianly band was ever organized. ”

“ Sheriffs and deputies he regards with pity and contempt. He / She is a power unto him / herself. ”

“ Prohibition has made nothing but trouble. ”

“ When I sell liquor, it’s called bootlegging. When my patrons serve it on Lake Shore Drive, it’s called hospitality. ”

“ If the boss says a passing crow is white, you must agree. ”

“ Once you make a pledge to the gang, the only way out is to cut off your fingers. ”

“ Mobs are legal entities here. Their fan magazines and comic books are sold in convenience stores, and bosses socialize with prime ministers and politicians. ”

“ To get your whole body tattooed, you need endurance. ”

“ When we do right, nobody remembers. When we do wrong, nobody forgets. ”

“ The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions. ”

“ In the sixties we got a lot of publicity. It was all fun and games. In the seventies we all became gangsters. ”

“ They were the best years of our lives. ”

“ He / She is evil… in the nicest possible way. Evil people sometimes are. ”

“ All empires are created of blood and fire. ”

“ Sometimes I am God, if I say a man dies, he dies that same day. ”

“ It was always about business, never about gangs. ”

“ If there was one outlaw capitalist most responsible for flooding Los Angeles streets with mass-marketed cocaine, their name was ___. ”

“ Good people do bad things when there are no options. ”

#roleplay meme #rp meme #crime rp meme #sentence meme #writing meme

6 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Insecure

When gaggles of women start flooding his shop on their lunch hours just to gawk at his sexy husband, Aziraphale begins to succumb to the new doubts and fears that come as a result of going native.

Luckily, Crowley has a cure for that. (2260 words)

(AO3)

Aziraphale has noticed a disturbing trend in the customers who come into his shop lately. No longer do they seem to be interested in purchasing one of his many immaculate and prized first editions (thank God), but, instead, they come to gawk at his husband, who spends a great deal of his time draped over a chair in the corner reading. Or pretending to read. He’s mostly there to annoy Aziraphale – make suggestive remarks when the angel bends over, persuade him take long lunches and close up early, rearrange the books by random indicators like whether there’s an animal featured on the cover or not, the author’s hair color, or their perceived sexual orientation. Since Aziraphale can’t afford to waste miracles, that means he has to spend all day reorganizing his shelves.

Or leave them as is, which is Crowley’s aim really.

But the gaggle of teenaged girls who come in before and after school, and the business women who stop by on their lunch hour, annoy him more.

He’s tried to juggle his times of operation to avoid them – open later, close earlier, take off Mondays. But they don’t seem to mind being late to where they’re going just to catch a glimpse of his demon.

And it’s beginning to wear on him.

Crowley doesn’t seem to notice the attention. Aziraphale brought it up to him once over lunch, asking how it felt to be objectified by the female clientele that his presence has been attracting day after day after day (in part because he was irritated and in part because he was genuinely curious), to which Crowley said, “You’ve been getting customers? When was that? Last week?”

Since Aziraphale can usually tell when Crowley is lying, and he wasn’t this time around, that was the end of that discussion.

But this influx of admirers has begun to spotlight certain doubts in Aziraphale’s mind that have been hiding there for some time.

Do they belong together? Are they really a match?

He’s not even talking about the angel/demon dynamic. A lot of people would say that opposites attract and well, you can’t get much more opposite than good and evil.

Then again, they’ve come to discover that Crowley isn’t completely evil, and Aziraphale isn’t necessarily 100% good.

And that’s part of the point.

So many things have changed for Aziraphale lately, ever since he and his demon became husbands. Changes in life, changes in his shop … changes in him. Inadequacies, doubts, fears, no longer simply about himself or his job efficiency as an angel, but about this relationship – a relationship that had been a constant in his existence, one he didn’t have to think too hard on or worry too much about. Perhaps it’s a side-effect of going native, but being married to a sexy demon on a planet that values youth and beauty over wit and intelligence makes him question a lot of things, things he hadn’t thought to question for all the years they’d been friends.

