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thegreatestofheck · 4 years ago

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Bares Bones {Theory 3} ⋇ Pope Heyward ⋇

find my complete masterlist and the first three parts here!

description: Pippa Cantu has always been a little…strange. With a knack for knowing everything there is to know about every conspiracy, every mystery, and every weird happening, she doesn’t have much time (or desire) for friends. But when her chemistry lab partner asks her to join him and his friends on a hunt for the Royal Merchant, she just can’t say no.

chapter summary: a gift is given and a discovery is made. Pippa starts to realize that the pogues are expecting something from her that she can’t give.

word count - 5.9k

warnings - light swearing, mentions of blood

a/n - So, I’m trying to figure out how to make this different from Ocean and Alcohol, since I went through many of the same scenes. I hope it’s different enough that yall don’t feel like you’re just reading the same story again haha. Also, I know there isn’t a lot about Pope and Pippa in this chapter, i’m sorry. Anyway, hope yall like it and thank you for your love and support!!

***

It was more than awkward walking back to the Wreck with just JJ. Pippa had hidden in the bushes until JJ came running out of the salvage yard. When it was clear that John B had found another way out, the two of them started silently down the main road.

“So,” JJ said, shoving his hands in his pockets and puffing out his cheeks. “Why’d you move out here?”

Pippa shrugged, her own hands in her pockets.

“Got tired of Manhattan,” she told him. “Needed something slower.”

“And now you’re on a treasure hunt.” JJ raised an eyebrow at her. Pippa shook her head ever so lightly with a small smile.

“Seems like it.”

“You’re not asking for a cut?”

“Don’t really need the money.”

“So why are you helping us?”

Pippa glanced over at him, contemplating telling the whole truth, but then she shrugged again.

“Pope asked me to.”

JJ seemed to take it well enough. They made small talk for a few more miles before JJ finally plucked up the courage to ask her what had been on his mind since they met.

“Hey, Pip?” He said, scowling at the ground. Pippa tried not to be shocked by the use of that nickname, but her throat still went dry. Swallowing felt like sand.

“Yeah?” She asked, voice croaky.

“What’s inside Area 51?”

Pippa wasn’t exactly sure what she had expected him to ask, but that certainly wasn’t it. She pinched her eyebrows together and tried not to let out a relieved laugh.

“There’s lots of theories about it,” she said to him, kicking a rock off the road with the toe of her shoe.

“Yeah, but what do you think is there?”

Pippa pressed her lips together and let out a sigh through her nose.

“You might laugh, but here’s what I’m thinking. You know all those conspiracy videos? Like the faked moon landing videos, the JFK videos, Ancient Aliens on the History channel?”

“Sure, yeah, I’ve seen a few of ‘em.”

“Well, I think that all those kinds of videos are filmed in Area 51.”

“What?” JJ laughed. Pippa lifted her hand as she tried not to smile.

“Wait, wait, just hear me out.” She waited until JJ nodded his head for her to talk again. “So, picture this. You get past the guards at the gate and all guns and the mines and what not and you break into the warehouse. You expect to see weapons and tanks or vats full of alien parts and a space ship. However, all you see is green screens and sets, props and costumes. All these suits standing behind cameras or with boom mics and some of them are dressed up as aliens. Yeah, that’s what I think is in Area 51.”

“You’re very strange.”

“Maybe you just need a better imagination.”

“Probably.”

It was just about dark by the time JJ and Pippa made it back to the Wreck. The van was out front, which wasn’t a surprise. Peering inside, Pippa could see John B, Pope, and Kie sitting at a table together, illuminated by a single candle. Pippa stopped where she stood, suddenly shivering against the cold. JJ walked a few feet before he realized that she had stopped.

“Aren’t you coming in?” He asked, pointing toward the front door. Pippa gave him a forced smile, feeling a pit start to form in her stomach. She glanced through the window and saw the others laughing about something or another, John B’s arm thrown carelessly over the back of Kie’s chair. Pippa tried not to cringe away.

“Nah, I should be getting home,” she said and gave him another forced smile. JJ looked back at his friends and then at you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Just...tell Pope to keep me updated.”

“Okay. Have a safe walk home,” he said. Pippa nodded her head and shot up a thumbs up.

“Thanks, you too.” Pippa grimaced. “I mean...just...have a good night.”

JJ laughed quietly to himself and shook his head.

“Night, Pippa. Welcome to the crew.”

Pippa felt her fake smile slowly become something real.

“Night, JJ.”

Pippa turned away from JJ and the Wreck and started back toward the street. The sun was dipping farther and farther below the horizon, the world growing darker and darker. The street lights on Kildare often left something to be desired, but Pippa didn’t really mind the poorly lit streets. With her hand in one of her cargo pockets, she fiddled with the switchblade she carried around with her.

Her feet were sore and tired from walking all around the island, but Pippa had grown used to it. She skipped a little bit to pass the time, kicking the same rock all the way from Figure Eight to the cut. A few men watched her as she passed by, some making more than unsavory comments. Pippa had also grown used to ignoring them. And if any of them decided that just catcalling wasn’t enough, Pippa always had the blade in her pocket.

When she finally made it back to her Gran’s shop, Pippa’s eyes were half-closed and she was exhausted down to her bones. She passed through the shop, locking the door behind her, and made it up the stairs to the apartment above.

“Phillipa, my dear?” Gran was sitting in a rocking chair in the living room area.

“Yeah, it’s me, Gran,” Pippa said, dropping her bag onto the couch that she slept on every night. She flopped onto the bed after it, looking up at her gran.

“How was your day?” Gran asked, pushing herself out of the rocking chair. Pippa snored dramatically instead of responding. Gran laughed quietly, walking over to Pippa and placing a shaky hand against her forehead. “No cars?”

Pippa sighed and shook her head.

“No cars.”

Gran didn’t say anything, but simply patted Pippa’s forehead.

“You’ll get there someday,” she said, shuffling off toward the tiny kitchen.

“How is Yeye?” Pippa asked her as she got a glass of water.

“He is good,” Gran told her and let out a shaky breath. “We went for a walk around the block.”

Pippa smiled, closing her eyes and resting her hands over her chest.

“That’s good. I’m sure that was nice,” Pippa said, feeling herself start to slowly drift into sleep.

“It was.” Gran returned with the glass of water and handed it to Pippa, who sat up and crossed her legs, holding the glass in her hands. “Oh, a friend of yours called a little bit ago to check on you.”

Pippa scowled.

“I don’t have any friends,” she said, turning toward the end table to pick up the phone.

“I know.” There was a twinkle in Gran’s eye. “Must’ve come from Figure Eight. Only they have the power to make calls right now.”

“Did a voicemail go through?” Pippa asked her.

“Should. Phone’s only got a little bit of power left in it though, so don’t take too long.”

“Sure, Gran.”

Gran gave a wave and then shuffled off toward the bedroom where Yeye was probably already sound asleep. Pippa clicked the voicemail button.

“Hey, Pippa, it’s Kie,” a voice came from the other end.

“And Pope!” came another. Pippa smiled to herself with the phone to her ear.

“JJ said you walked home so we wanted to make sure you got home safe. I don’t even know if this will go through, but we’re going out to the water tomorrow to search for the Merchant. Meet us at John B’s.” Pippa scrambled for a paper as Kie rattled off an address. “Anyway. Have a good night.”

“See you tomorrow!” Pope called out. Then the line went dead. The battery on the phone blinked. There wouldn’t be time for a return call, especially if she wanted to be able to receive more calls from them later.

“Goodnight,” she whispered to the phone before setting it back on the charger that wouldn’t do anything as long as the power was out. Pippa stayed awake for long enough to drink her water, not even caring to change before laying down, pulling the blanket over herself, and falling fast to sleep.

***

Pippa sat on the railing of the dock, hanging her legs over the side. Her loose fitted long sleeve blustered in the wind. Pope and JJ were fiddling with mechanics of the drone as Kie and John B tested it out below the water. Excitement brewed inside of Pippa almost as quickly as the storm in the sky. Even if she didn’t believe the gold was still on the wreck, finding the Merchant would be a great achievement.

She’d be proud. A voice inside Pippa’s head whispered. The thought made Pippa smile.

“God bless geeks, Pope,” JJ said, staring at the little screen. Pippa leaned back to watch the screen too. “Truly man.”

“What would we do without you to control all our drones,” Pippa teased, putting the back of her hand against her forehead and kicking her feet out farther.

“It’s not a drone, Pippa,” Pope said gently. “It’s an ROV.”

“Right,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Shut up,” JJ said as John B and Kie surfaced. “It’s way too early for that.”

“Once we get footage of the wreck, we’ll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a formal claim,” John B said, a smile on his face as he breathed heavily. He brushed his wet and matted hair out of his eyes.

“Bullshit,” JJ said, leaning against the rail that Pippa was sitting on.

“No, it’s not. It’s very important,” she told him.

“Why?”

“The maritime salvage law,” Pope said, leaning on the other side of Pippa. She pointed at him and nodded her head. “You can’t just go to the ocean floor and scoop a bunch of stuff up.”

“I know, but lawyers aren’t cheap, bro,” JJ said. Pippa shifted her lips. That much was true. It was always something she thought about when it came to fulfilling her discovery dreams. But John B seemed to have an answer for it.

“Once they see the footage, they’ll work for a comp,” he said.

“Says who?” asked Kie as she treaded water a few feet away from him.

“My dad.”

John B’s eyes flitted away from Kie and toward Pippa for just a moment, who looked suddenly down at her feet.

“That’s fair.”

Kie swam toward the dock, grabbing hold of the ladder.

“This tether is like really, really long. In the wrong weather, it could get pushed around,” Pope announced, looking up at John B. Pippa leaned down and offered a hand out to Kie to help her all the way onto the dock.

“Then we’ll go at dead calm,” John B said as he neared. As if on cue, the clouds in the sky let out a deep rumble. Pippa flattened her lips into a straight line. JJ moved around to the side of the dock to look up at the sky.

“Slack tide?” Kie suggested, drying off her hair with a towel.

“Now what?” Pippa asked and slid off the rail back onto the solid ground of the dock.

“Now, we just gotta wait around for the right weather.”

Pippa groaned.

“Today is not that day.”

***

With a plan to meet back at the Chateau the next morning, Pippa bade everyone her goodbye and started back toward her house. The backpack she always wore weighed heavily on her shoulders and she wasn’t so sure she really wanted to walk all the way home. Especially if it meant walking all the way back the next morning.

Sometimes, her fear of cars was very unfortunate.

Just as she was stepping onto the road, she heard someone call her name. Turning around, she found Kie running up to her, once again fully clothes. Her wet hair was tied up in a loose bun, though strands still fell, framing her face perfectly.

“What are you up to the rest of today?” Kie asked, putting her hands in her pockets. Pippa shifted back and forth on her feet, tugging on the edges of her sweater.

“Oh, I was just gonna go to the library, do some research for tomorrow,” Pippa said and tried to give her a smile.

“There’s no need.” Kie waved her hand. “We’ll find the Merchant tomorrow, get the lawyer, and everything will be squared away. You don’t have to do any more research today.”

“What if the gold isn’t there, though,” Pippa said, finally vocalizing her concerns. “Sure, finding the wreck itself will probably earn us some cash, but if the gold isn’t there it has to be somewhere else.”

“The gold will be there, Pippa,” Kie said with a soft smile. She stepped forward. “Come on, let’s go out and get some ice cream or something. Tomorrow, we’ll be kings.”

Pippa hesitated. She was used to being alone. In fact, she preferred it that way. But part of her knew that if she turned Kie down now, that loneliness that followed her around like a shadow would grow stronger. And there was no telling what would happen to her acquaintanceship with Pope if she denied his best friend one trip to the ice cream shop.

She deliberated with herself for a few more moments before nodding finally.

“Sure. Ice cream sounds good.”

Kie grinned, her pearly white teeth shining brightly. Pippa felt like, for the first time in a long while, she had done the right thing.

Pippa dropped her backpack off at John B’s house, the Chateau, they all called it. Why his name got a fancy name for his house, Pippa would never know. Maybe she should start walking around calling her Gran’s apartment something special.

As she was walking back toward the tree where Kie was waiting for her, Pippa caught a glimpse of a girl talking to John B. With her blonde hair and her short shorts, Pippa recognized her almost immediately. Everyone who was anyone knew Sarah Cameron. Of course, Pippa was a nobody, but she knew Sarah Cameron all the same. Seeing her at the Chateau, seeing her talk to John B, was strange, out of place.

Pippa was still scowling when she walked back over to Kie.

“Pippa, what is it?” the other girl asked. Pippa rolled her shoulders.

“Is there any reason Sarah Cameron would be talking to John B?” At the sound of the girl’s name, Kie went suddenly rigid.

“Sarah’s here?” Kie asked, her voice raising an octave.

“Um, yeah.” Pippa pointed back toward the house with her thumb. “Just saw her talking with John B.”

Kie paled and grabbed Pippa by the wrist, pulling her toward the street.

“We’re going now,” was all she said. Pippa felt herself start to smile.

“What is it about Sarah Cameron that makes you want to run so badly?” She teased, hoping maybe to probe some information out of Kie.

“Why do you keep saying her full name?” Kie asked, her voice a little snappish. Pippa shrugged even as Kie kept dragging her along behind.

“It has a nice ring to it.”

Kie pulled Pippa along until she was breathing heavily.

“What’s your problem with her?” Pippa asked once Kie had slowed down. Kie’s face was red and she looked flustered.

“She’s a….a…,” Kie grumbled and crossed her arms across her chest. “She thinks she owns the world, that everyone has to bow at her feet and if they don’t, she turns on them.”

Pippa felt awkward all of the sudden. She was out of practice when it came to comforting someone when they were upset.

“So, you don’t like her?”

“Not in the least bit,” huffed Kie. Pippa thought she might have heard something under Kie’s anger that sounded like sadness. There was a deeper story between the two girls, but Pippa wasn’t surprised that Kie would be hesitant to tell her about it.

“Let’s just get that ice cream, yeah?”

Kie dropped the angry and irritable look and smiled once again.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Kie took Pippa to a place on Figure Eight that she had never been to. It was a small shop, with only a few indoor seating options and it seemed relatively calm. Kie had a specific order that she knew off the top of her head, but Pippa had to sit there and think about it for a little bit longer. She eventually decided on a simple waffle cone and two scoops of chocolate cinnamon ice cream.

The two of them went outside and found a table to sit and eat. They ate in silence for a while until Kie started asking questions.

“So, how’d you meet Pope?” Chemistry class. “How long have you been friends?” I wouldn’t really say we’re friends…. “How long have you lived here?” Since last summer. “Do you miss your parents?” Sometimes. “What was school like in Manhattan?” Bigger, but mostly the same. “What got you into all the conspiracy stuff?” A friend. “What’s your favorite book?” The Chronicles of Narnia. “Who do you live with?” My Gran, my Yeye, and our cat, Fidget. “You like cats?” Yeah, they’re low maintenance. “I like cats too.”

The questions came almost rapid-fire. Even if Pippa wanted to give longer answers, which she didn’t, Kie didn’t give her the chance to.

“I kinda feel like we’re on one of those timed date things,” Pippa laughed before taking a short lick of her ice cream. She could see Kie’s cheeks darken with a blush, but the girl rolled her eyes instead of saying anything.

Kie took up talking, telling Pippa how she met the Pogues, what living on Kildare had been like, going to the Kook academy. Pippa sat quietly and listened. Long after the ice cream was gone, Pippa and Kie sat there in the sun, chatting quietly.

Pippa would never have let herself admit that it was the first time in a long while that it almost felt like she had a real...friend.

“Hey, so, I was wondering why you walked everywhere,” Kie said, picking at her napkin. Pippa felt that warm feeling start to fade into something colder, like stone. She dropped her hands into her lap and pursed her lips.

“Oh, um. I don’t really like...cars,” Pippa said and then cringed to herself. Kie noticed her discomfort on the topic and dropped it quickly. She smiled and gave her shoulders a light shrug.

“Hey, if we stop by my house, I’ve got a longboard that you can have. That way you don’t have to walk everywhere,” she said. Pippa looked up at met Kie’s eyes, once again feeling her stone hard heart in her chest start to soften.

“That...that would actually be really helpful. Thanks, Kiara.”

“Oh, none of that ‘Kiara’ shit,” the girl across from her said with a laugh. “All my friends call me Kie.”

Pippa felt her face flush. That word, ‘friend’. It had been a while since she felt like she could call someone a friend and it would take more than an ice cream date, a longboard gift, and a nickname for Pippa to feel comfortable using it. So, she just smiled and nodded her head.

They stood and Kie started to head off toward her house, starting the rapid fire questions once again. Pippa wasn’t sure how much Kie could possibly learn from her in that short amount of time other than the little things like her favorite color or her favorite place to vacation.

“This is it,” Kie said, smiling up at her home. “Do you want to come inside?”

For as much as Pippa had seen of Figure Eight, she expected all the houses to be extravagant greek-esque villas. But Kie’s house was relatively modest for a rich kid house. It overlooked the ocean, with a small beach just across the street. There were more windows than walls, at least, it seemed that way from the front.

“Oh, no, I should be getting home,” Pippa said, taking a step away from the home. Kie raised an eyebrow and Pippa just gave a gentle smile. Kie seemed to understand. Stepping into the threshold of someone else’s home was a level of comfort that Pippa simply wasn’t ready for just yet.

“Okay. Wait here and I’ll go get you that board. You know how to ride?” Kie asked. Pippa nodded.

“I had a board back in Manhattan,” she said, her voice quiet. There was a question on Kie’s face, something like ‘why didn’t you bring it with you?’. But Kie didn’t ask. She just gave a smile.

“Alrighty then.” Kie turned toward her house and jogged inside. Pippa shoved her hands in her pockets, rolling back and forth on her toes while she waited. The door opened again and she expected it to be Kie who walked back out, but it was a woman instead.

“Are you Pippa?” the woman asked with a large smile on her face. Pippa nodded her head, trying to smile despite the rigidness she felt. “My name is Anna. I’m Kiara’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Pippa said.

“You keeping Kiara and the boys out of trouble?” She crossed her arms over her chest, never once letting her smile fall.

“Trying to.” Pippa curled her hands into fists but tried to cover it up.

“I’m just glad there’s another girl around.” Anna Carrera let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I get nervous, Kiara hanging around those boys all the time.”

Pippa scowled.

“They’re all just friends, Mrs. Anna, I can assure you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Kie’s mom opened her mouth again, but before she could say anything, Kie stepped out of the front door. She paused, raising an eyebrow behind her mom’s head before looking over at Pippa.

“I see you’ve met my mom,” Kie said, startling her mom.

“Kiara!” she turned toward her daughter and smiled. “I was just saying hi.”

“Welp, you’ve said hi and now it’s time for us to go,” Kie said, stepping past her mom, the longboard in her hands. “I’m going back to John B’s and I’m gonna spend the night.”

“Kiara-”

“Bye, mom!” She trotted down the stairs toward Pippa, who greeted her with a forced smile. Her mom sighed but said goodbye to her daughter all the same.

Kie handed the longboard off to Pippa, who tucked it under her arm as they started back toward the Chateau.

“What did she want to know?” Kie asked, fiddling with her fingers.

“She asked if I was watching out for you and the boys.”

Kie let out a heavy sigh.

“She and my dad don’t like that I hang out with them,” Kie told Pippa after a few moments. “They think I’m spending too much time with the wrong crowd.”

Pippa hummed. She didn’t want to think about what her mom and dad would say if she was hanging out with a boy who had a gun, a boy with what seemed like a permanent bruise on his eye, and a boy who was only partially reluctant to commit crimes for his friends. Still, she didn’t say anything.

