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gallickingun · 4 years

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legacy || dragon prince!kirishima

SUMMARY: After an arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons, Kirishima Eijirou, you decide you do not want to live your life in a loveless relationship, so you attempt to get to know him. After some time, you realize that he was keeping something very important from you. How are you supposed to help him if he won’t come clean?

PAIRING: Dragon Prince!Kirishima x Princess!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, breeding kink (so much breeding), etc. WORD COUNT: 13.5k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for THESE prompts that I just couldn’t chill out with. I didn’t want this to get confused with @makoodles Dragon Dick Kiri! This Kirishima has normal anatomy 👀 but go give her’s a read as well, it’s so frickin’ good.

༶•┈⛧ ┈♛ ♛ ┈⛧┈•༶

An arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons wasn’t how you saw the start of the rest of your life going.

You expected to have more time before you would be called to responsibility, to the throne, to your people. You wanted to live your life, to frolic through the meadows and taste the sweet mead drinks the cooks are always going on about. You wanted to be free.

You did not want to find yourself forced into a white dress, a bunch of flowers in your hand, as you recite the sacred betrothal vows to a man you’ve never met before.

His name is Kirishima Eijirou.

At least he’s handsome.

And beyond his good looks, Kirishima has a charming air about him as well. He is kind to all the servants and never asks for their help unless it’s entirely required. He even goes so far as to request separate bedrooms for the two of you, knowing exactly what might be expected of you if you were to sleep together.

When you approached him about it, he bowed his head, “I know that you did not enter this matrimony by choice, milady. I would hate to force you into anything you did not ask for.”

You would be lying if you denied that your heart skipped a beat.

Kirishima makes himself useful around the castle, tending to the gardens with the other landscapers, using his enhanced strength and hard, scaly skin to chop down trees and uproot stumps. He even brings the ladies in the kitchen spices from other parts of the kingdom and animals that the other hunters had not been able to slay.

His fierce instincts and amazing strength have made him quite the match for the kingdom; almost as if he were exactly what you needed. The citizens have never been more excited for a new king to rise, practically salivating as Kirishima passes through the town on his daily walks. You watch on from your tower window, leaning over the edge of the cobblestone to squint as you make out his bulky frame mounting a horse and exiting the castle gates.

Many a night passes and you feel uneasy at the distance between you. He is your husband, and yet you are sure that you have not had a conversation lasting more than a few syllables with him. You are sure that even the commoners know him better than you do.

Everyone in the kingdom adores Kirishima, although they could care less for the mouthy knight he’s brought along with him. A blonde, stout man you’ve come to know as Bakugou Katsuki. He is Kirishima’s protector and right-hand, following him around like a shadow, throwing his opinions and criticisms out with little care to the sensitive ears they may fall upon.

“Bakugou?” you ask one afternoon, crossing your arms as you stand beside him, Kirishima helping to dig trenches using his scaled, hardened hands. You tilt your head to consider the blonde, your irises finding a crimson color, harsh and unbending, much unlike your betrothed’s warm gaze, “Does Kirishima care for me?”

His throat bobs and a strangled sound comes from it, “Excuse me?”

“Kirishima keeps his distance from me,” you muse, licking your lips as you turn from him to focus on the man you find yourself fascinated with even more as each day passes. “I just want to know if he is uncomfortable around me.”

“That’s one word for it.”

You unceremoniously smack his arm, “Stop being belligerent and answer me!”

“Bloody hell,” Bakugou takes a step away from you, “yes, Kirishima is uncomfortable around you, but not for the reason you think, wench.”

Your narrowed eyes spur him to speak again, “He thinks fondly of you, if that’s what you wish to know. Eijirou just has a strange way of showing it. Now, can we please stop talking about this emotional shit?”

There is no answer from your lips, only the absence of your presence at his side. Bakugou huffs out a relieved sigh and watches as you hitch your skirt up and run towards his friend and ruler. He shakes his head when you stumble into Kirishima’s arms, rolling his eyes as he begins his afternoon patrol of the grounds.

“Whoa,” the prince’s arms are sturdy as he catches you before you can face plant into the trench he’s dug, “are you okay?”

Your body relishes in the warmth he provides, fingers clinging onto his shoulders, feeling the ridges of the hard, corded muscle beneath you, “Y-Yes, I am fine! I need to ask you something, though.”

“Yes, Princess?” Kirishima, ever the gentleman, holds you steady, guiding you back to some sense of normalcy. He is fighting a smile at your bedraggled appearance, the corners of his lips twitching as he looks down his nose at you, the black metal guard around his face making his features even more sharp.

The core of you churns with molten lava at the sight of his handsome features, the tendrils of smoke from the sloshing heat curling up your throat until it forces your mouth open, “W-Would you like to go for a picnic?”

Kirishima has never looked more surprised and amused. His hand absentmindedly rubs over your elbow and bicep, sending small jolts of electricity through to your bones until you can feel them rattling around in the cage of your body. He stutters when he speaks, “A-A picnic? As in, eating together? A-Alone?”

“Yes,” you flush, your cheeks burning brightly at the confession, “I think we’ve earned a little time away, don’t you think?”

His face goes the same color as his hair, his pink tongue passing over his lower lip as he considers you, shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot as he chooses his words wisely, “Princess, you don’t have to humor me. I know my place.”

“Your place is with me,” you bolster your spine so you can look him in the eyes, barely distracted by the small scales that cover his temples and jawline. “And I want to know my husband. Is that a crime? Shall you have me thrown in the dungeon?”

The black pupils in the center of his orbs dilate, his shoulders shifting as he considers your words and your tone. Kirishima shakes his head after he’s processed what you’re saying, taking a step closer so your chest almost brushes his when you take heaving breaths, “No, I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. How does veal and fruit sound?”

“Like heaven.”

It is not much later in the afternoon when Kirishima stops by the stables to collect you, a woven wicker basket cradled in one of his hands, full to the brim with a plethora of things hidden under the lid. He packs the basket and a few blankets onto the backside of the horse that he brought with him when he merged his belongings with yours. He pats the horse’s backside, “All right, Red. Be nice. This is the princess you’re carrying.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm as you step forward. Your free hand brushes over Red’s snout and down her mane, “And that’s the prince, you know. Precious cargo.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my thick skin,” he shrugs, reaching out a hand for you to take, “plus Red knows I’m the one with the sugar cubes, so she’ll be sweet on me.”

Your palm rests in his as you stride towards him, the proximity of your bodies now intoxicating as his natural heat radiates between the two of you. The base of your throat bobs as emotion gathers in your esophagus, cutting off your breathing. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed when you try to look at him directly, unable to focus when he’s so close to you.

Kirishima is no small man, your eye-level meeting his collarbones. His hands dwarf yours easily, his stout body thick with muscle and sinew, dense bones holding him together. You suppose it’s thanks to his animalistic ancestry.

Each kingdom descended from some form of ancient animal, and Kirishima’s was the dragons. And so, he inherited the qualities of that very beast, starting with his intense body heat and the scales that litter his skin in small patches. They are black in color at a first glance, but when he shifts beneath the sunbeams, you notice they have a red iridescence to them. You are thankful to find that he has no tail or snout, saving those features for a much more human-looking set.

Kirishima rests his palms on your hips, almost able to wrap his digits completely around the circumference of your waist as he hoists you onto his horse. His quaking digits roam down the thick of your thigh, thumbs brushing up against the skin to treasure it. You have to stop yourself from keening into his touch, seeming desperate, by white knuckling your hands around the saddle.

He clambers up after you, slinging one leg before propping himself up to rest behind you. Leaning forward, he grabs the reigns, his chest pressing firmly into your back. You force yourself to regulate your breathing, the scent and feel of him making your head dizzy. Kirishima scoots forward and the curve of his crotch is pressing into your spine as he spurs Red forward with a gentle slap of the reigns.

You squeal, your hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around his forearms, the tips of your fingers dragging over the dark scales he sports at the junctures of his arms. His muscles twitch under your touch and your breath hitches. The bottom of his chin is hovering just above your shoulder, his cheek threatening your personal space while his chest falls flush with your back, “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you manage an awkward laugh, blinking to clear your vision. “Sorry, I just wasn’t ready.”

Kirishima holds the reigns in one hand, using the other to wrap around your waist, effectively silencing you as your heart beats heavy in your chest, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It is easy to melt back into him, a shuddering breath making your shoulders shake. You rest your hands over the top of his thick arm, thumbs finding his veins and bones to trace while you wait for your end destination to come in sight. You avoid paying too close attention to the ebony scales that glimmer in the afternoon sun, shifting from black to red when you look acutely.

The sun is setting when he finally stops Red at the edge of a lake, golden glow shining from the surface of the water and making it difficult to see. Kirishima helps you down before grabbing the picnic basket and tying Red up around the trunk of a tree. In the meantime, you work at setting out the blanket on the ground, tugging out the corners so it’s fully splayed open.

Conversation flows easy for the two of you as you lay out on the ground, face turned toward the sun as is sinks lower in the afternoon sky. You close your eyes and drink in the sunbeams, your hands tucked behind your head. Kirishima is waving his hands around, holding grapes between one set of fingers and a slice of bread in the other.

You laugh, a full-bellied giggle that you have not felt in what seems like years. When the laughter settles, you turn your head to see Kirishima already looking down at you, a soft but sad expression tugging on his features. You tilt your head, blinking a few times before asking him, “What is on your mind?”

“Why are you doing this?” he blurts unabashedly.

The inside of your mouth turns to ash, as if you’ve licked the inside of the oven and can’t get the taste off of your tongue. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and reach a hand up to rub at your face as nerves start to eat away at your belly.

“Can a princess not have a picnic with her husband?” Your voice has risen an octave and it’s obvious he notices because he leans in further, as if silently asking you to further explain. You huff, rolling your eyes, “I just want to get to know you, Kirishima. If we’re to be wed for the rest of our lives, don’t you think we should learn a little about one another?!”

Kirishima sits up straighter, his eyes unable to find a part of you to focus on as his gaze wanders. You turn on your side, reaching out to press your palm to his thigh, but he halts you with his warm touch and saddened words, “I assumed you would have nothing to do with me. Arranged marriages aren’t usually filled with companionship.”

You lean forward, your mouth against his knuckles as you exhale, “I think we’d like each other if we had the chance, arranged marriage or not.”

A silence hangs in the air, Kirishima’s hand heavy beneath yours. You feel the muscles in his leg twitch as your thumb brushes down over his shin. It’s like you are waiting sparks to ignite in midair and take the both of you down, the imminent danger of his response sending a burning chill down your spine. You fear you may have misjudged him, or perhaps his companion misspoke with the intent to turn the two of you against one another.

“Kirishima,” you try again, sitting up on your knees so you can look him in the eyes much easier, “listen, I-”

His thumb against your lower lip gives you pause, your eyes crossing as you try to look down at the offending digit. Kirishima looks up at you, a glimmer in his vermilion irises, “I want you to call me Eijirou.”

Your heart stops beating within your chest at the admission of his given name. You had heard Bakugou say it, and of course when you learned who you would be marrying, you were informed of the nomenclature. However, you never assumed that you would be gifted the privilege to use it so soon.

“Eijirou,” you test it out on your tongue, rolling the name around like honey, “I like that.”

A smile tugs on the corners of his lips and you see the faintest brush of dimples. You lean your body forward to press a kiss to his cheek, just barely brushing the corner of his mouth, “Nice to meet you, Eijirou. I’m your wife.”

He chuckles, reaching out to shake your hand, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. How do you do?”

“I’d be doing much better with some berries between my teeth,” you lean back, brushing your thumb over the back of his palm, “but I’m doing just fine, now that I’ve got you.”

The smile on Kirishima’s face puts the sunshine to shame.

༶•┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

It had been months since that picnic by the lake, and you and Kirishima had grown rather close. He chases your lips behind closed doors and your hands are insatiable as they roam his body beneath his tunic. You know the taste of his skin by heart, and he knows the innermost parts of you better than you do.

So him pulling away now has you perplexed.

You pace back and forth in front of his private chambers, the place where he is allowed to go when he needs to contemplate war plans and farming plots and taxation of the citizens. However, he has been holed up behind the thick wooden door for six days straight, and you know that something is wrong.

Bakugou is posted up in front of the door, a mess of limbs as he whittles away at a slab of wood, working on turning it into something much more intricate. His head raises so he can roll his eyes at your unease, “Relax, Princess. He’ll be out of there in another week or two.”

“What does that even mean?!” you snap, your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You feel yourself breaking from the inside out – you thought you had made so much progress, that maybe you and Kirishima were really moving forward, learning how to co-habitate and rule together. Your voice is crazed and you throw your palms face-up towards the knight, “Weeks? This is absurd!”

You narrow your eyes at the door like it has wronged you, keeping you from your lover, and you are barreling towards it before Bakugou can stop you.

“Eijirou!”

Bursting through the door, you’re surprised to find that he is not sitting at his desk, pouring over world maps and charts. Rather, he’s not anywhere to be seen at all. You shut and lock the door behind you just as Bakugou has gotten to his feet, narrowing your eyes at him as it clicks shut.

You hear a whimpering sound off in the distance, and you follow it.

There is a secluded area you know is hidden behind the bookshelf – a secret room built by your father so he can escape even the already secretive confines of his study. You pull the familiar lever at the base of the bookcase and the entire structure begins to shudder as the door is opened. A familiar head of red hair is lowered, his chin to his chest as sobs rack his body, broad shoulders shaking as he sniffles.

“Eiji?” your voice is quiet, afraid to disrupt the moment. He is bare at the torso, his hands cradled in front of him, but you can only make out the muscled expanse of his back, “Eijirou, why are you-”

“I-I didn’t want you in here,” he mumbles through labored breaths. When he turns his head you can make out the glistening tears running down his face, “Y-You smell so strongly and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Excuse you?” Your voice is more of a bark than a question, stepping further into the small space so you’re stood beside him, “I smell? You could have just told me, for Christ’s sakes, Eiji-holy shit.”

Your eyes are drawn to the center of his hips, where he’s currently cradling his cock between his hands. The head of it is engorged and blushed, leaking pearlescent fluid that leaks down the shaft, coating one of the more prominent veins on the underside. Your throat bobs at the sight of him, taking in his girth with your own two eyes, trying to rationalize why you’d never seen his lower body without clothing until just now.

“I-I’m sorry, listen, it’s just…” Kirishima is in tears, his voice strained as he stands to his feet, “I-I’m in a fucking rut and it’s horrible and you shouldn’t have to witness it, let alone be a part of it. I wanted to wait it out in here so I could stay away from you.”

You step closer to him, your hands hovering in midair as you’re not sure which part of him to grab for first. Your entire anatomy is on fire at the visual of his thick cock leaking pre and throbbing with the need to spill his seed. The base of him leads way to a set of weighty balls, and you can only imagine the sheer amount of come that he has stored up in them.

“Stay away from me? Eiji,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He recoils, another sniffle as he turns his head, but you persist regardless, “Am I not your wife? Is this not my job?”

He stands to his feet, his trousers taut against his thighs as he tries to pull them back up his legs, “Exactly! This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! It’s not a job, Princess, nothing in this realm should ever feel like a job. It should be fun, and I can promise you this won’t be fun for you.”

“Rut?” you redirect the conversation, coming to stand in front of him with your hand on his wrist to keep him from pulling his pants back over his cock. “Wh-Tell me what that means, exactly?”

Kirishima inhales deeply, his chest expanding, and then reaches down to take his dick in his hand, stroking it once to show you the length of it, “It’s whatever part of me is intertwined with dragon, I have these annual cycles where I’m drawn to my-fuck, this is so strange to say out loud-my mate.”

You want to reach down to hold his throbbing length in your hands but the look in his eyes says that he isn’t done. Kirishima gulps as he looks across at you, glittering ruby eyes filled to the brim with emotion, “It’s a mating cycle, outside of that I’m not really sure. I go into a rut for a couple of weeks each year, ever since I went through the change, and my body has this intense desire to impregnate a mate.”

The talk coming from him is oddly arousing, and you find yourself growing slick between your thighs. You hover closer to him now, the head of his cock brushing up against your belly as your hands start to roam over his bare chest, “Please, show me what you need, whatever it is, and I’ll help you. You’re in pain, Eijirou.”

He winces on cue, turning his head before you can see the extent of his discomfort. Kirishima shakes his head, “Listen, I-I’ve been doing this alone for years, I can handle it.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to!” You try and reason with him, reaching up to take his cheeks in your hands, redirecting his attention, “I’m your wife, Eijirou.”

A tear wells up in either of his eyes, making his irises look like they are glittering in the candlelight of the secret room, “Yes, but you’re not my mate.”

Those few words topple you over like a horse has just run over your chest. The breath has been knocked out of you, stolen from your lungs, and you take a step back to steady yourself before you fall. Kirishima’s eyesight falters as he realizes what he’s just said, but he makes no move to correct himself. Rather, he stands taller, straightening his spine like he’s ready to go to war, to lead thousands of men into a battle he’s not sure he can win.

You have a choice to make now – you can stand here and fight, or you can flee through the secret passage and hide in your own chambers until his rut is over.

“Eijirou,” you grit your teeth, tears flowing down your cheeks, and look him in the eyes, “I’m not leaving you.”

Fight it is, then.

Kirishima looks stunned, so you take advantage of his stillness to rush at him, cupping his face with your hands and bruising his lips in a kiss. His hips roll forward and his cock is sheathed between your thighs, so you squeeze yourself tight around him, grabbing at his wrists before he can pull himself away. The whimper he lets loose from his mouth is wanton, his body practically shivering with the need to swallow you whole.

You kiss him until he’s shaking, his hands white-knuckled as he bars himself from grabbing every inch of your body like his primal nature pushes him to. When you pull away from him, you look up into his eyes and see hesitation keeping his pupils dilated to where you can still make out his crimson irises.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I-I can’t do that to you, not now, not when I think-”

He stops himself before he finishes his sentence, but in your heart, you know what he’s going to say. You smile, praying that he receives some warmth and comfort from the gesture, and brush your thumbs against his wrists where you hold his hands by his sides, “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

It’s as if he’s resigned himself to this truth, that you will not leave unless he forces you, and he does not believe that it’s his place to coerce you into doing anything you haven’t already decided for yourself. Kirishima stands tall and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if taking in the moment. You hear him count a few numbers in an ancient dialect before he peels back his lids and his darkened eyes meet yours, lust swirling around like thunderclouds and his irises have deepened to a maroon shade.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one final time, hands still by his sides, “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

That sentence alone is enough to send a chill down your spine.

You nod, trying not to seem too eager by keeping your feet flat to the ground, “Yes, Eijirou, please. I want you to do whatever you need to, please use me.”

The sound of your voice so willing and wanton makes Kirishima’s blood run hot in his veins, thudding against his ears until he can hardly hear anything else. He steps forward, his chest flush with yours, and his shaking hands finally make contact with your body.

He is insatiable when he finally grabs a hold of you, palming at you like an animal. Kirishima captures your mouth in a searing kiss, moaning as soon as your lips part in a gasp. He backs you into the desk he was sitting against when you first came in, your ass knocking against the wood in his haste. A low growl bubbles up in his chest until he nips at your lower lip and you whimper, then the sound fades to a moan.

“Fuck, Princess,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes already blitzed out as he looks down at you, “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes are wide as you blink up at him, your fingers in his hair to sift through the dark red strands. You find yourself nodding your head eagerly, squirming up onto the top of the desk to give him a better angle. Kirishima smiles wide enough that you can see his sharper canines, gums bared as he grins. He lowers himself to his knees, and something about seeing him in such a vulnerable position makes your head spin.

Kirishima pushes the hem of your skirt up and over your thighs, bunching up the material in one hand as the other parades over your soft undergarments. He visibly shivers when the pad of his middle finger brushes over the wet patch on the fabric, his tongue parting his lips as he dampens them.

He mutters a string of ancient curse words in a dialect you cannot comprehend, but it still arouses you, nonetheless. You help him with your dress, tucking it behind your back, before reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to your core.

You give him a soft, “Eiji, please,” before you hear the tearing of fabric, and your cunt is bared to the cold air.

A gasp parts your lips, but you throw your head back when his tongue first makes contact with your slick folds. You whine into the air, the sound dying out as it travels, and your grip in his hair tightens to a pressure that should be painful, but his thick skin gives him a better barrier for pain.

Kirishima hums against your clit, running the coarse pad of his tongue over the sensitive bud before diving back into your sopping core. He moans as your taste coats his tongue, bringing one of his hands up to your belly so he can brush his thumb along your clit for further stimulation, the coarse feeling of his scaled elbow grating over your thigh giving you goosebumps. His free set of fingers dig into every part of your leg that he can find, roaming from your calves to your thighs to your ass, kneading the plush skin beneath his hardened fingertips.

You clench around his tongue, the thick muscle stimulating even the deepest parts of you. You mewl out his name, uncaring as to how loud you’re being, which only seems to spur him on, the pace of his tongue quickening as his thumb grinds mercilessly against your clit. You cant your hips upward against his mouth, begging for even more friction, and he chuckles, the sound sending reverberating pleasure through your core.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Kirishima’s voice is gentle as he turns his attention to your thighs, kissing the innermost parts as he slips a thick finger between your folds, “I want you to come undone for me, yeah? Think you can do that?”

A nod brings your vision back down to him, to look into his eyes as you rock against his knuckles. He bares his teeth to your thigh before sucking your supple skin between his lips. The combination of pleasure from your cunt mixed with the pain from his biting and sucking of your thigh brings you closer to your high, your vision blurred by ecstasy. You moan, tightening every muscle in your body in hopes that it will push you over the edge, but Kirishima’s hand runs over your taut skin in a soothing motion, rubbing the pads of his fingers deep into your muscles as if to try and calm you down.

“Relax,” he kisses over the dark red mark now splotched against your thigh, “I’ve got you, I’m gonna take care of you.”

You believe him, between his earnest expression and the honest hoarseness behind his words. You swallow thickly, forcing the growing lump in your throat back down into your chest. The contours of your body are less noticeable once you’ve eased your muscles, and Kirishima takes it as a sign for him to quicken the pace of his fingers in your pussy, leaning forward to suck at your clit with his teeth and tongue.

He can feel your walls tightening as he stretches you out with another finger, the spongy texture of your insides giving away the closeness to your end. Smirking around your skin, Kirishima hums, sending you crashing carelessly towards your orgasm.

The sound of his name falling obscenely from your lips makes his cock harden and twitch between his legs. He grunts as he ruts forward against your shin, the head of his dick smearing pre-come against your smooth skin. You suck in a breath at the feeling, falling forward so your lips are in his hair, whispering murmurs of praise and begging as you feel your core writhe with pleasure.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, hearing your whines from above, “c’mon, Princess, come for me.”

You do as your told, the glutinous walls within you coated with your arousal, milky fluid seeping from your body until it has coated his palm. Kirishima reaches up with his clean hand to thread it through your hair, pulling you gently so he can stand to his feet. You watch as he pumps his cock with the palm that is slick with your silvery strands of spend, the head of him engorged and angry red in color. Your mouth salivates at the thought of him splitting you wide open with the thick girth of him, and for a moment you’re unsure if you’ll be able to take him as easily as you originally believed.

Kirishima wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you to him so he can hoist you off of the desk and walk you towards the small bed staggered in the corner of the room. He lowers you down easily, the rippling muscles of his biceps drawing your eye as he strains himself to keep you safe. You lean up and kiss him on the mouth, swallowing his growling sounds into the recesses of your throat so they may thrum up and down your spine, sending a second shock-wave towards your core.

You notice that Kirishima is eyeing a very specific point on your throat as he leans back onto his thick thighs, taking in your already weakened body. You reach up and palm at his chest, redirecting his attention to your eyes, “Eijirou, what is it?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss up from your navel to your chest, “you’re just beautiful.”

His words make your body blush from head to toe, your feet curling up as he shuffles himself out of his pants. You take the moment to hoist your dress over your head, both of your clothes left in a pile on the floor as you reconnect your bodies with a kiss.

Something about this time makes his skin hotter to the touch, you notice, and his muscles are practically ripping at the seams, threatening to bust out if he tries any harder to keep himself restrained. You lick at the fullness of his lower lip, “Eijirou, I need you. Please.”

The pleading nature of your voice only feeds his feral nature, the instinctive side of him wanting to rip you to shreds until you’re screaming his name, crying fat tears as he presses into you and fills you to the brim with his spend. Kirishima has to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off the primal need that stirs him, instead focusing on the way his heart beats faster when you’re around, and how the glimmer in your eyes never ceases to amaze him.

Kirishima angles his hips backward so he can push the tip of his cock between your sopping heat, his restraint feathering out the deeper he slides into you. A gentle gasp from your lips stops him, his hips stilled as he peels his eyes open to look down at you, “A-Am I hurting you?”

“No, fuck, Eijirou, I want you,” you scramble to grab at whatever part of him you can find, fingernails digging roughly into his biceps, “I need you in me, I need you to take me. I’m yours.”

That is the last straw to break the proverbial camel’s back. Kirishima sheathes his cock within your heat with one smooth stroke, the stretch of your tight pussy making the shaft of his dick throb noticeably. You reel forward, your forehead smacking into his chest at the sudden obtrusion from within you. Your body takes over then, trying your hardest to kiss and lick and touch any patch of skin that is close enough.