If Aziraphale has begun to notice these things, will Crowley begin to notice them, too?

Will they become important to him?

Crowley is a demon, bound (for the most part) by demonic rules. When one takes into account the seven deadly sins - a page straight out of the demon playbook - technically, they already should be.

The door to the shop opens and a new wave of women walks through. Aziraphale rolls his eyes mentally but confronts them with a smile. He walks straight up to them, effectively blocking their way further than the counter unless they admit to wanting a book, which, at this point, he may just be willing to sell them if it means they leave without the requisite drooling over his husband.

“Good morning! May I help you young ladies?”

The three of them do their best to get around him, but with the only entrance into the belly of the shop being the narrow aisle behind him, it would be impossible to do without shoving him to the side.

Which one lady in a houndstooth jacket and blonde bob looks fully prepared to do.

They try to peek over him but to no avail as the chair his husband lounges on has been moved out of sight of the door. All three women deflate when they realize their trip to this otherwise dull and dusty little shop has all been for naught, and they sigh in unison.

“Uh … no. No, we’re … okay,” one of them says, and they turn and leave the shop, grumbling about the pudgy old troll popping out from under his bridge to ruin their fun.

The door slams shut and Aziraphale sighs, returning to his task of restocking the shelves.

“Now what was all that about?” Crowley asks, coming up behind his angel, having caught the final few seconds of that unfortunate interaction.

“Nothing,” Aziraphale replies, doing his best to try and smile as he tosses books onto shelves, barely paying mind to where they belong.

“Is that so?” Crowley rescues the next book, which had missed the shelf, before it lands on the floor. “The way you’re abusing these poor books, it doesn’t seem like nothing. What has …” He glances at the cover of the one he’s holding before sliding it into its place on the shelf “… Allen Ginsberg ever done to you?”

Aziraphale stops. Full stops. Stops stocking the shelves, stops smiling, stops trying to pretend. In the grand scheme of the universe and God’s ineffable plan, Aziraphale’s problems seem shallow and petty. But they are his problems, and right now, they’re bowing his back, weighing his shoulders down.

“Why did you ask me to marry you, Crowley?” he asks, staring down at his husband’s snakeskin shoes and hugging the remaining three books to his chest.

Crowley smirks since he knows full well his husband can’t see. “Well, it was about flippin’ time, wasn’t it?”

Aziraphale’s head snaps up, his eyes, full of angelic fire, meeting Crowley’s behind his dark glasses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Crowley doesn’t fear that fire. He welcomes it.

“It means I’ve loved you forever, Aziraphale. And the second I got my head out of my arse and figured it out, I wanted to make it official.”

Aziraphale nods and goes back to the task of examining his husband’s shoes. Crowley takes the books out of Aziraphale’s hands and places them on the shelf so he can wrap his husband up in his arms.

“Tell me. What’s this really all about, hmm? Does it have anything to do with that wench that called you a troll?”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice young woman, all things considered,” Aziraphale murmurs, not sounding all that convincing.

“Well, she’s a perfectly nice young woman who just dropped her lunch, missed her bus connection, and now has a huge runner in her stockings, so hopefully that makes your day a little bit better.”

Aziraphale smiles softly into the fabric of his husband’s shirt. “No. But I thank you for the effort.”

“What do you care what these mortals think of you?” Crowley squeezes his husband tight, hoping for a giggle. “You’re an angel! You’re Mr. Holier-than-thou! You perform miracles! You fight for the greater good! You’re not concerned with those things, right?”

“No.” Aziraphale clears his throat and straightens his back in an attempt to pull himself up from his bog of self-pity. “Not at all. At least … I wasn’t. I don’t know. This new life of ours … it’s doing things to me.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Crowley growls.

This time, Aziraphale does giggle. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Look …” Crowley leans back a few inches to look into his angel’s eyes “… you chose your human form, right?”

Aziraphale’s head bobs left to right, giving that some thought. “More or less. There were parameters.”

“And if there was something you didn’t like about it, you could change it?”

“I guess.”