“They just don’t get that the pogues are my only friends and that I don’t really want anyone else.” Kie let out another sigh. “I guess with you hanging out with us, my parents might be a little bit more comfortable.”

Pippa nodded her head slowly, looking down at her feet. She wasn’t really sure what to say. Once the search for the gold and the wreck was over, she was going back to her usual routine of not talking to anyone. She just wasn’t really sure how to break it to her just yet.

“Here,” Kie said, a smile forming on her face. “If you left your board back home, you’re probably a little rusty. Let me help you.”

Pippa rolled her eyes, taking the challenge.

“Please. I could skate the streets of Manhattan no problem. Your flat ass roads here are no problem,” Pippa said, setting the board on the ground.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Go on then.”

“Watch the pro at work, Kiara.”

***

“Ow, ow, ow. Shit, shit, shit,” Pippa hissed, hopping on one leg up to the house. Behind her, Kie was holding the board and laughing with a hand on her stomach.

“What happened to being a pro?” She asked as Pippa leaned up against the wall of the Chateau. Blood dripped down her leg from a large gash in her knee. Pippa sent a glare Kie’s way before limping toward the front of the house.

“Kie? That you?” John B came walking out of the house and looked over and saw Pippa. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi again,” Pippa said with a light grimace. “I’m just here to grab my bag and then I’m outta your hair.”

“No way!” Kie said, walking up to and ducking underneath Pippa’s arm to help her walk toward the house. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”

“It’s okay, really,” Pippa said, just as hesitant to go inside John B’s house as she was to go inside Kie’s. John B watched Kie and Pippa for a few moments.

“I’ll go grab the first aid kit,” he said, walking back inside. Kie dropped Pippa into a chair on the front porch. Pippa looked down at the gash on her knee and let out a low hiss.

“That’s a pretty nasty one,” Kie said, kneeling in front of her.

“Pippa?”

She looked up to see Pope and JJ rounding the corner. Pope was dripping wet and there was dried blood on his upper lip. She scowled and Pope gave her a single shake of his head. She wasn’t supposed to mention it.

“What’s going on here?” JJ asked as he hopped up the stairs to the porch.

“Pippa fell off her board,” Kie said, smacking Pippa’s hands away as she tried to poke her new cut.

“Oof,” JJ said. “Looks painful, Pip.”

Pippa nodded her head.

“Thanks for the empathy.”

Pope flopped into the chair next to Pippa and let out a heavy breath. She looked over at him and tried to ask him without asking him if he was okay. Pope gave her a short nod.

“I’m gonna grab a beer. Anyone else want one?” JJ asked, walking toward the front door.

“Hey, wait!” Kie stood and ran after JJ, leaving Pope and Pippa alone.

“So, what happened to you?” Pippa asked, leaning forward to look at her knee.

“I was gonna ask you the same question.” Pippa looked at Pope with raised eyebrows and he let out a heavy sigh. “Topper and Rafe jumped me on my delivery today.”

“Those bastards,” Pippa seethed, pushing herself up onto her wobbly legs. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Pippa, relax,” Pope said, pulling her back into her chair. She complied with a huff. “JJ and I handled it.”

Pippa rolled her eyes.

“Like that’s supposed to make me feel any better.”

“I’m fine, Pippa,” he said finally. She narrowed her eyes at him, but finally conceded. She sighed and leaned her head back against the chair.

“I got jumped by a rock,” she said, motioning down to her knee. Pope felt himself smile.

“I can see that.”

“Yup. And Kie won’t let me just go home and bandage myself up there.”

“I should hope not.”

John B came walking out with a scrambled together first aid in his hands. Behind him came Kie and JJ, both carrying beers. The first boy dropped to his knees in front of Pippa and started to pull open the bandaids.

“Woah, there,” Pippa said, trying to stop him. “I can put on my own bandaids, thank you.”

“You come to my house all bloodied up, you bet your ass I’m the one bandaging you,” John B said with a glare that told Pippa if she tried to argue, he’d make her go home with no bandages whatsoever.

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” JJ asked, popping open his beer while he munched on some old crackers.

“My grandparents don’t usually vibe with me not coming home,” Pippa said, giving her hair a shake. “Gran stays up until I’m safe in bed, so.”

“Maybe next time,” Kie said. The girl was definitely starting to see a pattern about Pippa and she was starting to figure her out. Even if she didn’t know why Pippa was keeping her distance, Kie understood and wasn’t going to push.

John B patched up Pippa’s knee, giving her leg a gentle tap before he stood.

“You’re good to go,” he said. “We’ll see you here tomorrow morning, right?”

Pippa stood after him.

“You betcha.” She walked over to her bag and pulled it onto her back.

“You want a beer for the road?” JJ asked, holding out a beer for her. Pippa shook her head.

“It’s easier for aliens to kidnap you when you’re tipsy,” Pippa said. “Gotta keep the brain sharp.”

Kie rolled her eyes playfully, but JJ’s eyes widened.

“Wait, are you serious?” Pippa shrugged with a knowing smile. “What about weed? Weed can’t make us more…”

“As long as you’re wearing a tinfoil hat, you should be fine,” Pippa said, patting JJ on the shoulder. JJ finally got the joke and he glared at her. “See you guys later.”

“Adios, Pip.”

“Bye!”

“Get home safe.”

“Yeah, see you later.”

Pippa plucked up her board and started for the street once again. She put the longboard on the ground, hopping up, and let gravity pull her down the small hill.

***

The next morning, they were out in the water on the boat, a quiet storm sneaking up on them. Kie and Pippa stood and watched the rope, JJ drove the boat, while John B and Pope watched the screen.

“We’re at 800 feet,” Pippa called. “We should be getting close.”

Pope threw out a Hobbit quote that would have made Pippa laugh if she wasn’t so excited about seeing the Merchant for the first time. John B kept calling out directions for JJ, who moved the boat accordingly. Pippa clung to the side of the boat, helping Kie keep track of the feet. Her mind was running like wild. She couldn’t keep focused on anything else.

Finding this ship, it was all she could think about for months. Maybe things might go back to normal if she found it. Maybe that carved out hole in Pippa’s chest might start to fill. Maybe Pippa could finally start to heal.

With every second, the water was getting choppier, the wind getting rougher, the clouds getting darker. Thunder rumbled and Pippa looked up, wind whipping at her hair.

“JJ, we’ll turtle in this storm!” John B called. JJ grumbled some unsavory words to himself as he turned the wheel. “Pope, how are we doing?”

“Almost there,” Pope mumbled.

“There’s too much current,” Kie said, struggling with the line. Pippa grabbed hold of the line to help her pull it back into position.

“We’re not gonna lose it,” Pippa mumbled to herself, pulling with all of her might.

“What do you got, Pope?” John B asked. “Come on, man. What do you see?”

“Nothin, a whole lot of nothin,” Pope said. Pippa scowled into the water, hoping that she could maybe see 900 feet down and see the ship herself.

“You should be right above it.”

“Kie?” Pope called over.

“960!” She replied. “970, 980!”

“I’m at the bottom!” Pope yelled out suddenly, making Pippa jump. Excitement curdled in her stomach, turning into something heavier, something more anxious. If it wasn’t here, Pippa didn’t know what she was going to do. It had to be here. It had to be.

Kie and Pippa tied off the line and ran back to the screen where Pope and John B were waiting to see something.

The screen was green and murky. It was impossible to see anything. Pippa tapped her foot on the bottom of the boat, her fingers drumming against the box that the screen rested on. Something dark started to form in all that greenness. Pippa’s heart dropped to her stomach. The closer the ROV got, the wider the smile that grew on her face.

“Oh, good God,” Pope breathed.

“What is it?” JJ asked behind him. “What do you see?”

“It’s the Royal Merchant.”

Pippa covered her mouth with her hands, unable to even blink as the tall, barnacle covered mast came into view. Her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of it and tears gathered in her eyes.

“There she is,” Pippa whispered, her voice breaking. Instinctually, Pippa put her hands on John B’s shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze. “They’d be so proud.”

John B looked back at her and for a moment, she thought it would be with the same sour expression he always had in her presence, but then he grinned. Pippa found that she was smiling back. John B grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Pippa was shocked at first, letting out a confused laugh.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her. Pippa patted John B’s back slowly, glancing over at Pope and Kie, who were also smiling.

“Of course, bud,” she said before pushing John B away from her as gently as she could manage.

“JB,” Pope said. “We’ve got a problem.”

John B and Pippa both returned to the screen, their smiles faded.

“What is it?” John B asked.

“No gold.” Pope pressed his lips together. John B let out an aggravated sigh. Pippa just shook her head gently.

“I knew it,” she whispered. Gold or no gold, she was still in awe of the ship. “Pope, can you take pictures of this?”

“Sure, but why? There’s no gold here,” he said, clicking a few buttons. Pippa shook her head, but couldn’t tear her eyes from the screen.

“I don’t care about the gold.”

“Can we do another run?” John B asked. Pope nodded his head and went through the ship again taking pictures as he went. Still, there was no gold. A single tear slipped down Pippa’s face. She tried to wipe it away, but Pope looked up and saw before she could brush it away with her sleeve.

They went over the wreckage from different angles, Pope taking pictures as he went. Eventually, John B let out an aggravated growl, running his hands through his hair.

“It’s okay,” Pippa said, sniffing and standing up straighter. “We can still find it.”

“How?” He asked her, his voice tight.

“Denmark Tanny,” was all she said. John B scoffed and plopped himself on the floor of the boat. He pulled his hood over his head and dropped his chin to his chest.

“We should head back before the storm gets any worse,” Kie said, looking up at the sky.

“Pippa?” Pope looked over to his friend, who turned her face back to the screen. Her eyes glittered with tears once again. She breathed deeply, relishing in the last few moments of looking at the wreckage.

“Yeah,” she said finally with a sad sigh. “Yeah, we should head back.”