The prince wraps an arm around your back, holding you sturdily with a palm splayed out between your shoulders, easily keeping you in place as he starts to jut his hips forward, “So fuckin’ tight, angel, such a good little girl, takin’ my cock like this. Fuck I want to-”

He stops himself by dropping his forehead to your shoulder, whining as his thick cock pounds repeatedly into your pussy. You grab at his hair to pull him away from you, desperate to look him in the eyes, “Eiji, tell me.”

There are tears settled in the corners of his irises with the desperate need for more that his body cries out for. Kirishima shakes his head and kisses you on the mouth, nails biting into your back as his cock makes your insides keen. He loses himself in the stretch of you, the tightness of your core making his whole body boil, his skin teeming with sweat as he rucks into you.

“Damnit,” he whimpers as you clench around him, drawing his dick back into your core as he tries to snap his hips backward, “I want to breed you, so fuckin’ bad, Princess.”

It is like he expects you to retreat once he’s said it, as if the thought of it might scare you off. On the contrary, all it does is spur you forward. You kiss him like your life depends on it, rolling your hips up to meet his until he is stroking the hidden part of you near your spine, the head of his cock inflamed and beading with pre-come even as he’s buried to the hilt within you.

The weight of his balls is more intense now, throbbing with his seed, slapping into your ass as he ruts forward, taking your body and molding it with his intentions. You hiss as the veins forking along the underside of his cock drag salaciously against your folds, but he merely takes advantage of the parting of your lips to delve his tongue into your mouth. He maps out each of your molars and then down to the back of your throat, moans spoken into the confines of your jaws so that the world may never hear them, only you.

You know that you are going to have to be the one to tell him that this is okay, that you want him to destroy your body with his touch. Every hair stands on end, even with him holding back, and you can only imagine how worked your bones will feel once he’s actually given you his all. Kirishima is feverish around you, hot and sweating as he works the both of you towards the point of coming undone. You relinquish yourself from his kiss, leaning your head back so you can look him in the eyes.

“Breed me, Eijirou,” your voice is hoarse when you speak, near cracking as you beg him, desperate tears glittering in the corners of your eyes, “I want you to fill me up with your come, please. Stuff me full of it.”

Kirishima’s palm rests at your abdomen, and you notice it for the first time. You wonder what is going through his mind; if he is thinking about the way his cock fills your stomach, or if he is plagued by the idea of you full with his child, pregnant and swollen at the navel. He rubs the heel of it over the expanse of your belly, finding every available patch of skin to caress with his touch, the hardened tips of his fingers raking thin red lines into your skin.

A part of you wants them to never go away, marking you as his, letting all the others know who you belong to.

“I want your baby, Eiji. Won’t you give me one?” Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure if this is how he wants this night to go. You lick your lips and look up at him bashfully, tiny tear tracks spilled over your cheeks in rivulets, “I want you to breed me full, Eijirou. I want you to fill up my cunt with your seed until I’m dripping, please, won’t you?”

Your begging mixed with his feral desire brings his teeth down to your neck, bared but not piercing, not yet. He whimpers as he slips his mouth closed, nosing over the area, licking at it like an animal, “You’d be so pretty when you’re full of me, absolutely beautiful.”

You turn your head so you can kiss him on the temple, feeling his hesitation beneath the pads of your fingers, “I’m your wife, Eiji, but I want to be your mate, too.”

A strangled sound is mangled in his throat, but he pulls away from you to look you in the eye nonetheless, “Wh-What are…Princess, listen, I don’t want you to think-”

“I love you.”

His irises engulf his pupils as his eyes widen, stuttering breaths parting his lips. His gaze is frantic, unable to find one part of your face to hone in on, the three words that you’ve uttered into the air giving him serious pause. His heart starts pumping furiously in his chest, threatening to beat right out of the cage of his ribs if he isn’t careful to calm it.

You are frightened that you’ve been too honest, that you’ve bared your soul too far and there is no coming back. Fear forces your words down into your chest, unable to cry out an apology at going too far too soon. Your hands on his arms pull away, digging into the sheets so you have something to take out your inner turmoil on.

“Y-You want…” Kirishima shakes his head, swallowing thickly so his throat bobs, “You want me?”

The incredulous snort that makes your nostrils flare cannot be contained. You look down to where he is balls deep in your cunt, and then back up to hold his gaze, “Eijirou, is that really even a question?”

He’s stuttering out some sort of response, but you can’t be bothered to listen, so you drag him forward by the nape of his neck, cementing your mouth to his. You wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into the firm muscle of his ass to pull him back to you, to encourage his movements. Kirishima is tentative this time, unsure of himself but his animalistic nature still brings him back to pump his cock within your heat.

“I love you,” you murmur into his lips, twirling your fingers through his hair, “if you love me too, then I want whatever you have to offer, whatever you need to give me so I can finally be yours.”

With every word you speak, the animal gnawing at the back of Kirishima’s consciousness grows less tame. It is begging, with claws at his throat, to take you for all you’re worth, until you’re bone dry and pleading for him to relinquish you. He bares his teeth and the instinct curling around his spine, making him seem stronger, wider, somehow gives way to the true nature of this rut he’s told you about.

It’s a mixture of excitement and fear, and you feel a rush of heat flood your core.

Kirishima groans, gnashing his teeth as he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed to one another. You can sense he’s still holding back, still a touch embarrassed, so you knead your fingers into the tops of his shoulders, begging with the touch of his muscles for him to claim you once and for all.

“Kiri,” your voice is strong even though you’re whispering, “what do you want to do to me? Don’t you want me?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” Kirishima kisses you soundly on the mouth, as if he must reassure you, as if you were doubting him. “I want you, every day for the rest of my life. B-But I can’t…a mate is for life, angel.”

The way he says it suggests that you don’t already know, or that it may come as a surprise to you. You smile, wrapping your arms around his back so you can lean up, arching your spine so your torsos are flush with one another. You’ve never felt the desire to be so close to someone, but it is as if this is not even close enough. You wish there were a better way to prove to him that he is the end of the line for you, that you could never want anyone else.

“I love you,” you repeat, palming the corded muscle of his back as if it might pump the confession into him by the osmosis of your sweat, “You are the first thing I want to see in the morning when I wake, and the last thing I gaze at in the night before I fall asleep. You are the end to all my beginnings, Eijirou.”

Kirishima groans at your confession, his needy body unable to create the same kind of eloquent response as he holds his hips still, unwilling to ruin your beautiful moment. His nose brushes along the bridge of yours, a question lodged in his throat and unwilling to be bared. You nudge the bow of your lips against his cheek, murmuring kind praises into his ear, “Tell me what you want, what you need, Eijirou. I want to give it to you, whatever it is.”

“C-Can I mark you?” his voice is bedraggled, just on the cusp of breaking.

“Please,” you ask of him, craning your head so your neck is available. “I want to be yours, and I want everyone else to know.”

It seems that is all the encouragement he needs, baring his fanged teeth to the thin skin of your neck, tongue tracing over your jugular as he prepares the area for his biting kiss. He nudges his nose against your earlobe, that same ancient tongue from earlier sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

You are not prepared for the searing pain that rips through your body when he finally tears into you. A cry parts your lips and your cunt squeezes him so tightly that he almost slips from within you. Your hand rips through his hair, the other occupied with his shoulder, nails bludgeoning his hardened skin until you draw blood. You want to throw your head back but you know that will only make it all worse, his teeth will shred your skin until you are but a flayed piece of meat lying beneath him.

“Kiri,” you whine, turning your head to nestle you lips into the edge of his hair that curls around his ear, kissing at whatever surface you can find.

He hums in response, unable to give you words as he sucks and pulls at the skin. You feel your mind cloud the longer he has dug into you, the tendrils of need writhing around your cerebrum until you can no longer think clearly. The one thing on your mind is the very thing between his legs, and you whisper words of want into his ear, praying that he can hear you through his animalistic marking.

The palm of his hand digs further into your belly, until he can feel the tip of his cock underneath his fingers. Kirishima growls around your neck, the timbre of his voice shaking your very bones. You swallow, dipping your fingers further into the skin of his shoulders, “Kirishima, move.”

His hips are listening even if he does not give an indication that he’s heard you. He uses his hands to prop up your legs, the tips of his digits bruising your skin with their intensity, until your knees are almost parallel with the mattress. The only reason they aren’t digging into your chest is because he’s still slotted there, gnashing away at the sensitive skin of your neck. His body is lumbering and thick, dense from his neck to his ankles.

Kirishima makes you feel small, in every sense of the word. Even as a princess, you did not feel dainty, you’ve never been a precious flower that someone else has to protect. You’ve always stumbled a little, faltered when you should be standing upright, and your parents have had to reprimand you for your unladylike tendencies more than once.

But here, lying underneath his hulking form, your fingers seem tinier, more elegant, and even as your knees dig into his ribs, he does not falter, does not wince. You cannot put him in pain, between his hard exterior and his intense primal nature, and it makes you feel like a porcelain doll.

And once his cock plunges back within your tight, wet heat, you are reminded of how massive he truly is.

The tip of his cock butterflies you wide open, shattering your limited stretch and prying you open with each quivering inch of his thick girth. He overwhelms you, so much so that your head topples backward to dig further into the pillow, as if running away from him might soothe the ache between your legs. Even that is a mistake, because once you’ve shifted, his teeth scrape down the sensitive skin of your collarbones, angry red marks left in their wake.

He leans back to examine his hard work, eyes roaming the juncture of your neck and shoulder where the shape of his teeth is like a shadow. A guttural growl emanates from his throat, the air sparking with electricity at the sound of it. You swallow the thick, pent-up arousal in your throat and breathe heavily, somewhat thankful to be rid of his mouth even though a part of you would frenetically like to bring it back. Your throat is throbbing, and you think you could count the number of teeth he was able to sink into you based on the pain of it alone.

“Princess,” he gasps as he takes in the pulsating mark now claiming you as his, “I-I’m sorry, d-did I-”

You shake your head and pull at him in every way possible, your body crying out for more of him in every sense of the word. Kirishima moans as you kiss him again, pushing your tongue between his teeth to try and taste the familiar warmth of his mouth. You moan, your body finding his easily, comfortable and wanting as you careen forward, the throbbing circular mark on your shoulder long forgotten. You have to come up for air much sooner than you like, still reeling from his marking of your body.

Kirishima’s palm is digging into your stomach again, nails biting into your smooth skin as his cock pulses, and he squints harshly as he pulls away to look you in the eyes. The sight of you splayed out beneath him, completely at his mercy, makes his balls throb and he snaps his hips up into you again out of pure primal need alone. Your body jostles, breasts bouncing and thighs rippling, as his cock bottoms out into your cunt, the tip of him bursting with arousal and finding your cervix.

“Oh shit,” he drops his head to your chest, curling himself upward so your hips are flush, his hip bones bruising your thighs as he unceremoniously crumbles into you. Your hands are on him in an instant, trying to understand what could have possibly happened to make him so vulnerable.

You barely have time to say his name before he’s whining, sucking your nipple between the bite of his teeth out of the sole desire to muffle his needy pants. Your hand sifts through his hair, head thrown back while you enjoy the ministrations of his tongue around your chest. He mumbles out words that you can’t quite make out, but with the way his cock is throbbing between your walls and the motions of his hand and mouth on your breast, you don’t care much to understand what drivel he’s spinning.

It is only when you feel the inside of your body flood with heat that you understand.

“Eijirou,” you call to him, forcing his head away from your nipple with the gentle tug of your hands, “d-did you just-”

He looks like he could cry, his head hung in shame, “Yes.”

You want to laugh at his pitiful nature, but you can’t, not knowing what the would do to his self-esteem. Instead, you roll your hips up to try and milk him of his release, encouraging him to start rocking your body with his arousing rhythm until he is completely spent within you.

“You said you wanted to breed me, didn’t you?” you question roughly in his ear, your head tilted to where he’s tucked into your collarbone. You kiss his hair, desperate to clutch onto him as you feel his cock softening, peeling away from your tight hole. The feel of come seeping from your cunt makes you squirm, “Eijirou?”

Kirishima tilts his head back and looks you in the eyes, reddened orbs practically devastated. He nods, “Y-Yeah, but I just-”

“Again.”

His throat bobs, eyes widening at your notion. He turns his head to survey your body, littered with bruises and bite marks and it hasn’t been but one round of his cock buried to the hilt within you. His eyes catch on the marking on your shoulder and his cock stirs again, “A-Again?”

“Breed me,” you grit between your teeth, “please, Eijirou. I want you to put a baby in me.”

The biting nature of his fingertips is not lost on you as he pushes your thighs back so your knees are pressed into the mattress. His thick body is wavering above you, eyes unable and unwilling to look away from you as he starts to roll his hips again, slowly so he does not lose the slick that he has gathered from the both of you.

Kirishima swallows one last pensive breath and then it’s like a switch has gone off in his mind, like he’s finally letting the caged beast out to take over, controlling his ministrations. You arch your back so you can feel his hardened nipples against your chest, one of his hands slowly creeping up your torso until he’s found the bruised, marred skin of your neck beneath his fingertips.

“Look so beautiful, love,” Kirishima kisses your forehead, like a proverbial final word before he devours you whole. “I can’t wait to wreck this pretty pussy of yours, mark this body up until no one has any question of who you belong to.”

His uncharacteristically harsh words make your core tighten and your toes curl. You nod, starting to beg for it, the words just barely tipping over the edge of your tongue when he clamps his hand down on the mark of your neck. You feel white-hot pain shoot forth from the area, coating your body in a wave of agony as the pulsing spreads downward.

A broken whimper escapes your gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut when his blunt fingernails dip further into the area, almost like he’s testing to see how far you can take it before he has to relent. He is unkind when he grabs your thigh, pushing it up into your chest as he resumes his slow pace from before. His cock is already beginning to harden again, twitching relentlessly against your glutinous walls, coated with both your arousal and his spend.

“Eijirou,” you want to beg for him but you can barely push out the broken syllables of his name. Tears coat your cheeks but you don’t mind the blurred vision as you gaze up at him. It makes him shine, like the starlight he truly is. Your face breaks into a smile, despite the absolute torment you feel wracking your body. You would endure anything for him, any sort of discomfort or torture, if it meant that you could be this close to him forever.

Kirishima kisses you square on the mouth, “Hush, angel, let me take care of you.”

Your jaw snaps shut, the muscles along the angle of your face shuddering under the pressure of your gritted teeth. Kirishima smiles warmly at you, the last shred of his humanity remaining before he plunges his thumb into the direct center of your marking, digging his fingernail into the bruised skin. You yelp, your cunt clenching around his cock as he pushes deeper into you.

The entirety of your body is so compliant, molded around his frame, practically fluid as you conform to the positions his hands push you into. Kirishima licks a heated stripe along the column of your neck, leaving behind a wet patch that runs cold when he breathes over it. You dig your hands back against his shoulders, raking the tips of your nails along the length of his back and shoulders.

Kirishima gasps audibly at the newfound tightness of your core at his ministrations. He uses his free palm to reach down and grind his thumb against your hooded clit. He nudges his nose along your jawline, breathing coming in heavy pants as he pummels you into the soft plush of the mattress beneath your shoulders. The snap of his hips does not let your backside rest, your body hovering a few inches from the mattress.

It’s as if he cannot get enough of you, even so much so that he won’t allow your frame to fall too far from him. Kirishima must keep you close, he has no other option. The feral animal clawing at what little shred of his resolve that remains whispers in his ear to put a new mark on every visible inch of your skin until you are nothing but a black and blue mess, blubbering and begging beneath him.

“Such a pretty little thing when you come undone for me,” Kirishima murmurs against the shell of your ear, the sultry sound of his voice intermingled with his panting sending a rolling wave of pleasure down your spine until your toes are curling around the sheets. “You like it when I’m this deep inside of you? Not letting your pussy breathe?”

You are nodding even if you don’t fully understand what he’s saying. You would agree to anything, that much you are aware of, and you know that he is keen to that fact as well. Kirishima is still careful with you, somehow aware enough of your limitations to revere you and reel himself in when he feels he might be going too far. The blitzed-out look in your eyes tells him all that he needs to know – you have slipped beneath the surface into that subservient headspace that he’s seen you on the cusp of so many times when he’s had you knuckle deep and coming around his fingers. The very essence of his being tells him to work you for every tear, ever drop of arousal, that you can create, to bludgeon your body until you are begging him to give you a moment to breathe, and then deny you of it.

Kirishima’s hand that has been pressed against your wound now turns to curl around your throat, fingers squeezing your neck until you are gasping for breath. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed as your mouth gapes open wide, bobbing like a fish out of water as you struggle to inhale the slightest amount of oxygen. Your hands flop from his body to the mattress, curling around the sheets until he hears them rip between your nails.

“Look at you, Princess,” he nudges your cheek until you’re looking him in the eyes again, “can’t even speak in full sentences. So whipped for my cock, huh? Tell me what you want me to do to you, if you can talk.”

Drool dribbles from either corner of your mouth and when you shake your head, it creates damp splotches on the pillowcase. Kirishima chuckles, pushing the base of his thumb against the fleshy underside of your chin, forcing your head still so he can glower down at you, crimson eyes shining. The heel of his palm stays jutted against your esophagus, limiting your breathing as he loiters over you.

The words that come out of your mouth are mere wheezing syllables, unable to be understood in their broken form. Tears form in your eyes, clumping on your lashes, at the pure frustration that you can’t tell him exactly what you’d like him to do to you. You whine, the sound breaking in the middle when Kirishima tightens his grip on your throat. You peel your eyes open to see a darkness settled in his irises, their normally crimson color turned almost to black in his lustful state.

It should make you upset, that he’s losing himself, but instead, it just stokes the fire in your belly until the flames are raging up into your throat. The smoke of it all builds behind your eyes and in your mouth until you have to open everything, whining and moaning and writhing like your life depends on it. All the while, Kirishima has set a steady, bruising pace of his cock dragging against your walls, the forked veins on the underside of him giving you additional friction. You want to grab at him, to tug on his body until he melts into you, but your arms are limp, practically your whole body is at the intense ministrations of his hands and hips.

Finally, after your vision begins to blur and your eyelids slip closed at the feel of the remaining oxygen leaving your throat, Kirishima relents his grip and a rush of air floods your lungs. You gasp and choke, the motions making your cunt clamp tightly around his cock, giving Kirishima the push he needs to bottom out within you again, holding himself still until you can catch your breath.

“Such a good girl,” Kirishima is whispering the words hoarsely as his mouth roams your cheek and neck and collarbones. He plants wet, sloppy kisses against your skin like he does not have time to think about the affections.

You whine when you feel his tongue dart from between his lips to lavish attention to the wound on your shoulder, the bite mark from his pointed teeth leading way to bruising and little trails of crimson seeping down from your shoulder to the mattress. He licks at it, half out of wanting to hear you moan when he puts too much pressure on the bruise and half out of guilt for hurting you.

His name comes from your lips and it makes his cock stir against your cervix, “Tell me what you want, angel, I need to know.”

You are aware the duality of that statement. He needs to know because he needs permission, even if his current state won’t allow him to admit it. You find it in you to reach a hand up to sift through his hair, palming at the back of his head to give him some ease with your touch.

“I want you to come in me, Eijirou,” your voice is panting, a mix of exhaustion and longing making you sound fatigued. You feel tears push out of the edges of your eyes at the pure need you have for him to make all of this a reality, “Come in me, Eiji, I want you to give me a baby. I want you to breed me until I’m full of your child, over and over again. I want you to fill me up un-ah!”

Kirishima ruts forward and you swear you feel something within you tear at the pure size of him. He nips at your jaw, nosing along your neck, brushing against it whenever he pulses forward. The salacious sounds filling the air only contribute to your arousal, floods of slick washing over his dick as he slots in and out of you.

He grunts, “So fuckin’ tight,” before his hands travel down towards your thighs, pushing them back until he has you folded so only your shoulders are against the bed. You whimper as you turn, your mark pushed against the mattress until it is pulsing with pain.

“I’m gonna come in this tight, wet little hole until you’re leaking, until you taste it.” Kirishima can feel the impending doom of his spend when his cock twitches within your quivering heat. You try and clamp your walls down around him to keep his length sheathed within you for longer, but it’s of no use. He has set a bruising pace that he intends on following through with until you are screaming and his come is coating your soft insides.

Your toes are pointed toward the ceiling, curling downward when he slams into you. The pace of his hips is menacing, something you should fear, because the feel of him makes you think he might rip you open. But, you’re sure you’d let him split you down the middle and you’d still say thank you. Mumbles of incoherent drivel pour from your mouth along with your rivulets of drool and tears.

Kirishima chuckles, “Look at you, a beautiful mess for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? I can’t wait to fill this precious cunt up. I’ll give you as many babies as you can hold.”

The call to your womb must be strong, because he stays slotted within you for a moment, fingers rolling around your thighs as he takes you in. His crimson irises dole over your body, from your plush lips to your plump chest, on downward to the gentle bump of your belly as his cock nudges within you. Kirishima abandons your thighs for your stomach, raking his nails along the unmarked plane of skin, thin angry lines left behind when he pulls away.

You reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, keeping his touch pointed on your navel, “I want to have your baby, Eijirou. All of them, as many as you can give me. Please, I’m just a vessel for you to use.”

His eyes deepen at that sentiment, but something else passes through them. He catches his lip within the bite of his teeth before leaning down to kiss you, palm turned against your stomach so his knuckles drag along your skin, but he can slot his fingers between yours and squeeze.

“You are so much more than that,” he whispers into your mouth, as if the words may stay caged in there forever for you to marinate on them. He kisses your cheeks, the tears sticking on his lips, his voice thick when he speaks, “You’ll be the prettiest mama out there, you know? So beautiful and round, absolutely breathtaking when you have to waddle around, you’re so full.”

Kirishima is close to whimpering, eyes screwed shut as he speaks his heart, “I love you, Princess, god, you mean the world to me.”

Your fingers find purchase against his shoulders, the scratched skin beneath the pads of your digits making you salivate. You’ve marked him, too, even if it’s not the same. You want to spend the rest of your life repeating it over and over, marking him every time he finds you beneath the sheets, so that the others may know that he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him. The two of you are completely intertwined in every facet of the word, limbs and hearts woven into the same piece of soul fabric, begging to be together until the end of time.

The edges of your vision begin to dither as you come closer to your climax. You swallow the lump in your throat and whimper, “Kirishima, I think I might-”

He is listening, the hand not currently wrapped around yours reaching between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit. A bruising kiss is pressed firmly to your mouth, dampening your lewd sounds as you writhe under his bulky body, hardly moving but trying desperately all the same. You can’t help it as your mouth parts to lick at seam of his lips, but he willingly opens his mouth to you, receiving the pointed lapping of your tongue as he slowly begins to rut back into you.

“I want you to beg for what you want,” he gasps into your teeth, the tip of your noses clashing as the sound of his weighty balls slap against the curve of your ass. He can taste the saltiness of your tears as your mouths meld together, and it makes him smirk, “Are you cryin’? Like a sweet little bitch, crying for my cock?”

You want to answer him, to tell him how much you love every part of him, to shower his body in praise until you’ve gone mute, but your throat is hoarse and your mind is hazy, and you can’t form words. Instead, you tilt your head and kiss him harder, your tongue swiping over his as you try to convey how you’re feeling into this kiss, attempting to make his world spin. You want to give him a small taste of what he has done to you, even if it will never truly meet the searing reality of his hold he’s got on you, body, mind and soul.

“Cry for me, darling,” Kirishima coos as his mouth travels down the curve of your jaw until his teeth meet the juncture of your neck and ear, “I want Bakugou to hear you when I stuff your cunt full, all the way from out in the hallway. Gonna put my child in you while you sob for my cock, begging me to keep fucking you deeper and deeper into this bed.”

You can hardly create coherent sentences, between his mouth and hands and cock all working at your relentlessly, the ministrations of his body creating a throbbing euphoria between your hips. You whine at the idea of having to say much of anything right now, let alone an understandable string of words.

His balls are weighty as they slap against your backside, the sound making your throat bob, and he growls, “Beg for me, like the little whore you are.”

The nipping of his teeth against your mouth makes your cunt spasm, and Kirishima lets loose a strangled sound from the back of his throat. Based on the whimpering curtail of his voice, you can tell that he’s close to coming a second time. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tightly as you edge yourself to a release. You have to close your eyes so the white-hot arousal boiling in your core can’t blur your vision.

“Y-Your come, your cock,” is all you can find yourself repeating over and over, your being too fucked-out to say much of anything else. Hot tears leak down your temples, exhausted sobs making your voice shake when you scream for him, throat close to shattering in its hoarseness.

Kirishima leans back so he can preen, his cock stretching you even further in this position. Your eyes bug out before you can squint your lids closed again. He chuckles, the sound dark and ominous as it reverberates around in the room, “Do you know how fuckin’ hard it’s been to control myself around you? God, I’ve been wanting to fuck you like this for months, breed you like a good little bitch in heat, give you loads of my come until you’re bursting at the seams with it.”

His lewd words are what bring you toppling over the edge, the thought of his come leaking out of your abused pussy, him plugging you up with his cock and rutting up into you again until he’s brought on another release from within himself. Your palms slap his biceps as you grip onto him, afraid he might actually push you through the mattress with the ferocity of his hips. There’s no doubt in your mind that you will have blooming bruises all over your body, marking you up like flowers spread throughout a garden.