“So, why haven’t you? I’ll tell you why. Because deep down inside, you like yourself just the way you are. You like your face because it’s kind. And you don’t mind the shape of your body because you feel your favorite clothes suit you. You’ve never had a single negative thought about yourself that wasn’t put into your head by someone else. You love yourself. And so do I. Because you’re not your body, Aziraphale. You’re your heart and your soul and your mind. You also happen to be one hell of a, as they say, bad ass.”

“Really?” Aziraphale says with a bitter little hiccup. “And how do you figure that?”

“Aziraphale! You wield a flaming sword! You stood in front of Satan himself, ready to defend the world! Humans who walk into this shop every day should genuflect and worship you.”

“That would fall under the category of false idols, so that’s a no-no.”

“Plus - and this is a huge plus - you’re the only being I know who’s looked Beelzebub in the face and asked for a rubber duck! Do you think there’s anyone else on this measly little planet that even compares to you? Because, to be honest, if there were, that would be terrifying!”

Aziraphale rests his head against his husband’s chest, melting into his words of praise. He’d never considered any of that, which proves how native he’s actually become. Humans, he’s noticed, do the same thing. What do degrees and accolades and charitable works matter so long as you’re aesthetically pleasing to any and all sexes? But he can’t allow his husband to lead him into the sin of pride. He knows Crowley isn’t trying to tempt him. He’s being supportive.

But as a demon, leading Aziraphale astray would fall under the umbrella of an occupational hazard.

“Would it make you feel better if I made a few alterations to my form?” Crowley asks. “Give myself a bit of a pooch? Perhaps a double chin?”

“No! I know how much you like the form you’re in. I know that you’re afraid to lose it. I don’t want you to go changing yourself for me.”

“Now that’s funny, because I feel exactly the same way about you.”

The clock on the wall strikes the hour and Crowley looks up. Through the window, he sees another wave of women heading for the shop, huddled together as if they’re embarking on a secret quest. “Do you really want to stop those women from coming in here all the time?”

“Not that I’m purposefully trying to drive away business …”

“Of course not.”

“… but it would be nice.”

Crowley pinches his angel’s chin and gives him a wink. “I’ll handle it.”

The bell over the door tinkles as it swings open. This time, instead of the shop’s portly proprietor greeting its customers, the tall, slender man they’ve been coming to see – the one who fills out a tight fitting shirt and black jeans like no one else in the world - does, and they’re instantly delighted. Their collective eyes brighten when they see that the object of their lustful gazes has finally risen out of his chair, and is now standing in front of them to see.

“Hello, ladies,” Crowley says to the obnoxious tittering of all, and Aziraphale shakes his head. How this is supposed to keep the birds out of the roost, he had no idea. This will probably make them stop by more.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“We didn’t realize you worked here,” one woman says, her eyes glowing with the possibilities.

“Ah, yes, yes. Alas, I do. Is there anything you ladies need? Something to tickle your literary taste buds?” Crowley meets them glasses to eyes, flashing the most charming smile he can conjure. “Some Shakespeare, a little Whitman … some Wilde, perhaps?”

“Why, yes,” one brave woman dares, taking Crowley in from head to toe, not even being subtle about it when her whole head moves, which makes the smiling brood beside her titter even more. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Well, well, well. One second and my husband will help you.”

It takes a moment for those words to hit, but the fallout is precious.

First comes the silence, then the confusion, followed by the disbelief.

“Husband?” Aziraphale hears one of the women say before Crowley grabs him around the waist, pulls him against him, and kisses him hard.

The gasp from their lips is positively delicious. Aziraphale would guffaw if not for his husband’s mouth on his, his serpent tongue slipping between his lips and giving him the most inappropriate things to think about in public. By the time Crowley lets his husband come up for air, the women are gone – vanished as if in a puff of smoke since Aziraphale never heard the bells over the door ring to announce their departure.

Of course, that could be because of the thoughts his husband had been projecting into his mind using a soupçon of his demonic power.

His sexy serpent has one vivid imagination.