Kie walked toward the edge of the boat to start pulling up the ROV. Pippa kept her eyes on the screen the whole time, watching the wreckage start to fade back into the murky water. That burning sensation in her eyes and the thrumming in her chest never went away.

~~~

tagging - @simonsbluee, @parkerpetertingle, @diverrdown, @ponyboys-sunsets, @outerbanksbro, @kikifromtheblock, @sunflowerbecca, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @lost-cause-land, @apoguecalledjj, @abbiesthings, @outerbankslut, @sexualparkour,

if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! ❤

#outer banks fic #obx fic #pope heyward fic #pope heyward outer banks #pope heyward obx #pope heyward x oc #pope obx #pope outer banks #pope fic #pope x oc #pope fluff #pope angst #outer banks fluff #obx netflix #outer banks netflix

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risingsouls · 4 years ago

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Recruited: Chapter 3

[I finally finished this. I knew because it had combat in it, it would take me a bit longer, but surprisingly, that part wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. And was pretty fun to write. :3

Anyway, long one here but we’re makin’ progress!]

Nabooru

Only Nabooru’s innate sense of direction and memory from Zarbon’s tour helped her find her way back to her room once she came to after the procedure, and the numbers that once seemed foreign on the pad next to her door felt as innate as if she learned them alongside her basic arithmetic in her youth back home. A sign the chip worked, if nothing else. Small and windowless, her room was as inviting as a prison cell and only half a foot remained between her fingertips and each wall when she spread them out. The bed in the corner at least looked long enough, but was less than half as wide as that she slumbered in back home, and a press of her palm on the thin mattress made her miss the plush pillows and blankets that cradled her along with the feather-filled mattress all the more. A counter spanned along the wall across the foot of the bed adjacent to the door and she rested her bag there where she would unpack it at a later, more wakeful time.

Had she not sat on the edge of her bed and considered whether she had the energy to strip down before falling asleep, she noted the set of mirrored double doors across from her. Curiosity defeated her drowsiness and, with the press of the button, she opened it up. Inside, she found spare changes of her uniform in the same colors and styles as well as a few sets of a drab gray fabric. Unfolding them revealed them to be sleepwear of sorts with shorts in the same style and fabric as her armor and a sleeveless top that, when she swapped her armor out for the new outfit, found the top to be looser and more comfortable for sleep than the skin-tight battle suit. The top was a little on the short side, a quarter of her toned midriff on display, but, even if she did care, she didn’t have the capacity to consider taking it up with Zarbon or anyone else.

The sleep Nabooru managed could only be attributed to the residual drugs left in her system as her nerves over not understanding how to tell time woke her several times. After the third, she fought the remnants of exhaustion and remained awake, changing back into her uniform and heading to the classroom where she would begin her lessons. Sunshine or something like it eventually glimmered through the window, but she could only guess how long she waited there in the empty space, fiddling with the device fitted to the side of her head in the meantime.

A signal sounded what she guessed was the first meal and, after another half hour, perhaps, the whir of the door pulled her from a confusing rabbit hole of commands she had sifted through on the scouter. A short, squatty alien with yellow-splotched orange skin and at least a half dozen tentacled arms dangling around him like a frilled collar shuffled into the room, casting her little more than a haughty, disapproving glance through watery and bulging eyes. He introduced himself as Plumme and steamrolled straight into the first lesson. Despite his demeanor, Plumme proved more patient than she expected. Still, by the time the signal for the second meal sounded through the complex, her head was pounding from hours of cramming nonstop and new information about the technology she would become familiar with, how the business worked, the history of the Cold Empire and the PTO, and the limitless depths of space.

Once dismissed until the same time the next morning, she trudged to the mess hall, using both her memory and the map function in her scouter for practice in using it outside of lessons. With a full afternoon of training--a far more exciting prospect than her morning regimen--she would need her strength. She ignored the expected stares and not-so-discrete comments about her looks or newbie status in favor of focusing on the array of strange foods and scents laid out along the line and piling them onto her tray as others in front of her did. She skirted around the tables and soldiers to commandeer an empty one. With limited time, she didn’t fuss with what she shoved into her mouth, only sliding something to the side if it threatened to lurch back up before it could make it to her belly.

Out of both excitement for the prospect of training her combat skills over bombarding her mind and concern over the consequences of being late, she followed the example of other soldiers in disposing of her scraps and tray and hurried back to the classroom where she was instructed to meet her trainer. From there, they would take her to a training area of their choice. Plumme suggested it would be one of the multiple training rooms with infinite virtual simulations for any combat situation one could dream up. Convenient, artificial, and efficient, as everything seemed to be there.

When she turned the last corner, she couldn't help but snort at the irony of who she found leaned against the wall outside of the classroom. The fluorescent lights overhead reflected off his bald dome, and his folded arms over his broad chest and frown that followed the growth of his mustache denoted less than excitement for the task set to him. She supposed she would have a hard time heeding Zarbon's warning to stay away from him and his cohorts--Saiyans, he called them--if he was to instruct her for the next month.

Turning his head, his sour expression melted away, a smirk replacing it in a split second. "I was beginning to think you chickened out," he said as she halted by his side. "Would have been unfortunate considering we don't get many lookers like you around here."

Nabooru's eyelids lowered, and she considered putting him through the wall. Not five seconds into their first meeting and he already had the gall to flirt with her. "I noticed. I haven't seen one person around here that isn't a total eyesore." Recognition dawned slow over his features, and Nabooru adopted his smirk in light of it. Before he could retort, she cut him off. "So you're the one training me, huh? Where are the other two who were with you?"

"Sure am. I'd be more upset about another nanny gig if they had shoved anyone else on me. Looks aside, your power level is something else for a new recruit, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in seeing what you're made of. Frieza said your people are similar to Saiyans, too. Now I get a front row seat to see just how well that holds up." He turned and signaled for her to follow with a crook of two large fingers. "You mean Vegeta and Raditz? Off on some job or other s'far as I know. I'm sure they'll be missing me when they realize how much slack they have to pick up. And jealous when they find out I get to spend half a day with you instead of having to look at their ugly mugs."

Nabooru bit her tongue to stifle a sassy retort, deciding it best to stay on his good side for the time being. He seemed easy-going enough, but she wanted to get the most out of her training, not give him reason to sabotage it. "Guess you're getting a nice little vacation then until I get to beat the tar out of you in a spar," she said, grinning in the face of the sneer he shot her. So much for not poking the molduga. "What do you have planned for me, er...what should I call you?"

"Master Nappa has a nice ring to it." They halted in front of a pair of doors. Nappa and the guard on duty exchanged a nod. The guard opened up the doors to a ramp sloping down to a desolate, red-soiled surface. Craggy cliffs and spires of rock jutted into the teal skyline. "Or just master is great, too."

"I'm not calling you master," Nabooru quipped, following him down the ramp. Rust-colored dust stained her once pristine boots upon reaching the planet's surface, but she welcomed it along with the first hint of a proper breeze on her skin and passingly fresh air in her lungs. "Let's compromise the other way and go with Nappa. That or I'll think of something you won't like."

Nappa rubbed a hand along his square jaw. "You drive a hard bargain, lady. But fine. I'm still going to refer to myself as your master though, and you as my pupil." His feet left the ground to hover above it. "You can at least fly, right?"

She followed his lead in answer. "My name is Nabooru. Not lady."

“Not a bad name, I guess. A little weird...”

He took to the sky and Nabooru followed suit, using the silence between them to observe the planet she now called home, even if only temporarily. It sounded like she would move around quite a bit. Outside of the complex, the further they flew, the more sure she became that it was completely barren and devoid of other life. The remnants of what could have been buildings and civilization suggested it may not have always been that way. Optimism had her wanting to believe Frieza and his men had found the planet already abandoned, but the bits of knowledge she had scraped together from Zarbon and her morning lessons suggested the planet was purposefully and violently cleared to harbor this base.

“Here’s a good spot.”

Nabooru nearly collided with his massive back in her sightseeing, narrowly avoiding the embarrassment by floating to his side instead. “Is there something I’m supposed to see here?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow, arms folded. It looked much the same as the rest of the planet. “Plumme mentioned a training room. Why aren’t we using that?”

“You ask too many questions,” he muttered gruffly, facing her and mirroring her cross-armed posture. “We’re training with ki, we need the room, and I’m not here to half-ass your training. How’s that for a reason?”

“Touchy.”

The Saiyan grumbled more, and her lips twitched in another smile when she just made out a threat to make her suffer through this training. Though she wanted a good challenge, she decided to wait and see what he might throw at her without egging him on for more. She wanted to give him a fair chance to put her to the test of his own accord.

“From what I understand, you’ve got the basics of ki under your belt, right?” Nabooru nodded. “Good then this will be fun.”

Nabooru raised an eyebrow as Nappa scanned their surroundings, searching for she could only guess what in this barren wasteland. His roving eyes eventually halted, and she followed his gaze to a stalagmite twice her height jutting out of a field of smaller ones surrounding it. "Perfect.”

Her brows lowered, lips turned down in a baffled grimace, observing the stalagmite and the field of smaller ones surrounding it. Were they going to spar over it? She faced a bloody demise if he knocked her into it hard enough. She shuddered at the image of her mangled body pierced on the formations. "What does a bunch of rocks have to do with ki training?”

"Are you questioning my teaching methods?" She started to reply with a snarky affirmative, but the Saiyan cut her off. "You’re going to use your ki to keep yourself levitated over that rock there." He tilted his head toward the largest of the formations. “And no, not by flying before you try that on me. You’re going to concentrate your energy into your finger and use it to keep yourself from being impaled and without destroying the rock. You’ll do that for an hour. You cheat, boost yourself too high, or fall, we start the hour over.”

She hoped for a challenge, and Nappa had delivered. Controlling her ki in such a way, keeping it at a low enough level while also strong enough to keep herself aloft would take skill and focus. Controlling her ki for a long period which would benefit her ability to maintain it in a fight. While it wouldn’t utilize the maximum reaches of her ki power wise, she could see the benefit of learning to use it in more concentrated ways. With this exercise likely serving as a warm up, she both dreaded and looked forward to what else he had in store for her.

Boots lifted from the ground and she drifted up to the stalagmite. With at least an hour of this ahead of her, she wanted to waste no time. She doubted failing to measure up to whatever standards Frieza had in mind for her would bode well for her. She needed every minute she could glean to improve herself. Learn how to utilize her ki to the very finest uses and in the ways best for her new station.

Gripping the tip of the stalagmite, she hoisted herself up onto it, legs extended to the sky and one arm holding her up. The stone that made up her pedestal was sturdier than she imagined, her touch doing little to disturb its integrity. Bolstered, she shifted up onto her fingertip and adjusted her body's balance accordingly. She had to approach the next phase with the utmost care. Too little energy would fail to lift her, and too much would destroy the pillar entirely. Neither conducive outcomes toward her training as both would waste time. Thus, she fed the barest amount of ki into her fingertip, orange light flickering at the tip of her glove. Again and again she repeated this process, adding minimal increments of energy until it lifted her finger from the point. Not until an inch of orange-yellow light glowed between leather and rock did she pause, memorizing how it felt and what it would take to maintain the pose. Ensuring it was only that point that held her aloft. Keeping an eye on the stalagmite itself for signs of breakage.

"This high enough?" She asked Nappa at last, lifting her head to find the Saiyan lounging on a boulder, arms folded and observing her with the hint of a smirk. Sweat already beaded on her forehead, embarrassing after only a few minutes. If she made it through the hour, she would be drenched before they did anything active.

"Sure is. You got that faster than I thought you would." He tapped his scouter. "I was pretty sure we'd have to find at least one more rock to use. Guess you're a whole lot more patient than Vegeta when he was a kid. Hell, probably now, too."

She dropped her head again, not wanting to waste any energy on holding it up. "So this is a regular exercise for your training camp, huh? Here I thought I was special."

"Heh, yep. Vegeta and Raditz went through this as brats. Vegeta obliterated the first three rocks we tried with, probably on purpose. Raditz got caught in the crossfire and would have to start over with him." He chuckled, the memory obviously a fond one. "Finally got 'em to do it right, but it only lasted a week. You'll get to start each session this way for a month."

"So you're saying I could throw a temper tantrum and get out of doing this?"

"Not a chance."

She blew out a puff of air. "Worth a try."

Silent minutes ticked by, the sound of the breeze between the canyon walls and Nappa shifting in his seat once in while all that interrupted them. She had begun to feel the strain the constant flow of energy took on her, and it began to overtake her attention to remaining aloft. She glanced to Nappa. "So are you their father?" she asked, hoping the conversation would take her mind off of the settling fatigue.

He snorted. "Hell no. You really think either of them could be my kid?" She rolled her eyes and he continued. "Nah, I was just the only adult Saiyan left so I got stuck with caring for the two squirts."

"Wait." She lifted her head again and righted the flutter of her energy before her surprise got her impaled. "You three are the last of your race? What happened to the rest of them?"

Nappa grunted and frowned, eyes closing beneath a furrowed brow. "Planet was destroyed by a meteor years ago. S'far as we know, we were the only survivors. The prince, his retainer, and a bushy haired runt that just got lucky. Though, I guess we all did."

Her stomach churned. She knew what it was like for her people to be on the brink of potential destruction. These three lived through the worst case scenario of it. The actualization of the doomsday scenes her mind had conjured for her race in dream and waking alike for the last several years.

"How did you survive?" Though only two days into her career, she did understand that people couldn't breathe in space. Not to mention the survival of a planet's destruction would be slim so she thought.

"Like I said. Luck, really." Nabooru lifted her head enough to see the tinge of what she assumed was pain or regret flash over his otherwise neutral expression. "The three of us were off planet at the time. The king and Frieza had made some kind of agreement. For whatever reason, his power I'm guessing, Frieza wanted Vegeta close by. Maybe for grooming to be one of his generals one day, who really knows. That meant he got me, too, as the prince's caretaker. The king's request so I could keep an eye on him. He was just a brat back then, you know. Raditz was off on a mission. We found him floating where the planet used to be. His pod's autopilot took him back there."

Nabooru breathed out a sigh and watched a drop of sweat drip from the tip of her nose and into the stalagmite trap below. She bit her tongue on her sympathy, knowing had their roles been reversed, she wouldn't want to hear some stranger's apologies or endure their coddling. Once more, she felt an innate pull to Nappa and his cohorts with little information on them, the need to form bonds with someone in this new, daunting environment rearing its head as it had in their first, brief encounter. She couldn't afford those relationships, flimsy attachments that could disappear in the blink of an eye and be used against her.

Besides, they had each other. The last three of their kind. She was the one perfectly alone there.

"What are your people like, huh? Frieza said you guys reminded him of us."

The question felt like a twisted dagger in her heart. She hadn't realized she felt homesick until that moment, her new schedule keeping her busy and her mind occupied. She felt a hitch upward in her ki and she quelled it quickly before it could send her skyward or damage the stalagmite. She shook her head to erase the visions of the desert, the temple, her friends, mother, and lover. She had to stay strong. For them. A whiny baby begging to go home would be met with a cold shoulder at best.

"We're warriors. The greatest on the planet without contest. Even more so now that we can use ki. All women save for the one male born each century." She heard a curiously pleased rumble from the Saiyan and she snapped, "Don't get any stupid ideas. And don't think too much into the plausibility of that. The legends point to one of our goddess but no one really knows how it happens. Hyrule doesn't have much in the way of technology or all this scientific advancement. So if there's a more concrete reason, we wouldn't know of it."

"Heh, sounds like that male is pretty lucky, then." Nabooru shot him a glare, causing him to chuckle. "Alright, keep your shorts on. So what lucky happenstance put you guys and your planet on Frieza's radar? With no technology and warriors with no knowledge of ki, that leaves little left for him to take interest."

Had she not been afraid the motion would throw her off balance, she would have shrugged. “Resources are what the scouts concluded, I think. I guess with so much of the planet untouched, they found plenty they could use.” She bent her legs at the knees for a few seconds before straightening them out again. “They found out about our troubles with the other races on the planet, and Frieza made us a deal: his soldiers teach us how to use ki so we could overthrow the current monarchy in power and free ourselves, and in exchange, they rule the planet in his stead and he gets me to add to his ranks.”

Nappa pondered her explanation, tapping his fingers on his bicep. “There are worse deals, I guess. I don’t suppose you know how that turned out?”

“No. We had undergone about a month of training before Frieza showed up and said he wanted me.”

“Lucky you,” Nappa said with a snort, and Nabooru didn’t disagree with the evident sarcasm. Before either could continue, Nappa’s scouter beeped thrice, and he tapped the button on the side. “Well, congratulations. You completed your warm up.”

Nabooru sighed in relief and eased herself back down, grasping the top of the stalagmite again and righting her orientation. She floated back down to land in front of Nappa, a slight drain on her reserves of energy evident with just that simple task. A kink to work out if she wanted to last and become a true force to be reckoned with.

"Now what? Are you going to spar with me?"

The Saiyan snorted again and reached into this armor, bringing out a glass vial. Small, green spheres floated in a paler shaded liquid. "Maybe another day. For now, you'll be fighting these Saibamen. Should be around your power level. Unlike me, these are expendable."

"So you're scared?" Nabooru taunted with a grin as Nappa squatted down and pressed the spheres into the ground and sprinkled the liquid over them. Curiosity stifled the rest of her taunts. "Are those plants? You're making me fight plants?"

“Heh, something like that.” Not a moment later did the dampened ground crack where he placed the seeds. What resembled bulbous cabbages plowed through the ground. Three-clawed hands raked along the ground and pulled out short, gangly bodies. They let out a cacophony of ear-splitting shrieks, and Nabooru clapped her hands over her ears.

"What are those things?" she shouted. She let her hands fall back to her sides when the creatures closed their mouths, devious little grins on their faces.

Nappa dropped the vial back into his armor. "These are called Saibamen. They’ll be your opponents. I want to see how well and how much you already incorporate ki into your own brand of combat." He grinned at her. "And what better way than with multiple enemies."

Her initial impression was that they didn't look like much. Scrawny and fragile things easily disposed of. However, she remembered that he said they had a power level close to her own, and though she still didn't quite understand what sort of statistics composed a power level, she knew better than to take them too lightly. Nappa's warm up exercise hadn't been a walk through a field of flowers, after all.

With a nod, she drifted out into a wider space, creating distance between herself and her new opponents as well as her spectating instructor. She bent her knees and shifted into a comfortable fighting stance, her weight balanced and both arms raised. "Ready when you are."

"You heard her. Go have some fun, ya runts!"

They needed no convincing. The six Saibamen shot straight for with another chorus of those shrieks, their speed notable but nothing she couldn't handle. Instinct kicked in as she dodged and blocked their flurry of kicks and punches while bearing the brunt of those she couldn't contend with, the pain of them registering for no more than a moment as she focused on taking down her opponents. The first order of business being moving from defense to offense before they wore her down and overpowered her with their numbers.

She caught one of them by the wrist and slammed it into the one nearest one, sending two skittering off several meters from her and the rest of the mob. The bite of claws dug into the meat of her thigh and another landed a kick to her opposite side before she could block the next punch aimed her her face with a raised forearm. Orange-yellow energy built in her free palm and she shot a sphere of it at the one who had drawn blood. She swung a powerful kick at the one in front of her, catching it and another up in the sweeping arc and sending them flying away from her.

Though only one remained in her immediate vicinity, she knew she had very precious few seconds before the other piled back in. Orange energy enveloped her and she shot backward, eyes flitting to each enemy and noting their location, how quickly they would recuperate to continue their onslaught. The first two had recovered and fired toward her, one with its own yellow ki blasts forming in its hands. The others were already regaining their feet.

She thought back to the desert, to the first time she did some real damage with her newfound abilities. The feeling of the energy it took to blow the top half clean off one of the larger plateaus dotting the desert landscape flowing from the vat of it within her to the palm of her hands. A similar attack could deal with the two speeding toward her. If not completely, it would weaken them enough to give her an opening to finish them off.

Her orange-yellow ki built in her hands at her sides and pushed them both out in front of her, firing the blast toward the advancing Saibamen. The light swallowed the fired blasts from one and the plant creatures followed suit, their shrieks of pain short lived as they disintegrated into nothing. A third had hastily tried to hop into the fray and gotten caught in the blast, leaving only the right half of its body to fall to the dusty ground. A gruesome sight that made her insides squirm, but she didn't have time to stare or consider how many more she would mutilate in such a way in this new position. How many wouldn't be just training fodder like these creatures.