“Fucking hell at this sloppy pussy, Princess,” Kirishima’s hands on your thighs tighten, biting deep into the muscle until you swear he hits bone, “I’m gonna breed you up so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Keep you hidden in here, fuck you endlessly, until you’re begging me to quit.”

“No,” you gasp out, your voice crackling even on the single syllable, “don’t stop.”

Kirishima smirks down at you, “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”

You are shaking your head, silently encouraging him because your voice is shot to hell. You dig your nails into his biceps, shaking him just enough that he understands your subtext, starting to rock his hips against your ass, the thick shaft of his cock slipping along your inner walls as he works you closer to the crest of climax.

It’s just on the precipice of your body, your entire form overheated with the flames of arousal. You want to cry, the end so close and yet feeling so unachievable. Kirishima releases one of your thighs to attend to your clit, the pace of his circling finger matching that of his cock pounding into your heat. With each thrust, you see another wave of stars in the air above you. Even in the low candlelight of this secret room, you can see the glimmering in Kirishima’s irises, as if he has his own galaxy tucked away in his pupils, bringing it out for you and for you only.

Kirishima curses, dropping his head to watch his cock slip from your wet core, silvery strands of slick the only thing connecting him to you now, “Gotta stop clenching so hard, sweetheart,” somehow he manages to push himself back into you, despite the size of your hole. Kirishima grabs one of your ankles and settles it on his shoulder, turning to kiss the joint, “Such a tight little pussy, but so fucking sloppy. You’re dripping.”

His nose nudges along the length of your calf as he picks up his pace, rutting into you with purpose. You wonder how much of his animalistic nature will bleed into the other aspects of your life, but you don’t have much time to ponder before the coiling heat of your orgasm is beginning to build up and cloud your consciousness. Your jaw hangs slack and Kirishima takes the opportunity to slip his index and fourth finger between your lips, the golden ring on his finger cool on the heated pad of your tongue.

“There you go,” he murmurs absentmindedly, tilting his head to consider you. You circle one hand around his wrist, pushing him further into the hollows of your cheeks. His eyes widen at the action and it makes his hips falter in their pacing.

Kirishima can feel the tightening of your cunt around his cock, and the tears in your eyes, and he knows that you’re close, “C’mon, angel, I want you to come on my cock. You feel so fuckin’ good around me, holding me tight.”

You sniffle, drool creating a silvery rivulet down your cheek, “Eijirou, please,” you are whimpering into his knuckles, praying that you don’t bite down on him too hard.

“S’okay,” Kirishima’s voice is kind, in stark contrast to the harsh nature of his dick as it jackhammers into you. “Bite me, I’ll be okay. I just want to make you come.”

Listening to his plea, you grind your teeth together around his knuckles, biting into his skin until you taste metal. The release of pressure gives way to an earth-shattering orgasm, your cunt spasming around his cock until you can feel your arousal seeping out of your body, dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You suck on Kirishima’s fingers, tonguing his knuckles to distract yourself from screaming.

“Good girl,” he coos, thumb grazing your cheek and chin as he continues to rock into your core. You are still gushing when he tenses up, thighs rippling as he readies himself to come for the second time. Kirishima’s voice is hoarse, near a growl as he looks down at you, a blubbering, hiccuping mess beneath him, “F-Fuck, Princess, you’re gonna look so beautiful when you’re full with our child. I can’t wait to stuff you full over and over again, until you’re bursting at the seams.”

You start to plead, your words nothing more than blather, foaming at the mouth as you whine for his spend, tears beading at the corners of your eyes in your desperation. Your nails rake down the length of his muscled back, your heels dipping into the flesh of his ass to keep him pinned to you, for just a moment of reprieve from his agonizingly thick length. The forked veins running along either side of his cock make your walls quiver as your abused insides beg for a break.

When he feels a newfound tightness as he tries to withdraw from you, he seethes through his teeth, “Shit, sweetheart. St-Stop clenching, or else I’ll have to fuck you all over again.”

There’s a pause, a stilling of his body, as he looks down at you, drooling and crying around his knuckles. He chuckles, the sound reverberating his chest in such a way that shakes the very room. Your body tenses at the timbre, eyes struggling to focus on one specific point on his face as he ravishes you with his carmine irises.

“Actually,” he tilts his head, shoving his fingers further down your throat until you are gagging around his digits, “go ahead, push it out, it just means I get to breed this tight little pussy all over again.”

Kirishima leans forward, brushing his mouth against your jaw as he sheathes himself within you inch by inch, slow and salacious, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you to the fucking brim anyway, angel. You want this load?”

You can’t help the instant wanton words that fly from your mouth, sparking in the midst of the two of you, pouring out of your chest like fire. You whine and keen, sucking his knuckles into the hollows of your cheeks to try and bring him closer to the precipice of pleasure, to give him the same radical sensation that he has given you twice now.

“Give it,” you force the words out despite his thick digits pushing down on the muscle of your tongue, “please, Eiji, I-I want your ba-oh.”

He growls, bludgeoning his cock into your cunt as he starts coming undone within you. A blooming heat starts in your core and blossoms upward until you think smoke may come out of your nostrils. It clouds your mind, the slightest bit of consciousness creeping forward so you can enjoy the way he paints your walls with his spend, filling you just as he promised.

“Take it,” he snarls, sharpened teeth making your back arch, “take my fucking load.”

Your legs wobble, but you keep yourself wrapped around him, allowing him to ride out his pleasure until his hips are sloppy, thighs brushing your bruised ass a final time before he drops his head to your chest. He is hot, unbearably warm, but you endure it because it means he is here.

His hands brush down from the backs of your knees until he is pushing you back into the mattress, allowing your body to rest, limp against the sheets. Kirishima kisses the swell of your breast, imagining how full they’ll be once your womb has been filled and your body starts to change. He could cry at the thought of it, his animalistic side attempting to take over his consciousness, warm at the thought of you carrying on his lineage, giving him heir after heir.

Kirishima hums against your sternum, hands encompassing your sides in full, fingers splayed across your ribs, “Such a pretty little thing, angel. You’re perfect. I love you.”

He starts to pull from you but you whine, clenching around him so tightly that your combined arousal seeps from your cunt, dripping down the curve of your ass. Your nails bite into his biceps, clutching onto him like an anchor, “Please don’t leave me, Eijirou.”

“Hey,” his voice is soothing, nose nudging over your jugular. He presses himself back into you, filling you up even as he starts to soften, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not now, and not ever. You’re mine, my mate.”

You swear you see the curling wisps of flames seeping from his teeth and tongue, the dragon in him coming forth in a surge of possessiveness. His eyes drop to the piercing bite adorning your shoulder, a mix of blood and bruising on display, the mating mark stirring his cock within your cunt again and you’re afraid he might already be starting up for a third round.

Tilting your head skyward, you beseech him for his mouth, pursing your lips just enough that he understands your silent plea. Kirishima’s smirk melts into a smile, dimples piercing his cheeks, and he meets you halfway, slotting his mouth to yours. The warmth of your lips meld together, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but you do not care because at least he is buried to the hilt within you and his body is flush with your own. You see stars as you are deprived of oxygen, but this might be the most pleasant way to go – full to the brim of him, his mouth starving you, your entire being swallowed by the essence of him.

“You don’t quit that, I’ll take you again, right now,” Kirishima is growling as his mouth finds your mark again, pressing a harsh kiss to the purpled skin, “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you’re not sure what specific event has stirred them on, but you let them fall nonetheless. Kirishima is quick to kiss them away before they can stain your pillowcase, whispering kindness as he brushes his mouth against each of your eyelids, “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Always, Eijirou,” you whisper into thin air, your voice reaching his ears and sending a bolt of lightning down his spine, “I’ve always been yours, from the moment I saw you, I belonged to you.”

“And I have always been yours too.” Kirishima brushes his nose against the bridge of your face, “I can’t wait to build a legacy with you.”

The thudding of footsteps echoes down the hall, drawing carmine irises up from their previously hooded position. He rolls his eyes, standing to his feet, sword weighing heavy on his belt, “What is it?”

“Very important news,” the younger man’s throat bobs as he stutter steps backward, “The, uh, the ball that’s being held later-”

The blonde wags his finger in midair, a chuckle parting his smirking mouth, “Go find someone else to figure that shit out. You’ll regret it if you go in there now.”

A widened stare follows his finger to the door, where the wood is shaking just enough that he can get the hint. The knight in front of him chuckles, sitting back down in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee, “Yeah, I wouldn’t disturb him during his breeding season if I were you.”

a/n: yeah, so this was supposed to be 2k. obviously that didn’t happen, lol. i hope you guys like my first true kiri fic :)

tagging: @mirakumiruku @kamehamethot @1-800-callmekatsuki @shoutogepi @freckledoriya @writeiolite @kingtamakimurder @cutesuki--bakugou

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #kirishima bnha #morgan writes bnha #kirishima x you #kirishima eijirou x you #my writing

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pluto-art · 4 years

Text

Syncytium - Chapter 1

Title: Syncytium Words: 3,311 Rating: T Summary: Teacher AU. Takes place in a fictional universe in which Professor Ronald Pinkus and Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter (played by Pinky and Brain, respectively) are college professors at an esteemed school for mice that focuses on science and the arts. Mainly told from Brain's point of view; sometimes from Pinky's. He's too egotistical for his own good. Pinky is too happy-go-lucky for his own good. The two clash. High jinks ensue. Dr. Globetrotter gets more than he bargained for. Way more than he bargained for...

Fan fiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/1/Syncytium

This was 100% inspired by the drawings I did of Brain and Pinky as professors. It’s planned to be a multi-chapter story, and I already have the major points of the entire story outlined. Here be chapter one. Enjoy.

Syncytium - n. a single cell or cytoplasmic mass containing several nuclei, formed by fusion of cells or by division of nuclei.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

January 17, 1994 - 4:35 AM

Darkness.

All around them was dark, it's impenetrable cloak cut only by the crimson beat of the emergency lights.

No one could see them. No one could hear them. No one even knew they were there. But if they could see them, by way of those steady emergency flashes, they'd make out an aging mouse struggling to carry his blue-eyed comrade to safety, light reflecting off his broken glasses. And if they could hear them, all they'd pick up, aside from a distant alarm, would be a heavy, breathless panting.

Brian paused in his efforts to set down the taller, much lankier mouse on the concrete below, an arm coming 'round to support his friend's head. Heavy lids threatened to close their curtains on a pair of periwinkle eyes, their owner barely managing to stay awake.

"Pinky... Pinky, wake up!"

Nothing.

"Pinky!"

He tapped his cheek sharply.

Slowly, surely, the other mouse awakened.

"Brain...?"

"Yes, Pinky. I'm here. I'm here."

"Brain...," Pinky whispered, a paw coming up to grasp his arm tightly before his head fell back into Brain's palm.

"It's all right," cooed Brian. "It's all right, Pinky. I've got you. Shhh. Shhh. I've got you. Shhhhhh shhh shhh shhh..."

\/\/\/\/\/\/

September 10th, 1993 - 7:30 AM

Darkness.

"Sh sh sh! Quiet! Everyone calm down! Quiet!"

A pencil sharpened. A ruler placed just so on a dated, mahogany table. Half-moon violet glasses were pushed square up against a pair of pink, deadpan eyes by a delicate, nail-bitten finger.

"Good evening, class," droned Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter. "Today we shall be delving into the fascinating subject of cellular mitosis..."

Sunlight, warm and bright and quite the opposite of the teacher it poured the morning's blessing onto, shone through the dark, wooden blinds of the university classroom, the better to illuminate the scene. Rows and rows of mahogany benches, arranged in a stadium format, and each with a polished table set in front of it, could barely be seen thanks to the sheer number of students adorning every bit of space available. It wasn't cramped, per say, but it was filled. Not a seat was left, and not for reason of enthusiasm. The countenance of those in attendance told all: no one was here because they wanted to be, but because they needed to be. Required classes were always the least interesting, and the occasional passed note or whispered joke barely managed to keep the atmosphere animated, provided one was even able to communicate such messages without getting caught. It was common knowledge that this particular professor had no room for flippancy. Detentions were a standard affair. Not being spoken to or called upon was considered a kindness.

Said teacher continued his sunrise spiel, seemingly oblivious to the complete lack of interest permeating the room as he droned on and on about the fascinating life of the cell.

Fascinating, indeed. If he at all harbored any excitement about the subject his profile certainly failed to project it, his demure expression reflected on the faces of practically every student in the room. Only one outlier remained: a golden-furred girl mouse, glasses a little askew, cheek resting against her paw as she sighed dreamily. An equally amber-tinted mouse beside her rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"The intricacies of such a seemingly primitive topic are much more complex and absorbing than might first be assumed, and although I don't expect any of you to give a Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch about an ounce of it, we are henceforth going to engage in the undoubtedly invaluable study regardless."

Somewhere in the back, a student scribbled "Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch" on a page of his journal labeled "The Globular List of Insults", sniggering to his freckled companion.

"Please turn your attention to page seventy-five of your textbooks. We will begin with the genesis of the process, in which a single cell divides into..."

But whatever that cell was going to divide into had to be put on hold, for at that moment the classroom door flung open to reveal a completely new fascination entirely.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Judson!" blurted out the newcomer, one foot in the door and the other still sticking outside the classroom, a loaded box of paraphernalia nestled precariously in his arms. "I'll never forget this! I promise to pay you back with a whoooooole bouquet of flowers! Nya-ha-ha-ha!"

In he tumbled, paraphernalia and all, right onto Brian T. Globetrotter's desk, knocking an ink pen, two calculators, and his name sign off the table in the process.

"Whoops! Eheh. Sorry! I'll get that for you!" offered the mouse, hastening to clean up his mess, albeit rather haphazardly.

"Wha-... What are you doing here?! I am in the middle of a very important session!" growled Globetrotter.

"Oh, yes, and I'm sure it's a very lovely session, too! But... if you don't mind my asking...," and he got right up to the other's ear and whispered: "Isn't this, ummm, my room?"

"Wha-? Puh... It most certainly is not! This is my classroom and you're intruding!" Globetrotter spluttered, poking a finger into the newcomer's chest for greater emphasis.

Three rows up, a student typed furiously on his phone: New teacher about to get ROASTED by Mr. B.

"Well, how do you figure that one?" the other mouse questioned.

"Maybe you should read the fine print?!"

And with the starkest finality he could muster, he picked up his name sign and slammed it down in front of the other mouse, turning it so that the name BRIAN T. GLOBETROTTER on the front flashed out proud as anything. The new teacher didn't seem at all perturbed by such harsh behavior. Indeed, he put his face right up to the sign, tipped down his own pair of half-moon glasses, and carefully read each word, muttering them to himself softly.

"Oh! Well, that's different then, isn't it?" he declared, straightening up to smile brightly at his fellow colleague. "But, umm, you might want to change the name there, don't you think? I mean, it says "globe trotter", but I don't see you trotting around any globes. No. Not at all. More like globe sitter. Ha-ha-ha!"

Globetrotter stared at the newcomer, mouth agape. It was all he could do at the moment, taken aback by the sheer audacity of this... figure and the pure chaos he had caused. Half the room was already in hysterics, for his buck-toothed make and slight slur, coupled with a lightly pronounced Cockney accent, made his proclamation of "sitter" sound like a different word entirely.

Everything about this mouse was... off. Compared to Globetrotter he was exceptionally tall and lanky, all the more exacerbated by the fact that Brian was quite a short mouse to begin with; he had to crane his neck to look up at him. His laugh was prominent, and his eyes were an astonishing robin's egg blue. Never in his lifetime had Globetrotter ever seen a mouse with eyes that color; he hazarded to guess they were contacts. He wore a lab coat, but only out of necessity, it seemed, for it clashed with the rest of his outfit: a pink polo-style shirt with some band's logo slapped on the front, striped corduroy pants that sported every color of the rainbow, and what looked to be black and white bowling shoes. It was as if a Goofy cartoon had vomited all over him. The heavy cardboard box he'd unceremoniously deposited on Globetrotter's table seemed to carry all assortment of bits and bobs - a globe, several petri dishes, a bag of chips, a baseball cap, some notepads and pens, a small keyboard, a roll of Gouda, some tape, a framed photograph, a book on Regis Philbin, two VHS tapes of The Honeymooners, and not one... but three Bunsen Burners, as if he had packed them in a feeble attempt to complete the look of someone who was supposedly intelligent. Every eye in the room had turned towards him as he entered, and every eye had stayed on him since. Golden-haired girl had actually dropped her pencil, grabbed her brother by the shirt sleeve, and clutched at her heart, a light whisper of, "Oh my gosh, he's hot...," fluttering past her lips. Her brother facepalmed. To complete the effect, he carried under his arm a pad hosting a number of rather childish stickers, which Globetrotter grabbed from him.

"Shut up!" he snapped at his students, who were still chuckling. They all quieted down at once. "Dr. Ronald Pinkus, Professor of Trozology," Globetrotter read aloud, disgust painting every syllable. "What in the bloody hell is 'Trozology'?"

"Oh, well, it's very simple, really. It's-," Ronald began, but at that moment, a wee mouse popped in, her eyes nearly covered by a pudgy blue tam o' shanter.

"Excuse me? Mr. Pinkus?" she squeaked, thick Scottish accent nearly muffled by the gray scarf swathed about her.

"Please, call me Pinky!" Ronald squeaked back.

The girl smiled and giggled.

"Pinky. Mrs. Judson told me to tell you that you're actually in two ten, not three nineteen."

"Hm? Ohhhhhh!" the one named Pinky exclaimed, peeking at the front of Globetrotter's classroom door. A giant number '319' was painted on its front. "That does explain things, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Now, would you kindly disencumber my desk and plant your quixotic accoutrements elsewhere?" Globetrotter fronted, already pushing Pinky's possessions towards him, and would have thrust it clear off the desk had it not been for Pinky's quick reflexes. He grabbed his loaded box, that ridiculous grin still plastered on his face.

"Thank you, Mr. Brain! And thank you, Ms... errrr...?"

"Flaversham. Olivia Flaversham," piped the girl, beaming from head to toe.

"Thank you, Olivia!"

And he waved at her, as best he could anyway, nearly losing the box as Olivia waved back and skipped off. Shifting his grip so as to take better hold of his possessions, Pinky turned to Globetrotter, panting a little.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for barging in on your class, Mr. Brain. It won't happen again!"

"It's Brian. And see to it that you don't," retorted Globetrotter, flicking stray dust off his precious desk. "You may leave at your earliest convenience, which I hope will be immediately."

"Right-o, Brain!" Pinky saluted, and with that... he trotted off, slipping a little under the weight of the box, and doing his best to close the door behind him with his long, pink tail.

For five whole seconds Globetrotter stared at the closed door, as if attempting to retrieve what little bearings he had left. Despite the poisonous nature of their teacher, many of the students couldn't help but exchange excited mutters, babbling in haste about what had just transpired. Already, Globetrotter, with his exceptional hearing, could catch such questions as, "Did you see how many burners he had?", "Do you think he's single?", and, worst of all, "Is his class full?".

In a rare move, no one was punished for such comments. If anything, for the rest of the class, Globetrotter aimed to be a bit more... amiable than usual, which only fueled the chatter. The session was a long one - three hours, to be exact - and it was with great relief that the bell rang, for if there was anything more "exciting" than cellular mitosis, it was gossip.

"Homework is due on the twenty-first. I want a count of three-thousand words at least and no exceptions!" Globetrotter rattled as the entire class practically flew out of the room in a flurry.

Many paired up with friends; some hitched up their bags and backpacks, running in haste to their next class. Three of the girls, two mice and a shrew, banded together, all a-flutter.

"Oh. My gosh. Did you see that guy? Ugh. My heart is still beating a mile a minute," one of them crooned. It was the golden-furred gal, whiskers shining as she licked her fingers and smoothed them out one-by-one.

"Gosh, Maisy, you're so superficial. One minute it's Globetrotter. Now it's this Pinky guy," mused a mouse to her left, a pair of goggles resting atop her blonde hair. "You need to pick a side."

"I am! I'm picking the cuter of the two," Maisy stated, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"He looked like Pee-wee Herman walked into Dexter's Lab or something..."

"Dexter's Lab is more fun," voiced Tillie the shrew, who adjusted the tightness of the little cloth draped over her head. "What did Globetrotter mean by giving us only five pages of homework? Usually it's at least ten..."

"I have a theory for that," said the goggle-adorned mouse, biting her fingernails.

"Would you stop doing that?" Maisy bit, slapping at the other mouse's wrist playfully. "It's so gross."

"What? They get gnarly. You know I don't wear gloves when I work."

"You should."

Goggle-mouse sighed.

"Anyway, you wanna hear my theory?"

"I do," piped the shrew.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead," droned Maisy, not at all enthused.

"Okay. So... my theory is that he's jealous. He doesn't want this Pinky guy to suddenly snatch up all his students, so he's trying to be extra nice to us to get us to stay."

Maisy snorted at this.

"As if we could leave. It's a required class."

"Yeah, but we could always drop it and take it next semester at a different time with a different teacher."

"But why would anybody go through the trouble of that?" said Tillie. "We'd all rather get it over with sooner than later."

"Exactly," "Goggles" said as they turned a corner, heading for the cafeteria. "Anyway, I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Maisy asked.

"It's Wednesday. I have Engineering on Wednesdays. Duh. Bye, guys!"

And off she went.

"Bye, Gadget!" Maisy waved, then said, under her breath, "She's so weird."

"Yeah, but we love her," Tillie said.

"Yeah, I know," smiled Maisy, as they walked into the cafeteria together.

Running past them went little tammie-headed girl. She practically flew past the throng of students milling in and trudging down the hallways, deftly weaving in and out of them like a snake in the grass. It was a wonder she didn't bump into anyone even once.

Down the maze of hallways she flew, finally stopping at a dividing lane to peer down a path at a familiar figure.

"Mr. Pinky!" she called out, desperately trying to catch her breath as she sprinted up to him.

Pinky smiled down at her, one paw resting on a handle on a door labeled 'Professor Ronald Pinkus, PhD Trozology, 210", his other arm still balancing the heavy box.

"I forgot to give you this!" Olivia panted, stretching out a sweaty hand to proffer him a little white note.

He took it, not without some difficulty, and tucked it into his box.

"Thank you, Olivia! Here..."

And he extracted from the box the bag of chips and handed it to her. She took it, puzzled.

"Tuppence for your trouble," he said, winking at her.

"Thank you, Sir! Good-bye!" Olivia waved, practically glowing as she ran back down the hallway, ripping open the bag and popping a chip in her mouth in the process.

Grinning sweetly, Dr. Ronald Pinkus opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark, and it took a moment for him to find the light. When he finally flipped a switch, it revealed to him his new abode. It wasn't the most spacious area. In fact, as compared to Dr. Brain's (or... was it Brian's?) classroom this one was visibly a tad more... cramped. Only twenty seats lay stacked in a corner, their blue paint a little chipped and their legs a mite bent. They looked more like middle-school chairs than the nicer seats found throughout most of the school. The light was dim - perhaps a little too much so. He'd need to fix that. There was a fairly solid-looking desk, at least, as well as a small waste bin, some pencils, a large chalkboard behind the desk, and one of those roll-around televisions in another corner. By all accounts, this room was trash as compared to the rest of the university, but where anyone else would have turned their nose up at it... Pinky beamed.

Setting his box down upon the desk, he hung his lab attire up on a nearby coat hanger and inhaled, breathing in the smell of old glue, old chalk, and a very slight tinge of old bubblegum. The glue smell tickled his nose and he giggled. He rather liked that scent. It reminded him of something. Something sweet...

Quietly, he relieved the poor box of its contents, placing everything in the best places he figured they should go, and set the empty box down in a corner.

"There you go, old box. Sorry for all the trouble!" he apologized. The box said nothing.

He turned back to his desk, smiling at a job well done. The three Bunsen Burners stood proudly on one corner of the desk, looking very professional indeed. The notepads and pens looked quite nice on the desk, along with the roll of tape, and there was even a little shelf under the roll-away tv that he was able to put his Honeymooners tapes on! It was perfect. Well, almost.

From his lab coat, he pulled out a handkerchief, which he carried with him to an empty bathroom across the hall. Wetting it and wringing it out, he stepped back into his classroom, shut the door behind him, and carefully, gently, wiped down the picture frame, a smile kissing his lips as he did so. Four little figures beamed up at him: two older mice, himself as a child, and, curiously, a spool of thread, which he was hugging in the photo. Having cleaned the little glass and frame, Pinky brought it up to his face... and kissed it... before setting it back down on his desk, right there in front, where he could always look at it.

There was only one thing left to attend to: the note that Olivia had given him. He picked it up from the desk, unfolded it, and read:

Mr. Pinky,

My sincere apologies for directing you to the wrong classroom. I hope that old bat didn't give you too much trouble. Please, alert me if you need anything.

- Mrs. Judson

Pinky grinned, chuckling a little as he set the note back down on the table and stepped out from behind the desk.

He sighed happily and looked around the room, gaze glistening.

"I made it, Mum. I made it."

#pinky and the brain #pinky #brain #fan fiction

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mammon-sama · 4 years

Text

To Be Human (Fanfiction) Part 4/?