“So, that’s the solution you came up with?” Aziraphale fixes his vest, tugging at the hem, pretending to act scandalized by the whole process even though the smile he can’t suppress begs to differ.

“Yup. I’d say it worked a treat, too. Besides, the best part about it is …” He slaps his husband playfully on the ass before he finishes “… we get to do that again for every lot that comes in.”

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fanfic #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #Frankie writes

419 notes · View notes

light-and-heartful · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

Nick Arcade | The 90s Show That Put Kids Inside Video Games - Retro Gami...

I always had an idea for a reboot of my favorite Nickelodeon Game Show of all time, I call it “Nick Arcade Restarted”

the show would have Phil Moore returning to host (since he still has the energy and spunk to do it), Mikey and the Video Zone would have a more 16-bit look to it (while still working the same way and still having the enemy animations for Mikey), and the style of the set would kind of be the style of an old school retro arcade, with all neon and brick walls while still having the colors of the original 1992 show, and the music would consist of retro techno beat, think something out of "The Splat" on TeenNick

the game would play the same way as before (with Mikey, Video Challenges, Puzzles, and of coarse the Video Zone, which would all work the same) just with a few added stuff to it to make it more interesting:

including the face-off game that is played in the beginning of each round won't be games the studio made up, it would be multiplayer modes actual video games from the NES, Super NES, Genesis, Sega Saturn, Playstation, Nintendo 64, GameCube, Playstation 2, & Wii (I'm going with these systems because A: It fits the retro feel & B: they're more simple to play and manage) and they can include fighting or racing eachother to playing a co-op game to get the higher score in a time limit

and there would be more spaces

Commercial Rewind: where they play an actual old commercial from the 80s, 90s, & 2000s and the contestants would have to answer a question related to that, whenever it’s something on the commercial or what the commercial is supposed to represent

Video Head-to-Head multiplayer gameplay: where it's works just like the Face-Off where two players play against eachother in a video game where it’d have the team who's currently controlling Mikey choose one of the opponent’s team members to play against him in a video game that the player from the team who was in control of Mikey chooses, and that chosen player from the opponent’s team will also secretly draw a number to bet how many points the player would win after the Head-to-Head is over

more Video Challenges: to test a player's gaming skill, including the new Virtual Reality Video Challenges, that would have the player play quick VR games with the Oculus Rift (to show off the new technology) in order to win points

and a new Power-Up Square: where there's one per board, & when Mikey lands on it, it starts a roulette wheel, that the team controlling Mikey would have to stop it by pressing the button on their joystick, and depending on what it lands on, something will happen [with the roulette wheel would consist of a 10 light up spaces with some items repeating on multiple in each of them (including dud's where nothing happens and they just move on with the game)],

and these would be the power-ups:

Roller Copter: an inspector gadget-esc helicopter hat with a roulette wheel on the front of it, that the team controlling Mikey would press the joystick button to make it stop on a number between 1 through 5, and depending on what number the roulette lands on, the Copter will lift Mikey up and automatically move him that number of spaces in random directions (however, the space wouldn't be triggered, he'd just get placed there)

Defender Blaster: a raygun that can act as a one-time safeguard for the team controlling Mikey so the next time when the team that's currently controlling Mikey lands on an enemy space, it’ll show an animation of Mikey zapping the enemy with the baster and then cut to a close up of Mikey's face blowing to the blaster smiling as the enemy sits there defeated and control of Mikey doesn't move to the other team

Spring Shoes: shoes with springs on them forces Mikey to automatically jump to another open space that hasn't been turned into a bomb yet, and that's determined by the team controlling Mikey pressing their joystick button at the right time as the marker moves to random spaces very fast (but again, the space wouldn't be triggered, he'd just get placed there)

Auto Bomb: a bomb that automatically triggers a Time Bomb puzzle for the team controlling Mikey

Slot Tokens: 3 golden tokens that automatically turns the screen into a slot machine, and the team controlling Mikey would get to roll said slot machine 3 times (by stopping the slots by pressing the Joystick button for each row) in order to get certain matching pairs to try to gain bonus points to their score