The remaining Saibamen reminded her of the miniscule window in punishing fashion. A fist caught her side and knocked her off balance and sideways, her armor only seeming to absorb some of the blow. A second waited to boot her straight into the air. Before she could right herself the third zipped upward to bash his joined hands into her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her and sending her careening to the ground. Her back slammed the surface, spittle and blood emitting from her lips on impact and a spiderweb of cracks cascading outward from her body.

Another beep of her scouter told her what she already knew. Ignoring the pain in sore muscle and bone, Nabooru rolled to her feet as one of the monsters slammed a fist into the ground where her head had been, the indentation left deep. She threw her elbow back into another that tried to sucker punch her in the spine and used the moment of surprise in the first to fire another wave of ki at it. Another shriek and it was reduced to dust, leaving two alive and her patience running ever thinner.

She flipped around to face the one behind her, only just recovering from her elbow connecting hard with its face. He was chattering angrily in its nonsensical language and brushing the last bit of bluish ooze from its face. Nabooru fired forward again. Energy surged to her right fist as she aimed a heavy punch for its gut. She saw the confusion on its face when her punch landed and tore through green flesh, bone, muscles, and organs like paper and through to the other side. Once more she had to suppress her own surprise and the lunch she ate when she considered what she did and yanked her arm free of the creature to engage the final opponent.

It was just a beast. Just like the monsters in Hyrule.

She flicked the cyan blood from her glove and faced the final Saibaman, the fear on its face palpable and it's desire to flee written in its eyes. To prevent the chance, she closed the gap between them, gathering energy as she did. Once at point blank range, she released it. Awful as it felt to some degree, she preferred this tactic. Complete obliteration that felt less personal. Less messy. Less to look at in the aftermath and feel guilt over.

When the dust settled, she heard the applause of large hands and Nappa's boisterous laughter. "You really give new meaning to the term bombshell! You did better than I expected, honestly." He folded his arms with a smirk. "There's still work to be done, but I'm glad I have a better base to work with than I was expecting. You handle yourself like a true warrior out there. Nappa's pupil, the next up and comer in the Frieza Force. Has a real nice ring to it."

"It's only what I trained my whole life for," she replied, though the proud smile was more than apparent on her lips. She hoped it made her look less worn out than she felt. "So what's next?"

"Heh, raring to go, are ya?" Nappa pulled the vial out of his armor again. "Alright. I like it. We're going to do the same thing, but this time, I want you to stay airborne as much as possible. Think you can handle that?"

In truth, the Gerudo wasn't certain. Her experience with fighting while flying were minimal. Not to mention the ever-growing exhaustion. But she refused to tell him that. She would rise to the challenge.

“Plant another round, Nappa. I’m ready.”

#fic: recruited #:: nabooru ☀#// vegeta ♅#| nappa ♅#i worry i didn't make her struggle enough but #whatever :'D #next chapter she'll really get put through the ringer promise

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philomenafm · 4 years ago

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(NATALIA DYER, DEMI GIRL) - Have you seen PHILOMENA CARMICHAEL? PHILLY is in HER/THEIR SOPHOMORE year. The WILDLIFE SCIENCE MAJOR is 20 years old & is a TAURUS. People say SHE/THEY are WHIMSICAL, PATIENT, APATHETIC and UNPREDICTABLE. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE CONCEALED MURDEROUS EVIDENCE (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

ive done sm switches bt. she is the one. she is the one i love. trust me. ples. this is an old intro n im frankly. too lazy 2 read it bt. i love her a lot shes very good please like her

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. DISSOCIATION ), DEATH, DECAY, MAGGOTS.

aesthetic.

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, dancing naked in the woods with nothing but fire to light your way, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers, fungi and feeling one with them, lying down and decomposing, they’ll find us in a week. they’ll find us in a week.

basics.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th, 2000

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: demisexual

pinterest ( & her family pinterest b/c they’re my most developed family uwu)

stats

favorite song: wonderfully bizarre, bendigo fletcher / we can be defined by the things we want / i’ll be a life full of free haircuts from the one that i love / we’ll collect fallen out teeth in a candy jar / mice for the backyard peregrine falcon reservation.

background.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.

you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -

you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot.

and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.

philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.

three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her ged and applying to a local college in florida in shameful compliance.

they’re there for a year until philly gets (expectantly) expelled from the community college & the two of them are banned from the town they’d residing in up until that point. they don’t talk about it - but boy, was it one hell of a time.

they found refuge in preaker, a town that seemed to suit them well - it suited elektra’s desire to travel up and down the east coast, and it intrigued philomena enough to the point of her being content with staying. soon after, philly officially transferred to yates for her freshmen spring term & theyve been here since.

(whenever anna brings cillian uh. he’s in here too he’s been traveling w them fr like 3ish years. i just cannot rewrite atm KDSGLSDKLGKFGHLKSL bt hes here. n hes sexy. n we love him. bro3tp)

OH. hey yeah the secret. errmm. tht’s on cillian. philly just hid the evidence. no they didnt kill someone yes they did no they did not <3 yes

personality & facts.

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon (& so does leo fowler eyes emoji)

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in preaker / yates - would hate to be forced out by mobs with torches and pitchforks

currently living in calloway while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. edit: her first & only kisses hv been w leo fowler. this is important

will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggling.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )

comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her. she knows to respect nature. exudes natural trust energy <3 dont know wht tht means but

the trust expands to animals as well, she has a certain knack for getting them to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay. edit: she hs a tabby cat named pail, now. named in honor of her mother, bucket.

leaves her window in calloway wide open because of this, because her window is conveniently right besides a tree with sturdy branches. good for animal smuggling, sneaking in and out, hiding, etc. etc. world is her oyster.

though her room in calloway is ??? frankly a mess ??? already ??? usually keeps most of her possessions in her memory box but she’s also turned her room into a mini labyrinth of knick-knacks. very cozy, but very nest-like. think of howl’s room from howl’s moving castle.

wanted connections.

how did you get in here ;; someone whose room she perhaps crashed at late at night, mysteriously. she refuses to explain where she’s come from. she’s gone before you wake. they could literally not know her at all she’s just sleeping halfway under their bed like <3 thank you <3

ma’am this is a wendys ;; someone who sees her constantly <3 doing outlandish shit <3 bc lets b real. shes weird. shes a weirdo. why do u think she wears the same hat everyday. (she doesnt wear hats often) anyways. they probably dnt even like her? just think shes very strange?

im literally going to dissect you ;; someone who. wants to figure out philly. pick at her brain. wear her shoes. kind of in the same category of above in this general like. ur fkn weird. bt they wna figure out why <3 they wna play therapist <3 jokes on u she hates therapists

liddle thief in the night ;; someone who has caught her stealing. or dining n dashing. either/or. perhaps both. she steals a lot :/

oh like. friends n stuff ;; of any closeness. ppl she talks 2 conspiracies with, ppl she goes on late night walks with, ppl she explores with, ppl she steals with, ppl she smokes with, etc. etc. ppl who bring her out to parties cos they like her funky little ways when she gets drunk n tries to climb atop everything <3

thts nice. anyways ;; this is fr like. literally anything unrequited. philly doesnt like <3 a lot of ppl <3 In That Way. so its basically just. ur muse thinks shes very neat n she thinks ur muse is very neat bt platonically. she doesnt do hookups or anything n if she does i tend 2 like. run purely based off of chemistry even with. most of her connections in general.

uuhh. anything ;; HLKDGKSDLKGHLKSFDSHGKFD i nvr rly hv a lot of connections up fr philly bc shes like. a very unpredictable muse n i think its usually better to just. throw her in! n see wht happens! we cn still plot obv n come up w some fun things bt fr the most part shes very organic

#yatesintro #cancer tw #trauma tw #death tw #dissociation tw #maggots tw #murder mention

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theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years ago

Text

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Prologue

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Prologue

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: So, this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, and I'd thought I'd try it since I have very little time for DeviantArt's chaos. It's much different from my Legolas x Reader on there. I added a small loving family to make the emotions relatable-- even if you don't have siblings, or have more than what I added, it's just fanfiction! Also, I tried to make my pronouns for said reader gender-nuetral so that everybody can enjoy it! The reason your character is so wild is for the sake of not fitting in to this world, yet you're used to it, so that later points in the plot can become more... Well, you'll see. And yes, I made Elves pansexual because I don't think they'd care much about gender or age at that point. LARPing plays a big role in the prologue, because your character is really into it for personal reasons. If this isn't your cup of tea, don't drink it. I hope you like it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

You'd never been considered normal by anyone. You enjoyed LARP instead of reality. Your "job" was just staying at home and captioning videos all day every day you weren't LARPing instead of interacting with society at a normal job. Your home? A tiny studio apartment that only cost $450 a month without bills, and you did without cell phone, car, and electric for the sake of being your weird self. You hadn't been to college yet, despite the fact that everyone told you to go once your gap year was over, and it almost was. What would you even study? Acting was all that got you close to who you were, so, ok, guess that's fine, but nobody else thought of that as a career. Maybe you could write fiction-- you were good at that much.

You weren't always like this. There was a time when you were just a normal kid, living a normal life. But somewhere around ten, you started to change, and by sixteen you'd become who you were today. If the Old You could see the New You, you weren't sure if they'd think you were weird too, or if they'd stare up at you in awe.

Hopefully it was the latter, which made you feel good.

I mean, come on, were you born in the wrong timeframe or what?! That's what you thought, anyway. There's no way that this world was for you. The fact that nearly all people were heartless jackasses that enjoyed destroying the planet, the fact that everybody had to be the same or were considered freaks, prejudice and injustice were key factors of life and the rich got handed everything on a silver platter while the poor had to scavenge... Just, everything of this reality made you hate it. If only you'd been born five hundred years earlier, or, y'know, in Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings...

You'd really liked to have been born in Middle-Earth. You had so many books about it, you knew practically everything there was to know, even the confusing shit about Faramir being in the Fall of Gondolin. You'd practically memorized Elvish, and dwarvish, and you knew the whole six movies by heart, every line. And of course, like most Lord of the Rings fans, you had a massive crush on a certain Elvish princeling who was too pretty for his own good. In fact, Legolas was who inspired you to learn archery; maybe one day you'd be as good as he was.

Despite your wishes, you were stuck in reality, however much you hated it

. Even amongst your LARP groups, you were considered outlandish.

Everybody else had normal lives outside of their games, whereas you pretended this was your life. You didn't have any job aside from the small caption jobs you did when you weren't LARPing, no social life, nothing. The only people you had was your mother, brother, sister, and your only friend, [F/N]. They accepted you and your strange fantasies, even if they thought you'd one day regret acting in a way when you could've been beginning a normal life and being productive.

So excuse you if you decided to invite them to a LARP event and let them borrow some of your costumes. It wasn't the end of the world. But your LARP group apparently didn't get that memo.

"You invited your mom?!" A royal asshole sneered, yet you took satisfaction in the fact that his knight costume looked like it was made of cardboard painted silver, whereas your sci-fi Elf getup was actual leather and cloth. His name was Jacob Brent; you'd never really liked him. He'd always had it out for you because your costumes were so much more fabulous than his. Plus you may or may not have actually known swordplay and archery and dagger throwing and martial arts... Kinda. You were still in the process of learning kickboxing.

You cocked a sky blue-- yes, sky blue-- eyebrow to your equally bright blue hairline, spiked up in a short faux hawk. This was your first sci-fi Elf, and you'd wanted to go all out. A cocky grin split its way across your face. "Yeah, so? It doesn't effect you on any level, Tin Can."

He sniggered with his cronies. "I can't believe you don't have anyone else to come with you." He mimicked rubbing his eyes like he was four. "'Oh Mommy, I need somebody to come with me!'" His whole group burst into laughter.

You surprised them by joining in, actually appluading. "Oh, wow! Wonderful, just wonderful! Hey, should I tell Mindy that I seen you feeling up Roxie behind your fort last week?" He paled, and almost everybody in his group of crappy cosplay got 'o' faces. You put your hands on your hips. "Guess what, asshole, just 'cause I'm close with my family and you're not with yours doesn't make it a crime to hang out with them. It's my life, my decision, and I enjoy spending time with them." You hefted up a disappointingly fake spear, turning to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, your paint's chippin' off."

Reason for Hating Reality Number 6, 965: Immaturity levels are almost incomprehensibly high.

Your mom glared daggers at Jacob's Immaturity Harem. She'd always been a tough gal, always sticking up for you when you got bullied when you were younger, but now that you were an adult, she had to let you kick ass yourself; you were pretty good at it. "I don't like him." She stated casually, and you chuckled.

"'Course you don't. He looks like a cheesy robot costume you'd get from Wal-Mart with a too-big crotch protector that's not impressing anyone but himself, and he has the face of a roasting pig. Too tanned, too grubby, and always with something in his mouth."

She smiled slightly. "Has he always been giving you trouble?"

You swung your gear pack off of your shoulder, letting it yank itself down to earth. "Since the day he tried kissing my ass 'cause he didn't know me." [F/N] must've overheard that last sentence, because he burst into laughter when he approached with your brother, [B/N], and your sister, [S/N]. "You talking about Jacob?"

"Sure as hell."

You'd first met [F/N] a year ago, when you'd joined extra-curricular activites for your last year of high school. He thought your personality was incredibly brave, especially in this modern world, but even still... He was just a friend, not a best friend. You'd never had that luxury outside of your tiny family. You just didn't trust him after the life you'd had.

Unfortunately, it seems they didn't like the getups. "Do I have to wear this?" [B/N] asked dramatically, slumping over. He didn't look right in the pauldrons and leather breastplate.

"It's too heavy!" [S/N] complained.

You sighed theatrically. "My piteous children, deal with thy armor, for it must be worn despite thou complaints."

[B/N] pressed his palms together and bowed down. "Screweth thou, false companion."

You mimicked his bow. "Off to hell with thee."

"Hey! You guys! It's starting!" [F/N] cried, and ran off, his pack of weapons and magic bags trembling dangerously on his back. The rest of you followed more slowly, as you explained to your family how exactly LARPing worked. Battles weren't actually bloody, magic was just colored powder, you get points for a hit, and so on and so forth. [B/N] and [S/N] got it immediately, but your poor mom, who hadn't even ever played Skyrim, had no idea how the point system and leveling up worked. You had to explain it six times over before you'd reached the massive gathering of LARPing cosplayers. [F/N] returned to you as you reached it, carrying a map. "We were in Larsgyushter Prairie last, right?"

"Duh," You shrugged, at the same time [S/N] asked with a grimace, "Luckyestire Prairie?"

[F/N] inclined his head. "Well, I made some arrangements because your family joined us. We made for Glewnburg, where we picked up their characters, and then headed into the Elder Woods."

You took the map. "Sounds fair enough."

[S/N] frowned. "What exactly were you guys doing last time?"

[F/N] blushed; he must've liked her, which made you feel proud and like pummeling him all at once. "A quest to defeat a horde of wildebors in order to get a good amount of gold."

"How much?"

"Four hundred."

Your mom seemed confused. "Is that a lot?"

"For the land of Sisgremor," You retorted, "Not much. But it's enough for us. We hunt for food, and sleep in the woods. It's summertime, so we don't have much need for shelter unless it storms, and we know where to find caves. The coin is for some new bits of armor, and some weapon upgrades and a couple of magic books for [F/N]."

"Oh," Your mom said, and you took the lead, getting into your Elven character with a huge grin on your face.

"Come, my children! We must meet the bors by midday!" You ran off, but you didn't miss the looks over half of the LARP community gave you.

~le time skip~

The one thing you didn't like about LARPing was the enemies. They weren't believable and were crappily dressed, at least in your community. They were crappy actors and their dying acts were unrealistic. Unless they were orcs that had good makeup skills and good cosplay, they weren't worth fighting, but you had an imagination to kick them up a notch.

As always, the wildebors were just some guys in black outfits decorated with needles, and wearing pig masks with an underbite bearing tusks. Your imagination knocked them to eight-feet long beasts with bloodstained tusks, wild red eyes, and porcupine-like needles that shot out of their near-impenetrable hides if provoked.

You'd only fought these beasts once. They had three separate healthbars, each a different strength: eight hundred, four hundred, and one hundred. Your spear-- the only weapon you could afford after your bow snapped (Poor prop craftsmanship.), had a damage rate of ten health per hit, thirty if you could make a three-combo move (The highest combo move allowed.). [F/N]'s magic bombs, bolts of energy, and other magic stuff only varied from ten to fifty health damage per hit, except for his Fyrering, which was a once-a-day power that was ninety health damage, plus a three minute window of burning which took ten damage every thirty seconds.

The boars were also viscious; one hit from them took around fifty health, and at level nine, you and [F/N]'s health bars were only at two hundred and fifty, plus your armor rating of fifty and his of twenty. Your family, however, were only at level one, with a one hundred strength health bar each and armor ratings varying between ten and fifteen.

In short: that meant a hell of a lot of hits, very little openings, and there were always numbers to consider. There were six of them, and five of you. If you had your bow, this would be easy. You'd climb a tree, avoid their needles, and fire your twenty-five damage arrows relentlessly (With the thirty plus bonus from your actual bow.) while [F/N] pelted them with magic. You could take down two, maybe three that way before retreating, waiting for your strength to regenerate and your undamaged arrows to "respawn" before coming back for more battling (The arrows don't actually exist, for safety reasons. You had to wait for ten minutes before an approximated number of arrows, determined previously by the quest-giver, "reappeared" in your "inventory.").

But you had to think of a new plan. A brand new plan. You had three level one novices, two level nine intermediates, and six angry-as-hell wildebors that were level twenty. This was an impossible quest. You should never have accepted it knowing your family was coming.

You were hiding behind a huge oak, and glanced around it; for a split moment, you saw the crappy actors, but your mind quickly fixed that. Above and to your immediate right, [F/N] hid behind a mound of boulders up on a hill, and you'd positioned your family similarly. You just couldn't see them. [F/N]'s hand waving caught your attention. Frantically, he pointed above you. You whipped your head up, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. You gave him a look like WTF dude, and he rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock as an example and pointed back up into the branches, but still, you didn't see anything. He gestured again, almost forcefully, and this time, you seen it: brightnuts, a specialized kind of walnut bred specifically to explode into a bright white light on impact, with dangerous shrapnel and poisonous fumes that had one hundred and fifty health damage.

Of course, in reality, they were just blue and white beanbags hanging in nets rigged all over the branches, but you pretended they weren't.

But still, perfect.

You'd start calling out orders as soon as you started throwing them. [F/N] knew how to improvise to a plan already, but your family didn't. You propped your spear up on the tree, and started climbing, wincing when the bark scraped your palms; you were wearing what'd used to be white bridal gloves, but you'd tinkered with them to match your costume, sewing sky blue patterns into the gloves.

You personally didn't make a sound, but a couple of leaf-covered branches fell; luckily, wildebors were mostly deaf and blind, so you should make it to the top of the tree without any consequences.

You flashed [F/N] a triumphant smile when you reached the topmost branches, snatching a bag of brightnuts and holding them high above your head. He shot you a double thumbs-up, then made a wheel-like gesture to get you to move on. You stuck your tongue out at him, then readjusted yourself on the branch to get a good aim.

A few seconds of struggling against the knot, and you'd gotten the net open. With barely a minute of hesitation, you drew your arm back, and fired. Your aim was almost perfect. You hit one of the wildebors in the side, and you seen the actor as he started the most over-acted reaction you'd seen yet: a violent jump, then what sounded like a deranged "Guuuugh!" You rolled your eyes. So dramatic.

Either way, [F/N] whooped behind you. "Hit! A hit!"

Before you could give any orders whatsoever, [B/N] charged down the hill with his realistic-looking wooden battleaxe bellowing a war cry. You slumped over. "Aw, shit."

In the blink of an eye, [B/N] was officially dead but still pummeling the poor actors, your mom didn't know what to do, [F/N] didn't realize what was happening from behind his rock, and [S/N] was dodging air like a boss. You waited on the branch until the coach of the actors stood, took off his mask, and blew his whistle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You with the axe! You died already! Come on everybody, regroup, come on..." Your mom and [S/N] were laughing it off with a couple of the actors, but [B/N] was having a heated argument with the rest of them, and they were starting to shove each other around; he'd always been a sore loser. The coach separated them, and [F/N] called to you from below. "Guess we failed this quest, huh?"