I know I said that every chapter would begin with a Celestial Realm Michael scene, but as I was writing this fast (totally forgot to update my fics), I couldn't think of a good scene to write, so, unfortunately, I shall skip this chapter's initial Celestial Realm scene; I apologize! As per the usual, this chapter is available on AO3 here!

Title:

To Be Human

Summary:

When a mysterious force attacks the Devildom and destroys it, the brothers are forced to turn to their Father in the Celestial Realm for answers and assistance. However, the Almighty is still miffed at the seven due to their involvement in the Great Celestial War, and sends them to seek asylum in the one place they have yet to make their mark—the Human World.

Without the help of their beloved MC, the brothers must learn to assimilate into this strange new world, all while trying to figure out who is responsible for the destruction of the Devildom and take back their home.

Rating:

Word Count:

3446

Previous Chapter:

Read Chapter 3 here!

Satan raised his eyebrow at the establishment before them. “Wal-Mart,” he read aloud.

“You think it’s like the old War-Mart retail chain back in the Devildom?” Belphie wondered.

Satan stroked his chin. If this store was anything like the store at home, it would be an adequate location in which to shop for groceries, especially on a budget as they were forced to do now. As the seven brothers had originally been dubbed the “Seven Rulers of Hell” and were very wealthy, they never had a need to frequent War-Mart, but Satan had heard of the store from one of his less-fortunate friends.

He nodded. “I believe so.” It wasn’t as if they had any other choice; Belphie and he had wandered the streets within a mile-radius from their new home, and this was the only store that they had seen. “Let’s go in.”

Belphegor followed his brother, grumbling under his breath, “It’s just like Lucifer to put us two on shopping duty.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather be out here shopping than cooped inside that hovel with the others.”

“I guess.” Belphie shrugged. “You have the grocery list, right?” He pat his pockets. “I have the debit card from Simeon.”

Satan bobbed his head. “Yes.” He unfurled the paper in his hand and read aloud the angel’s loopy handwriting, “Here are some economical foods from the Human World I’d thought you’d like!” Underneath were written about forty different items, twenty-five of which Lucifer had taken the liberty of circling in red, for they were foods that were also found in the Devildom.

As the pair walked into Wal-Mart, Satan did a double-take. Humans flooded every corner of the store, pushing around metal carts piled high with not just foodstuffs, but other household items, as well. He raised an eyebrow as several people stopped to stare at the two demons who stood in the entryway.

Belphegor leaned closer to him and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Satan … why are they staring at us?”

He remembered their new human names and hissed, “Call me,” he gagged, “Nathan. And I don’t know … ‘Eigh.’”

“Don’t call me ‘Eigh,’” Belphie snapped back. He turned to the left to scan the various products that sat at the entryway to immediately grab customers’ attention. His eyes lingered on a box of toilet paper, reading the brand name. “Call me ‘Scott.’”

Satan wrinkled his nose at the name, intent on chastising his brother for such an idiotic choice, but before he could say a word, the brothers’ attention was diverted by the sound of a camera flash. Their heads whipped in the direction of the noise, and they stared accusingly at the culprit, who gave herself away with her raised phone.

“Damn it,” the woman cursed, pocketing her phone and hurrying away. “Forgot to turn off the ringer.”

With this, a crowd began to form in front of the demons—a crowd who whispered furiously amongst themselves loudly, saying “They’re so hot—they must be celebrities!” and “I swear that I’ve seen them on TikTok before!” and “I wanna take a picture with them and post it on Instagram!” Someone even ventured to mutter, “Wonder if they’d be interested in a threesome …”

“Belphegor,” Satan muttered under his breath, momentarily forgetting his brother’s human pseudonym, “we can’t shop here.”

“What choice do we have?” Belphie replied, backing away as the crowd drew closer and closer. “There are no other stores around.”

Satan pursed his lips as more people began to whip out their phones and snap pictures of the handsome duo. Getting photographed was not in their definition of “lying low,” and although he knew that this debacle would piss his eldest brother off to no end, the idea of self-preservation quelled even his most devious side. “We have to put a stop to this.”

“You don’t think we should use our powers, do you?” Belphegor asked.

“And cause this to be an even bigger scene than it already is?” demanded Satan. He raised an eyebrow. “No. I have an idea. Just play along.” He gagged inwardly at the thought that had taken formation in his mind, but he knew it had to be done if he and Belphie were to shop in peace. Satan puckered his lips, closed his eyes, and leaned toward the seventhborn demon.

“Sat—Nathan, what’re you—” was all Belphie could ask before his lips met his brother’s.

Satan could feel his mouth fill with bile (He! Was! Kissing! His! Brother! How! Disgusting!), but he swallowed it down as he saw from the corner of his eye that the crowd began to yell shouts of aversion and start to disperse. Some of the teenage girls stayed to ogle at the “scandalous” PDA and video-record the scene before they were yanked away by what he could only assume were their small-minded parents.

As soon as he saw that the group had gone, he ripped his lips off of Belphie, scrubbing them voraciously with his forearm, while Belphegor dry heaved several times and covered his mouth.

“That was disgusting,” Belphie decided. He scowled at his brother. “Never do that again.”

Satan reassured, “I don’t plan to. And besides, at least we got everyone to leave.” He revealed the crumpled grocery list in his hand. “Now we can shop peacefully.”

Belphegor continued to mutter obscenities under his breath as he followed Satan to get a cart.

The fourthborn scanned the grocery list as he pushed the cart down the aisle. They had five hundred American dollars to spend on food and they had to buy enough to satiate all seven brothers, including the gluttonous Beel; they had to be economical. The first item on the list that Simeon had given them was “apples,” so Satan reached for a bag of the cheapest kind and placed it into the cart.

“Lucifer likes apples, doesn’t he?” mused Belphie.

Satan nodded. “His favorite food are Princess’ Poison Apples.”

Belphie smiled strangely and lifted the bag of apples out and threw them back on the shelf. “I’m going to guess he wouldn’t be too happy if we came home without his favorite food.”

Satan raised an eyebrow. “In case you forgot, I like apples, too; apple pie is my favorite, but … I suppose I’ll make a sacrifice this once.” He rubbed his chin pensively. “And that gives me an idea.” He showed the list to Belphie and nodded, smirking. “Let’s use this opportunity to torture Lucifer and skip everything on this list that we think he’d like.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Meanwhile, Lucifer scanned the list of prospective jobs that Simeon had given him.

The angel had warned them that since none of the demons had college degrees, it might be harder for them to get any “serious” jobs—therefore, most of the jobs on the list simply called for “unskilled labor.” Perusing the list caused Lucifer to wonder what humans considered “unskilled” for all of the possible jobs on the sheet still seemed to require prodigious talent and dedication.

He had already marked that he would work at the local War-Mart—although in the Human World it was called “Wal-Mart—” and he figured that Satan would like to work at the Cedar Bridge Public Library. Levi, who had whined himself to sleep when he found out that there were no Ruri-chan merchandise stores nearby, had already called working at GameStop, hoping that his salary would allow him to finally buy a gaming computer to use instead of the ancient laptop that had come along with the house. Lucifer had no idea what kind of job would be fit for Belphegor, so he decided to hold off on choosing something for him until he returned from shopping with Satan.

That left Mammon, Asmo, and Beel’s prospective careers to look into.

… And therein lie the headache.

“Beel, you can’t work at any kind of establishment that serves food,” repeated Lucifer, holding the bridge of his nose. “Maybe in the Devildom it was okay for you to constantly munch on the food being served—no one would reprimand you because you were one of the Seven Rulers of Hell, but you can’t do that here.” He stared at the sixthborn demon firmly. “I will not have you work anywhere near food since I can’t trust you not to give in to temptation.”

“Yeah,” Mammon agreed, shrugging. “If ya eat any of the food, they’ll prob’ly make you pay for it, and y’know we’re broke as fuck up here.”

Beelzebub twiddled his fingers, looking down. “Fine, I won’t take the McDonald’s job, then.” He peered over Lucifer’s shoulder at the sheet. “Or the Wendy’s job. Or the Chick-fil-a one. Or the one at Burger King.”

“Wow, it seems that Simeon marked a lot of these jobs as ‘foodservice,’” Asmo observed. He smiled. “Good thing my job has nothing to do with it!” He poked his chin cutely. “Although I suppose they serve food sometimes in strip clubs.”

Another headache.

“Asmodeus,” Lucifer bellowed, staring at the fifthborn. “I already told you: you are not going to become a stripper. That’s final.”

Asmo frowned and held up a fist. “What is your problem, Lucifer? I’ve done it before in the Devildom tons of times.”

The other demons raised an eyebrow at “tons of times,” and Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You can strip as much as you want in the Devildom; it’s not frowned upon there, but Simeon expressly told me that it is here. We are not going to be known as the family where one of the members is a stripper. Think of all the negative attention it’ll draw.”

“That’s bullshit!” Asmo growled. A black miasma began to surround the fifthborn. Horns started to sprout out of his head and wings burst forth out of his back. But before his demon transformation was complete, Mammon put his hands on his shoulders and gave him a good shake.

“Calm down, ya idiot! You can’t transform here of all places. People’ll see us through the windows!” Mammon gestured toward Beel, who rushed to cover the closest window with his large form, for the brothers had yet to purchase any curtains. He wrestled off Asmo’s arms as the younger demon tried to shove him off and said, “Come on. I’m plannin’ on going into modeling down here like I did in the Devildom. You like that kinda thing don’t ya? We can both do it, y’know.”

Asmo glared at Mammon, finally succeeding in ripping his hands off of his shoulders. He wheeled toward Lucifer. “And that’s another thing! How come you’re okay with Mammon going into something as prestigious as modeling, which will no doubt draw attention, but you’re worried about the attention I’ll bring if I become a stripper?”

Lucifer massaged his temple. This actually was the first he was hearing of Mammon’s interest in Human World modeling, but he supposed that it was an appropriate career path for him, for looking pretty was one of the secondborn’s least annoying skills.

“The difference is,” Lucifer began, “that here, modeling convoys positive attention while stripping brings the opposite, for humans are small-minded, as you are aware. While I’d rather draw as little attention as possible, I can see where that could be seen as suspicious, so positive attention is all I’ll condone.” He turned toward Mammon and nodded. “But yes, both of you feel free to take up a modeling job.”

“On Simeon’s list here, it says that there’s only one position that they're looking to fill in the modeling agency he recommended,” Beelzebub observed, reading off the prospective jobs.

Mammon and Asmo exchanged glances, before simultaneously shouting, “I’ll take it!”

“People will actually want to see my beautiful face instead of your ugly mug!” Asmodeus yelled.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I ain’t got no other talents ‘sides modeling, so I actually need this job!” Mammon yelled back.

His fervor never waning, Asmo spat, “You have other talents!”

“No, I don’t!”

“You’re a very talented individual, Mammon!”

“Yeah, well, so are you!”

“You should take the modeling job!”

“Nah, you do it!”

Lucifer sighed at the pair, whose voices rose with every sentence. He held the bridge of his nose, as he said, “You both can call the number for the modeling agency and see which one of you two they like better. We’ll find another job for whoever doesn’t end up getting it.”

He was also going to have to call to see if he could get jobs for his other brothers and himself, and Simeon had graciously provided numbers for them to call. However … there was still the matter of figuring out if the Celestial Realm had tapped their phones and were also looking through their Internet searches. To mitigate any trouble, Lucifer had forbidden anyone from using the phone or laptop until they could get solid information regarding the issue, unless it was for something important, like getting a job.

Speaking of jobs, he realized that now with Mammon and Asmo battling on who would be the model of the family, that left Beel (and Belphie) in dire need of work.

He turned toward the sixthborn. “Any idea of a non-food-related job, Beel?”

“I don’t think so …” Beel muttered, still perusing through Simeon’s list of jobs. He raised an eyebrow a moment later. “Wait … it says here that there are some people close by looking for tutors in basic math for their kids. You think I should do that?”

Lucifer nodded. “Good idea. Give them a call later, actually—I’m sure Belphie won’t mind doing that job, too, provided he’s doing it with you—see if they’d be willing to hire two tutors.”

Beel nodded obediently. “So, I guess that’s it. Everyone has a job, now.”

“Yeah. Problem is,” realized Mammon, “that all of you guys who work close by have it easy. Then there’s some of us who’ve gotta find a way to hitch a ride to our jobs.”

Asmo pursed his lips. “He’s right. We don’t have a car, not to mention licenses to drive.”

Lucifer sunk into one of the understuffed dining room chairs, running a hand through his hair. “One problem at a time, Asmo. One problem at a time.”

“I just wanna say,” Mammon announced, twirling a limp spaghetti noodle on his fork, “I think I understand why Solomon’s food tastes like crap.” He dropped his utensil back onto his chipped plate. “‘Cause all Human World food tastes like crap!”

Leviathan, who had just been relieved from his Ruri-chan-filled dreams a few moments ago, blinked sleepily and said, “MC was from the Human World and made good food.”

“Maybe stop criticizing my cooking and just eat your dinner,” Lucifer snapped.

He blithely spun his noodles across the plate, secretly admitting that the Human World fare of spaghetti and tomato sauce that he had prepared for dinner paled in comparison to their usual supper courses of Scorpion Thermidor and Havoc Devil Crown Roast. In his defense, he had never prepared meals with food from this world and had just used the recipe on the back of the box of bargain-bin spaghetti that Satan and Belphie had brought home.

Beelzebub grinned, eating his pasta straight from the massive stockpot that the Junior Guardian Angels had magnanimously purchased for them. The other brothers had already taken their servings and the remaining thirty-two were left for Beel. “I think you made a really tasty meal considering you just used two ingredients.”

“There’s no seasoning,” complained Asmo. “And it's not even pretty enough to post online.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow in irritation. “You can always go to bed without dinner.”

“And you’d miss dessert!” Beel gasped. “Although … there’d be more for me, then.”

“Speakin’ of dessert,” Mammon said, “what’re we havin’?”

Lucifer grimaced. He had been intent on trying to make an apple pie, but since some demons had thought it funny to not bring home any apples, he’d been forced to be a little more … creative, thinking carefully of foods that the two mischief-makers despised to incorporate into the dessert.

“We don’t have a large variety of ingredients to work with, so I modified a simple Devildom recipe for venom-infused vanilla mousse and made White Chocolate Mousse with white chocolate, heavy cream, and sugar.” He looked directly at Satan and Belphie as he said this, for it was no secret that the pair didn’t take a liking to oversweet desserts.

Belphegor blanched at the statement, and Satan frowned, snapping, “That sounds completely unpalatable.”

All Lucifer could do was smirk as he went back to the miniature kitchen to get the mousse from the fridge. He passed out the dessert, and turned to Mammon, saying, “Hearing you speak of Solomon earlier got me thinking on whether or not we should contact him. I know I said not to bother MC while we’re in the Human World for their own protection, but Solomon’s a sorcerer, so perhaps he could be of service.”

“Yeah, he might even be able to help us figure out how information was stolen from Father’s omniscience,” added Leviathan, gagging as the mousse slid down his throat because frankly, Lucifer was not an exceptional chef.

Lucifer, who noticed this, mentally vowed to put Levi on cooking duty next for his insolence. “Asmo, you were the one closest to Solomon. Have you any means to contact him?”

“Ever since the exchange program ended, we kind of fell out of touch,” the fifthborn admitted sadly, shaking his head. He tapped his chin. “I think I remember his number, though.”

Lucifer grimaced. He really didn’t want to use the phone unless it was absolutely necessary, but Solomon seemed to be their best bet in unraveling this mystery regarding their Father. “Call him then. Put him on speaker.”

Picking up his cup of mousse, Asmo meandered over to the landline. He picked up the phone and clicked the speaker button, which was covered in a layer of dust, for he was the first of the brothers to use the phone in the Human World. To their surprise, there was no dial tone and an automated female voice spoke out from the device.

“Welcome to the Celestial Realm Cellular Service and Internet Provider, ” the voice said. “This machine is preloaded with three contact numbers by Simeon the Gatekeeper for your convenience. If you would like to hear them, press one. If you would like to dial a different number, press two. If you would like to speak to His Majesty, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, the Great I Am, the Good Shepherd—”

“Sorry, I just pressed one,” Asmo said, rolling his eyes. “She didn’t sound like she was going to stop listing titles any time soon.”

“The three contacts saved to your device are as follows: press one if you would like to call Simeon the Gatekeeper, press two if you would like to call Luke the Junior Guardian Angel, press three if you would like to call his Imperial Majesty, King Solomon of Israel.”

Lucifer did a double-take. It couldn’t be … could it? Could that Solomon that visited the Devildom be the one and the same King Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, from the Bible? He shook his head to clear it of such foolish thoughts … it had been millennia since King Solomon had ruled over ancient Israel, and the exchange student Solomon was a youthful young man.

“Wait a second—that can’t be our Solomon, can it?” asked Mammon, echoing Lucifer’s thoughts. “I haven’t read the Bible in like, three thousand years, but I’m pretty damn sure that King Solomon died a long time ago.”

The group was silent for a moment before Satan snapped his fingers, his eyes widening. “The pacts.”

“What about them?” asked Belphegor.

Satan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We know the exchange student Solomon made hundreds and hundreds of pacts with demons. Isn’t it possible that that was the same Solomon from the Bible, only he’s retained his youthful looks and even gained immortality, perhaps, with the aid of demons?”

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.” Asmodeus shrugged. He pressed the number three on the keypad.

“Calling his Imperial Majesty, King Solomon of Israel,” the automated voice chirped.

Lucifer’s blood ran cold as the phone rang for a mere two seconds before a voice flooded the room.

“May I ask who this is?” Solomon’s voice was overlaid with static, but the brothers could still very much recognize the low baritone of the former exchange student.

“So Solomon really is King Solomon from the Bible,” Levi gasped. “Roll infinity for ‘Did Not See That Coming.’”

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hoefortomhoelland · 4 years

Text

Blood in the water - Part II

Au: Angel!Reader x Koh!Tom

Warnings: fluff at the end (is that even a warning)

Authors note: hey babies, I’m so happy with the responses that I’ve been getting from the first chapter of this series! Thank you all for the support and I hope you enjoy this chapter (I’m sorry if this is a boring chapter but I promise it’ll get better).

You stared at the large cathedral that seemed to be abandoned. It was an obsidian black with large stained windows. Swallowing, you felt the carriage slow down. The carriage you were in stood out from the other carriages that varied in colours of black, yours being a pearl white with gold accents. It seemed like you were in a black and white movie due to the lack of colour. There were women and men in reds, emerald greens, blacks, smiling and talking with one another, making you feel less unsettled than you already were.

You were graciously helped out of the carriage by two of your soldiers, dressed more formally than usual. Your dress draped over the stairs as you climbed out, holding onto their hands. In your head you were telling yourself over and over again how much you missed Angela and how you wished she was there with you. The fact that you had a total of four soldiers surrounding you like high-end security caught the public’s attention. There were guests entering the cathedral and civilians behind barriers, waiting for their new king to be revealed.

As you held your breath, you walked in and admired the decorations. It was a dimly lit venue with large chandeliers and candles flickering. “Your highness, you must be Y/N Y/L/N.” A man quickly rushed up to you before bowing. You nodded and smiled as politely as you could. The first thing you noticed about him were his azure eyes that stood out from the rest of his features. “You look astonishing.” He grinned at you as he admired your dress. it was a long, black sheer dress with roses decorated at the hem of the dress and on the top half around your chest. To top it off, a crown with deep red rubies sat on your head, signifying that you were royalty.

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“Oh! I apologise, I forgot to address myself. My name is Harrison Osterfield, but Harrison is fine.” He said nervously. You could sense that he felt guilty. “I’m Tom’s second in command.”

“Don’t apologise, Harrison, you must be quite stressed.” You smiled at him before remembering the invite that was sent to you, the initials at the bottom being H.O. “So, you’re the H.O that sent out the invitation?”

He nodded, clearly proud of himself, “That’s me.” Another man approached him and whispered in his ear, Harrison’s eyes widening. “Right, I apologise for leaving so abruptly, but the ceremony is going to start shortly and I have to help Tom.”

“That’s understandable. It was lovely meeting you, Mr Osterfield.”

“You too, your highness. I hope to see you at the ball tonight?” He asked, his eyebrow raised. You nodded and he smiled before leaving quickly. You were escorted to the front row of seats where your name was graciously written on the seat. Shortly after, the ceremony began and the doors opened, revealing who you suspected to be Thomas. He walked proudly with a long black mantle draped around his shoulders, the horns on top of his head matching with it. The cathedral was silent as they watched him walk down the aisle before getting to the front.

As Thomas swore a coronation oath, you took in all of his features. From what you could see, his hair was a soft curly brown, shoulders broad and a tall frame. He had a petite nose with a strong jawline. Had he changed drastically since you last saw him? However, you couldn’t tell due to the angle. You watched as a crown was slowly placed on his head before the guests began to clap for him. Your heart fluttered when you remembered your coronation, your friends and family cheering for you and remembering the happiness you felt once being pronounced the queen.

He turned around with a grin and you couldn’t help but smile and clap as well. His eyes flickered over to you for a second but you weren’t sure if he recognised you.

...

“You came!” You heard a familiar voice appear from behind you, making you almost choke on your champagne. Turning around you saw Harrison beaming.

“I said I would.” You chuckled.

He squinted his eyes slightly before sipping from the glass in his hands. “You didn’t seem sure.” You laughed as you looked around the ballroom that was filled with hundreds of people.

“There’s a lot of people here.”

“Yeah, Tom knows a lot of people.” Harrison shrugs. “Speaking of which...” You both looked up and saw him walking down the large red carpeted stairs, waving at the guests. He was wearing a different suit, this time in burgundy. Everyone applauded him.

You noticed that he had definitely changed from when you last saw him, which was years ago. He seemed to be much more mature with prominent features. Despite being the devil himself, he had angelic eyes. “I’m assuming you have met before?” Harrison asked.

“Oh, yeah. But that was years ago.” You kept your eyes on Tom as you watched him walk over to some people and chat to them. You looked back at Harrison before sipping champagne. “We were young then. Very young.”

“How did you guys know each other? I don’t want to be disrespectful, but it’s just peculiar since you’re both rulers of two ends of a spectrum. You’re... an angel and he’s a demon.” Harrison asked.

“Through our parents. Our mothers were great friends as well as our fathers, but there was a dispute between our dad’s and then the relationship between heaven and hell was crushed. We stopped associating with them and being friendly and since then I haven’t seem Tom.” You sighed, twisting your face slightly.

“Come on, let me introduce you both again.” He took you by the hand and you laughed, shaking your head.

“Harrison! Oh, god. I don’t want to interrupt him, he’s-”

“Y/N, don’t be shy, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you again.” He laughed as well as you tried to struggle.

“You’re much stronger than I had anticipated.” You grunted as you tried to pull away.

“The more you pull, the more of a fool you’re going to make of yourself, your highness.” Hex smirked. You gave in and just accepted your fate as you approached Tom. “Tom, mate.”

Tom laughed and smiled with his friends before excusing himself and walking over to Harrison. “What, you dickhe-”

Harrison coughed and looked over his shoulder, presenting a timid Y/N. Your wings were lowered slightly and not as prominent as you were expecting.

“I-... Y/N?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Thomas.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped before taking your hand and kissing it softly. You could sense that he was just as nervous as you.

“God, I haven’t seen you in a long time.” You tried to lighten the tense conversation. He nodded and smiled at you.

“You’ve changed a lot-”

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Harrison said before rushing away into the crowd. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked up at Tom again.

“So have you, Thomas.” You chuckled at him. For a second there was a glint in his eye as he beamed at you.

“You look amazing.” He said. “Shall we go on a walk?” He extended his arm but you pretended not to notice as you didn’t want to make any assumptions. You nodded and walked beside him, following him to one of the exits. He let you walk through first before rushing beside you again.

You breathed in the surprisingly fresh evening air. “It feels like an eternity since we’ve been next to each other.”

Tom agreed, watching you look up at the stars.

“I didn’t realise that there would be so many stars in Hell. I thought that was only a thing in Heaven.” You stated, your lips slightly parted with wonder as you admired the twinkling lights, the sun had almost finished setting as it painted the sky with oranges and purples.

Hell was beautiful.

“You have much to learn, Y/N. Maybe you should come down here more often...”

You looked back down at him slowly with a smirk which faded quickly.

“Do you think that we should go back to how things were between Heaven and Hell? You know, with peace between them both.” You questioned. “I just feel like we shouldn’t follow in our father’s footsteps with their mistakes.”

“If that’s what you wish.” Tom nodded. Your hands brushed for a second and your heart stopped, thoughts racing into your head which were quickly stopped once you noticed the rose garden. Your eyes widened as you saw the assortment of red roses in bushes. It was a small maze that the pair of you walked through as you spoke about many things until you got the middle.

There was a bench with a canopy of roses above it where you’d sit. Tom took your hand and lead you there, the pair of you sitting in silence for a minute. “Look at us.” He said quietly.

“Hm?” You hummed.

“Both of us finally considered as royals after hundreds of years. We’re both finally with one another after an eternity of separation, crowns on our heads.” You looked at him and then his shoulder, leaning ever so slightly until your head was leaning on him. His breathing stopped for a second but his shoulders relaxed.

“When will I see you again?” he murmured.