Pocketwatch Portal: an old fashioned pocketwatch that sucks Mikey right back to the starting square of board and refreshes the squares by turning all of the Time Bomb squares back into their original squares before they got landed on, they'd still be covered up, but still be in the same place they were

also, the video zone would have two new Wizards, a Blue Atlantian Water Knight named "Marineor" & a Yellow Steampunk Wind Harpie named "Starknie" also each different wizard would have different hazards in their Wizard Level (while still having creatures and throwing energy blasts) to zap their energy (and by the way, all of the Video Zone levels would have a Floating Turning Heart for restoring energy, a Floating Spinning Hourglass for stopping time, and a Floating Spinning Stick of Dynamite to get rid of all the enemies, to make it easier) with:

Scorcha's level having flame jets popping out of the floor randomly (and you’d be able to tell when the fire is about to fire when a little fire is lit for like three seconds that doesn't do any damage, but then it has a flame jet go on for five seconds)

Mongo's level having Earthquakes that come as little waves of earth from the ladder to the edge of the screen on each of the four walkways that the players has to jump over

Merlock's level having lighting clouds from the top of the screen moving around side to side, stopping for 5 seconds to charge, then rain down lighting in a straight line 8 seconds

Marineor's level having sudden tidal waves that every 8 seconds it would have an orange Triangular Traffic-esc sign with a black explanation point on it show up blinking on top of the screen for 5 seconds in one of 5 parts of the screen each time, (the far left of the screen, the far right of the screen, the middle of the screen where the latter is, an area that's in between the far left of the screen & the middle of the screen, and an area that's in between the middle of the screen & the far right of the screen), and after that five seconds, a huge wave of water will come up and splashes the bottom floor on that part of the screen

Starknie's level having large cyclones that would pop up at the the end of one side of screen on one of the levels on one of the two sides, and it’ll slowly go towards the center ladder before it evaporates and after it's gone evaporates for 8 seconds and a new one will appear on one of the four walkways

& lastly, before the wizard level, the players would choose the difficulty of the video zone they are about to face, and depending on what difficulty the players choose, they get certain prizes from completing the video zone in that difficulty (and the consolation prizes would still be some new shoes & ether a large amount of Quik Milk Mix or NERDS Candy). and this would be the prize list:

Easy (with it being basic your basic Video Zone run)

For beating the first level: a collection of classic Nintendo Power and/or GamePro Magazines and/or player's guides*

for beating the second level: ether a Ping-Pong Table that comes with automatic ball receiving robot net, a folding basketball hoop, or a state-of-the-art Karaoke Machine

for beating the Wizard Level: a special Nick Arcade style Dave-and-Busters or Chuck-E-Cheese game card that has 3,000 game credits on it when you win it

Medium (the same as the easy, but with more enemies floating around)

for beating the first level: a classic Video Game Console with multiple controllers (and a multiplayer adapter if the system requires one to play with more than two players) and an assortment of hit games from the system*

for beating the second level: a Big Parasonic Old Fashioned TV that has a Built-in DVD & VHS Player, a Stereo Sound System, and an assortment of various DVD's & Videotapes of Famous Films*

for the beating the Wizard Level: a paid vacation trip to a big major hotel, complete with hotel commination's, airline travel, & rent-a-car

Hard (the same as medium, just with the enemies moving faster in the first two levels, and the Wizard Level having twice as many hazards at once)

for beating the first level: ether a New Laptop computer complete with a headset, PC game controller, or an Oculus Rift VR Headset System

for defeating the second level: a specially made game room consisting of two of these 4 things (a pool table, an air hockey table, a stick hockey table, or a foosball table), and three Arcade1Up Cabinets of the team’s choice

for a defeating the Wizard Level: a trip for four on a long paid expensed cruise ship getaway

* means that the announcer will tell how much the prize is worth in-case the team wants to sell it online

do you think that would be a good idea?

2 notes · View notes