You shrugged. "It's all good. There are other, less dangerous quests."

He perked up. "Yeah, so hurry up and get down here! We've gotta get back to Glewnburg!"

You tossed the beanbag you'd had in your hand back into the net. "Comin'." Unfortunately for you, you were a bit of a show-off. You stood, stretching your arms out for balance, walking quickly and carefully across the bough. A loud snap that echoed through the forest silenced everyone: your sudden movements had weakened the branch down the middle, where a split was slowly cracking open.

"Oh shit." Did I have to choose the top branch?

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you fell. Your ribs exploded with pain as you slammed into a slightly lower branch full-force. Your ankle snapped. Your arms were whipped and bruised. Your head cracked painfully across the thick, unmoveable base of one branch, and white and yellow dots burst in your vision. Your sight started to fade, as did the pain, until you met the ground with a dull thud.

I should've went to college.

~time skip~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was, Hey, I woke up! I'm alive! which was immediately followed by, Holy fucking shit what the fucking hell did I break, then a much more painful thought of Why the fuck am I still in the goddamn forest?

And you were. You were laying on your side, in a couple of very small but still immensely terrifying pools of drying blood, one of which came from the corner of your mouth. Your entire body throbbed painfully. Every breath you took caused sharp, white-hot pains to spiderweb across your entire torso. Your ankle was burning up, and you couldn't move it or your left arm. Your head felt like you'd been hit by a truck. A truck made of solid wood...

Why were you still in the forest? You knew your mother well enough to know that she've panicked. She'd've screamed your name and ran to you and called 911 immediately. [F/N] would've done the same. In fact, there was no reason why they wouldn't have called for a medic. You fell from the equivalent of a three-story building with poles sticking out of it.

By all accounts, you should be near death.

So why were you still in the forest, exactly where you'd fell?

With immense effort, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily and wincing against the pain. Your vision swam, and things were blurry. The trees were different; the tree where you'd fallen from was tall and branchless for most of the way up, and definitely not an oak. To boot, there weren't any nets full of beanbags, and your spear was gone. Behind you was a cliff with an outcropping of rock that looked similar-- but not the same-- to the one [F/N] had been behind. There were roots and underbrush and bushes and walls of thorny branches surrounding you, and in between the ground was filled of orange and gold fallen leaves; up in the canopy, which hadn't been as thick before, the leaves were all dressed for Fall. You stared at it in confusion. "What the hell?" Shit. Even that hurt.

Where were you? Why weren't you in an ambulance with the sirens blaring? You were pretty positive you'd broken quite a few bones, and from that fall, you couldn't not have internal bleeding. So where were you?

You waited, but no one came. When the sky started to darken and the pain began to worsen, you were forced to move, slowly getting up, inch by inch, until you'd managed to be in a sitting position. It felt like all the blood rushed from your head and torso, making you cold in the evening chill. You hugged your right arm to your chest, really wishing you'd've worn arm cuffs or something; your short, high-collared, sleeveless, sky-blue leather jacket over a thin white crop top and a black corset-style belt really weren't meant for chilly weather.

"Hello?" You called out. Your voice carried on, but you got no return call. Blood trickled down your chin from where your lips had rebusted; you were lucky you hadn't bit your tongue off or shattered teeth. "Hey! Help!" Still, nothing. "Hey!"

After a twenty-minute bout of screaming for help, you gave up. You were confused-- so, so, confused. Where were you and why were you here? Where was your family? Where was [F/N]? Where was the coach, and those shitty actors? Hell, where was the rest of the LARP group? You'd even be relieved if Jacob appeared out of nowhere.

The moon had risen by the time you’d made it to your feet. Your ankle wasn't as bad as it was earlier; you could put some weight on it now, even if it wasn't a lot. You must've only sprained it. You tried calling for help a few more times, but only the crickets replied.

Then, they went silent.

You frowned. In books and movies, that was usually a bad sign. What'd caused them to shut up so abruptly? Not aliens, you hoped, like in Signs.

A low growl from behind you-- behind you, dammit-- made your skin crawl. A chill ran down your spine. You turned, slowly, hoping you wouldn't aggravate the wolf or coywolf or whatever it was; it wasn't either of those.

It stood on top of the small cliff, and it was at least the size of a horse. A boar-like coat, dull brown, covered its entire body, spotted in places. Its head was broad and massive, bearing an underbite of fangs and small beady eyes. Drool fell from its jaws as it snarled at you. You were half tempted to try the "Nice doggie" before you seen the rider.

Damn, it was ugly as hell. Small, malformed, with dark green skin and a crooked nose. Greasy, thin hair hung from its wrinkled scalp. Nasty claws protruded from its wart-covered fingers and dug into the horn of some kind of saddle. It sneered with an evil grin, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You didn't know what else to do; you took off running at full speed, ignoring the pains shooting up your leg from your sprained ankle. Branches and weeds whipped your skin, trailing blood. You glanced back once. The monster-- which you knew was an orc-- and the giant dog that you couldn't place the name of watched you for a couple of moments more before the orc gave a sharp order in a language you didn't understand, but it felt familiar. Two more of the giant dogs burst from the bushes on either side of the first, and they did give chase. Shit, were they what'd happened to your family? Some whackjob dressed as an orc riding a pitbull on steroids mauled everybody?!

You pushed yourself to run faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Each step jarred your aching body, but you couldn't stop. The dogs were enjoying the chase, keeping their strides slow enough to still be on your heels, but not close enough to get you yet. A new sound-- a river, maybe-- gave you hope, and you tried to move even faster, your lungs burning from the strain.

It was a river you'd heard, but it was down a steep hill filled of arching roots and thorny bushes. You didn't have time to stop; you barreled forward, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way, hurting your body even further. By the time you reached the pebbly shore (With all of the sharp edges of the rocks jabbing into you unnecessarily.), the dogs were halfway down, the orcs riding them laughing like hyenas.

You couldn't swim, but you'd rather take your chances with the river than with the giant pitbulls. You waded in, and were immediately swept off your feet by the strong current. It dragged you under, and you were bashed into some boulders, getting cut up badly. One slammed into your hip, nearly causing you to suck in. Another rammed into your already-broken ribs, and this time, you did scream, getting a huge gulp of water. A crimson cloud engulfed you as something long and sharp burst through your calf. You were pushed up against another boulder, and you grabbed on, hauling yourself out of the water and hanging on for dear life, hacking and coughing out the water that'd filled your lungs.

The dogs had chased you up the shoreline, and the orcs carried shortbows with arrows of dark wood. A glance down and, sure as fuck, they'd hit you with one in the calf, dammit. You looked ahead of you: rapids, a slow and drawn-out death. Ahead of you, probably a very painful death, but hopefully it'd go faster than drowning while being battered to a lifeless corpse.

I should've gone to college.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and braced yourself for the next arrow, but you were pretty much forced to open them again when you heard the sound of dogs yelping and orcs wailing. One of the dogs was dead, neck slashed open and pouring blood onto the rocks. It had landed on its rider, who struggled beneath its weight. The other dog had taken off, but its rider had an arrow jutting out of its face.

A troop of warriors, clad in forest-colored tunics of dark browns, greens, and grays had appeared in the second you'd closed your eyes. Every one of them had long, straight hair, braided away from their faces. Most had a quiver of arrows and a longbow, but some, like the one who'd killed the dog, had a curved longsword. Others still had long knives. Compared to the dark orcs, these people seemed to almost be made of light...

Oh shit.

Elves. These were Elves.You could see it clearly now, in the way they carried themselves: regal, majestic, every move perfectly balanced and smooth. Their ears were pointed, but not drastically like the ones from Zelda, and they were taller than most average men. You were in awe.

These were some damn good actors.

No, they couldn't be actors. That clicked, finally. Especially when you were able to see the one that'd killed the dog slice off the struggling orc's head cleanly and deftly before kicking it into the river. Thankfully, it didn't come near you.

Shit. These were real orcs, real giant bloodthirsty dogs, real Elves... This was all real. But how...?

You heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, much closer to you. You couldn't exactly whip around in your current state, but you still moved as fast as you could. Another Elf, standing on the flat rocks halfway across the river, no less than thirty feet away. How the hell did he get there?!

After the initial shock passed, you realized there was an arrow nocked in the bow. You'd already felt one once in the last ten minutes, you didn't need to feel it again, so you stayed still. He watched you with eyes so blue you could see them from where you were. He was illuminated from the side by the moon, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair was somewhere between platinum and very light blonde, and a quiver of orange-feathered arrows hung over two identical sheaths for ivory-handled long knives. His bow was almost as gorgeous as he was: dark wood engraved with golden leaf designs. His tunic was dark green, and you admired his fancy Elven belts and buckles and bracers for a second before your eyes were drawn back to his face, the profile of which was almost... Dished, in a way, like an Arabian horse's. Your eyes locked, and you felt as if you'd seen him somewhere before...

An Elf on the shoreline spoke, breaking the trance. You couldn't understand what exactly he said; you could've swore you knew some Elvish...

The Elf staring you down watched you for a minute longer, then jerked his bow toward you in gesture, shouting an order to one of his comrades. His voice sounded so familiar... It was on the tip of your brain... It was deep and soft and gentle and commanding all at once. You couldn't explain it. Two Elves followed his order, nimbly leaping from tiny rock to tiny rock to get to where he was, then past him, coming to you. Their weapons were sheathed, so you hoped they were going to help you instead of kicking you into the water or something.

Carefully, noticing how banged up you were, they grabbed you underneath of the arms and lifted you onto the flat rocks the blue-eyed Elf stood on, still ready to fire, and stepped back as you coughed up some water in a delayed reaction to nearly drowning.

When you finished, your eyes felt like they wanted to close on their own. You felt too tired, too weak, too pained... Despite that, you sat up, shivering in the chilly evening air. "Th-thank you..." With a start, you realized they might not even understand English.

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed Elf demanded. "Answer me quickly; do not think we cannot throw you back to the river."

Shit. Pressure. Suddenly you forgot your name for a split second. "I-I'm [Y/N]."

"What are you doing in these lands?"

"I was chased," You looked pointedly at the dog and orc.

The Elf watched you for a minute, judging you... He signaled. "Throw them back into the river." Suddenly, you were being dragged.

Aw, fuck. You struggled against the Elf's strong grips. "W-wait! I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was playing a game with my family and I fell out of a tree! All of a sudden I'm being chased by giant dogs and being manhandled by a couple of Elvish pri--!" You were cut off by a bought of coughing that wracked your body so hard that you doubled in on yourself, pulling the Elves down with you. Your eyes widened when blood trickled out of your mouth, leaving crimson droplets on the rocks. Shit.

The blue-eyed Elf ordered something in their tongue, and the two dragging you halted on a dime. He finally decided to lower his bow a little, inspecting you. "Are there more of you?"

You shook your head; you were getting dizzy, and your vision was blacking out. "I-I don't know... I was alone when I woke up."

The Elves conversed in their own language for a few minutes, and the blue-eyed Elf finally came to the conclusion that you weren't much of a threat in your current state. He looked to the Elves on the shoreline, and gestured at one of the ones holding you, who then scooped you up bridal style, but like you were the ugliest bride he'd ever seen. "Und win'doheim!" Shouted the blue-eyed Elf, obviously the one in charge, and lead the progression back to the forest.

I should never have gotten out of bed today...

Despite the crazy situation, you managed to doze off a few times on the Elf that carried you, until a coughing fit or pain would wake you up. A fever spiked up as you crossed a bridge, and you were half out of it as you entered some kind of woody building surrounded by trees and rivers that you couldn't comprehend very well in your feverish state. You were panting and wheezing, and couldn't see straight. It all seemed so surreal, like you were viewing this from somebody else's perspective. This had to be a dream... A very vivid, very painful dream...

The last thing you remembered was Elvish chanting, golden and white lights surrounding you, and the silhouettes of the Elves. Your pain faded, and you fell into a forced sleep.

When you woke up, a breath of relief whooshed out of your lungs. It was a dream! It was all a dream! It was night, and your nighlight had gone out, but your hall light was still on. You turned over to see what time it was, but your nightstand was gone. So was your window, and shelves and desk and computer and all of your things. Your bed was different. Your relief dissipated to terror.

Fuck. It wasn't a dream.

You were in a small room. An orange-hued light came through the low doorway, and the dark walls were ridged, as if carved from the earth itself. You felt the remains of your injuries from earlier-- or days ago, you couldn't tell how much time had passed-- as throbbing remains. Your clothes were still ripped and bloodstained, and as you stood up, it felt like you were just coming off of the flu.

Wobbly, you staggered over to the doorway, hoping to find somebody that definitely wasn't an orc or Elf.

You slammed face-first into elaborately crafted iron bars.

Outside of them, fully-armored Elves patrolled on small ledges beside the spiraling rows upon rows of cells like yours. This was a dungeon.

...Well shit.

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @taurlel @hauntedsiriel

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riverboundao3ff · 4 years ago

Text

Riverbound, Chapter 17

All in all, Lanque’s a whole lot calmer about the whole thing than you thought he’d be, which makes you feel better about going to him right away instead of Daraya. Of course you love Daraya, but knowing the kid she’d probably run off to start a fight with Bronya, Lynera, and any other poor bastard who gets in her way.

“I want to believe Bronya’s doing this because she thinks she’s in the right, but I just can’t… augh! I just… can’t believe she’d ask me to do something like that.” You conclude your messy rant by flopping down on the carpet. There’s a dull ache in your skull from either exhaustion or anxiety, possibly both.

Lanque’s looking down at you from the loveseat in the corner like the universe’s most judgemental therapist, sprawled across the whole thing with his gangly self. “You haven’t known her nearly as long as I have. You heard me say once that she’s the craziest bitch in the whole cloister. I meant it.”

You want to argue with him; Bronya isn’t crazy, just a control freak, but that’s gonna have to be a discussion for another time. “You’re not surprised at all by this? Not even a little?”

“Not surprised. Just… disappointed.”

“What, does she make you to sleep at certain times and check your palmhusk, too?” you joke.

“Not anymore, she doesn’t. She learned her lesson after I filled my whole camera roll with the spiciest nudes you can imagine.”

You try not to imagine anything of the sort and fail miserably. Your last brain cell hangs on for dear life. “So, uh… w-what should I tell her the next time we go out?”

“Tell her that I’ve been taking Daraya to a slam poetry club. We’ve actually done poetry in the past, so it’s not like you’ll be lying,” he says with a smirk. “You should come sometime. Talk to people about all sorts of controversial alien opinions. Maybe throw in some rhymes while you’re at it.”

“Alright,” you agree.

“... Darling?”

“Yes, babe?”

“Don’t breathe a word of this to Daraya. She’s stressed out enough as it is.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

:::

The next night you spend with Polypa, vandalizing stuff with the Heiress’s face on it and even setting a billboard on fire. It’s a lot of fun, but between vandalizations you can’t stop yourself from thinking about the girl herself. From what you can tell she’d be around seventeen in human years, which meant she’d soon have to challenge the Empress, as all the Heiresses before her did.

Some teenagers like to play video games, some like to sing or dance or do sports; you even know a few who live all by themselves on an island in the middle of the ocean who can shoot guns better than most military personnel. But not Trizza Tethis. No, she’ll be off to duel for the throne… and her life.

In your hearts of hearts you know that Tethis is a monster. There’s no doubt about it. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still just a kid, a kid who is going to be murdered soon for the crime of reaching adulthood.

It makes your heart hurt just thinking about that, and all of the other girls that came before her, and if this rebellion goes to shit all the girls who will come after her.

“Hey, Polypa?” you ask.

“Yeah?” She’s hanging upside-down on some broken piping while spraying THE REVOLUTION IS HERE on the side of a post office. You’re being a good moirail and keeping watch for anybody who might see her, even though it’s dark out and you can’t see much past the street lights lining the sidewalk. For some reason she refuses to tell you, she’s been in a mood ever since she came back from Tegiri’s, but you’re patient. You can wait for her.

“Do you ever wonder if Trizza might have been a good person if Alternia wasn’t the way it is?”

Polypa stops what she’s doing and stares down at you. “Honestly? I don’t really care how she might have turned out if things were different. All the things I’ve seen her do, the shit I’ve heard her say on social media… I just can’t bring myself to believe anything other than she’s one of the most horrible Heiresses Alternia’s ever had and that she deserves to die. Slowly and painfully, that is. And then she deserves to be forgotten.”

“That’s fair,” you tell her. “I dunno, I just kept thinking about how she’s supposed to go off and duel the Empress soon, and that she’s definitely not gonna win, because none of the fuschias who went up against her ever did.”

“... Does that make you sad?”

“It makes me sad that a kid is going to die, yes.”

She huffs. “Save your sympathy. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Can trolls control who they sympathize with?”

“Of course we can. Can’t humans?”

You laugh. “No. Or at least I can’t. Empathy’s a blessing and a curse.”

Polypa chucks her spray-paint can into the nearby dumpster. “Empathy? Isn’t that like, feeling what other people are feeling? I thought that was just a myth.”

“Some humans can feel the emotions of others. I’ve always been able to.”

“That sucks.”

“Again, it’s a blessing and a curse.”

Polypa shudders, flips upright, and then drops down to the concrete. “If you say so. C’mon, let’s scram.”

You scram, or at least you try to before somebody bumps into you hard enough to nearly knock you over.

“Watch it!” Polypa hisses from somewhere behind you.

You look up at a boft looking (buff plus soft) rustblood guy, who flinches back when he accidentally looks you in the eye. “Sorry! Sorry. Bye.”

He shuffles off down the street, shoulders hunched in like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible even though he’s easily the biggest rust you’ve ever seen. Huh.

“Well, that was weird,” you say, and then you feel something crinkle in the hood of your jacket. Cautiously, you reach up and grab it, hoping that he didn’t just put a bomb on you or something. You aren’t that worried about dying, because you know your immortal ass is coming right on back, but if Polypa’s in the blast zone--

“It’s a piece of paper,” she says.

“Oh, yay. I thought it might be a bomb.”

“Definitely not a bomb.”

The paper’s been folded several times, so you smooth it out and read the letters that have been cut out and glued out in a note, like some kind of Nancy Drew shit.

“What the…” You read the message, and then you read it again, once, twice, thrice, four times before Polypa starts swatting at you and grabbing for the paper. You hand it over and stare out across the street.

You are not alone. Tomorrow at midnight.

“I’m texting the others,” Polypa mutters, shoving the paper into her pocket and whipping out her palmhusk.

“There’s more of us,” you whisper. “That’s what it means, right? We’re not the only faction out there fighting for-!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, let’s not believe anything that some stranger wrote down on a piece of paper and shoved into your hoodie--”

“But he came to me, Polypa--”

“Hey!”

Both of you turn around to see some cerulean girl you don’t know storming across the street to you. “The fuck you think you gutterbloods are doing, huh?”

“The revolution is here, bitch,” you tell her, and you grab Polypa’s sleeve and zap away.

Polypa does not hesitate to smack you upside the head the second you two appear on the roof of some building downtown. “The hell was that? She just saw an alien and an oliveblood teleport out of an alley with fresh graffiti on the post office!”

“Who’s gonna believe her?” you snort.

“She’s a cerulean, she’ll make somebody believe her.”

“Dude. Chill. We still have time before things get crazy.”

“Apparently not! Tomorrow at midnight--”

“I know! Isn’t it great? What if it’s like, a big post on Chittr, or a public service announcement from God knows where saying that it’s time for bigots to start shitting their pants, because the revolution is here and it is sexy!”

“Augh!” Polypa throws up her hands. You start to get a little concerned. “Aren’t you scared? Like, at all? We could all die tomorrow and you’re just… totally fine! You disappear for half a sweep and come back ready to lead a revolution!”

Alright, it’s time to bring out the big guns. Slowly, so she has time to pull away if she wants, you step forward and reach up to caress her cheek.

The effect is instantaneous. She visibly loosens up from horns to toes, leaning forward into the contact with a low chirrup rising up from deep in her throat. If you were a troll, that sound would have probably made you pale-horny to the max, but you’re human so all you do is just stand up on your tippy-toes to press your foreheads together. You imagine pulling away all of her fear and stress and releasing it into the open sky, never to be seen again.

“We’re not going to die,” you tell her. “We’re just not. And if we were, I’d tell you, because dying isn’t that bad. Doesn’t even hurt, really.”

“... You’ve been dead before?”

“Yeah. Feels like the best fucking nap you’ve ever taken.”

She snorts hard enough for you to feel her breath across your face. “Only you would say something like that and be completely unbothered.”

“That’s just how it be sometimes,” you say, because joking about your trauma and having anxiety are basically your only two personality traits nowadays.

“I’ll write that down for the pile,” she says, because she’s always been able to see right through you, even when you can’t see yourself. “Which we’re going back to an abandoned apartment building to do once I yeet this glass bottle into that window over there.”

She picks up the broken glass bottle at your feet and proceeds to do just that. It sails through the air with all the majesty of an eagle and crashes through somebody’s office window. You know enough about troll romance by now to be a little scandalized by how forward she’s being, but you both know it’s out of necessity. Troll language is far from just verbal-- it’s flattened ears or bared fangs or dilated pupils. It’s hissing and chirping and growling and all sorts of sounds you don’t even know the names for, and you can’t even hear most of them because they’re either too low or too high a pitch for your human ears to catch.