“Soon, your highness.” You emphasised the name. He chuckled quietly before leaning on your head.

#Blood in the Water #bitw #tom holland #tom holland requests #Tom Holland Fan Fiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #koh!tom x angel!reader #koh!tom fanfiction #koh!tom fluff #koh!tom #koh!tom angst

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itsbylethbish · 5 years

Text

So, this was my first attempt at the Goddess Tower scene in chapter 9 of “A Catalyst of Brides.” It’s basically just me trying to write Claude’s canon S-Support into the text of my story, using Byleth’s POV.

In the end, I didn’t think it felt quite right and I wrote a different version, but I thought what the hell, might as well share this for anyone that might be curious.

- - -

Peace.

That word kept bouncing around Byleth’s brain as she climbed the steps of the Goddess Tower. Claude had asked her to meet him here, so she’d wrapped up an interminable afternoon of meetings in order to join him. So far, peace was turning into an administrative nightmare.

It was still better than the alternative. She only wished Jeralt had lived long enough to see it. Her fingers curled around the little pouch that he’d bequeathed to her, the one that contained her mother’s ring.

She’d brought it with her with every intention of asking Claude to stay with her, to choose her instead of any of those other women Lorenz had offered up for his consideration. Yet now that the opportunity to offer it to him was drawing so near, she found her courage was flagging. She was nervous, something she had almost never experienced before now.

She didn’t know what she’d do if he refused.

He turned as she came into the room, flashing her a smile that was almost relieved, like he was glad she’d actually come. She smiled back, though his reaction bemused her a little. When hadn’t she come when he’d called? She couldn’t imagine a world where, if he needed her or even just wanted her, she wouldn’t find a way to be at his side.

His voice was softer than normal, warmer, as he greeted her. Perhaps the opening discussion of Fódlan’s new politics should have clued her in to the fact that he was nervous as well, but she had been so unsure of where to start that she went along with it. Somehow she’d find a way to ask him…to give him the…

The word coronation snapped her attention back to what he was saying—he’d explained to her earlier that he intended to crown her, and somehow coaxed her into agreeing. But that had felt a long way away…now she was reminded that she would be wearing Fódlan’s crown in a few days, and a sense of vertigo swept through her again at the thought. He seemed to sense her nervousness, or maybe he read the reflexive stab of fear in her eyes, and his face fell in deep regret.

“I’m sorry I won’t be by your side at such an important event, but I’m certain you’ll do great.”

Won’t be by my…? “You won’t be there?” It came out in a breathless rush of words, a panicked response that she never would have had a few months ago, but he’d cracked her heart open and now she couldn’t seem to help these emotional outbursts. Him not being with her, not guiding her through the next crucial steps, emptied her chest and left her feeling as though her rib cage was going to collapse. Everything other part of her body had gone cold.

He didn’t look away, at least, as he explained himself, explained how the next steps of his path took him away from Fódlan. Byleth could hear the ache behind his words, but he seemed so resigned. Seemed not to know, or maybe not to care, that something was cracking inside of her with every word.

No, if he knew he was hurting her, he’d care. And he did know, to some extent, that he was causing her pain; that was why his words were so carefully chosen, so obviously planned in advance. He was trying to be as gentle and patient as he could.

“I can’t be a ruler,” she said. “I know I agreed when you asked me, but I had assumed that…that we…” She hadn’t dreamed he’d meant to turn around and leave her alone before he’d even seen the crown put on her head. The cracking in her chest turned to shattering. Did people really feel this way? Did they feel this strongly? How did they survive it? She felt like she’d taken some near-fatal blow.

“You’re the successor Rhea appointed, aren’t you?” he reminded her. He probably meant to tease her a little, but it fell flat this time. “And now you’re also the hero that saved Fódlan.”

Not alone, I didn’t.

“All those weak people who have nothing to cling to but their goddess…They’ll rely on you just like they used to rely on Rhea. You’ll be a leader all who are struggling to survive in war-torn lands can look up to. And I…” He choked off for just half a second, and that one tiny hitch told her how important this was to him. “I want a ruler who can lay down a new set of values for the people. Values that don’t exclude anyone for being different.”

There was a pause then, and Byleth’s fingers clenched around the ring she’d brought for him in such a foolish, selfish outburst of hope. Of course she couldn’t ask him to marry her, or to choose her in any way other than for this. This—changing Fódlan at its core, opening the heart of the nation to all its people and even beyond, to distant lands—it was far more important than her desire to be at his side. How could her need even begin to compare with that, even as vital to her future as it felt?

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he told her, still using that tone of careful regret. “But you’re the only one that can do it.”

Her throat seemed to have swollen. She didn’t think she could squeeze any words past the lump, so she only nodded. Claude’s belief in her would have to be enough. It would have to carry her through as she continued to do her part to make their dreams come true.

It took more courage than she’d ever needed on a battlefield to look up into his face again. There was something else in his expression now; the resignation and regret that had filled his eyes was now being replaced by other emotions. Concern and…she thought it was trepidation, as though there was some other huge burden he needed her to bear. One he wasn’t sure she’d accept.

“I have something else I need to ask. Please…” There was true desperation in his voice now. “I hope you’ll accept this.”

Byleth been so busy studying his face, afraid that his precariously hopeful look was going to herald a request she couldn’t bear to fulfill, that she had missed the way his gloved fingers had fumbled nervously for a pocket. Missed that they had drawn out something small and glittering. Her eyes dropped to his offering now, and shock had her suck in a gasp of air.

The ring was beautiful; the central stone almost the same green as his eyes and the scrollwork intricate and perfect.

His next words, spoken in the silence she couldn’t find the words to break, were full of chagrin.

“When I first saw you wield the Sword of the Creator, I wanted to use your power to my advantage. I wanted to use you to make my dream of a new world come true. But before long, I realized what I actually wanted was to see that new world…with you by my side. I still feel that way, you know. I always will. That’s why I have to leave.”

She wished he would touch her, even just to take her hands, so she could feel as though this was real and not a dream, that he wasn’t offering her a crown instead of his heart…that he meant to give her both, to give her everything. Her despair had nearly overwhelmed her just seconds ago; could she really be soaring so high now?

Her silence was starting to concern him, she could see the way hope was just starting to crumble in his eyes, but she still hadn’t managed to find her voice, so he continued.

“But nothing will stop me from coming back.” The certainty of it, the determination behind those words, started to revive her a bit. “There’s no way I’m gonna let you go. You know that, don’t you?”

It was the sudden, raw vulnerability in that question that broke her. A hoarse little noise escaped her locked throat, and her arms reached for him even as she nodded.

Claude caught her, pulled her into his arms so quickly that she realized he must have been resisting the urge to hold her this entire time. His hand came up to tangle into her hair as he pressed her close, and her fingers buried themselves in the front of his silk tunic. He murmured a thank you into her hair, and Byleth wasn’t sure if it was to her or the universe in general. It didn’t matter. He was all that mattered.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He nuzzled his face against hers and she buried herself deeper into him, feeling a swooping giddiness take over her stomach. She was really going to have to learn how to control these emotions. They felt too big for her body. “We’ll only be apart for a short while.”

He pulled back a little, looking down into her eyes. “And now…I’m off to cross Fódlan’s Throat.”

She nodded, reaching up to touch the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. He caught her hands in his, then wiped those tears away himself, his thumbs sweeping gently over her skin. His fingers moved to cup her face.

“I love you. With everything I am. And the next time we see each other…it will be at the dawn of a whole new world. A peaceful, happy world.”

“I love you,” she whispered back. She reached for the small pouch, then slid it into his hands with shaking fingers. “I came here to…you got there first, but I…”

He smiled at the way she fumbled for words while he opened the pouch. Then her mother’s ring tumbled out into his waiting palm, and it was his turn to suck in a sharp breath.

“Really?” he asked, his eyes on her, wide and vulnerable. It had obviously taken him great courage to tell her that he’d chosen her…but the idea that she might have already chosen him, that she was going to propose to him of her own volition, regardless of what he could or couldn’t offer her…his throat bobbed as he stared at the intricate band in his palm. Had anyone ever truly chosen him— not what he could do for them or what power he might one day wield, but just him—before in his whole life?

She pulled his mouth down to hers, rising on her toes to kiss him properly, and his arms slid back around her and anchored her to him.

“I love you,” she said again when they broke apart for air, and he was the one that couldn’t speak this time. Instead, he linked both their hands and touched his forehead to hers, as though he was savoring this moment, storing it away in his heart with every detail, so he’d never forget it. She found herself doing the same.

“When I get back, as soon as I get back…I hope you don’t mind if we have the ceremony right away. I don’t want to wait any longer to make you my wife.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “As soon as we can.”

Then, with her tucked back against his warm, strong chest and his arms wrapped tight around her waist, they watched the stars come out one by one.

#claude x byleth #deleted scene i guess?#fic: a catalyst of brides #claude's s-support novelization

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arabian-bloodstream · 5 years

Text

Decoding D&D’s Playlist

OK, In early Spring, D.B. Weiss and Daniel Benioff helped create a new Spotify playlist: Game of Thrones: The End Is Coming. Upon doing so, they told For the Record in an email, “The answer to the ending is one hundred percent hidden in the playlist choices. No one will believe us, but it’s true.”

I have spent the last couple of weeks going through each song and trying to figure out which character, which scenario, arc, storyline each song was about. I could be completely way-off, but it was fun. So here you. Enjoy! (Note: All songs link to full lyrics.)

Fair warning, this is long. Very long. So long that I’m going to put a cut. I will say... yeah, this playlist screams Gendrya endgame.

Sleep Now in the Fire - Rage Against the Machine

Dany as Mad Queen.

The world is my expense The cost of my desire Jesus blessed me with its future And I protect it with fire So raise your fists and march around Dont dare take what you need I’ll jail and bury those committed And smother the rest in greed Crawl with me into tomorrow Or i’ll drag you to your grave I’m deep inside your children They’ll betray you in my name

Her Black Wings - Danzig

This one seems to fit Arya in the first three episodes of the season.

She brings the lust Supernatural Ceasing never On and On and On Her stride is such Mortals freeze When she walks past And she comes down to me And she offers me sleep Under her black wings

Think about Arya flying down to kill the Night King, that fits with the “Under her black wings.” And “Mortals freeze when she falls by" and the mention of the "supernatural," all fit the Faceless men training and her overall ability to walk silent and her skills.

Entwined with love Unclean she is

Everything Arya is doing, everything that she has done, every kill has been done for love, to avenge the people she loves, to protect those she loves. And yet, she's so surrounded, covered, engulfed in death that she's unclean.

See she comes Blacker than pitch Have to make this fallen bitch All I want All I crave Demoness calls The bitch is come For those who wait Cross the breach in hell See she is Bedeviled with breasts Enchantment on legs

This stanza here even fits her if you take into account the fact that the Hound calls her a bitch all the time, and the last two lines, well, we do see Arya as a woman for the first time this season.

Immigrant Song (Remaster) - Led Zeppelin

The Army of the Undead want to take over Westeros.

The End (Remaster) - The Doors

This could certainly be about Tyrion with regards to Jaime and Cersei, but something about it just says the Hound (and Arya) a bit more to me because of a line in the final stanza: “You’ll never follow me.” Plus, there is a reference to a “Stranger” in the song. The Hound’s horse was named “Stranger” and, of course, as was established (in my opinion) in the final season, the Hound=death and in the faith of the Seven, the Stranger represented death.

This is the end Beautiful friend This is the end My only friend

The end Of our elaborate plans The end Of everything that stands The end No safety or surprise The end I'll never look into your eyes Again

Can you picture what will be So limitless and free Desperately in need of some stranger's hand In a desperate land

Arya is the Hound’s only friend now that Gendry has become something more. And with what happened in "The Bells," it was the end of their journey together.

Now there is this stanza which is why one could think it references Tyrion thinking about his family with the references to father, brother and sister:

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on He took a face from the ancient gallery And he walked on down the hall He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he Paid a visit to his brother, and then he He walked on down the hall, and And he came to a door...and he looked inside "Father?" "Yes, son." "I want to kill you." "Mother, I want to fuck you"

But I took that as more allegorical, the Hound being the killer who is ready to finally kill his family, i.e., his brother. Furthermore, Ray Manzarek said about this song that Morrison "was giving voice in a rock ‘n’ roll setting to the Oedipus complex" and the lines about the father and mother derive from that mythology and essentially boil down to one principle, you can't escape your fate.

Oedipus' father banishes him because he is told that Oedipus will kill him and sleep with his mother. Years later, Oedipus meets a beautiful woman, they fall into bed, Oedipus fathers catches them and lo and behold!, it's his wife... and Oedipus' mother but neither know that, because Oedipus' father banished him to avoid the prophecy. Oedipus and his father fight, and boom! Oedipus kills his father. Ergo, you can't escape your fate. So... does that apply to the Hound killing his brother or Tyrion and his siblings? Could be both. I just think it leans more towards the Hound.

Then we come to the end of the song and it is full of profanity after profanity, the Hound’s calling card before leading to death and then the bolded line that just scream the Hound to Arya.

C'mon, yeah, c'mon, yeah Fuck me, baby, fuck yeah Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah! Fuck, yeah! C'mon, baby Fuck me, baby, fuck, fuck, yeah Whoa, whoa, yeah, fuck, baby C'mon, yeah, huh, huh, huh, huh, yeah All right [...] It hurts to set you free But you'll never follow me The end of laughter and soft lies The end of nights we tried to die This is the end

On the other hand, if you take out the Stranger references and look at those specific references to brother, sister, father and how Tyrion had to let go of Jaime and Cersei and the Lannister of it all to move forward in many ways, it fits him best. Also, if you look at the line in the final stanza that is italicized that fits Tyrion with his brother *and* sister.

So honestly, I could go either way even if I do lean a bit more towards the Hound.

Girl From the North Country - Bob Dylan

Yes, I know there is a line in this song that references the girl's long hair lying past her breast, but regardless, everything else about this song just screams pre-season Gendry and Arya. It totally, totally does. It just totally is Gendry pining for Arya. Nothing else makes sense. N-O-T-H-I-N-G!

If you're travelin' in the north country fair Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine

If you go when the snowflakes storm When the rivers freeze and summer ends Please see if she's wearing a coat so warm To keep her from the howlin' winds

I know that some have tried to fit it with Sansa and Tyrion, and I love them, but it just doesn't fit them. Sansa is in no way Tyrion’s true love, she just isn't. He hasn't been thinking of her throughout his time away from her. We know that. We absolutely know that. It does not fit them, sorry Sanrion fans (I’m one of them).

Now, if there is some time jump that we see in episode 06 before Arya goes to Gendry (because, yes, I'm still convinced that we are getting an Arya/Gendry endgame), then maybe this will apply to *that* timeframe, but as of now, I still see it as pre-season 08 Gendrya, just the feeling, the tenor and tone of it. Think of Gendry's line to her in the second episode:

The last time you saw me, you asked me to come to Winterfell. I took the long road…

Yeah.

Mama Kin (Live Version) - Guns n Roses

(FYI: These are the lyrics for the live version, so they may differ slightly.)

I believe this one is about Cersei and how her life has been spent living a lie, putting on a show, but it’s all just that, a show.

losin’ touch with all that’s real Whole lotta lover, keepin’ undercover

Cersei so often just can’t face the reality of all the shit going on around her, through most of her relationship with Jaime, she kept that a secret and even kept her other lovers a secret from him.

You’ve been fadin’, always out paradin’

Cersei has always been hiding who she really is, pretending to be the perfect queen, the perfect wife, perfect mother.

Spittin’ fire from your mouth just like a dragon

She does incest like the Targaryens. She's crazy like the Targaryens, but she's not a Targaryen.

You better check it out ‘cause someday soon You’ll have to climb back on the wagon

It’s not going to last, she’s not going to get her happy ending. (Duh.)

It ain’t easy livin’ like you want to

She became the queen, the ruler of the seven kingdoms, but NOTHING has come easy and it’s still hard for and she never had peace or happiness.

And workin’ for daddy’s such a drag You still stuff your mouth With his beans

She as always under Twyin’s control, she hated it, but she was always under his thumb, always playing by his rules.

This was all about Cersei not being good enough, wanting more, but never getting it, giving up everything and never getting it. She should have cherished what mattered, but she didn’t and lost everything consequently.

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

Dany as Mad Queen. Now, this could have been about Cersei, but there’s a line that screams treason, so… Dany.

I'm gonna fight 'em off A seven nation army couldn't hold me back They're gonna rip it off Taking their time right behind my back And I'm talkin' to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind

Howlin For You - The Black Keys

This is so obviously Gendry about Arya that they might as well have revealed it as such after episode 02 in the "Inside the Episode" video.

I must admit I can't explain Any of these thoughts racing Through my brain

It's true Baby I'm howlin' for you

Can't you see Little girl's Got a hold on me

Like glue Baby I'm howlin' for you

War - Grandson

Pretty clearly not just about the war against the Undead, but that the war for the Iron Throne still raged on despite the fate of humanity and that victory should have been something that brought everyone together, but you know... humanity.

And it's war in the east War in the west War up north War down south

Everywhere is war It's a war Oh, everywhere is war It's a war

Let Me Live/Let Me Die - Des Rocs

Arya again, specifically with Beric sacrificing himself to save her and then her going to kill the Night King. And then leading to her decision to live or to die in "The Bells."

I know pain, I know dread Wicked veins, they turn to lead Tears don’t stop the fire It's killing time

Back from the dead See, their eyes got nothing left Kiss me, I am the cobra It's killing time

Flugufrelsarinn - Sigur Ros

This was in Icelandic and here is the translation:

Hullabaloo, I rushed down to the lake A savior I made a ship and said a short prayer Because I was scared The sun shown and the lake flowed Sunflowers, sunflowers, the flies die But today I must save as many flies as possible In each hand I carry a string, determined I throw them into the abyss and try To draw the flies in before The smolts reach them where they fight The stream and water And so the day passes on Going on board, I had begun fighting the stream Which had already killed so many I can't breathe and I'm getting heavier with every wave I need a miracle Because I'm drowning sins I try to get onboard I pull ashore and save myself onto Onto the beach I lay on a hot rock and let myself dry again I throw myself into the abyss and try To draw in the flies before The smolts reach them where they fight The stream and water A breeze, completely soaked Bold, feels how the boat is out of the strongest current And the land slowly approaches He is both onboard, Sea and on land saving The flies that die here Though especially himself Eternal war and peace nowhere But someone has to sacrifice himself The days are long

With the references to a savior, a sacrifice, the water, the waves, the drowning and the sins, I think it's clear that this is about Theon and his sacrifice for Bran. Especially when you take into account what the title of the song translate to: "The Fly's Savior," and Bran is, after all, the Three-Eyed Raven. The last stanza absolutely screams Theon (on sea, on land) trying to save the "flies" that die here and always trying to save himself until the end "someone has to sacrifice himself." Makes me a bit teary-eyed. Very beautiful.

You can hear the song (with the Icelandic lyrics/English translation on the screen--well most of them and some vary, but they're mostly there) here.

Can't Stop The Bleeding - Tom Morello feat. Gary Clark Jr. and Gramatik

An interesting note is that this song was added *right before* the finale. I thought after I first heard it that it would be about Tyrion realizing that Dany was not the one to break the wheel and that he would do would do something drastic about it. Yes, he made that realization, but quitting his job was not that drastic.

On the other hand... Jon's action in finding out that Daenerys was basically going to burn the world down if people didn't follow her vision, including his sisters? Well, that was pretty drastic. So I now believe this was about Jon and Jon realizing that no matter how much he loved her that he couldn't stop the bleeding of his heart, but he had to stop the bleeding of the world.

Frayed like myth, every fool caught it Sound like this, every fool bought itCan't stop the bleeding, calling Can't stop the bleeding, ohFill my soul, it's hard to see Trouble found and trouble lost

Tyrion was duped into believing that Daenerys was the Princess that was Promised, and I think he's going to something drastic about it.

Fire - Barns Courtney

Ceganebowl!

Oh, a thousand faces staring at me Thousand times I've fallen Thousand voices dead at my feet Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone

And my mother told me, "Son, let it be." Sold my soul to the calling Sold my soul to a sweet melody Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone

Oh, gimme that fire Oh, gimme that fire Oh, gimme that fire Burn, burn, burn

The mother in the song is metaphorical or one could take it as the Mother of the New Gods and the Mother stands, among other things, for mercy and peace. And we all know that the Hound is not going to 'Let it be" so it's pretty clear that this is the Hound facing his deepest fear--diving headfirst into fire--at the same time finally getting his soul's desire and taking out his brother.

Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea - MISSIO

The pretty gross relationship between Euron and Cersei, and after episode 05, more specifically, the demise of Euron Greyjoy! (The crowd cheers!)

Wave of Mutilation - Pixies

This one's about Theon.

cease to resist, giving my goodbye drive my car into the ocean you'll think i'm dead, but i sail away on a wave of mutilation a wave wave

i've kissed mermaids, rode the el nino walked the sand with the crustaceans could find my way to mariana on a wave of mutilation, wave of mutilation wave of mutilation wave

Saying goodbye to Yara, the ocean references, "What is dead may never die" = "you'll think i'm dead, but i sail away," the mutilation" theme. Yeah, good ole Theon.

Wolf Like Me - TV On the Radio

I think this is about Sansa to Tyrion, using him to get to Dany.

Say Say my playmate Won't you lay your hands on me Mirror my malady Transfer my tragedy

"Playmate" as in someone who is playing the 'game' with her, and the final two lines, the two of them sharing their fears, their miseries, knowing what the other has been through.

We could jet in a stolen car But I bet we wouldn't get too far Before the transformation takes And bloodlust tanks and Crave gets slaked

They could work together, maybe even try marriage again, but both of them know it wouldn't last because there are too many ambitions and lusts and powerplays going on, not necessarily just within them but around them.

My mind has changed My body's frame but god I like it My hearts aflame My body's strained but god I like it

Sansa has become stronger and smarter, she's changed and it's been hard and it's still hard, but she likes it.

Gonna teach you tricks that'll blow your Mongrel mind Baby doll I recognize You're a hideous thing inside If ever there were a lucky kind it's You you you you

She recognizes his flaws, where she can manipulate him now because she learned from Cersei and Littlefinger, and she knows that it wasn't just his brains that got him this far, but he's had luck help him too. Of course, Tyrion is not a "hideous thing inside" and I don't believe that's how Sansa sees him, but this whole section is how she manipulated him, how she used him, because she did. It's about her being able to manipulate him as Cersei and Littlefinger taught her. The only truly hideous characters inside left this season were Euron and Cersei and none of the Starks would have interacted with them to fit this song; that was just one part of the song that was definitely metaphorical.

Writhing under your riding hood

I just think that the reference to "riding hood" was a key to this being about Sansa with the immediate jump to "red" from that phrase and Sansa's red hair.

POWER - Kanye West

The best I can make of this is that it's about Sansa getting through all that she has been through to be in control where she is and she's now determined that one person is not going to be in power of all of them, especially not the North.

Rumble young man, rumble Life is a trip so sometimes we gon' stumble You gotta go through pain in order to become you But once the world numbs you, you'll feel like it's only one you Man, you got the power to do anything you want to Until you ask yourself, "Is that what it's all come to?" Looking at life through sunglasses in the sunroof Do you have the power to get out from up under you Fuck all these labels, fuck what everybody wants from you

I could be totally and absolutely wrong with this one.

Let’s Have a War - Fear

Cersei's perspective re: the battle of King’s Landing.

There's so many of us There's so many of us There's so many There's so many of us There's so many of us There's so many

Let's have a war So you can go and die Let's have a war We could all use the money

Let's have a war We need the space Let's have a war Clean out this place

Powa - Tune-Yards

Dany breaking her promise to Tyrion about burning King's Landing if the bells rang.

Rebel, rebel, no Lightening dances in my head Devil, devil, whoa, oh, oh Burning steady as a motor

[...]

'Cause you bomb me with lies, humiliations everyday You bomb me so many times

I never find my way Come on and bomb me Why won't you bomb me? Come on and bomb Go on and whoa

Listen to the Lion - Van Morrison

The first half of this just screams the end of Jaime and Cersei:

And all my love come down All my love come tumblin' down All my love come tumblin' down All my love come tumblin' down Oh, listen listen To the lion Oh, listen listen listen To the lion... Inside of me Oh, oh, oh

And I shall search my soul I shall search my very soul And I shall search my very soul I shall search my very so-o-oul

For the lion For the lion For the lion For the lion... Inside of me Oh, oh, yeah

And all my tears have flown All my tears like water flown

Right? That's their end. Things literally came tumbling down on them, the lion inside Cersei, the Lannister sigil is the Lion, she's pregnant with their last child. All tears have flown because they gonna die, can't cry no more, right? So, obviously this song is about the end of Jaime and Cersei, except... for the next part of the song.

And we sailed, and we sailed... And we sailed, and we sailed... And we sailed, and we sailed... ... sailed to Caledonia

And we sailed, and we sailed, And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed... Away from Denmark Way up to Caledonia Away from Denmark Way up to Caledonia

And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed... All around the World And we sailed..., and we sailed..., and we sailed... Looking for a brand new start

(They sailed to a few more places, but you get the point.) So, clearly Jaime and Cersei aren't doing that... unless, they did somehow escape those tumbling rocks and we'll see them in the final episode, then, yeah, this song *is* about them. If not and they do be dead and gone, then, well, yeah, I could see this song being about Ser Brienne of Tarth. Because the first part of the song would totally fit her too... if she, like Cersei, had a Jaime Lannister Lion inside her. Uh huh.