“Hot damn, wildcat. You gonna take me out to dinner before you throw me down on somebody’s abandoned loungeplank?” you tease. Her face lights up in green, and you grin in satisfaction as she splutters something about saving it for the respiteblock.

You’re about to cook up something truly slutty to say when her palmhusk vibrates. Polypa reads it and snorts. “Aaaannnddd Daraya is losing her mind, Tagora says it’s a trap, Tyzias wants to know what the rustblood looked like, Stelsa is in agreement with Tagora, Lanque is asking how the hell it could be a trap when the rustblood didn’t even ask you to meet him anywhere, and Mallek is telling everybody to shut up so he can take a nap. Konyyl and Azdaja haven’t responded yet. I bet they’re making out in a back alley somewhere. Oh, Tagora is telling Lanque to shut his Troll Twilight-looking ass up before he fines him for wasting the rebellion’s time… and Tyzias just sent a bunch of hysterical laughing emojis.”

“I love my friends,” you say.

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“I’m gonna get Mallek to hack the server so whenever people start arguing over stupid stuff a bot starts spamming the chat with gifs of fighting purrbeasts.”

“Do group chats have servers?”

“I have no idea. Come on, I’m fucking freezing up here.”

:::

Your memories of growing up on Earth are fuzzy at best. You have no idea if it’s from Scratch, or Ultimate Dirk, or hell, maybe it’s just regular old brain damage, but one of the few things you can vividly remember is when your grandma died.

You can’t remember her name, but you can easily recall her eternally-smiling face, that smile that always reached her eyes-- hazel, like yours. She’s the one who taught you how to braid your hair, wing your eyeliner, ask out a crush. She also taught you how to take down a grown man with nothing but your fists and a pocketknife. Old age hadn’t ever been a problem for your grandma. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

The morning your uncle found in her lifeless in bed hadn’t felt any different than all of the mornings before. You just woke up and started to get ready for school, and then your mom… yeah, it was your mom who picked up the phone. She didn’t cry, but your uncle did.

It was a heart attack.

Your mom told you that you didn’t have to go to school, but you were still pretty young, and it still felt like every other morning before so you went to school.

You’re not sure why you’re remembering this when you first smell the smoke, or see the burning buildings from the roof of the abandoned apartment building you and Polypa crashed in. Maybe it’s because it still feels like every other night before this one.

Something deep in you that’s been irreversibly interwoven with time and space begins to tingle. This is a turning point in history, you just know it.

Polypa’s shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “It’s a riot. A riot. In Thrashthrust. We really aren’t…”

“Alone,” you finish with a smile so big it hurts your face.

“... Do you think this is really the right thing to do?”

“A wise man from my planet once said that riots are the language of the unheard.” You turn to her and take her hands in your own. “So let’s make them hear us.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting when you drop yourself and Polypa into downtown Thrashthrust, but you definitely weren’t expecting to almost get run over by Konyyl and Azdaja, both panting, sweaty, and smelling faintly of smoke.

Konyyl yelps and jumps about a foot in the air. “WHAT the-- oh, hi, guys. You didn’t scare me, I just… yeah.”

“Dude, what is all this? This is incredible!” you crow.

An explosion rocks the ground, followed by a giant plume of fire that shoots up into the sky just one street over. Azdaja whoops in delight, and Konyyl cheers even louder as a piece of flaming metal you think used to be a scuttlebuggy sails through the air and takes out a convenience store. Normally, something like that would have worried you, but seeing as the store’s already nearly burnt to the ground you think everybody’s already gotten out.

Not to be outdone, Azdaja telekinetically grabs on to a fallen lamppost and hurls that bad boy through the grocery store across the street.

“Show-off,” Konyyl scoffs.

“Where’s the main protest?” you ask.

“Like, a couple of blocks back that way. Some bronzeblood is leading the charge. Absolute mad lad,” she says, grinning. “I think a few more people you know might be there.”

That’s all the convincing you need to grab Polypa’s hand and take off running. You can hear the roar of a crowd chanting something.

“What are they saying?” you ask Polypa.

“Be silent no longer, when we’re together, we’re stronger,” she replied, glancing back at you with a twinkle in her eye. “I kinda like it.”

“Me too!”

The both of you turn the corner at the end of Hookedclaw street and find yourself face-to-face with a sizable crowd of about one hundred trolls. They’re all looking up to a pair of trolls standing on an upturned scuttlebuggy-- a bronzeblood, like Konyyl said, and the same big rustblood guy who you ran into last night.

You gape in shock. “Holy shit!”

The bronzeblood boy is yelling something, so you press closer into the crowd to hear what he’s saying. Most of the trolls here seem to be lowbloods, so when they see you and Polypa, an oliveblood, they gladly make room for you to join.

“... for what? A social construction that keeps us divided, because those who sit on thrones marked with the blood of our people know how strong we are together! They know that we’d be able to take control of our own destinies, and that terrifies them!” He pauses to take a short breath. “For fuck’s sake, I just want a world where I can walk down the street without worrying about getting killed! Is the bar really that damn low? Think about that, all of you!”

Another wave of cheering echoes through the streets, and you join in without hesitation.

“This guy’s spitting straight facts,” Polypa admits, looking impressed.

“He’s got balls, all right,” you agree. “That rustblood guy look familiar to you?”

She ribs you. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. I admit it.”

You turn your attention back to the boys, but they’re looking over the heads of the protestors at something behind you. A soft wave of hisses rise into the air as you turn to see a trio of purples stalking towards everybody, clubs dragging behind them with the awful scrape of steel against concrete. They’re twice the size of Polypa, except the giant fucker in the middle, who you think might be just a little bit shorter than Chahut.

“That’s a pretty sermon there, bronze brother,” he calls with a voice that crackles like burning wood. “Pretty for a load of treasonous fuckin’ shit.”

“Can’t be shittier than whatever they’re cooking up in that drug-hole church of yours,” the bronzeblood fires back with a smirk.

Even the rustblood standing next to him sucks in a sharp breath as the clown regards him with no trace of emotion. Polypa grabs your hand, and you squeeze it tight.

“You’ve got a big-ass mouth for a critter the size of my motherfuckin’ left toe,” the clown on the big guy’s right says.

“And you’ve got a big-ass forehead for a bastard with such a tiny skull.”

Somebody lets out a loud snort. It might have been you.

The feeble tendrils of bravery holding everybody together begin to unravel as the purplebloods begin to approach once more. You instinctively back up and pull your jacket hood over your head.

“Get ready,” Polypa growls.

But before the clowns have the chance to attack or use their chucklevoodoos, or before the lowbloods gather their courage enough to storm the intruders, a deafening CRACK splits the air like a thunderclap.

The clown to the far left drops like a rock, and standing over him, bat raised, is Elwurd.

She’s wearing a mask to conceal her face, of course, but you’d recognize that crest of blue hair anywhere. Beside her is Remele with her oversized mallet-club thing, and bringing up the rear with shining dual blades is none other than Ardata Carmia.

“Am I fucking dreaming,” you ask nobody in particular, and then all hell breaks loose.

The cerulean girls lunge for the two purplebloods that are still on their feet. The bronzeblood screams for everybody to scatter just as drones begin to swoop down from the sky, opening fire on the trolls below. Half a dozen kids drop dead on the spot.

You and Polypa duck into the nearest alleyway just in time before bullet holes pepper the pavement. Behind you, Elwurd roars something that sounds like “Duck!” before another explosion blows out all the windows. You yelp and cover your head as glass showers down on you like rainfall.

“Zap us out of here!” Polypa yells.

“No, wait! We have to go help the girls!”

“I’m not going back out there and neither are you!”

You glance back just in time to see Ardata drop to her knees, holding her bloody arm. She’s shrieking in terror as a drone advances on her, culling fork glinting bone-white in the darkness. Remele and Elwurd are too busy getting their asses kicked by the last living clown to help.

In that moment you can’t remember her as the bloodthirsty murderer who tortured you in her basement. All you can think of is the time she broke down in your arms, overcome with guilt at the monster she’d become in the name of being accepted by highblood society. A monster who’d traumatized you, and then became your friend.

You’re moving through space and time before your brain can catch up to what you’re doing. Ardata is cold and hard when you tackle her out of the way of the drone. The two of you tumble across the street together as the culling fork hits the spot where Ardata just was with a SHUNK. Even with adrenaline racing through your system the sound chills you to the core.

Remembering what Dirk taught you about hand-to-hand combat with a larger opponent, you grab one of her knives and zap right over to the clown, getting right up in his business before burying the blade into an eye socket.

Unsurprisingly, he drops a squirming Remele and covers his face with a scream so horrible you almost pee your pants. Ardata’s wailing your name from the sidewalk like a terrified child. You want to yell at her to shut up and run before the drones spotted her again, but you never get the chance. One moment you’re twisting a knife into a purpleblood’s skull, the next you’re flying through the air like a ragdoll before a pair of strong arms wrap around you. You and your rescuer land hard on the street with matching grunts of pain.

You look up into Elwurd’s bewildered face and burst out laughing. “Hi!”

“What the--”

“Time to go!” Remele yanks the both of you up by your scruffs like a pair of naughty cats. “Ardata, stop screaming like a wiggler and get your arse over here now!”

“My arm!” Ardata screeches. “I’ll be scarred for life!”

“No, you won’t, idiot, not when you hit your adult molt-!”

You zap the three of them out of there and into the alley, grab Polypa on your way, and then get the hell out of dodge.

The five of you end up in the back of a Troll Dennys, because of course you do. Polypa falls on you, knocking you to the ground, and then she yowls in anger when Elwurd lands on her legs, only for Ardata and Remele to hit the concrete ass-first. Remele accidentally kicks you in the stomach. Ardata falls back against a dumpster and hits her head on the metal with a BANG.

Everybody stares at each other for a long moment with varying degrees and expressions of utter shock. Polypa glares at you, and you just know you’re in for a long discussion about putting your own safety first in dangerous situations, or something like that.

You decide to break the ice first. “Anybody want pancakes?”

#riverbound #pesterquest #hiveswap #hiveswap friendsim trolls #homestuck #ceruleans #c17 #mspa reader #the guardian

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writethehousedown · 4 years ago

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When the Sun Sets on Us: Chapter 3 (Scyvie) — Phryne

A/N: Hey y'all! I’m back with the third chapter of When the Sun Sets on Us, a beach town romance between hopeless romantic Scarlet and cynical about romance Yvie.

Last Chapter: Scarlet dumped five drinks and a plate of nachos on Yvie, so Yvie naturally agreed to a date with her.

This chapter: A classic boardwalk date.

Enjoy!

Scarlet was perched on the railing outside the restaurant, her hands gripping the bar as her feet swung, back and forth, back and forth, like a metronome. When Yvie saw her, all clad in her denim skirt and milky white crop top, staring off at the ocean in the distance as though she were transfixed, she felt her beating heart increase its tempo, as though it were intent on keeping time with Scarlet.

“Yvie!” Scarlet called out, hopping off the railing, running toward her. It was as though she had snapped out of her spell, like she sensed Yvie’s presence a few feet away. She pulled Yvie into a hug, her hands flush against Yvie’s back, before pulling away, leaving behind some kind of sun-kissed, champagne-tinged scent wafting in the air, something Yvie couldn’t quite place but found herself intoxicated by, nonetheless.

No, Yvie was not going to allow herself to be consumed by the all-consuming Scarlet. She had decided on this previously, more specifically, the moment Scarlet had suggested the date and Yvie agreed. She had also reinforced the notion that she was under no circumstances going to develop deep feelings for Scarlet every moment after — while walking back to the motel, while showering, while pouring over outfits to wear on the date, while begging her brain to please, for the love of god, let her think about anything besides being close enough to Scarlet to count each little sun-spot that graced her face and arms and hands and chest.

“Yvie?” Scarlet looked perplexed, dropping her arms back to her sides.

“Oh, yes, hi.” Yvie blinked, focusing her vision back on the Scarlet right in front of her, shooing away her intrusive thoughts.

“I asked how you are, silly.” Scarlet poked Yvie’s arm, the spot feeling as though it were consistently touched, consistently warm, even when Scarlet pulled away.

“Sorry, yeah.” Yvie shook it off. “I’m good, how are you?”

It was simply a date. And a date did not require real, deep feelings, Yvie reminded herself. She could simply have fun with Scarlet, enjoy their time together, and then part ways afterward. She didn’t have to get too deep, become lost in her silken little drawl as she described sneaking out of work early to take a shower because she smelled like french fries, how she saw a stray cat wandering out from under her porch when she came home. She didn’t have to indulge her impulse to tell Scarlet about the alley cats behind her apartment, paint her a verbal picture of her home, each brush stroke within it. Hell, they didn’t even have to hold hands. In fact, Yvie decided that they would not do romantic, deep-feelings-date things, like hold hands, for example.

Scarlet took Yvie’s hand, their palms clasped and their thumbs crossed.

Shit.

“Okay, so I’m gonna give you, like, the classic boardwalk experience,” Scarlet said, tugging Yvie to start walking with her. “Come on.”

Scarlet led Yvie away, the two walking steadily, leisurely, as Scarlet unclasped their hands, only to weave their fingers back together, the two interlocked, fingers laced tight. She looked up at Yvie.

Oh god. Not a minute into the date and they’re already walking hand in hand. She’s already fixated on the gentle swing of their connected arms between them. Her skin already prickles as Scarlet’s shoulder brushes against her arm, and she’s so keenly aware of the shorter woman next to her, connected to her, the physicality of moving and walking together, that she barely knows how her legs are still moving while her brain is this overwhelmed.

The Scarlet pulled away. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

It felt like a cold burn, though Yvie had to be sure she brought it on herself, knowing the panic that must have covered her face, knowing just how visible she was with her feelings no matter how hard she tried to mask them.

Yvie gulped, struck with the inexplicable feeling that she was in trouble with herself. “No, it’s okay.” Yvie let out a long-held breath before taking Scarlet’s hand, their fingers interwoven again, Yvie feeling herself return to what now felt less like panic and more like a natural, sustainable state.

It wouldn’t be too bad to hold hands, Yvie supposed, her thumb wiggling out to rest on top of Scarlet’s. It was nothing more than holding hands.

The sun was dimming, dusting the sky and the sea in a battered grey, the neon lights for psychics, name on rice, and hermit crabs intermittently flicking on for the night.

“So,” Yvie began, feeling Scarlet look up to watch her speak, a thrilling intimacy. “What’s it like to live here? You know, like you live where people vacation. That’s wild.”

“I guess,” Scarlet said with a shrug. “I’m just from here, so I barely even notice it.”

Yvie’s fingers gripped Scarlet’s knuckles. They passed a stand selling fried desserts, just turning on their lights. “It’s just like whenever I visit somewhere, I always wonder about the people who live there for real, you know? It’s like I’m just passing by and you’re here all the time.” Yvie flattened her lip. “I guess it would be fun? I don’t know it’s like I’m just passing in a place you’ve had your whole life.”

Scarlet turned away, the tension between their arms growing as Yvie felt further apart. Then Scarlet laughed.

“Wow, heavy first date topics.” She continued staring off, right over the edge of the pier. “Like thoughts about living in a temporary place for most people you meet, bonus points for discussing the idea of emotional permanency. Go,” Scarlet imitated, looking back up at Yvie and cracking a smile.

“Oh my god,” Yvie groaned. “Do I really sound that pretentious?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s cute,” Scarlet reassured.

“So, you’re saying I do.” Yvie looked back down at her, only finding herself struck by the teasing smile of the girl who just called her cute. She held the word in her lungs like air.

Yvie tugged at her hand, needlessly pulling Scarlet closer, their elbows knocking together. They walked in silence for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s only a little fun to live here,” Scarlet started, staring down at the boards. “Like everything’s only open for a few months a year. And then it’s dead. Honestly, this is the first time I’ve been, like, on the boardwalk outside of work in at least two summers.” Scarlet stole a glance up at Yvie, the corner of her lip curling, letting Yvie know she caught her staring. “I almost forgot it was fun.”

Scarlet let out a slow, deflating laugh, her face falling on the exhale. “But yeah, it’s weird to live here. It’s like everyone else is coming and going as they please and you can’t, like you’re stuck here. It’s not a bad place to be stuck in, don’t get me wrong.” A sigh. “It’s just I think I’d rather be stuck somewhere else, somewhere bigger and brighter. I’d love to be in a city, under a billion lights, you know?” Scarlet looked up again.

Yvie nodded. “That makes sense. Just being permanent in a way you don’t want to be.”

That was, of course, the shorthand understanding of the deepest, most desperate desire to get away and find yourself in a place you’d never like to leave, which Yvie felt creeping up on her with every step they took together. It was a feeling, much like the feeling of Scarlet’s touch, or the smell of Scarlet’s perfume, that had wrapped itself around Yvie. The feeling of being with someone who’s whole life was here, folded in these sands, fitted between the splintering boards. The feeling that Scarlet everywhere around her. It struck like a dizzying, brilliant light, and it remained.

***

“Oh my god, I didn’t know they still had that,” Scarlet called out, pulling Yvie toward a midway game with a childlike sense of wonder. It was the one where you had to throw ping pong balls into goldfish bowls filled with colored water.

“I used to be so, so good at this as a kid,” Scarlet elaborated. “I can’t believe they still have it. I was, like, too good at this game. I had them all lined up in their bowls on the kitchen counter.”

“Do you still have them?” Yvie had finally caught up with her, now standing next to Scarlet at the game. “Or are they all dead?” Yvie immediately kicked herself for mentioning a slew of dead fish.

She didn’t want a relationship, no. But she also didn’t want to become some brunch story Scarlet would later tell about the girl she went on a date with who didn’t want to hold her hand and also talked about her dead fish.

Scarlet laughed, digging in her purse, producing three folded ones. “Super dead. We made them, like a mass fish grave. My moms said they’d fertilize the geraniums.” She handed the money to the Carny before turning back to Yvie. “I think the little headstone I made is still in our garden. Also, I think the fish haunt me.”

Yvie felt her smile crinkling her eyes. She shook her head. “No way. You couldn’t have been good enough for a mass grave.”

“Uh huh,” Scarlet whined, releasing Yvie’s hand to take the ping pong balls. “I’ll prove it.”

“Sure, babe.” Yvie snaked her hand around Scarlet, resting it on her bare waist, needing to feel the warmth of her skin once more.

Yvie let her eyes wander all around the tent, up at the strands of prizes hanging down from the ceiling, which under no circumstances she was going to accept, should Scarlet actually be exceptional at this game. Leaving with one of those big ass panda bears, a stuffed banana with a gorilla wrapped around it, or that blow up alien thing, would be far too much. Far too close to real date, real relationship territory. And frankly, she didn’t want a physical reminder of how she felt looking at the paling sky, the feathering neon light from the rides in the distance. A reminder of how she let herself indulge in the unequivocal closeness of touch, the way her left hand fingered with the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of her denim skirt, how it felt soothing to simply touch.

“I won!” Scarlet tore her from her thoughts. “I told you. I absolutely told you!”

Scarlet did in fact have three ping pong balls in a row, floating in blue, purple, and another color she didn’t quite catch before Scarlet pulled Yvie in for a hug, her arms wrapped around Yvie’s neck, rising up on her tip-toes to whisper that spine chilling whisper, “I told you so,” right in Yvie’s ear.

Yvie held Scarlet out in front of her, her hands tighter than before on her waist as Scarlet came back down, feet flat on the ground, and Yvie desperately tried to come back down from Scarlet’s whiny, breathy lilt in her ear, desperately tried not to fixate on the warmth spreading through her core. She wouldn’t dare think about that happening again.

“C’mon, we gotta go get your fish,” Scarlet said, pulling Yvie’s hand off her waist and leading her over to the prizes.

“My fish?”

Yvie, who now held a fish in her right hand, whom Scarlet named F. Scott Fishgerald, reasoned that the fish was not a stuffed animal, so she was not in real date territory. The fish was, however, a living, breathing little bastard that she now had to take care of, because Scarlet named it and gave it to her, bonding Yvie to the fish.

Yvie looked down at the fish, who was bubbling and taunting her, reminding her that she now had a gift from Scarlet, a thing to take home and look at and remember the now inky night and its fluorescent glow.

***

Yvie shook herself out of it, spotting a cluttered storefront, canvasses spilling out of the entrance and into the concrete.

“I wanna go check that out,” Yvie glanced over at Scarlet, pointing toward the storefront.

“Ooh yes yes,” Scarlet said, so easily excitable. “You’re in for such a treat, it’s all, like, garbage.”

“Garbage, babe?” Yvie asked.

A flush spread across Scarlet’s cheeks. Yvie ignored her impulse to brush her knuckle across Scarlet’s cheek, feel the heat rising off of her skin, warming Yvie from the outside in.

Yvie really had to stop accidentally calling Scarlet babe if she wanted to keep her feelings casual and her mind off of how cute Scarlet looked when she blushed.

Scarlet turned to the side to make it through the cluttered door, leading Yvie through the narrow walkways of the store, all lined with cheap beach: shorelines of only one shade of beige, white cresting waves from the shoreline all the way back; neon flip-flops that said live, laugh, love; imitation vintage Coca Cola advertisements printed on thin metal sheets; a display of pet rocks; a painting of a lonely red tulip in a sea of black and white tulips.

Scarlet let go of Yvie’s hand and spread her arms out wide, touching claustrophobic stacks of canvases on either side of her.

“Garbage!” She announced.

Yvie swallowed, immediately regretting this stop, feeling the paintings closing in on her, her mind wandering off to her art lessons, her professors, her paintings back home. It all made the air feel thick, viscous, something she couldn’t breathe.

“What’s going on?” Scarlet lowered her arms, looking Yvie dead in the eye, as though she already knew what the problem was but needed Yvie to confirm it. “Aren’t you enjoying the garbage?”

If she could help it, she wouldn’t laugh. But Yvie, of course, couldn’t help it.

“This is my future,” Yvie looked around the store once more, now noticing the paint splattered Pollock imitations; the singular umbrella and beach ball canvases; a stack of magnets that doubled as bottle openers. She gripped the fish tighter. “This is it. I’m gonna finish school and have nothing to do with my life after that. And if I want to do something with my art degree, I’m gonna end up making this knock off bullshit. And if I don’t, I wasted all my time and money.”

“Well that’s not true,” Scarlet replied, her voice soft, her tone firm. “I’m sure the people who make and buy this done even know it’s garbage. Like they’re people who are really excited to buy a picture of Marilyn Monroe with her skirt blown up, a puka shell necklace, and a pet rock, all in the same place.” Scarlet lent her a sincere smile, leaning against a table full of striped canvases. “You know it’s garbage because you do real art.”

“How do you know I do real art?”

“Because you’re always observing shit and you hate Photoshop.” Scarlet laughed, giving Yvie a nudge.

Yvie settled against the table as well. “Wanting to do real art doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

Scarlet tilted her head toward Yvie, looking perplexed. “It absolutely does mean you’ll do it.” She placed her hand on Yvie’s thigh, scooching closer so their arms were pressed together.

“You’re the only one who decides what you’re going to do. If you don’t want to do some capitalist garbage art, then don’t do some capitalist garbage art. You’re the only one who has control over you.”

Yvie laid her head on Scarlet’s shoulder, finding her voice mild and even, steadying, affirming.

Scarlet continued. “So, if you’re going to do it, you know, be a real artist, be happy, the only person who’s going to stop you is yourself.”

Yvie inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled out her mouth, tilting her head up to steal a look at Scarlet, whose eyes were closed, her lips gently parted.

Scarlet was a warm soul, Yvie decided.

She laid her hand on top of where Scarlet’s lay.

She could have feelings for her, if only she were prepared for her heart to break so dearly.

***

Upon leaving the store, Scarlet announced that ice cream had to be eaten after a depressing conversation, on the basis of the full moon tomorrow and also her soul. Yvie could not, and did not want to argue with that reasoning, mostly because she found that reasoning exceptionally cute, especially as Scarlet blabbered on about the time she tried to make ice cream at home with her roommate. The two of them tossed the bag of cream, vanilla, ice, and rock salt back and forth until Scarlet threw the bag far too hard against the decorative swordfish — the one that came with the house and was apparently not budging from the wall — which caused the bag to explode.

Yvie nodded along, entering the store as Scarlet opened the door for her. It was endearing, how Scarlet went into a silly story that made her look foolish in the end, probably knowing how it would pull Yvie’s mood a few shades lighter than it was before.

“What do you think you’re getting?” Scarlet came up behind Yvie, peering over her shoulder to see which flavor she was looking at.

“Orange pineapple,” Yvie muttered, still staring at the ice cream in front of her, as though she were trying to figure it out. “Such a weird flavor.”

Scarlet hummed in agreement, “I think I’m gonna get it. Wanna split it?”

Yvie turned back to look at Scarlet, her face only inches away from hers, her heartbeat growing livelier and livelier at the proximity. Close enough that she could see the slight curl of Scarlet’s eyelashes. Close enough to know they shared the same air, same breath. Close enough to notice Scarlet’s lip gloss fading away, leaving behind only a few bits of glitter, sparkling under the fluorescents. In less than a few careless inches, she could—

“Yeah, uh, definitely.” Yvie’s words stumbled. “Let’s split it.”

She shifted the goldfish to her other hand. She was not going to kiss Scarlet. That, she decided, was a point from which she’d never return. She’d indulged her feelings against her logic, but that, that she would not do.

They sat together on a bench outside the shop, Scarlet curling her legs underneath herself, leaning in closer to Yvie, taking up her spoon.

“How is it?” Scarlet asked, holding the cup steady with one hand, scooping a bit of ice cream out with the other.

“It doesn’t really taste like orange or pineapple, it just tastes like orange,” Yvie replied, dipping in again, finding it hard to ignore the way Scarlet was practically sat in her lap, the innocent intimacy of sharing.

Scarlet went in for another spoonful. “I thought you said it doesn’t taste like orange thought.”

Yvie laughed at herself, lightly shoving Scarlet’s shoulder with her own. “I meant orange, like the color.”

“Honestly, I feel like orange should have different names,” Scarlet pondered. She licked off her spoon, pulling it out of her mouth with a pop. “Like, orange the color and orange the fruit should fight to see what’s going to be the alpha orange. Because right now I’m looking like an idiot in front of a pretty girl, just because orange and orange are the same word.”

Yvie held her spoon in place, trying to interpret what Scarlet just said, but falling short. All she could offer was a smile and a promise to herself that she’d spend all her time before bed turning those words over in her head: being addressed as pretty girl and the beautiful girl who’d spoken it.

***

Yvie handed F. Scott Fishgerald to a child, who was upset over losing the water gun race, who was worked up over not receiving a prize.

“We really are a couple of nice lesbians, huh?” Yvie chuckled, “You win a fish, we show the fish a good time, then the fish goes to bring joy to a child.”

Scarlet snorted, taking Yvie’s hand and leading her toward the Ferris wheel, which she insisted was absolutely necessary for a perfect summer date, a phrase that made Yvie bubble up inside the more she heard it and the longer she internalized it.

“Please, you were probably gonna kill that thing anyway.”

Yvie held her hand to her chest, scandalized. “Excuse you, Scarlet? My most prized possession? F. Scott Fishgerald was going to die of natural causes in his sleep, surrounded by those he loved.”

Scarlet was overcome with laughter, bumping into a couple of signs as they entered the line for the Ferris wheel, Yvie steering her through the line.

“Like you were going to surround that fish on his deathbed.” Scarlet quirked a brow.

Yvie snorted. “Like that fish loved me.”

The line moved quickly, much quicker than expected. Within minutes, Yvie found herself sitting next to Scarlet in the cart. Scarlet gripped the lap bar eagerly as they ascended, inching ever upward and ever closer to Yvie, until they were suspended above the blackened ocean and Scarlet’s head lay on Yvie’s shoulder.

“I feel very small,” Scarlet spoke against Yvie’s shoulder, nuzzling herself into Yvie’s faded t-shirt.

“I think it’s hard not to, Scar.” Yvie inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs fully, clearly, before exhaling, if for nothing but to feel the fullness, the reminder that she was very little more than air.

She peered down at Scarlet, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. She brushed Scarlet’s hair out of her face, her fingers slowly brushing over Scarlet’s cheek. She took her time, as though it were a new land to explore, to cherish.

Soft skin. Sparkling perfume. Pouting lips. Open heart. Eager eyes. Silken voice. Warm soul.

And the curve of her cheek.

Yvie found herself disinterested in the ocean below them. The slightness of the waves could not hold her gaze like the slightness with which Scarlet looked up at Yvie and said, “the stars are out. You look to your right and you’ll see them.”

But Yvie did not turn her head to see the stars. She wouldn’t release herself from the vision of Scarlet lit by the bulbs that dotted the outside of the Ferris wheel. The light caught on her cheek. The tip of her nose. Her collarbone. Her jaw.

Above the world, all that is worldly, her worldly self, there was only Scarlet caught in the afterglow of neon.

Yvie brushed her thumb across Scarlet’s jaw before tilting Scarlet up to meet her gaze.

Scarlet’s mouth opens, her eyes blown out.

“Scarlet, I…” Yvie trails off, as though she had something to say. She had nothing to say. She had run out of words. She found herself without excuses, stipulations, or reason. She found herself leaning in closer. Their foreheads met. “Scarlet—”

“Please,” Scarlet exhaled, her hot breath against Yvie’s lips.

Christ.

Yvie inched forward, capturing Scarlet’s still open lips in her own, resigning that she will never find a word to counter a please spoken like a revelation

#rpdr fanfiction #scyvie #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #silky nutmeg ganache #nina west #when the sun sets on us #phryne #beach au #lesbian au #concrit welcome #summer lovin' 2020 #day 3: ice cream

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 6 years ago

Text

Humans are Weird “Hell School.”

Based on a prompt from a reader hope you like :) Don’t forget to send those critiques, questions, comments, messages, and prompts!

“Adam!”

“ADAM!”

“Coming.”

Krill peered from his spot on the couch as Captain Vir made his way down the stairs quickly at the call of the Alpha female.

“I just got a call from your old High School.”

Krill watched in fascination as the man’s eyes widened his knees locked up and he skidded right into a doorframe.

He rubbed his head as the alpha female peered around the doorframe.

“Well what do THEY want…..” He frowned

“Oh, Adam, don’t sound so annoyed, you’re a bit of a celebrity, and they just want you to come and give a talk at the school about your work, no big deal.”

“I most definitely will not! I’m not going back to that place.”

***

They stood outside the massive concrete and brick building as snow billowed around them. High chain link fences rose towards the cloudy sky.

“It looks like a prison.”

“It IS a prison.” The man muttered trudging through the snow and up to the doors carrying Krill over one shoulder contained within his specialized containment unit. He shouldered open the doors into the warm entryway bombarded suddenly by an array of pulses. The doors ahead of them buzzed once and then blinked green letting them inside.

“That’s new.” The man muttered stepping into the long hallway to stomp snow from his boots on the inner carpet. Setting down the containment tube, he opened the door and allowed Krill to scuttle outwards onto the floor. He looked around in curiosity, eyes wide and wondering at the long hallway lined in doors and strange containment lockers blinking lights red for locked.

“What is this place?” He wondered following the Captain towards the first set of doors.

“Hell Krill, This is hell.” Krill kind of doubted that. Very much as they passed through the doors into a small office space with a long desk manned by two plum middle-aged human females. They looked up as he entered looking confused for a minute before.

“Adam, is that you, I barely recognized you under that.” She waved a hand up and down, “and the gaudy eyepatch doesn’t help.”

He frowned, opening his mouth to respond.

The woman nudged her companion, “Look Susan its little Adam Vir, can hardly believe it.” It was just then, she noticed Krill, and the scream she let off could have ruptured glass if there was any glass in the room to be found. “What is that?!” She demanded leaping backwards nearly out of her chair. Krill found himself oddly satisfied. A lot of Earth humans weren’t nearly as brave as their space human counterparts. He had never made a human scream before.

“That.” Vir said smugly, “Is Krill, my crew’s acting medic and, oh yeah very much an alien.”

The woman stammered for a moment before grabbing a couple of badges and tossing them over the desk towards Vir who caught them and gave a grin.

“The auditorium.” The woman said curtly before retreating further behind her desk, as Captain Vir led Krill back out into the hallway and down. Krill watched the doors pass by peering in through cracked doors at lines of desks and young humans staring glassy eyed towards the front of the room listening to a single voice droning on and on.

“Really captain, what is this?”

Captain Vir sighed, “In this country and on Earth I general, it is mandatory for everyone to receive public education up until about the age of eighteen. One this continent we have elementary middle and high school education. Subjects include science, mathematics, English, communications, linguistics, geography, health and physical education. Then we have sports teams tagged onto that for after school activities.”

“That’s…. actually quite amazing Captain, I never knew that about humans.”

“Don’t worry, it’s generally completely useless and everything about it is designed to torture your soul into apathy.”

Krill followed confused but said nothing as they were met by a man who, claimed to be the “Principal”/ He was thrown off momentarily upon meeting Krill, but eventually let them backstage giving them a place to sit and rest while he called the students from class. He warned that there would be a few more curious people in attendance. Vir was beginning to look a little green.

They waited back stage for over an hour before the principle came back patting Vir on the shoulder. In that time Vir had changed into his uniform.

Krill could hear the sounds of many voices echoing up from the chamber beyond as the principle walked out onto stage. Distantly Krill could hear the speakers booming overhead, “Five years ago, Earth began peace talks with the Galactic assembly, and it took almost two years for earth to finally accept the terms of the peace talks. The six month war with the Drev took place two months after we joined, and a thousand of our soldiers were sent in aid of our galactic allies. Much of this had been made possible by a man who graduated from this very school not so many years ago. At only age 20 Then Lieutenant Adam Vir was the first human to encounter sentient life. Two years later he fought alongside our galactic allies in the war against the Drev. He received a purple heart for injuries received and a silver star for valor in action. Two years later he was promoted to the Rank of captain, and now currently pilots our furthest reaching human space vessel. He has worked, in part, for the Galactic Assembly, and has helped with the construction of many human-related laws, now Please give a warm welcome to Captain Adam Vir.”

The man took a deep breath as the polite clapping began motioning Vir out behind him as he walked onto stage. Upon seeing Krill, the room erupted in a measure of gasping, shrieking and awes of wonder.

Captain Vir leaned against the podium and waited for the crowd to die down. Krill hid behind him.

When they finally did, he responded, “Look I don’t have a speech prepared or anything so if you want me to talk you better ask. Otherwise I can stand here for an hour staring at you and just make it weird and awkward for everyone. Don’t bother raising your hands, I’m not about that.”

Pause, “What the hell is that!” He frowned, “That is actually very rude, so don’t be a Jerk.” He stepped aside allowing the students to see Krill, “This is my crew’s acting medic Krill. If you have one of those universal translator apps on your phone, you should probably use it unless you have the implants and then, more power to you.”

The phones were already out pointed directly at Krill. Questions were shouted out at random and at great vigor.

Krill stumbled to answer most of them unsure how to answer the question. Despite his poor stage presence, the students seemed thrilled that he could even talk. There was never a moment of silence, and why would there be, this was probably the most interesting thing that happened to them all year.

“Do you wear the eyepatch because you think it makes you look cool?”

There was a pause, “I have two answers for that one. One I don’t have an eye, and number two…. Yes…. Absolutely why wouldn’t I wear an eyepatch. My question is, why wouldn’t anyone else?”

“What did you get your purple heart for?”

“Well, I got my leg ripped off by a big ass alien…. Uh sorry I mean a nine foot tall alien.”

A collective, “Woa, can we see it.”

Krill was stunned, little savage.

“Yeah, sure.” He reached down and pulled up the leg on his pants to reveal the robotic leg underneath. “It goes up to about mid-thigh, good model though.”

“Tell us your most interesting story.”

“Oh…. Well sh- I mean uh….. I have a lot, like there was the time I lost my eye, saved an alien race from bubblegum pink overlords, ran a marathon on a class A-1 Death planet to avoid dying, accidentally killed an alien pirate by spitting on him, got locked inside a Rundi prison, navigated an asteroid field manually, killed a serial killer who tried to kill me, saved an alien child from drowning, won a battle by throwing rocks, battled an underwater leviathan, survived an attack by pirates, and uh of course made contact with the first E.T. life.”

The crowd was silent before demanding that he tell them as many of his stories as he could before their time was up.

Krill was encouraged to jump in on the stories, and by the time they were done Captain Vir was significantly more relaxed than before. Krill hid behind the podium most of the time.

Eventually the Principal had to dismiss the students to a chorus of booing, “Alright, Alright, enough of that, and les thank Captain Vir, for coming to speak with us today, no, no I have already gone over all the time I am willing.”

Vir stepped down from the stage greeting and speaking with some of the students as they left. Krill stood beside him as, suddenly the man grew stiff.

“Hey look Alien Adam, Can’t believe it’s really you.” A rather large…. Mildly flabby human walked up to the two of them. He looked Captain Vir up and down, “and you finally got some muscle on you.”

“And you finally got fat.” Captain Vir responded immediately. The other human seemed surprised before his eyes narrowed in anger.

“You-“

“The captain held up a hand, “Ah ah, hold on distinguished veteran with frontal lobe damage, I can’t control my impulses.”

Krill looked between the two men, “You know each other?”

Before the other man could speak, captain Vir held up a hand, “Yes, we do, he made my life a living hell for four years all because he peaked in high school, and I didn’t. Now I’m winningly successful, and he’s been in the same dead-end job for the past seven years.”

“Brain damage?”

“No, that was all me. And one more thing. I was right.”

The man huffed, “Come on Adam, you can hardly blame me. You were a weird kid like I mean what kind of person ACTUALLY believe in UFO’s and Aliens. It wasn’t normal.”

“Oh yeah, and it was only about me being a geek, nothing about how skinny I was, or the graphic T-shirts, or how short I was, or my braces, or how bad I was at sports. And I’m going to go right ahead and point out that a lot of people believed that the sun revolved around the earth for a long time, that didn’t make them right, but you couldn’t leave it alone, and now that it turns out I wasn’t crazy you seem to think it’s just ok to come up and insult me again.”

The man worked his jaw somewhere between anger and surprise.

“What, have nothing to say now, that I won’t just lay down and take it…..” He took a slow deep breath calming himself, “I found what I was looking for, and I don’t need you explaining yourself to me. You were a jerk, and here was no reason to be. You messed me up for a long time, but I am over what you did to me, and I am done with this conversation.”

He stepped past the man with Krill at his heels Krill following after, “What was that about?”

He sighed long and deep, “I wasn’t always as fantastically awesome as I am now.” He chuckled to himself, “When I was younger, a lot of people didn’t believe in Extra-terrestrials, interstellar technology was still in in its infant stages….. And, I well, I believed that everyone was wrong. I was sure aliens were real, so I looked for UFOs, I spent all my allowance on a telescope. I was so obsessed, it came at the exclusion of everything else, health, sports, eating, I was probably really weird, and some people used that as an excuse to be real assholes to me.”

“Is that common in human schools?”

Captain Vir sighed, “All too common I’m afraid, thousands of years and we still can’t shake it…. But I was right.”

“We were never alone.”

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #earth is space australia

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dreamlikeafangirl · 5 years ago

Text

A Christmas Carol

Summary: Loki can’t stand Christmas. You can’t stand Loki. But everything might change when he is forced to visit a Christmas market with you.

Prompts used: 113 (I’m good to go), 90 ([I] felt that winter wind blow cold), 55 (With you), 50 (Hand in my hand)

Pairing: Loki x gender neutral reader

Warnings: just festive fluff I guess

Words: 5,3k

A/N: My first fanfic on here, yay! Please feel free to point out any mistakes I made so I can improve my English :)

„I can’t believe it.“ You said. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I am alone on my way to the Christmas market. How is this happening?” Angrily, you threw your hands up. “They all let me down, even though they know how much I looked forward to it! Some friends they are.”

Your enraged breath created little clouds in the cold air when you continued walking along the street. You faced the ground underneath your feet, mumbled a few more unflattering words, and then took a deep breath. “Pull yourself together, (Y/N). It’s Christmas, the time of giving and forgiving. Let them stay home. I can have fun by myself, thank you very much.”

It was no secret to your fellow Avengers that Christmas was by far your favourite holiday. That’s why they had promised to join you to visit your favourite Christmas market many, many times. However until today, December 24, there had always been something in the way; important missions, meetings or training. But now it was Christmas Eve. Everyone had a day off, and therefore time for the market – right? You wished.

Clint, the Hawkeye, visited his family over the holidays and his best friend Natasha, Black Widow, came with him. In a last-minute-decision, he also took Wanda, the young Scarlet Witch. And naturally, Vision had followed in Wanda’s footsteps, so he was gone, too.

The same applied to War Machine Rhodey, who was also across the country with his family.

Then there was Iron Man Tony, who had declared loudly and dramatically that he would be spending the entire day with his fiancée Pepper and only her and God help the person that bothered them.

Steve, Bucky and Sam, aka Super Soldier, Winter Soldier and Falcon Soldier, had all volunteered to spend time with veterans and their families.

And lastly, Thor, to everyone’s complete surprise, had caught a heavy cold on one of your last missions. Nobody, including Thor himself and his wickedly smart stepbrother Loki, had known that could happen to Norse gods. But nevertheless, Thor was forced to stay in bed on the greatest day of the whole year. Bruce, part-time-scientist and Thor’s best friend, part-time green rage monster, was in charge of him. But spending Christmas Eve bringing Thor warm soup and enduring his never ending rants of self-pity? Even going to the Christmas Market all alone sounded better than that.

So you’d taken off, had left Avengers HQ and were now on your way to the next bus station. After checking the timetable (luckily the next bus would arrive in just a few minutes), you sat down on a bench by the station.

Finally, you were able to completely calm yourself. It was Christmas, the happiest time of the year. You were going to have a great day at the market, it did not matter with (or without) whom you were going to spend it. The Avengers didn’t know what they were missing.

It was only then that you noticed something weird. Being an agent, your senses were pretty well trained and it confused you that this was the first time you had this odd feeling. Your intuition told you that you weren’t as alone as you had thought you were.

You looked around and saw nothing. Nobody. Empty streets, empty sideways. “Aw, what the hell?” You muttered. You really weren’t in the mood for an ambush right now. Even though you could, of course, easily level a few robbers. But you hadn’t stretched or warmed up today, after all, it was a day off.

“Please, will you finally stop talking to yourself?”

You spun around. Where was this voice coming from? You still couldn’t spot anyone. “Show yourself!” You demanded loudly and hopefully in the right direction. Your muscles tensed and you clenched your fists, ready to defend yourself.

“Calm down.” The disembodied voice spoke. It sounded even more annoyed than the first time. “It’s me.”

“Ugh.” You began to figure out who it was – the only person you knew who turned himself invisible simply for the fun of it. “This isn’t funny, Loki.”

With a flash of green light, Loki appeared next to you, seemingly out of thin air. He chuckled softly. “It was for me.”

You scoffed and got up from the bench. “Douchebag. What do you want?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Your friends seem to feel guilty for letting you go all alone. So my brother and Bruce insisted I kept you company.”

You groaned again. Thor and Bruce had send Loki to accompany you? Really? Him of all persons? You decided to have a very serious talk with them about that when you got back.

“Thanks, but I don’t need a chaperon.” You said, waving him away with your hand. “Bye.”

“Trust me, dearest (Y/N), I don’t like this any more than you do. But it is happening.” He said.

“There is no need!” You saw the bus coming. The time to get rid of Loki was running out quickly. “Really, Loki. I’m good to go alone. Thanks again.”

Loki crossed his arms. “I thought you didn’t want to go alone.”