We shall see.

Cold Cold Cold - Cage the Elephants

I'm thinking this one's about Jon and his conflict over his identity, because first off we start early on with this line:

I've been breathing air but there's no sign of life

Jon, technically, isn't alive, being a fire wight and all, so, I'm just saying.

Tell me how hard will I fall if I live a double life

Jon Snow / Aegon Targaryen. Uh huh.

And as the darkness falls it fills up both my eyes My life before me like a flash in the night With my arms open wide

Well it's cold, cold, cold, cold inside Cold, cold, cold, cold inside Cold, cold, cold, cold inside Doctor can you help me cause something don't feel right Something don't feel right, something just ain't right

He found out all of this right before the Long Night.

No One Knows - Queens of the Stone Age

This is absolutely about Arya and the whole the Hound=Death and Gendry=Life theory.

And I realize you’re mine Indeed a fool am I And I realize you’re mine Indeed a fool am I Ahh

Gendry proposed, offered himself to her, asked her to be with him... and she totes is gonna realize that she was a fool because he is hers.

Heaven smiles above me What a gift here below But no one knows A gift that you give to me No one knows

The Hound gave Arya a gift, he made her realize that it's time to LIVE her life, instead of dying everyday just waiting for death. Once upon a time, Arya was No One. Yuppers.

Wolves of Winter - Biffy Clyro

This has got to be Sansa giving some straight talk to Dany.

Justify your reasons, now it is my turn We are the wolves! How's it gonna feel when there's no one to support ya? How's it gonna feel when you're standing there alone?

We have achieved so much more than you possibly thought we could (I love that you're seething) You can achieve anything, just remember no I in team (But there's two in brilliant) We are the wolves of winter We live in a kingdom of blood

Go to War - Nothing More

Dany to Jon episode 04 is what this is feels like this is referencing.

Screaming at the ones we love Like we forgot who we can trust Screaming at the top of our lungs On the grounds where we feel safe Do we feel safe? Do we feel safe?

She's lost so many people and feels like those she has she can't completely trust. She doesn't feel safe.

Hush, my baby, make no sound Maybe we can wait each other out It's a cold war Let's go to war

With every settled score I thought that fighting with meant fighting for But you turn it around But you turn it around (War, war, war!)

She doesn't feel she has anyone completely on her side anymore.

Every feeling in my bones Tells me to lash out and tell you to fuck off You've got my heart and I've got your soul But are we better off alone? With every battle we lose a little more Remember everything that we'd die for You are everything that I'd die for

Dany still loves and wants Jon, but Jon no longer can love her like *that.* And Dany keeps losing more and more with every battle, and she hasn't forgotten what she's fighting and what everyone that she loves has died for.

Little Monster - Royal Blood

I think this one is about Jon taking on Tyrion.

Hey little monster, I got my eye on you Where are you going, where you running to? Hey little monster, you know it's all ok I'm gonna love you, no matter what you say

I think this may be about Jon and Tyrion trying to come to terms with what Dany is doing before they part ways on how to deal with her IF my speculation is correct that Tyrion winds up killing her to protect the realm. And then from that point on, things change between Jon and Tyrion. The next part of the song is more about Jon's feelings for Dany and how Tyrion is going to see the Wolf in Jon Snow.

I got love on my fingers Lust on my tongue You say you got nothing, So come out and get some Heartache to Heartache, I'm your wolf- I'm your man I say run little monster, Before you know who I am

Jon had Daenerys' love and Tyrion didn’t. Tyrion took Dany out to protect the realm and Jon understands that it came from a place from honor and that Tyrion loved Dany, but it doesn't matter, Jon is going to show avenge her.

I could be totes wrong, though. We'll find out tomorrow!

Burn the Fleet - Thrice

This is the first attack on King’s Landing.

Sister - Prince

Uhm, yeah, just read the lyrics. It doesn't perfectly describe their situation, but it's the overall tenor and theme. It's clearly about Jaime’s conflict over Cersei.

Dire Wolf - Grateful Dead

The living the night before the Battle of Winterfell, there's just a pervasive sense of a feeling of dread the night before someone's going to die.

the wolves are running round The winter was so hard and cold froze ten feet neath the ground

Don't murder me I beg of you don't murder me Please don't murder me

Devil’s Spoke - Laura Marling

OK, I could be wrong, but I'm thinking this is about Arya deciding to start a new life, making that conscious choice and be with Gendry.

All of this can be broken All of this can be broken Hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground

Basically, this is saying that the choices you've made can be changed and you can take your hang-up (your devil) and cast it away, pin it down.

But the love of your life lives, but lies no more And where she lay your flowers grow

Arya is the love of Gendry's life, and she's no longer lying to herself, and one can take that second line in two ways. 1) as in his hopes grew, or 2) metaphorically, that when they lie together, she got pregnant.

The arms are fed and the babes that wed The backs that bled keeping her in tow But I am your keeper And I hold your face away from light I am yours till they come

The first two lines read to me like Arya's take on society's role for women that she will not be a part of it, and the last three lines are her saying that as long as they are true to who they are and each other, she is his.

Queen - Perfume Genius

I can't see this as anything other than Dany as Mad Queen.

Don't you know your queen? Ripped, heaving Flower bloom at my feet Don't you know your queen? Cracked, peeling Riddled with disease Don't you know me?

No family is safe When I sashay

It just gives the overall feel of insanity.

Cruel - St. Vincent

From Dany’s perspective because the North didn’t appreciate her, Westeros wasn’t clamoring for her, she didn’t have their love like she did in Essos.

Bodies, can't you see what everybody wants from you? For you could want that, too They could take or leave you So they took you, and they left you How could they be casually cruel? Cruel, cruel, oh

Crown on the Ground - Sleigh Bells

Cersei losing everything.

You need to know how, To say you'll backtrack, Between the clear bag, Somewhere in your habitat, You have a little thing, You think you're bothering, The class is ending, ending, ending, You never did know, You don't wanna know, There's another show playing in your window, The perm'nent thought of you, Has never bothered you, You're gonna have to, have to, have to,

Set, set that crown on the ground

Mother - The Amazons

Tyrion trying to fix everything he’s fucked up because he still wants to believe.

Friends want to kill me But I give them all my loving anyway If god won't forgive me I'm not the only one to make amends

Bronn's trying to kill him. Tyrion is still trying to make amends, as is Jaime.

Mother, it's not in my hands Try to understand, it's only 'cause I can Fools believe they can erase All that they've done before

Tyrion telling the Mother--as in one of the Seven--that he is still trying to believe he can make up for his past sins and mistakes.

Hot Blood - KALEO

Jon’s conflict and shame over his love for Dany, his aunt.

You turn your back, you’re a broken man You come around and just dying to shake your hand I don’t expect you to understand Just keep telling yourself there’s no shame

This was when he was still trying to convince himself it was OK, but then, of course he pulled away from their kiss.

They don’t know 'bout who we are They don’t know 'bout you and I They ain’t know 'bout the stars of your eyes Oh hot blood love is gonna get ya

Before the secret was out...

You wanna prove you’re the better man You wanna reach for the things that nobody can Oh all you need is to break away, yeah Just keep telling yourself there’s no shame

Jon Snow/Aegon Targaryen is a honorable man just like his real father, Ned Stark, and nothing can change that.

War Pigs/Luke’s Wall - Black Sabbath

The end of Cersei who never cared about any of her subjects.

Politicians hide themselves away They only started the war Why should they go out to fight?

Cersei until nearly the very end up there safe in her tower watching all of the bloodshed and destruction.

They leave that role for the poor, yeah Time will tell on their power minds, Making war just for fun Treating people just like pawns in chess, Wait 'till their judgement day comes, yeah

She could have helped, she knew that by playing her games, thousands and thousands of people could and would die, but she didn't care.

Now in darkness world stops turning, Ashes where the bodies burning No more War Pigs have the power, Hand of God has struck the hour Day of judgement, God is calling On their knees the war pigs crawling, Begging mercies for their sins Satan, laughing, spreads his wings

The end of Cersei, ashes falling, bodies burning. Not Satan, but Drogon.

Dead Skin Mask - Slayer

Dany the Mad Queen, again.

Graze the skin with my finger tips The brush of dead cold flesh pacifies the means Provocative images delicate features so smooth A pleasant fragrance in the light of the moon

Dance with the dead in my dreams Listen to their hallowed screams The dead have taken my soul Temptation’s lost all control Simple smiles elude psychotic eyes Lose all mind control rationale declines

Dany's dreams with Drogo and her baby. So many screams that she has listened to, and we all know that temptation has taken over, no more control, rationale is gone.

Empty eyes enslave the creations Of placid faces and lifeless pageants In the depths of a mind insane Fantasy and reality are the same

The coin has landed on the side of insanity.

Killer Wolf - Danzig

Arya and her awesome power, as a killer, as a woman (see: one smitten Gendry err Rivers Baratheon).

I’m the wolf I’m the one you want I’m the killer wolf I’m 'onna pound you home I’m the wolf Howlin’ all night I curl up next to you When you’re all alone

How her deadly abilities, her killer ways have become so much a part of who she is.

I’m the wolf Howlin’ all night I’m the king wolf I put the chill in your bones I’m the wolf Hunting you down I ain’t no back door wolf I don’t scratch at no doors

She has no fear, she’s in control, and numb to the world in generally for the most part.

Just one kiss, yes From my lips Rake your soul Over burning coals Just one touch, yes From my love Make you howl 'Til the sun comes up I’m the wolf

And how with a few well-placed comments, eyebrow lifts, sultry looks and deadly knife throws gets Gendry all hot and bothered like that. Boy's just gone for her. In the immortal words of Joe Dempsie, he's spruuuung!

The Time Is Now - Atreyu

I just can't see this being about anything other than Arya after episode 05 being ready to start a new life--one that is not about death. And since I firmly believe that the Hound=Death, and Gendry=life, and both are crazy entangled up with Arya this season, that therefore means the new life she starts will be with Gendry.

I've been dreaming 'bout, hope for better days Time for dreaming's done, time to face the sun

(Flying high above the world) It's a new life, it's a new mind And I will never fall

Arya rode away on that white horse, flying high and you know she will not fall. It's just too hopeful and happy to be about Daenerys.

(The time is now) I can't contain myself, I never felt so alive (The time is now) I'm past the breaking point, I set my soul on fire

"I never felt so alive..." For the first time, Arya has given herself permission to live.

(Hey-ay, hey-ay, hey-ay, yeah) The time is now!

Yup, the time is now.

Be My Fire - The Blue Stones

Dany wanting so much for Jon to still love her as his love, wanting him to trust her, to be true to her, to be with her forever.

Baby, be my fire Baby, be my flame Baby, be the softly burning embers

You need a man in whom You can depend Well I'd be the gasoline To keep you alive And I'd be the cold So unbreakable We'd burn together Straight through the night That's alright Baby, be my fire

Yes, it says "man," but eh, the point still gets across. I think this is about them. I think.

Rise Above - Black Flag

I think this is about Sansa and representing the North wanting their independence back.

we are tired of your abuse try to stop us but its no use

societys arm's out of control rise above we're gonna rise above think there smart cant think for themselves rise above we're gonna rise above laugh at us behind our backs rise above we're gonna rise above i find satisfaction in what they lack rise above we're gonna rise above

Alternative Ulster - Stiff Little Fingers

I had no clue what this song was about… I had to go to Song Meanings since I’m not from Ireland and don’t know much about the politics, the Punk Rock scen or the political dynamics going on there. The bottom line is that this song is about seeing beyond the divisions. Therefore, this song… is Jon’s point of view. We all are in this together: The Living against the Undead.

This Sentence Will Ruin/Save Your Life - Young Ruffians

This whole song is about someone trying to figure things out. It’s about someone who frankly knows nothing… so, uhm, yeah, Jon Snow, and his identity crisis and trying to figure out what the fuck to do.

I need to know who I am and what I'm going to do while I'm on earth I need to understand everything and everybody's lives

The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn - The Pogues

This one’s about Tyrion… the song is very Celtic with lots of history about the people. Basically, it's about the urge to self-destruct and about a man's life-long descent into alcoholism. SO, yeah, Tyrion.

Winterlong - Neil Young

Well, this certainly seems to apply to Gendry after Arya turned down his proposal. Very promising though is the fact that nothing in the song is definite. It was all “if…” “you seem to be…”

I waited for you, Winterlong You seem to be where I belong. It's all illusion anyway.

“You seem...” that leaves it to open, the possibility of her coming back is not closed off. The "illusion" could refer to the title and castle.

If things should ever turn out wrong And all the love we have is gone, It won't be easy on that day.

"If" and "it won't be easy on that day" makes it clear he hasn't given up, he's still waiting for his girl to come to him.

Furr - Blitzen Trapper

OK, guys, this is it. I know I keep saying it, but yeah, Arya and Gendry? Are absolutely endgame. This song sounds absolutely like Arya deciding to give up her Stark-ways, being the killer with a list, etc. and joining Gendry. I mean, for reals! I'm just putting all the lyrics here bolding key phrases.

Yeah, when I was only 17, I could hear the angels whispering So I droned into the words and Wondered aimlessly about till I heard my mother shouting through the fog It turned out to be the howling of a dog Or a wolf to be exact. The sound sent shivers down my back But I was drawn into the pack. And before long, they allowed me To join in and sing their song. So from the cliffs and highest hill, yeah We would gladly get our fill, Howling endlessly and shrilly at the dawn. And I lost the taste for judging right from wrong. For my flesh had turned to fur, yeah And my thoughts, they surely were turned to Instinct and obedience to God.

[Chorus] You can wear your fur Like the river on fire. But you better be sure If you’re makin' God a liar. I'm a rattlesnake, babe, I'm like fuel on fire. So if you're gonna' get made, Don't be afraid of what you've learned.

On the day that I turned 23, I was curled up underneath a dogwood tree. When suddenly a girl With skin the color of a pearl, Wandered aimlessly, But she didn't seem to see. She was listenin' for the angels just like me. So I stood and looked about. I brushed the leaves off of my snout. And then I heard my mother shouting through the trees. You should have seen that girl go shaky at the knees. So I took her by the arm We settled down upon a farm. And raised our children up as Gently as you pleased.

And now my fur has turned to skin. And I've been quickly ushered in To a world that I confess I do not know. But I still dream of running careless through the snow. An' through the howlin' winds that blow, Across the ancient distant flow, It fill our bodies up like water till we know.

[Chorus]

OK, now aside from the very, very obviousness of the fact that if you switch the genders--which, when a song THIS PERFECTLY ENCAPSULATES Arya and Gendry's story with references to wolves and packs and settling in a farm (forest lass), etc. one can not worry about the gender not matching perfectly--there's another very key thing one has to bear in mind.

The song is called "Furr." That title clearly references the narrator (who in this case would be Arya) being a wolf. The group name is Blitzen Trapper. Blitzen is, of course, famously known as one of the reindeer who pulled Santa's sleigh. While science has now proven that all of Santa's reindeer were likely female as male reindeer shed their antlers in December, it is highly unlikely that when the tale was first told that such was known therefore we're going with the original conception that Blitzen is indeed male. And since Blitzen is known as a male reindeer, well, another name for a male deer is a... stag. So, not only does the song itself alone scream an Arya and Gendrya endgame (it really, really, REALLY does).

The group name + the song title + the meaning of the song = The Stag caught the Wolf with his love.

At this point, let me remind ya'll that Benioff and Weiss said about this playlist, "The answer to the ending is one hundred percent hidden in the playlist choices. No one will believe us, but it’s true." Uh huh. I believe you!

Power - AJ Ghent

There are no lyrics for this one, so I just listened to it and really, I think it might be the beginning of the season when Dany was feeling confident about taking on the Army of the Dead and Cersei. OR it could be Cersei feeling confident about taking on Dany with her greater numbers. It’s easier to analyze it when you can look at the lyrics. :shrugs:

Toxicity - System of a Down

This song is really about nature being corrupted and capitalism taking over the world, so all I can really take from it is in relation to the endgame that it's Sansa and her opinion of Dany and how she thinks that she is a conqueror set on taking over Westeros by any means necessary.

Born For Greatness - Papa Roach

Oh, my heart. I think this is about Varys, whom I’ve always loved. He's my sixth fave character in the whole series.

I am a man at war And I am fighting for All of the broken people All of the people thrown overboard They always tried to shame us But they don't speak our language No, we're not nameless, we're not faceless We were born for greatness

Yup, and he fought all the way to the end.

Gold Lion - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

I could be totally wrong, but all I can think here is Cersei’s downfall and her and Jaime’s death although he tried to rescue her.

Gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is, Gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is, Take our hands out of control, Take our hands out of control

Now, tell me what you saw, Tell me what you saw, There was a crowd of seeds, Inside, outside, I must have done a dozen each

It was the height I threw, the weight, The shell was crushing you, I've been around a few

Here’s Your Future - The Thermals

There’s gonna be a lot of death and destruction and people are going to pay for their sins, and someone is going to be sacrificed for sins that they did not commit, maybe not in death, but that person won’t be happy. And I think that person will be Jon.

God reached his hand down from the sky He flooded the land and he set it afire He said fear me again and know I'm your father And remember that no one can breathe underwater

The deaths Dany caused, Theon's death, all the Ironborn deaths, including Euron's mens' deaths.

God told his son it's time to come home I promise you won't have to die all alone I need you to pay for the sins I create Son said I will but dad I'm afraid

Jon's no Jesus, but he's the closest thing to a sacrificial lamb this show has. He's already died once and risen for the sins of others.

Love is Blindness - U2

Dany and Jon. Period.

Love is blindness I don't want to see Won't you wrap the night Around me Oh my heart Love is blindness

They don't want to know what they know about Jon's parentage. It's as simple as that. It changed everything for them.

And that’s all she wrote. Agree, disagree... thoughts? I’d really like to know what other people think.

#game of thrones #got meta #arya x gendry #gendrya #arya stark #gendry baratheon #got songs #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #varys #theon greyjoy

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

The Deli Diaries [5]

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 [Finale]

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: Fluff & Cuteness, That good ol’ slow burn, Slice of Life

➜ Summary: Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

➜ Warnings: Mundane-ness that might make you bored to death

➜ Notes: slow burn that is slowly but surely moving somewhere

Okay. You might not completely hate your job. But only sometimes...sometimes you don’t want to stuff deli sausages down your throat and hope you choke to death. Though the feeling of finding your job somewhat decent happens once in a blue moon, or rather, once a cute toddler comes giggling your way. “Umm…” You lean over from behind the cases, abandoning your next task of making pizzas and instead trying to gain the attention of the older woman who’s looking at the packages of macaroni. When she lifts her head, you gesture towards her daughter. “Would she like a sample?” “Oh. Sure!” Your heart is swooning. You’re actually not that big on kids. They can be loud, noisy, rambunctious. You don’t appreciate how they relentlessly ask questions, or when they run around to disrupt your peace, or throw screaming tantrums in public or how they smear their boogers on all the furniture. You don’t even like babies — all they do is shit and eat and they look like wrinkly aliens when they’re born. You’re much more of a dog person. At least if a dog poops on your floor, they’ll be somewhat apologetic about it. Plus, a dog won’t grow up to tell you they hate you or slam doors or unleash their pubescent anger on you. But there’s this point in time for kids where they are so fucking cute it’s unbearable. It’s around the toddler stage, when they’re learning how to walk and can’t dash off on a wild goose chase, when they’re still babbling nonsense and can’t make snarky remarks, when they’re learning how to read social cues and instead of looking like a wrinkly alien, they’re looking like a regular human child. “This is honey ham!” You hand the sample over to the mother and she takes it gratefully before handing it to her child. The toddler is sitting in the shopping cart, seat belt attached around her abdomen and cotton, pink onesie. She’s bustling with energy, her tiny amount of wispy hair tied upright like an apple stem, bobbing up and down as she sways from side to side. The kid is blowing raspberries to entertain herself, chubby cheeks puffed out, kicking her feet and wiggling around. When you meet her eyes, she quirks her head to the side and grins, cheeky smile showing two white teeth and pink gums. “Would she like some cheese?” Her mom turns to her. “Do you want some cheese?” The kid nods, head dipping down and coming up before repeating several times. You melt at her adorableness and you grab four cheese samples, handing it to the older woman. “Here you go!” “Oh wow, that’s a lot,” she laughs and then takes it into her palm, handing one to her daughter. “What do you say? Say thank you.” The kid inhales the cube of cheese all at once, chewing it inside her cheek. “Tank you!” Her mom smiles softly at you before beginning to move away. “Thank you.” “No problem.” You wave towards the kid who waves back at you enthusiastically. Your cold dead heart feels surprisingly warm. “Bye!” Maybe your job isn’t so bad after all. // You take it back. You take it all back. “There aren’t any sandwiches left?” This random lady is looking at you in appallment, like she can’t believe her own ears, that someone actually might’ve been here before her to buy sandwiches and the store hasn’t been open for nine hours now. You decide to walk around the cases, going out to personally meet her and take a look. “No, unfortunately whatever’s out here is all we have.” “...I don’t like tuna.” She throws the sub sandwich in her hand back onto the shelf. “You’re not going to make anymore?” “Well sometimes my supervisor makes them in the morning,” you explain calmly. “But usually they’re prepackaged. Someone delivers them.” The customer tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and then crosses her arms, tapping her foot in impatience. “So, you don't make it here yourselves?” “No…” She gives you a skeptical look, red lips pressed in a straight line. “Can you check the back?” “Okay...?” You walk back behind the cases, opening the cooler door and...yup...sandwiches haven’t magically appeared. When you return to the customer, you offer your grievances. “Yeah, I’m sorry. There’s no more.” “Can you ask your manager?” “My….manager?” Your brain goes blank. There’s a monotone sound that rings through the recess of your mind. Uhhhhhhhhhhh….and you snap back to reality. “She already went home a few hours ago.” “Then can you ask someone else?” She looks at you like you’re dumb and maybe you are, but you still don’t appreciate the dirty look. Nonetheless, you’d rather not get fired for telling a customer to fuck off, so you nod instead. “Okay. I’ll ask.” You walk away, stealing three strides and when you turn, her beady eyes are narrowed on your form. She’s staring. But before you can go up to the customer service counter, you run into someone else on the produce floor. He’s a familiar boy, dark tuft of hair that’s too reminiscent of cotton candy, and all eye smiles and soft, sweet voice. “Hey…” “What’s wrong?” Immediately, Jimin is concerned, stopping from piling oranges onto the display basket. He fully turns to you, reading your sour expression. “Nothing. I just got a difficult customer.” You take a peek back and thankfully the lady isn't straight out glaring at you, instead she’s occupied on her phone. “Oh. Do you want me to call the manager on duty?” “Nah, it’s fine.” You wave him off. “I don’t want to make a big deal. She just wants to ask me someone...higher up if there are sandwiches left.” “Well.” He lifts his chin playfully to look down on you, pretending to be a supervisor. “Are there sandwiches left, Y/N?” You grin. “No. There aren’t.” “And why not?” “Because other people bought them already.” You laugh and he eases into a smile. “Okay, I’m going back now before she thinks I’m chatting with you.” “Well you are chatting with me,” he chides, teasing you. “Get back to work!” “Aye, aye, captain.” You salute him before walking back to where the lady’s angrily tapping her fingers on her mobile phone. As you come around the counter, her head rises. “Yeah. I’m sorry. We don’t have anymore.” The customer sighs exhaustingly, adding to the theatrics by rolling her eyes. “I’ll take some lunch meat then.” “Alright. What would you like?” You put on a new pair of gloves before placing your hands behind your back as you await her decision. She takes a long moment to decide, eyes flickering all over the meat case. “Do you want a sample?” you suggest. “No.” The woman shuts you down with a curt tone and then presses her oily fingertip all over the clean glass, leaving prints all over the surface. (An angry and irrational thought passes...if you were evil enough, you would take her fingerprints and put it at a crime scene and frame her for a fucking murder). “I’ll take three hundred grams of black forest ham. And I want to see the first slice.” “Of course.” You take the ham out from the case, throwing it on the slicer and adjusting the knob before cutting one. “What do you think?” She leans over and lifts her hand to press the slice of ham that’s in your palm. “That’s way too thick. Half of that. Like one fifth of an inch.” “Okay.” You’ll never comprehend why certain people give you such complicated measurements — as if you have a ruler downloaded inside your brain and you recognize what the hell one fifth of an inch is. “How about this?” “That’s too thin.” “Oh. I’ll fix it. Would you like the slice?” She gestures. “Just add it into the pile.” “I..uh..okay, but I was wondering if you wanted to eat it.” You clear your throat, continuing on your explanation when she stares at you impassively. “Some customers like to eat a slice as a sample.” “No. I don’t want any samples. I know what it tastes like.” Well damn. “Okay.” You cut another slice. “What about this?” The woman groans and shuts her eyes, waving you off. “It’s fine. I’ll take three hundred grams.” You pull a piece of plastic, cutting a total of six slices and when you put it in the scale, it’s four hundred grams. “Um, is four hundred okay?” Her expression goes bad and before you can take out any slice and apologize, she groans again. “You can’t get three hundred?!” No response leaves you this time. You simply take out a slice and it drops down to three hundred and thirty grams. When you wrap it up in the bag and you hand it to her, she roughly swipes it away from your grasps. The lady stares at it for an extended moment with lips downturned and thinly drawn brows furrowing. “Is it okay?” “It’s a bit too thick. And it’s not three hundred.” Well….she told you to cut that thickness and it’s only thirty grams over. What exactly is this stranger expecting from you? “I can cut it again if you want.” “No, it’s fine. Actually, I don’t want it anymore.” “Oh...okay..” You’re a bit stunned, watching as she throws the perfectly fine package of sliced deli meat onto the ledge of the deli case. “I can redo it, it’s not a big deal.” “I’m fine. Thank you. Bye.” The woman’s sincerity is never felt and she twists on her heel, pushing her shopping cart away. And you’re left behind the counter with the bag in your hand. You open it. When no one’s looking, you eat it. Might as well….or else this is going into the trash can.