You looked at him. “How do you … ?” Then you remembered. “Right! You made yourself invisible and eavesdropped on me.” I stressed the words in an attempt to make him feel bad about his idiotic behaviour. Judging by his cheeky smile, you didn’t succeed.

“You were the one talking to yourself. I had to listen to your whining.” Loki spoke, imitating my tone of voice.

What an absolute a-hole! Speechless, you turned towards the bus and stepped inside, not caring if Loki followed you or not. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

Loki had lived on your planet for quite a while now. Apparently he was a danger for Asgard and his throne, so to avoid being executed he had to move to earth, into Avengers HQ. You could tell he hated it. Hated the living conditions and the human society with its rules and values (including everything that had to do with Christmas). Hated having to be with the Avengers all the time. Hated to actually do good things when he joined you on missions here and then. But Thor had to have an eye on him almost 24/7, that was the only kind of freedom Loki got. And yes, it sucked. But it didn’t make him likable or his behaviour okay.

Being an Avenger, you were often around Loki. And just like your teammates, you had your unspoken quarrels with him. It didn’t matter that he was kind of good now. He’d still attacked your hometown New York with aliens. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t from earth; him being rude and completely oblivious to any human customs was still annoying as hell. It also didn’t matter that he was really attractive, you still didn’t like him one bit. That’s why you never talked to him if not necessary. And you had decided to keep it that way for today.

So you stayed quiet during the whole bus ride. It wasn’t very hard, you were still pissed.

When your stop came up, you got up from your seat and walked towards the nearest door, Loki did the same.

“Get lost.” You started a last attempt to make him leave.

He sighed. “I really want to, but I can’t.”

You got off the bus and a gust of cold winter wind blew you right in the face immediately. You shuddered and pulled your beanie down to cover your forehead.

Meanwhile, Loki eyed the Christmas market which was now right in front of you. It was a big square confined on three sides by tall houses and a church in one of the corners. In the middle of the place stood a giant Christmas tree next to a big decorative Christmas pyramid. Even though it was only early afternoon, everything was illuminated by bright lights. The place was crowded with groups of people, strolling by the many festively decorated stalls, drinking hot beverages and generally enjoying themselves and the time they spend with their loves ones. Everything oozed joy, happiness and Christmas spirit. Loki definitely hated it.

“You’re cold, let’s make this quick.” He said.

You didn’t even bother explaining to him that being quick didn’t make sense at an event like a Christmas market. You were too mad at him. How could a person be so barefaced? This was your visit to the Christmas market – on Christmas! And were you going to let Loki ruin it? Not a chance. That strategy would not work on you. You wanted this time, and like you’d told yourself earlier, it didn’t matter who you spend it with. Screw Loki and his dislike for anything human-y and nice. He had been annoying you from the start, now it was time to give back.

You turned towards him, a flashing smile on your face. “You can go anytime you want, you know.”

He just closed his eyes and sighed in defeat.

The Christmas market was every bit as beautiful as it had been in the last years. The market stalls radiated warmth and the smell of pine cones, punch and marzipan. Some of them played Christmas songs from the 80s and 90s that just towed the line between annoying and iconic. All these strings of lights were the most beautiful thing you’d seen in a long time. People chattered, the sky was a bright white. The wind hadn’t slowed down, but you didn’t care anymore. Your senses were overwhelmed, but in a good way. In a holy-crap-I-missed-Christmastime-so-much-way. It didn’t even matter that Loki’s presence resembled a dark shadow following in your footsteps, his eyes full of quiet impatience.

After you’d crossed the whole square, you stopped by a table. It was time you got something to drink. “I’m going to get some mulled wine, you want some too?” You asked, kind of throwing your no-talking-policy overboard.

Loki wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Mulled wine?”

“Yeah.” You replied, internally rolling your eyes at his immediate aversion. “And Loki, if you never try anything new you’ll never–”

“I’ll take it, (Y/N).” He interrupted you.

You raised your eyebrows sceptically. “Really?”

Instead of answering, Loki just sat down at the table and crossed his arms in an expectant manner.

You shrugged, turned around and went to get two cups of the deliciously sweet, heated wine. You’d seen Loki having discussions with your teammates several times. Giving up this quickly was very unusual for him. Had he accepted the offer just to satisfy you? To shut you down? You shook your head. Whatever. Even if so. You didn’t care.

When you returned to the table, Loki looked as grumpy as ever.

“Here.” You handed him one of the cups of mulled wine you just bought. “Wine a bit, it’ll make you feel better.”

His eyes shot up to you. “What did you just say to me?” He asked sharply.

“Woah.” Even though you weren’t exactly afraid of him, you took a step back. “It was just a joke, a play on words.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Wine – whine.” You explained. For a god, and a smart one for that matter, his brain seemed to work pretty slowly when it came to puns. But you didn’t make the mistake of saying that out loud. However there was something else you just had to get out: “Besides, Loki, even if it wasn’t a joke, you told me earlier that my talking sounded like whining, so it’s only fair.”

Loki raised the cup of wine to his lips and drank. You noticed that this was already the second time of him not answering to something you’d said. And it made you grin widely. Had you really been able to freeze that silver tongue of his? You were so going to tell the rest of the team.

You drank your own wine standing up while looking around at the people passing you by. The beverage was just delicious. And another reason you loved Christmastime. Too bad that drinking this stuff was considered weird during summer. You could drink it all year long.

When you were done, you turned back around to Loki. He was slowly putting down his emptied cup, his eyes closed, and a light smile on his lips.

You blinked in surprise. A smile. He was smiling. Not that you had never experienced that before. No, Loki was often smiling. Just always sarcastically. Or maliciously. Never had you seen him smile out of joy. Not until today.

You pushed lightly at his shoulder. “Stop having so much fun, Loki!” You chuckled.

He opened his eyes and the smile faded. You almost regretted teasing him, but then he looked at you and said: “That tasted surprisingly well. It was not nearly as good as the wine in Asgard, but, for Midgard …”

You tilted you head, now making the same expectant expression he’d done earlier.

Loki rolled his eyes, but the smile returned. “Thank you, (Y/N).” He finally said.

“You’re welcome.” You answered, very pleased with yourself. “Now give me your cup, I’ll return it. And afterwards … if you want, we can get out of here. Go home.”

He handed me his cup. “We don’t have to leave yet.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t like it here.”

“I never said that.”

“Not with your words.”

He sighed. “Fine, I didn’t like it at first. But with you, it’s almost bearable.”

You laughed, and then turned around to return the cups, leaving Loki with these last words. “With me it’s ’almost bearable’, huh?” You said to yourself, giggling. You felt your cheeks turn red with happiness, and you didn’t know if it was because of Loki’s hidden compliment or because you now knew you could stay even longer at the market.

“Can I ask a question, Loki?” Now that you were exploring the Christmas market together, with him not just following you but actually walking beside you, you didn’t want the two of you to remain quiet. You hated uncomfortable silences. So you’d decided to start a conversation.

“Certainly, (Y/N).” He answered.

You had never noticed how soft and velvety his voice was. For a second, you almost forgot your question. “Do … do your people celebrate Christmas as well?”

He looked at you. “The Æsir?”

“U-hu.” You nodded.

“The Æsir are not my people.” Loki spoke. You could tell he was trying to hide the bitterness in his voice, but it wasn’t working well.

“Sorry.” You said quickly, even though you weren’t sure what exactly you’d done wrong.

But as quick as the topic had come up, Loki dropped it. “The folk in Asgard celebrates a festival called Yule.” He told you. “I believe it to be similar to your Christmas.”

“Yule.” You repeated the word. “Sounds beautiful. Tell me more.”

He sighed. “It’s a winter holiday celebrating faith, family and love, what more do you need to know?”

You bit your lip. Faith, family and love. From what you knew about Loki, he had little of either one. No wonder he hated Christmas. Or Yuletide. You looked at him, but his eyes were full of defiance rather than sadness. You decided not to bring it up. You didn’t know him well enough for that. Instead you said: “Anything else? What’s different from our Christmas here on earth? ”

“Hm, let’s see.” Loki looked at the sky, thinking. “Well, for once, the presents aren’t brought by an overweight old man.”

“Hey.” You gave him a playfully serious look. “Not a word against Santa.”

“Your ‘Santa’ looks like my adoptive father, Odin.” Loki grimaced. “Only the eyepatch is missing.”

You laughed, even though you’d never laid and eye upon Odin. “Does your adoptive dad also have a flying sleigh with eight reindeer?”

Loki shook his head. “No, but he does have an eight legged horse.”

You stopped walking and forced him to stop, too. “You’re kidding. Eight legs?”

“Exactly.” He seemed surprised you doubted him.

“No. That’s not possible!”

“Actually, Sleipnir is my offspring, (Y/N).”

You started laughing out loudly. “I don’t believe you, Loki.”

“I’m serious!” He asserted.

“Shut up!” You almost snorted with laughter. “There is no way, an eight-legged horse is your – how did you put it? – ‘offspring’.”

Loki sighed. “I guess I should call myself lucky to get this kind of reaction.”

You wiped away a tear. Loki’s story was too absurd, it could never be true. “So, then, if not Santa, who does bring the presents in Asgard?” You wanted to know.

“Will you believe me this time?” He asked.

“Depends.”

“Okay.” He sighed again. “It’s a goat. The Yule goat.”

You tried your absolute hardest to remain a neutral face and voice. “And, this Yule goat, is he your offspring too, Loki?”

“You offend me, (Y/N).” He said dead serious, looking into your eyes.

Then you both broke out into laughter. You hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. Your eyes started to tear again and your belly hurt. But these things faded to the background when your gaze met Loki. You had never seen him laughing out of joy before, either. He was bending his head slightly backwards and one of his hands was pressed against his chest. Every sliver of spite, every hint of annoyance had vanished from his eyes and his features. He looked like a whole new person, a healthier one, a happier one. He wasn’t just attractive anymore, he was good-looking. Plus his laugh was one of the most pleasant sounds you had ever heard. You were completely in awe.

It took you a few seconds to notice that Loki had stopped laughing and was now looking at you with an awkward expression on his face. “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, yeah.” You stuttered. “I … I just had an idea. I’ll be back in ten minutes, Loki, just wait here, please.” And with that, you quickly turned around and practically ran away into the isle between the two nearest market stalls. Away from Loki and your embarrassment. You had probably stared at him with glassy eyes for who knows how long. The mere thought made you cringe. What would he think of you now? And in the same heartbeat you wondered since when cared what Loki thought.

The sky had already darkened when you were finally ready to leave the Christmas market.

You and Loki had both gotten another cup of mulled wine and you had introduced him to roasted almonds which (surprise!) he liked more that he’d previously thought he would. Then the two of you had inspected a good portion of the many market stalls selling all kinds of festive odds and ends. And you’d explained the Christmas pyramid to Loki and in that context also the whole story of Baby Jesus’s birth. He found the tale just as ridiculous as I had found the one about the Sleipnir, eight-legged horse.

But by now, it really was time to leave; even you had to admit that. You guided Loki back towards the bus station, which was overcrowded with people. Apparently this was a popular time to leave the market. “Oh, no.” You sighed. “I doubt we will all fit into one bus. We’re going to have to wait for the next one or even for the one after that if we want to get home.”

“Or” Loki took your arm. “We could walk. It’s not that far.”

You tilted your head. It was starting to get pretty cold pretty fast. And despite what Loki said, the way home was not only a short hop. But waiting for the bus? At least walking would keep you warm. “Alright.” You decided. “Let’s go.”

Turned out you were wrong. Even though you had chosen a swift speed, you immediately started to freeze. Shivering, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“How are you not cold?” You asked Loki to distract yourself. You had noticed a while ago that he was only wearing an opened black coat over a thin grey sweater with a green and gold scarf decoratively draped around his neck. Nothing to cover his head and no gloves. Yet the cold didn’t seem to bother him at all.

You, on the other hand, had put on your warmest hoodie underneath your winter jacket. You wore your favourite woollen beanie and on your hands your thickest gloves. They were buried in your pockets as deep as possible. And you were still freezing cold.

“I do not get cold.” Loki said and shrugged. “After all, I am a Frost Giant.”

You were surprised. You hadn’t known that about him, but then again, until today you had never really cared for Loki. “That’s why you said that the Æsir weren’t your people.”

He nodded. “Now if you start asking questions about how the folk in Jötunheimr are celebrating Christmas …”

I cut him off, laughing. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

“For a giant, you’re kinda small, Loki.”

Okay, technically, Loki was a tall person. He was certainly taller than you, taller than Bruce and even taller than Cap. But you had seen humans larger than him. And that, in your opinion, made him small, at least for a self-proclaimed giant. And then another thought crossed your mind and you grinned. “Thor is taller than you!”

Loki stopped walking and turned towards you with a suddenly outraged look, pointing his finger. “Why did you have to mention Thor, (Y/N)? I swear, next time I–“ He interrupted himself. “Stop shaking.“

“I can’t.” You answered, your teeth chattering. “It’s really f-f-freaking cold. Can we w-walk again?”

You continued walking on the sideway. Luckily, Loki had forgotten his anger about being compared to Thor. He seemed to be more concerned about your wellbeing, his eyes never leaving you. Strangely enough, it made you feel like you were melting under his eyes. Even though the only heat you were feeling was the warmth of your bright red cheeks.

“C-can you please stop s-staring at me?” You asked after a few minutes as you felt slightly embarrassed by his behaviour and the lack of talking. “Or is the c-c-concept of freez-z-zing that f-foreign to you?”

“It isn’t.” Loki answered. “I just want to be able to catch you should something happen.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What did he just say?

“My brother and your friends would kill me if I let you get hurt.” He continued. “After all, they sent me to have an eye on you.”

Oh. Yeah, you were stupid. What the hell was going on with you? A few hours ago, there had been few things you loathed more than this guy’s face, and now? You could have looked at his face all day. And so, you did exactly that: you turned your head and looked into his eyes. “That excuse gets old, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You could have had one of your illusions to ‘have an eye on me’.” You said. “You’re smart enough, Thor and Bruce would have never noticed. You could have made it stay invisible the whole afternoon, and I too wouldn’t have known.”

Loki laughed nervously. “That’s an allegation, (Y/N). I would never betray my brother like that nor would I invade your privacy.”

You nodded sarcastically. “Oh, sure you wouldn’t. You chose to spend this afternoon with me at the Christmas market, just admit it!”

Loki shook his head. “Even if I did, I–”

Fortunately for him, in that exact same second a large truck rushed alongside the two of you. And not only did the motor of the vehicle make ridiculously loud noise, but it also left you and Loki in a cloud of stinking exhaust gases.

“So, do you regret it?” You asked once the dust had settled and could remove your hands from your nose.

Loki shook his head after a few seconds of thinking.

“You seem to get used to our earthly customs, because anything else would have been rude.”

He ignored your comment and said: “Now it’s my turn. Why’d you run away from me earlier? What was that idea of yours?“

“You want to know if that was also just an excuse?” You smiled sweetly.

Loki sighed. “(Y/N), are you aware of how obnoxious you are acting?”

“I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine!” You argued.

He laughed, but not happily. “You remind me of Thor.”

“Are you insulting me?” You couldn’t help but raise your voice.

“Being compared to your friend Thor should hardly be and insult to you!” Loki said just as loud.

“It was to you, and you’re his brother!”

“So what why did you run away from me?”

“I was buying you a Christmas present!”

Loki went silent.

You gladly did the same. You were freezing too much to really follow what just happened anyways. Also you were out of breath and it didn’t feel good, because the air was ice-cold.

“You bought me a present?” Loki asked.

You coughed and pressed your hands to your chest. Your lung was feeling like it was being pierced with a thousand knives every time you took a breath.

Loki’s eyes changed from surprise to concern. “(Y/N), are you feeling alright? Look at me!”

You would’ve loved to, but tears clouded your vision. You squirmed and gasped for air. It felt like your own breath was choking you.

You felt Loki’s hands on your back and shoulder, steadying you. “Breathe, (Y/N)!” His voice was near your ear. “Just breathe, slowly.”

It took you a little longer to collect yourself. But finally the pain wore off, so you could wipe away your tears and catch your breath. Loki was still holding you, which was a good thing, because your knees felt week. “Thank you, Loki.” Was the first sentence you said when you regained your ability to form words.

“Let’s get you home, (Y/N).” He simply answered.

For the remainder of the way, Loki let you lean on him, your hand in his hand. He held you as if he feared you could slip away from his grasp.

Half an hour later, you were lying in your bed in Avengers HQ. You had tucked yourself under a warm blanket and Bruce was bringing you hot chicken soup.

“Please don’t you get sick too, (Y/N).” He said when he sat down the bowl on your bed stand.

“I won’t” You promised with a weak smile. “I’m just tired. I – we – walked around a lot.”

Bruce scratched the back of his head. “I still feel bad about sending Loki after you, but he was the only one available. Did you have an okay day with him?”

“I did.” You were still smiling.

Bruce nodded. “I’m glad. Get better, (Y/N).”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

You left your bed only once that evening, to return the empty bowl to the kitchen and make yourself a hot chocolate. On your way back you saw Loki sitting alone in the living room, reading a book, his forehead resting in one of his hands. His eyes didn’t seem to be focused on the pages at all, but maybe that was just you imagining things.

The next day was Christmas Day. You woke up early and tiptoed to Loki’s room, his present in your hands. You had figuratively and literally lost sleep over the question of when would be the right time to give it to him, since he didn’t have a Christmas stocking like all the others. Eventually you had decided on leaving it at his door, secretly, so that he would notice it when he left. A handover without personal contact. And definitely not in front of the other Avengers. That meant the least amount of embarrassment for you.

You crouched down in front of the door carefully. Everything was quiet, it didn’t sound like Loki was awake yet. So you carefully placed the present on the ground. It was a Yule goat, made out of straw, about the size of a shoebox. Sometime yesterday during your conversation with Loki about Yule, you had remembered seeing a market stall selling traditional Scandinavian Christmas decoration. Then, after, well, running away from him, you’d gone back there and bought the goat.

After delivering the present it was time for breakfast with your friends before everyone would empty their stockings. Bruce and Tony were the only ones in the kitchen yet, but that wasn’t the first thing you noticed after you’d entered. The first thing you noticed was Tony’s bright red Christmas sweater – the ugliest one you had ever seen. Christmas spirit at its finest. You loved it.

“(Y/N)! Merry Christmas!” Tony shouted when he spotted you and ran to give you a hug. He squeezed you tighter than usual and laughed a little louder as well. Was he drunk already? Probably. He was Tony Stark after all.

“Woah, good morning!” You chuckled and took a seat at the big table.

In doing so, your eyes crossed with Bruce’s, who had just wrestled the breakfast champagne bottle out of Tony’s grip. He looked exhausted already. Poor man. Yesterday it had been Thor, now he needed to take care of Tony. You gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey Bruce. Merry Christmas.”

However before Bruce could react, a tall figure sat down next to you. You turned around and looked right into a familiar pair of eyes.

“Uh, Loki, good morning.”

“A good morning, indeed.” He said with a broad smile.

You laughed awkwardly. “How comes?”

Loki leaned forward, his face only inches from yours. “Earlier, a little Yule goat came by my door and brought me a present.” He whispered.

Thor, who had apparently arrived alongside with Loki, settled himself next his brother. “Really?” He asked with his booming, yet at the moment a little husky voice. “A Yule goat?”

Loki shot him a murderous glare. “Eavesdropping is considered rude on this planet, brother.” He spoke sourly.

Normally, you’d now said something like ‘I really am a good influence on you, huh?’ And it would have ruined the moment.

You really had acted obnoxiously yesterday. Not everything needed to be said out loud. Sometimes it was enough to know. And right now, it was enough to know that you had made Loki a tiny bit of a better person.

“Thank you for the present, (Y/N).” He finally said.

“Do you like it?”

“Very much. It … it makes my room feel a little bit like home.” You met Loki’s eyes, and they smiled, he smiled.

And you smiled back at him. “You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Loki.” Then, you leaned in and gave him a hug, wrapping your arms around his chest. It had been a completely spontaneous action, a kind of reflex, but you were glad you decided not to fight it.

You felt him taking a deep breath. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was like a little sun had risen inside of Loki on this day. A light that fought away the bitterness. You could hear its warmth radiating in his voice every time he spoke, saw its glow in his eyes when he looked at you. You even felt the heat through his skin whenever he gently took your hand – which, from this Christmas Day on, would happen increasingly often.

#Loki #Marvel #MCU #loki fanfic #marvel fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #Jule'sffs #christmas

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altphilcmena · 5 years ago

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『NATALIA DYER ❙ DEMI GIRL』 ⟿ looks like PHILOMENA CARMICHAEL is here for HER/THEIR SOPHOMORE year as a WILDLIFE SCIENCE student. SHE/THEY are 19 years old & known to be WHIMSICAL, PATIENT, APATHETIC & UNPREDICTABLE. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo this is a slightly older bt not tht old like. minus a year old muse of mine tht i thought wld fit rly well into this group n i hope u guys all love her bc i love her a lot !!! anyways pls drop a LIKE if u wld like to plot because i need to know. who to plot with. there’s so many people pleathe help me out HBSJDNKFMGLH

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. MENTAL ILLNESS ), DEATH, DECAY, MAGGOTS.

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th lmao !!

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: ??? $500 ebay mystery box. pansexual if you had to label it.

pinterest ( & her family pinterest b/c they’re my most developed family uwu)

stats

inspired by: luna lovegood (harry potter), orla mccool (derry girls), cassie ainsworth (skins), alice (alice’s adventures in wonderland), amelie (amelie).

biography.