// Time ticks so slowly. Sixty seconds is drawn to a hundred, making one simple minute so much longer than it needs to be. At this point, you’re just pacing back and forth, pretending to do work as you watch the time on the microwave. You stare. Stare. Stare. Until the last two digits hit a double zero. The hour’s over which only means one thing. “My shift’s over, Yuna!” You announce across the deli to your coworker who just got back from her break less than five minutes ago. You rip off your hairnet, grabbing your bag to leave. “Ugh, you’re so lucky. Bye.” “See you tomorrow?” “Yeah. Tomorrow.” This is undeniably your favourite, happiest moment throughout the day. You’re practically grinning and skipping away, reminiscent of frolicking in a field of fresh flowers in some cheesy montage. You unclip your name tag from your apron as you approach the machine by the front door. And at the exact same time, you run into a certain someone. “Hey, produce boy.” Jimin grins and swipes his card after you do, officially clocking out for the day. “Hey, deli girl.” “Off already?” “Yup.” The two of you exit the store. “Are you working tomorrow?” “Unfortunately.” You sigh but more for dramatic purposes. “You?” “Yup.” He runs his hand into his hair, sweeping it back — a habit you notice he does quite often. “From noon to six. And yours is..?” “Three to closing. Are you driving home?” “No, I’m actually walking,” he admits with a shy smile. “Oh.” You’re pleasantly surprised since it seemed like he drove most days. “Which direction…?” “Over there.” Jimin slowly points and you smile. “Same. I guess we can walk together.” The both of you begin on your way, strolling beside each other and cutting through the parking lot before landing on the proper sidewalk. “Is your house far?” “About twenty minutes.” Jimin takes a shy peek at your profile. “You?” “Mine’s about ten. That’s far for you though.” You’re not that big on getting active and twenty minutes rounded up was half an hour and walking for that long under the evening beating sun sounded like an absolute nightmare. “Why won’t you take the bus?” “It’s okay. It’s actually not bad,” he muses. “Exercise is good. And time goes by faster when you’re with someone you like.” There’s a second of silence and Jimin finally registers what he just said. “Uh, I mean..when you’re with someone who you can talk to, like that you like...like as in a friend...um—” He’s scrambling for dear life and you can’t help but laugh. He’s too cute. “It’s okay. I get it.” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, embarrassment burning his cheeks bright pink and he decides to switch the topic before he’ll kick his blanket tonight thinking about this very conversation. “Did that lady give you a hard time?” “From earlier?” You look at him. “Yeah, she was a bit crazy. She wanted sandwiches but there were none left and then she wanted black forest but apparently it was too thick and then too thin and then too thick again and in the end she didn’t even want it! I don't get that! Why people just order things and don’t actually buy it. Do you know how many times things have been returned to the deli and then we have to throw it out? It’s so wasteful.” He’s amused, smile on his face as he listens attentively to your endless tangent. His footsteps are synchronized with yours, matching in a singular beat, and he makes sure to look both ways before crossing the street with you. “But you’re okay?” “I’m fine. Just annoyed...and tired...but when am I not?” Jimin hums. “She didn’t yell at you, did she?” “Not really,” you answer before a thought strikes you and your hands begin digging into your bag slung across your body. A second later, a plastic baggie emerges and you open it. “I didn’t throw it. Want some?” “Sure.” Jimin rips a slice of black forest ham into two, sharing with you. He chews. It’s quiet for a moment. And Jimin is overcome with a fear that it’s awkward. He’s really not that shy or timid despite most people’s first impressions of him being that way. With his friends, he can be pretty noisy and rambunctious. But with you, he puts himself under pressure, trying to drive the conversation. He wants it to keep going once it’s died down but his mind draws a blank when nervousness eats him whole. He wonders if you’re doing the same thing, if you’re trying to think of things to make the atmosphere less tense or worse….what if you’re actually thinking about how weird he is?! Jimin knows he’s a klutz and a bit soft spoken but he hopes you don’t think he’s a creep for walking home with you or that he lacks social skills. Or maybe you’re just as nervous as he is. Jimin’s palms are sweaty and he steals a glance at you while he continues to chew. A million thoughts are racing inside his head and all you think of is — “I don’t like hams.” Your expression has gone sour but you take yet another bite of the black forest ham as if to confirm your dislike. “Yeah. I don’t like it. Still not a fan of hams.” Park Jimin scoffs lightly before laughing. His chaotic mind instantly dies down. He knows you don’t like your job. You don’t like production. You don’t like customer service. You don’t like people. And you don’t like hams either. There’s a lot that you complain about and that you express you don’t like. But a tiny, tiny part inside of him hopes….you like him. (Uh, he means that in a friendly way, like...as friends...like you like him as an acquaintance, like he’ll just be happy if you don’t hate him as much as you hate your job….god….Jimin’s not even sure what he’s thinking anymore).

#Jimin fluff #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #bts scenario #BTS JIMIN AS A PRODUCE GUY AND Y/N AS A DELI GIRL - IT'S A GROCERY AU #GROCERY!AU AS GOOD AS IT GETS

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fly-pow-bye · 5 years

Text

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Our Brand Is Chaos”

Written by: Jake Goldman

Written & Storyboarded by: John West, Angela Zhang

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

Not really that hell-ish.

This episode begins with Blossom, away from her sisters, reading her favorite book at home. Being Reboot Blossom, this book is all about tax codes. Just in case a six year old girl reading tax codes isn't enough for people to consider that she's an unrelatable nerd, the book is even the "Overly Complicated Edition". Unfortunately, before she can get to her favorite chapter about deductibles, she gets interrupted by everyone's favorite Santa Claus Claw Demon.

For the first time since Blisstersweet Symphony, Him makes an onscreen appearance in the reboot. He had one mention in Mojo The Great and got replaced by a generic devil in Ragnarock and Roll, but this is his first on-screen appearance in Season 3. There's already one problem with his appearance in this episode: he doesn't have his echoed voice. That is going to be a sign.

Blossom tries to throw the book at him, not exactly saying that joke but a different one that fits just as well, but Him shoots her with a beam that shrinks her before the book could even leave her hands. Him happily tells Blossom that...

Him: Your soul is mine!

Even without his voice filter, this episode's Him is far closer to the Him I would imagine him to be. I'd rather see Him as Shang Tsung from the first Mortal Kombat movie than the Frogurt salesman from that one episode of the Simpsons. Blossom asks how this happened, and he explains to her that her sisters did it.

We get a flashback to Bubbles and Buttercup, or Bubblescup as they essentially share the same role in this episode, going ga-ga over the Snowsploder 7000 Turbo. It's a rocket powered bobsled that comes equipped with a waffle maker, and it's available for the low, low price of $585!

Unfortunately, Buttercup only has $4, and Bubbles has a huge wad of cash that only goes up to $580. I guess if she can eye laser any potential mugger, she can carry her whole life savings with her. Unfortunately, with only $584, they're a dollar short, and they'd give anything to get that dollar. Suddenly, Him shows up to offer them a contract: they get that dollar, but they have to give him Blossom's soul, which he says is the most important thing to them.

Yeah, apparently not important enough, as they agree to this contract immediately. One would think an offer from such a prominent member of the Powerpuff Girls' Rogues Gallery would give Bubblescup some pause, but the episode wouldn't continue if they didn't sign this contract with no thought whatsoever. I mean, it's just their sister, what harm could selling her soul possibly do compared to the agony of not having a rocket-powered bobsled that can make waffles?

Bubbles: Ooh, I love the red ink!

Him: Yeah...ink...

Maybe I'm just bewildered that this reboot could imply that blood exists, but I found that particular line funny.

After that flashback, Blossom is immediately condemned to Him's realm, shown for the first time in this reboot. The original had so many great shots of that realm. In fact, it's one of the few things that were improved in Season 5 and 6, because they took advantage of computer animation to make it as surreal as possible! With 2016's amazing technology, what does the reboot do with it?

Eh, just put some random objects in a purple and green gradient, and have them all float in the void. I could see this as Blossom's personal hell, and the way she reacts to it implies that could be the case. But, no, Him says this is his home, and this is how he likes it.

As Blossom is starting to go insane from all of the nonsensical items in this realm, like apples and oranges in the same basket, Him is going to play in a mariachi band. I guess since this is the Chaos Realm, grabbing a joke from the Soundless Slippers pile makes a lot more sense.

Meanwhile in the world of the living, Bubbles and Buttercup run into a problem: they may have the exact money for that bobsled, but they still need to pay tax! If only Blossom was there to teach them about the importance of that.

Just kidding, of course Bubblescup get the bobsled and are having the time of their lives. Pretty much every scene with Bubblescup's portion of the episode has the same premise: they don't have any remorse over what they did to Blossom. They don't even mention her name. I could understand Buttercup not realizing the error of her ways, because she's the rascally little green princess, but Bubbles is okay with this, too?

There's a little more plot to this, and I really mean little. Their amazing bobsled has caught the eye of a fellow professional bobsledder, who wants to sign them up to be a part of his team...

...the Quacksledders! It may not be the Disney-related Ducks I usually talk about, but this is the closest we get to a crossover between the two shows I review, so I might as well mention it.

Speaking of which, much like an episode of a different show I just reviewed, they try to do some sort of transition between these two plots. Most of them come off like this one:

Buttercup: (after becoming a Quacksledder) This is the best day ever!

Him: Ugh, this is the worst day ever!

This feels very forced by comparison. The shots aren't even remotely similar visually. This would have been mitigated a little if Him actually lived in a fiery place of misery, because at least there would be some contrast to the icy place of happiness that Bubblescup is in. As Him is complaining about his trumpet player keeping the band from becoming great, he bumps into a door.

Him doesn't remember there being a door or a giant wall in his realm, and he has to press the buzzer. The guy behind that buzzer asks if he has an appointment, and he tells him that he's the supreme ruler of this realm. The guy tells him he isn't. The door opens, and Him can't believe his eyes when he sees that monster with red horn-like structures on her head.

Somehow, Blossom took over the realm while Him was busy with his band, rebranding it as Chaos Incorporated. They don't elaborate how this happened. She just says that she lived in a place that was disorganized, and then she organized it. She then opens a window showing a bunch of demons in cubicles, making cold calls.

This is an episode where Blossom's soul is sold to the devil, she goes to a place that is essentially hell in all but name or looks, and Blossom ends up becoming the supreme ruler of it. As soon as Him says "what" at this, we get a Townsville news bulletin.

No, there's no real transition here. This bulletin is all about the hit bobsledding sensation. They appear on magazines, boxes of WhEaties, and they even their own hit record in Japan. Newscaster Nick StillNoLastName interviews them to ask what their secret is. Needless to say, they don't say it was because they sold their sister's soul to the devil.

Bubbles and Buttercup are ready for Bobsledageddon, and Buttercup specifically tells any potential challengers to "bring it on".

In come the Tracer Triplets, the constant winners of the Bobsledageddon. I can't help but think that's because they are apparently the only other team that decided to show up for it, as we don't see anyone else. That's still one more than the Battle of the Bands from Electric Buttercup, at least. Also, they're evil! How evil?

Yellow Tracer Triplet: Also, we don't think baby animals are cute!

Nothing actually caused them to say this, but they had to say it because they're the bad guys! Bubbles is absolutely delighted to hear this from them.

And by that, I mean she makes this veiny face and turns her pigtails into fire. She then tackles the not-Derbytantes, leading to an off-screen beatdown even Buttercup can't bear to watch. See, the joke is that Bubbles is normally a cute little teddy bear, but sometimes, she gets angry! What an original joke, and not something that has been overdone.

This plot is so boring. If I have to watch this plot for another minute, I'm going to go nuts. I don't belong in this plot, see? I wish we could go back to the other place.

Thankfully, we do, using an explosion as a transition. At least it's something. This totally-not-a-place-where-damned-souls-are-tortured-for-all-eternity has now become a call center, where demons like Him cold call people with amazing offers that only cost their soul.

Blossom shows up, and she's cosplaying and acting as the boss from Office Space, complete with a coffee mug and suspenders. This outfit only lasts this one scene, and it's only there because this reference just wouldn't be as funny without it. It's not really that funny even with it, to be honest.

Because he failed to abide by the dress code, which did not include Santa Claus outfits, he gets demoted to the mail department. I wish they would have elaborated on this beyond having winged devils taking care of this, but I can assume this is where all the junk mail comes from. He wants his realm back, and his sentient leprechaun cup gives him an idea on just how to get it: tear up that contract! Thanking him for the idea, Him shoves his sentient leprechaun cup into the mail chute.

Oh yeah, maybe I should elaborate on that. See, this would cause a distraction, so Him can go to the filing cabinet to find that contract before Blossom can fix it. There, that explains everything.

Blossom, now back in the suit she was wearing before, catches Him in the act, revealing that the contract was in her stubs this whole time. Boss Blossom doesn't want to go home, she has so much to do. She just got finished collating the koalas. Chaos, ooooh!

Those koalas do end up being the last straw, as he starts firing lasers that turn into a walrus, a Christmas tree, and an accordion. I originally was confused by the Christmas tree, considering what this villain represents, but then I realized he wears a Santa Claus outfit. As for the walrus and the accordion...chaos! Ooooh!

This fight scene isn't too bad, actually. I actually liked this one bit where, while Blossom is putting those random items Him was firing at her in a filing cabinet, Him just bursts out of that cabinet and punches her out. That actually took me by surprise, which, surprisingly for an episode with "chaos" in the name, is pretty rare.

Best of all, it's not one-sided, with both combatants dishing out pain on each other in an equal amount. I'd argue the devil should be putting up way more of a fight, but I'd argue this lack of chaos has weakened him.

This ends with the devilish supreme ruler of this realm of pure darkness playing a game of tug-of-war with Him. How that sentence isn't me making another potshot at the Reboot Puffs is part of the reason I kind of like this episode. I mean, Blossom taking over what is essentially Hell.

After the obvious conclusion of a tug-of-war involving a piece of paper and a pair of claws, everything gets reset. Chaos Incorporated goes back to the uninspired gradient nothing-scape it was before, and Bubblescup's bobsled disappears while they're in mid-air. Fortunately for them, they can fly. Unfortunately for them, they forgot that about as much as they forgot how important Blossom is to them.

After an exterior shot of the house with sitcom music playing over it, feels like the Powerpuff Girls to me, I lie, we see Bubblescup practically mummified in full-body casts. Blossom tells them that she hopes they learned their lesson.

The episode does at least do a book end, a literal one, by having Blossom read the Tax Code book to them. The soul sellers groan, as if this wasn't a deserved punishment. Episode end.

Does the title fit?

The "brand" part actually fits into what Blossom wants to do with Him's.

How does it stack up?

I honestly couldn't give this a Disgusted. The plot seems like it was going to turn into another "Blossom gets the short end of the stick" episode, but it ends up turning into a rather unique episode.

I can't imagine Him fans are going to be very happy with this one, though. I would personally disagree, as I found it funny that the biggest evil of the franchise was relegated to just being a mere white-collar worker, but I can see how people would hate that.

I really didn't have much to hate about this one outside of a rather useless B-plot that only served to give the A-plot a decent premise and nothing else. I debated whether or not this should be a really low Happy or a really high Neutral, and I think the concept put it slightly above that threshold.

Next, a tale about a tail unlike any other. There's a good reason for that.

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#fpb ppg 2016 #powerpuff girls #cartoon network #fpb reviews #ppg 2016

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westywrites · 6 years

Text

Story with Gods - Chp 3

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

Hey @ratracechronicler @whollyart @concealeddarkness13 if you’re interested in reading some of Sophia’s way with words in canon, you’ll enjoy this. I’m away for work this week (I scheduled this on Sunday), so I’m posting chapter three instead of a short story since I probably won’t have the time to write something new anyways. This will make more sense if you read chapter one and chapter two.

Warning for depictions of death and dead bodies

"Olivia," Sophia whispered this time, standing shakily. She examined the row of bodies, her breath caught in horror. Everyone was dead, Olivia was dead. She should be dead, but, she wasn't. Sophia stepped out of the row, stretching cautiously and touching all over her own body. She felt for her own pulse and breathing, both were there just as they should be. In fact, she felt great. Aside from a feeling of pent-up energy, she felt perfectly fine. None of it made any sense. Olivia's body fell sideways to the floor, and Sophia ran over. No pulse, she was dead for sure. Sophia gently moved her body over into the row, her dead friend seemed so light, so fragile. Tears streamed down Sophia's face. "What the hell is going on?" She begged the universe for an answer.

"We could have guessed it would be you." The announcer's voice made Sophia jump, she hadn't expected a response. "You'll be great in our ranks if you can take orders well enough. None of us can guess who you're a rebirth of though. With golden hair like that, you could totally be an Apollo. That's where my bet is."

"Woah, what? None of that made any sense." Sophia glared at the speaker. "Tell me what's going on."

"It'll all make sense in due time kid. We have to wait for any others to wake up to explain though, I'm not explaining more than once." The announcer seemed to be very casual now that they had all died, though he still sounded rather bored.

"Am I a ghost? Is this some kind of afterlife?" Sophia kept pinching herself, trying to make sure it was real.

"No and no. That's all you're getting for now kid. I'm sure the others will wake up real soon." The slight click told Sophia that the announcer had turned off the mic. She kicked the wall and started pacing the room while mumbling angrily to herself. Hours seemed to pass, and she was so incredibly bored, no one showed any signs of being anything other than dead. Sophia doubted if any of it was real and was starting to think she had been dreaming the whole thing. She paced and mumbled to herself as she thought but rather than finding answers she just found herself getting more and more restless. Time seemed to pass strangely, she wasn't hungry or tired but knew enough time had passed that she should be. She gave up trying to make sense of any of it and fidgeted in silence.

"C'mon it's taking forever, I don't even think it'll happen,” Sophia complained loudly. "I need to know what's going on."

"It's only been a day and a half since you woke up, be patient, you died five days before most of them." It hadn't felt like a full day and a half, but she honestly didn't care about that.

"So you admit I'm dead?" She pressed for more.

"No, you were dead. You're not anymore." The announcer sighed like he had said all this a thousand times before. "I'm not going to explain yet."

"So I'm undead. A zombie?" She planned to irritate him with obvious questions until he gave in.

"Not at all. Look, kid, you can't manipulate me into giving you answers, I'm trained against manipulation. Trained by the very best." The announcer was overly proud when he mentioned this and Sophia had an idea.

“So you must do some pretty important work if you’ve been trained by the very best, huh?” Her tone shifted slightly, so she was praising him as she asked.

“Well, I would say it’s pretty damn important.” His voice swelled with pride. “I actually work for the king and not just like as part of the system but pretty much directly for the king.”

“Oh wow, that’s impressive.” Her voice dripped with false honey. “To work for such a big powerful man from a big powerful family.”

“Well actually that’s not quite how it works for us, and King Rylan’s really new as a king, but he’s a good king.” The announcer’s voice had changed entirely and now was charged with a boastful excitement.

“How can someone be a new king?” Sophia asked as if she was dying to know. “What happened to the old king?”

“The old king, if you can call him that, was a tyrant. An evil old crook.” Sophia was taken aback by the malice in his voice. “The great king of today led an honourable rebellion, like the stuff straight out of movies and dreams. Course there’s still those damn old fashioned folk who want the old king back in charge.”

“What does the king do about these folk? I’m sure a great king like him doesn’t just put up with disobedience like that!” At this point, she was genuinely interested in what he had to say, but she continued to play into the announcer’s pride.

“Of course he doesn’t! That’s why the program exists, to gather troops and build an army worthy of fighting for our king.”

“Wow,” she paused, “I’m sorry I just realized I don’t know what to call you. I was going to say you are so smart and seem to know so much, but I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, uh, I’m Robert, yeah and thanks,” he seemed flustered by the compliment, “I’m not that smart though it’s just my thing to know stuff.”

“Well, Bob, can I call you Bob? You seem pretty darn smart to me.” She smiled gently towards where she thought the camera was. "This here," Sophia gestured at the room, "is part of the program, right Bob?"

"Exactly. This is my method of enacting the program. Deals with the testing and rebirths in one step. Though it takes longer than some of the other facilities in North America, it is cheaper by a landslide." Sophia had always been good at manipulating people, and Bob’s pride made him incredibly easy to manipulate.

"I'm sure the king appreciates that, though probably not as much as you deserve." Sophia smiled sweetly again.

"Y'know kid I really like you. You've got the right stuff, and I'm sure you're gonna do real well with us." He laughed slightly, but a dejected tone began to seep into his voice. "You'll probably be my boss one day, seem powerful enough."

"I doubt that. As I said, you're smart, Bob, you'll get promoted eventually if you really work for it." Though her words seemed stiff and fake in her mouth, Bob ate it up.

"I love the human notions you've got. Things don't work like that in our world, you'll see soon enough." He sighed, and now all the pride was gone from his words. "The world of gods is ruled by who you're a rebirth of, simple as that. Power is everything." Sophia's eyes got wide at the mention of gods.

"Gods?" She stuttered slightly. "Do you mean like Zeus and stuff? Wait, are you implying I'm not human? That I'm a god?" The idea had made her drop her act completely. "You're speaking metaphorically right?"

"Shoot, I didn’t mean to say that." Bob paused. "Did you do that on purpose? You manipulated me didn't you?" He seemed amazed. "Good job I guess." His tone dropped into disappointment and boredom again.

"Yea I've been playing you this whole time, didn't even do a good job of it." Sophia felt disjointed from the situation. "But it's too late now, you've got to explain."

"I'm not speaking metaphorically in any way.” His explanation held no conviction, and it sounded as though he was reading a script. “Though maybe not exactly as you've thought of us, gods walk the earth. We inhabit the same spaces as humans, but we stay hidden, running our own society with its own ruler. For millennia that ruler has been Zeus, a horrible and tyrannical king who gets glorified by the old myths of humans." Bob practically spit the name Zeus, like it was the most despicable thing he could imagine. "Recently Rylan, a rebirth of Loki believe it or not, took the throne. Zeus is captured somewhere, and a lot of older gods are still fighting to get him back on the throne.” He sighed again. “The whole thing’s a mess honestly."

"Loki and Zeus are from whole different mythologies, they're both real?" Part of her love of history branched into mythologies, so this was a subject Sophia had thought about before, what could happen if certain or all mythologies were true. She never thought they actually could be real though.

"Just about all human mythologies are real in one way or another. Most are based off real things that happened at some point." He paused as if to think and then confessed, "me though, I'm just a rebirth of Seshat, an ancient Egyptian goddess of knowledge and known as the one who opened the doors to heaven for the souls of passing pharaohs, no one you’ll ever have to care about. She was downplayed to only a scribe and wife of Thoth.” His voice held a restrained pride and anger as he talked about her. “Most humans don't even know or care about her, and even when they did, she got demoted when Thoth showed up." He sighed again. "But you, well you’re obviously someone important, you won't be stuck with some repetitive and boring job." He paused and then breathed out heavily as if he had got some weight off his chest.

"I was just thrown into all this nonsense, and I definitely do care. I've read a few things about Seshat before, she was insanely smart, she's supposed to be the one who invented writing, that's a pretty big deal." Sophia was immensely glad for the hours she thought she had wasted reading Wikipedia articles about gods and goddesses. "Besides, even if she hadn't done all that stuff it wouldn't matter, she'd still be just as important and so would you. What powers you have or whatever shouldn't determine anything. That's just plain stupid."

"Are you just sucking up to me again?" His voice was accusatory.

"No, you're already giving me what I wanted. I just think that that system is complete BS." She was actually pretty pissed about it, Bob seemed like a cool enough guy, apart from the whole starving them to death thing, and he was obviously unhappy with how he was treated. "I firmly believe that everyone is equal, adding god stuff into that changes nothing. You are every bit as important and deserving as I am and as anyone is.” She gestured as she spoke and one movement brought her attention back to the row of bodies. “Now where does killing people fit into all of this?"

"There's only so many things I'm allowed to tell you until we know for sure who you are." There was a shuffling sound from his end. "I've got to go." The speaker cut off. Sophia shouted for him to come back. She shouted and begged for him, but there wasn't a response. She waited in silence, surveying the room, so small but it felt so large without the others living within it. She waited and waited.

A hot anger started to bubble inside of her, not exactly anger at Bob but anger at the situation. Anger at having believed his story even for a second. Gods couldn't be real, it would be impossible to hide. Her teeth ground together and tears brimmed in her eyes, she looked at all those people lying dead in front of her. The anger grew inside of her, and it felt like she may explode if she didn't do something. And so she screamed. Just one solid screech of emotion and suddenly all the lights were out. There was a faint smell of something burning and a crackling sound. She looked at fluorescents above her, they were launching small sparks, and in a few spots, they had shattered. The announcement system made a crackling sound before fizzling out completely. Except for the sparks from above, the room was completely dark. A strange sound made Sophia jump before light filtered in from the food slot.

"Kid," Bob's voice came from the slot, "there seems to have been some sort of electrical overload for this room. We have to move you to a different room. The door will unlock, go out and turn right. There will be one other door open, go into that room and wait for further instruction." The food slot slid closed with a quiet squeak which was followed by the metallic swish of the big door unlocking. Sophia stepped out into a brightly lit white hall with four doors. The one she had just come out of, one directly across the hall, and ones on either end. As Bob said it would be, the door to her right was open. For the sake of her own curiosity, she tried the other two doors, both were locked. She cursed under her breath and stepped into the room on the end, it was an exact copy of the room they had been kept in, only without the row of bodies on the floor. Being in another room made her realize just how badly those bodies had smelt.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Bob interrupted her thought process over the speaker in a somewhat sarcastic voice. "We need you to do something for us, kid, you have to go back and get any bodies that don't seem entirely dead."

"They're all dead, how can they seem not dead if they are, well, dead?" Sophia was still flustered from emotion and the surprise of the power outage. She didn't want to deal with the cryptic things Bob was saying.

"If you pay attention to the bodies I'm sure you'll see what I mean." He assured her, his tone was now sympathetic. Sophia noted that his mood seemed to change pretty quick. "There's a flashlight on the counter here for you." For lack of anything better to do, Sophia went back to the other room, flashlight in hand. Holding her nose against the horrid smell of week-old corpses, she shined the light across each body. They all seemed pretty dead to her. It only seemed appropriate to fix their hair and wipe some dirt off their faces before leaving them in the dark. She worked her way slowly down the line, singing nonsense gibberish to the tune of a song she could hardly remember through her tears. She left Olivia for last, gently running a hand through her thick dark hair. Sophia's finger brushed against Olivia's forehead, and she paused. Olivia's forehead felt warm, all the other bodies had felt cold and dry, but Olivia was different. Without thinking, Sophia scooped up her dead friend and carried her back to the other room. Olivia felt so delicate and light in her arms, Sophia felt idiotic for believing she was anything but dead. Sophia placed Olivia gently on the ground and sat beside her in silence.

"Are you sure she's the only one?" Bob's voice startled Sophia. She nodded assuredly and received a quick apology from Bob. "Our system normally gets at least half of every group, it's been all out of sorts for a while now."

"Even half dead of every group is a lot of people to die." Sophia glared at the speaker, unknowingly locking eyes with Bob through the camera. Her piercing blue eyes felt like they could burn through Bob's face. He turned away from the camera and shut off the mic. At the distinctive click, Sophia sighed and pulled Olivia's head into her lap. She ran her fingers around her dead friend's face, wishing she would wake up at that exact moment. As Sophia looked at Olivia's limp body, she began to feel stupid. She held her fingers against Olivia's neck and wrist to check for a pulse. When she felt nothing she started crying, how could she have actually believed her friend would be alive? Olivia held no signs of life other than being slightly warmer than the others. All of this god stuff had to be nonsense, it didn't make any sense. She pushed Olivia's corpse off her lap and started pacing the room. The more she paced, the more agitated she felt, and the air seemed to fill with the metallic energy of her anger.

Eventually, a slip of paper slid in through the slot. Upon looking at the paper, Sophia saw that it was some kind of personality test. Both sides of the long sheet were filled with questions and spaces to respond on a scale from strongly agree to strongly disagree. She couldn't help the small cruel laugh that escaped her, the last time she had done a test like that was to find out what kind of dessert she would be according to some dumb website. After reading a couple of the questions, she put the paper back on the counter and announced, "There's no way I'm doing that for you."

"Please, Sophia, it'll help us figure it out so much quicker." Bob knew he wouldn't succeed in convincing her, but he had to try.

"Help you figure what out exactly?" She was still rather restless and started pacing again. "Who I'm a rebirth of, or whatever? What does that even matter?"

"It determines where we send you once you're ready to go." He had completely missed that the question was rhetorical. Sophia told him again it was bullshit.

"That paper won't tell you anything because I'm not the same as whoever I'm supposedly a rebirth of. I have my own personality, and a dumb test doesn't mean anything." She gestured angrily across the room at the page on the counter. It fluttered dramatically to the corner as if it had been blown by a strong wind. It took a second for Sophia to realize that the same wind had bounced back to brush gently on her face. She glanced around her for any source of a draft but the only opening was the food slot, and the wind had blown the wrong way.

"Holy cow, it was you." Bob immediately clicked off his mic.

"What was me?" Sophia called after him, it felt like a stone had dropped into her lungs. "Bob, please come back." She was starting to feel afraid. She had no reason to panic, but something within her was freaking out, the metaphorical stone in her lungs making it hard to breathe. An illogical thought kept swimming through her mind. What if Bob meant that she had caused the wind? If the god thing was true... She couldn't let herself start thinking that way, she knew it would freak her out, but she really couldn't help herself. Soon she was sitting in the corner crying over the seemingly nonsensical possibility that she was in anyway responsible for the wind or even the power outage.

Silence engulfed the room, leaving Sophia with only her sniffles and shaky breaths. No, there was another sound. Something had rustled, something else had moved in that cold, confining room. Sophia looked up to see Olivia stir again.

#west's words #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #amwriting #original story #Story with Gods #godly excerpts #Sophia Grader #olivia misra #minor characters #I love Bob!#I love him so much #he is so awkward but so good #even though he works for bad people #also this is the chapter where things start actually happening

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yukiwrites · 6 years

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Whipping Rosanne Back Into Shape

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @xpegasusuniverse! I couldn’t stop smiling while writing this, heehee! I hope you like it! ^v^)b

Summary: After Grima’s defeat, Virion needs to hurry and go back to his land so as to rebuild it. His wife, Sully, still has unfinished business in Ylisse, but they promise to meet back in Rosanne once everything’s settled. Needless to say, Sully isn’t going to be happy about how Virion’s been treated by the people and nobles of his homeland...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

The end of the war against the Dragon of Destruction left a bitter taste at the Shepherds' mouths: Robin had sacrificed himself with the intent of vanquishing Grima from existence. The victory outweigh the loss, of course, as Robin would say: "What is one life when weighed against millions?"

However, that one life was a crucial part of who the Shepherds were and how they've been operating for the past few years. Without Robin, a reform would be needed, as well as a complete transformation of the Shepherds' role during peaceful times.

Sully had found a friend in Robin, as did her husband, Virion. They were both worn down with his loss while they discussed what they would do next.

"Robin's loss will be felt throughout the ages -- no finer man, apart from myself, obviously, lived in this world." Virion sighed as he sipped on his glass of wine, him and his wife talking privately at the mess hall, by a secluded table.

"Yeah, he had balls of steel until the end." Sully stared at her empty mug, wondering whether she'd get more beer or not. "But, Ruffles--"

"My dearest--"

Both of them spoke at the same time, interrupting each other. Virion conceded the turn to his wife. "Let me hear your thoughts, dearest."

Sully exhaled deeply, scowling. "I know it's in your immediate list to go back to Rosanne and rebuild." She didn't wait for his nod, though he did it all the same, "but I just can't leave the Shepherds. Not now."

Virion's brow flickered with emotion, wanting nothing more than to be with his beloved through thick and thin as they had promised what it seemed to be so long ago. He opened his mouth to retort, but decided to wait until she was finished saying her piece.

"I've been with the Captain since before he started the Shepherds, and I know how he worked his butt off to get everything up and running. When Robin came along, he helped the Captain improve all this shit up," she looked up and around herself, to how big the garrison had become in only a few years. "And now he's gone. The Captain is the next Exalt, so he'll be busy as shit during these first few weeks, or hell, months! And I can't just leave everything I worked for my whole life to play the prissly noble at your state."

Once again did the archer open his mouth, but no words left his throat, allowing Sully to continue on with her speech. She placed one hand over his, squeezing it with conviction. "I worked my butt off to EARN the title of knight my family benefits from for generations, so, as a knight of Ylisse, I gotta stay by the Captain's side until he doesn't need me anymore. Then I'll follow you." She gave a strained smile, worried about her beloved's silence. "Well? Haven't got anything to say?"

Virion looked down so as to compose himself. He knew how hard it was going to be to go back home, so he had unknowingly relied on his wife's support to be able to go through with everything.

But she was right. They each had their own paths they paved for themselves during their whole lives, and they both knew they couldn't give them up for one another. He looked up at her, a side smile on the corner of his lips. "That is the reason why I fell for you, dearest Sully! Your fiery determination, beauty, sense of honor, military prowers-"

"Enough of that, Ruffles!" She squeezed his hand, almost breaking his bone. "Be honest with me for one goddamn second so we can plan our future for the long haul."

"Gakh--" He squeaked under his wife's powerful grip, but soon regained his composure. "Ahem, well, of course you are right, my beloved rose. I cannot linger here any more than necessary, neither can you come with me right away. We each have our battles to fight on our own battlefields." He put the other hand over hers, his voice low enough that only Sully could hear. "I will wait for you my entire life if I need to, my dearest. Tonight, I have fallen in love with you yet again!"

"Hah," Sully sneered, getting up and pulling Virion by his cravat, surprising him with a deep kiss. "Enough words, then. Meet me back at our tent for the best night of your life, dangly man."

"Oh ho!" Virion licked his lips, Sully's lingering taste warming his entire body. "Is that a challenge, my dear? I shan't back down until you tell me the same!"

Sully winked, pulling him by his cravat, "you're on, Ruffles."

Ah, how peaceful the days with him were! She would laugh everyday and get to tease, love, train and sometimes prank her beloved. Sully knew that he was doing all that to take both of their minds off of the time they would spend away from each other, but she knew how much she'd miss him after he was gone. That only meant that she had to work her ass off to finish everything she had to do so they would reunite.

Sully escorted Virion all the way to the feroxi port, seeing him off with a heavy heart and a laugh as he pretended to cry and faint, leaving it to Cherche and Minerva to carry him to the ship.

"Look after him for me, will ya?" She said to Cherche once everything was ready. "I'll come running as soon as I can."

"It will be a hard time for him," Cherche looked over her shoulder to her liege, who waved from up on the ship. "But I will do my duty and see everything to the end, yes."

"That's all I ask for," Sully shook Cherche's hand, squeezing it so as to assure both of them of their roles.

Once the ship was out of sight, Sully turned her back to the sea and rode back to Ylisse, ready to get busy. Thankfully, Chrom wasn't alone during his rise to power -- he had his wife and future children beside him as well as the never-resting Frederick to aid him in this new era for Ylisse, Plegia and Ferox.

He turned the Shepherds into a specialized guard -- they would be the ones sent out to check the safety of the borders as well as to deal with any bandit problem at the farthest reaches of the continent. Frederick kept his role as Exaltsguard and leader of the city guard -- Sully answered directly under him, helping the immediate citizens to rebuild or relocate.

Sure, the work was strenuous, but on her end it was still less trying than being at war with a giant dragon -- she knew that on Chrom's end everything was different, so she did her best to be of service.

Days turned to weeks that turned to months. Soon three months had already passed with Sully hearing little to nothing from Virion's side apart that he wasn't accepted with open arms, as expected. That particular day, she had been summoned to speak with Chrom and Frederick at the conference room.

"Sully reporting in, Captain." She opened the door, never getting used to calling him 'Lord Chrom' as she should address the Exalt, though he never minded.

"Ah, I'm glad you made it, Sully." Chrom turned from the table to her. "Frederick, do you have them?"

The knight gave a short bow. "Of course, milord." He replied as he picked a box full of scrolls and brought them over.

"Thank you," Chrom said as he picked one scroll up, handing it to Sully. "And thank YOU, my friend, for all the service you provided to Ylisse in her rebuilding as well as during the war -- both wars."

"Muh?" Sully raised one eyebrow, picking the scroll and unrolling it. "What's all this? 'Wings of Service'? I don't need this shit as long as I'm a knight fighting for my cause."

Chrom barked a laughter as Frederick scowled. "Yes, yes, I suppose you don't, huh?" The Exalt trembled with mirth, taking the scroll out of her hands, exchanging it with another one. "But Virion surely will, Sully, especially now."

Once again she unrolled the scroll -- that one was addressed to her husband, Duke Virion, rightful ruler of Rosanne and 'Friend of Ylisse' as it said on the document. It explained in detail about Virion's deeds during the war as well as the countless promises he had exchanged with the noble houses of Ylisse so they would lend their aid to the rebuilding of Rosanne.

The other dozen or so scrolls that were by the box Frederick held all contained similar information -- each one had the seal of a different noble house, Ylissean, Feroxi or even Plegian! Virion had worked tirelessly towards his land's survival, and it had finally paid off.

Chrom bobbed his head to the side as they sat down so Sully could scratch her head at all the information she read. "He left too soon after the war, so we couldn't get everything ready on time -- it WAS quite hectic around here, after all."

"You bet," Sully closed one more scroll, understanding their value for her husband, "if he'd known you'd give us these, I bet he would've stayed."

Frederick cocked one eyebrow. "Would he?"

Sully laughed. "Hah, yeah, he wouldn't. But why're you giving me these now, Captain? I can't go back now. Or can I?"

Chrom patted Sully, on the shoulder. "I called you here to thank you for all your service, my friend. Before, during and after the war. You've been an irreplaceable source of strength during the time I needed the most, forsaking even your own martial vows."

"Yeah, well, I was a knight before being a bride, so." She smirked, nodding solemnly. "So you're dismissing me now, Captain? I'm sure I can still do more for Ylisse."

"And I'm sure you always will be able to." Chrom got up, a resolute smile on his face. "We've things under control here, Sully. Now it's time for Ylisse to help those who've helped her."

The feeling of accomplishment filled the knight's heart as she put herself on her feet and bowed. "It was an honor to help, Chrom. You don't need to dismiss me twice!" She laughed, setting the Exalt off as well. "I'll be going, then. I got a boat to catch!"

"Pray, allow one of our wyverns take you." Frederick handed Sully the box. "In six days you will be in Rosanne."

"I'll be damned if I don't grab this ride, then! Better than taking almost a month traveling, eh?"

Six days was the time it usually took for a letter to travel from Ylisse to Rosanne -- Sully wouldn't even need to send one ahead of her; she'd arrive practically at the same time.

Setting off was easier than she thought: Her entire life was back in Ylisse, but her future was across the sea, in Rosanne. Her heart was burning with longing as well as rage towards the prissly nobles that denied Virion's seat back as the Lord of the Duchy. The people are one thing, since they were the ones who felt the Conqueror's iron, but the nobles only saw in Virion's absence a chance at governing people weakened by war.

She wouldn't settle down until she broke AT LEAST two noble noses -- the thinner and most up-turned, the better.

The closer she got to Rosanne, the antsier the wyvern she rode got. She could feel something was wrong with it, but damn if she spoke Wyvern. She only understood horses!

Soon she found out the reason as she saw another wyvern flying towards her: it was Minerva, carrying no one other than Cherche herself. "Sully!" She said with genuine surprise. "We didn't know you were coming! When Minerva suddenly smelled another wyvern in her territory, we set out for blood."

"Hah!" The knight patted her wyvern's neck. "So you were scared of the land's owner, huh? Can't blame ya there." After saying that, she looked at the approaching woman. "Hey, before I go meet Virion, I want you to tell me everything that's been happening here. I also got something." She threw the bag with the scrolls, which Cherche caught with ease. "Depending on how things are here, I'm breaking something before the sun sets."

"Oh?" Cherche smiled devilishly, enjoying the bloodlust oozing out of Sully. "Then follow me to the Parliament’s state; Virion is actually having an audience with them at this very moment."

"Aight, lead the way."

While they flew, Cherche explained how every attempt of convincing the nobility had failed, as well as how unsafe it was for Virion to simply leave his house: none save from his personal staff remained by his side as the people hurled stones and insults at every opportunity they had. They called him traitor and coward, not believing anything he told them -- not about his scouting the Shepherds for help neither the noble alliances for resources nor his personal friendship with the rulers of the three largests kingdoms of Archanea.

Sully cracked her knuckles as they hovered around the Parliament, getting ready to land. "They 'bout to get a taste of Friendship and Alliance." She nicknamed her fists the moment she put her feet on the ground, storming through the garden.

"The room's the farthest one to the left on the second floor!" Cherche shouted from behind as Sully started to run on ahead.

The guards were already aware of Cherche's wyvern, so they assumed Sully was someone acquainted to her since they flew together, but they didn't expect that companion to run straight at them as though she was a Bull on the loose. They crossed their lances in front of the entrance out of reflex, but their survival instincts screamed for them to get the hell out of the way.

"OUT OF MY WAY!!" Sully yelled, leaping in the middle of the lances, breaking them in half as though they were toothpicks. The main door was open, but even if it wasn't, she'd break it down.

She'd break the entire state if those idiotic nobles kept on being arses to the ONE person who cared for that fucking land. Sully stomped her way through the stairs, running at full speed towards the wing Cherche had yelled from behind her. Speaking of, she was following Sully closely with an amused smile on her face.

"There it is!" Cherche pointed to the last door of the wing -- it was two meters tall by four meters wide, made with the darkest and strongest oak found around those parts. It was locked shut, but oh, that wouldn't be a problem for Sully.

Without losing speed, or rather, by accelerating, Sully turned her shoulder to the door, ramming on it to break it down.

Which it did.

In one hit. As though it was paper.

"Alright, which one of you PUSSIES' ass am I gonna kick now?!" She cracked her neck both ways.

"What in the fresh hells?!" Some of the nobles inside screamed, sitting at the round table in the middle of the massive room. Some of them were dressed like peacocks while others needed to find another flashy bird's name to imitate. One was fatter than the other, their grubby hands full of rings while expensive jewelry dressed their necks and waists. Sully needed to spit on the floor to get the bad taste out of her mouth. Look at them, useless human beings living off of the common folk while supposedly fighting for them. Hah, they made her laugh.

"D-dearest?!" Virion also got up, though his expression was the only happy one inside of the room.

"Yo, Ruffles. Lemme just break a few noses and we can talk later."

"Wh-who is this barbarian, Lord Virion?! Are you acquainted with the likes of her?!" A man shrieked, taking one hand to cover his ghastly expression.

At the same time Virion dramatically asked if he KNEW her?, Sully pointed at the man. "You, then." She stormed towards him, clenching her fist, ready to strike.

"W-wait, dearest, no nose-breaking!" Virion circled the table as Cherche somehow calmly distributed some scrolls around. "Come to Virion!" He opened his arms.

"What, do you want me to break your nose? After all the trouble we had to fix it that one time?" She barked a laugh, "look, I'm not gonna sit idly while these fuckers pretend to care 'bout the people after you've worked your skin off to get those." She pointed with her chin to the documents Cherche finished distributing, holding onto the last one so Virion could read it.

Flabbergasted, one noble after the other lost the color in their faces, some of them sitting back up after Sully's startle made them get on their feet. Frowning, Virion looked from his wife to his knight as she handed him the last document: it was the very same Chrom first handed to Sully.

Virion widened his eyes, quickly reading through it before looking up to his wife and knight. Both of them nodded.

Help finally arrived. Finally, finally he could put his land back on its feet! Laughing, he hugged Sully, lifting her while he twirled themselves. "Hahaha! Truly my goddess of victory, my dearest Sully!"

"Hey! THis ain't the time for this, idiot!" She blushed, kicking her feet so as to be put down. "I still need to break a few noses."

"Haha, perhaps later, hmm? I'm sure we can find someone foolish enough to go against my prickly rose." He smiled, putting her down, not resisting the urge to steal a quick kiss on her lips, inadvertently making her identity known to the nobles: the wife he'd taken during the war.

The path they had chosen wasn't going to be easy, but with Sully's fire, Virion's smarts and Ylisse's help, they would get Rosanne back into shape. Even if she needed to break a few bones (others’ boners, of course) for that to happen.

#virion #sully #virion x sully #fire emblem awakening #cherche #my writings #Yuki's Commissions #hope you like it!

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thechampagnecircus · 3 years

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Fire is a Force

Earth, Air, Fire, Water; all natural elements that are beautiful and essential in their own rights. But when out of control can wreak havoc on our world. I am aware that wildfires have a place in the natural cycle, and promote the growth of new forests, but if run amok can destroy all in it’s path. I feel as though people don’t consider them a normal natural disaster, but they are. Although they can -and are- sometimes started by careless humans, it’s just like a hurricane or tidal wave and we are at it’s mercy. On this note, it is obvious that our trip to the lake this year was a bit different than the norm. With the heat wave and drought the summer brought, there was no denying the plethora of wildfires scattered throughout most of British Columbia. The entire province was a tinderbox and the inevitability of wildfires quickly came to fruition.

I did not grow up with wildfires as a threat, or annual fixture like those on the West Coast. There were the obligatory Smokey the Bear signs plastered in every small Maine town. With a fire risk meter -usually on low- and the famous line “Only YOU can prevent forest fires” shaking it’s finger at you. I learned from a young age to practice safe camping and summer behavior but I never experienced the fear of an actual fire that was spiralling out of control. Having said that, we were not short of other bullying weather entities. We had the rogue hurricane. Bob, Irene and Sandy all made appearances throughout the years. Hurricane Matthew crashed my cousin Sara’s wedding a few years ago. The uninvited guest who made quite the splash. I also witnessed a small tornado once in the car with my Mum when I was young. There were infinite thunderstorms married with hail and torrential downpours. Power outages caused by massive blizzards, and even the famous ice storm of ‘99 which any Mainer will undoubtedly remember. I mean, shit, Stephen King wrote a made-for-TV movie about it. But no fires.

I always heard crazy stories in California and Western North America, especially within the last ten years. I am sure there are implications of global warming and climate change that could be made, but I won’t fall down that rabbit hole. It is one thing to hear of devastating fires; as if they are some distant reality. But another to be in their path. Two years ago my first taste of this reality came to life. A wall of heavy smoke rolled into Calgary. It was a Friday and everything turned gray. But not just gray, it was purplish yellow, thick and blocked the sun with an infamous red glare. When I stepped outside, I could feel the weight of the air and the faintest smell of char. However, it passed in time for work on Monday and it was back to business as usual.

That same year, we had our first trip to the lake booked with friends. We were so excited to show them the waterfront we rave about every summer. As the plane landed in Kelowna we quickly realized that our dreams of a weekend filled with boating in the sunshine were not coming to pass. The air quality was at an all time high. We arrived in the afternoon but it looked like nighttime as the entire valley was shrouded in smoke. We stuck it out for our four days, staying inside most of the time, playing games and drinking way too much booze to drown our dashed expectations.

Fast forward to this year. As I mentioned before, this summer has been filled with record breaking heat and rainfall decided to take a hiatus. It was the perfect storm of dry conditions and intense temperatures that set the stage for a flash mob of fires to appear. As we were driving to the lake ten days ago, we drove through varying degrees of smoke levels. There were road closures, alerts and so many fires it was hard to keep track. The Sunday before we left, one fire by White Rock Lake had begun, and that was the one we were most worried about due to its location. It was still small and about 35 km away so we trudged on. We knew we wanted to make the most of our trip regardless. We arrived and within one day the air quality was at a 10++. The air hardly felt like air anymore, thick with particulates and the deep smell of cinder. The whole family was tentative and staying inside for the most part. But after a couple days, we began to spend time outside anyways. You know, YOLO. It was our vacation and hell, high water, or smoke wasn’t going to ruin our holiday. We were weary, and aware but still were able to boat, swim, drink pina coladas on the deck and seize the day. It’s funny how quickly you can become accustomed to something and your threshold for certain things begins to ascend. After about a week, the smoke had begun to wane and hope felt a bit restored, despite the fire to the North that was not letting up. We kept our heads up but were watching it like a flock of hawks.

My uncertainty was building with everyday and every update. I have never been good at waiting for the other shoe to drop. My anxiety and perhaps need for control cannot handle it. I like to know. Once I can make a decision and attack it, I feel comfortable. But limbo is not a place I like to be. Everyone else seemed to have an easier time going with the flow. Just relax and enjoy ourselves until we get news that we need to evacuate. I envy that in others. I truly do. I had a hard time fully immersing in the moment the last couple days. We were checking perimeter maps and articles, Twitter posts and updates every couple hours. Once we were under alert and the winds were unrelenting I knew it was only a matter of time. I felt it in my gut. My anxiety would run away with itself every once in a while, visualizing flames coming over the hill and us abandoning all belongings to dramatically escape in the nick of time by speed boat. But then I would quickly bring myself back with reassurance and remember that the fire department would order our evacuation long before that situation was coming to life.

Our plan for the last few days of our trip were to slowly clean, pack up and ease into a Saturday departure. Truthfully, it took some convincing from my husband as I was feeling antsy to leave as the rumours of evacuation were swirling and the fire was creeping closer and closer by Thursday night. But ironically Friday morning the smoke that had shadowed almost our whole trip had completely disappeared. The sun was out, cumulus clouds were floating in stereotypical perfection as if plucked out of a Bob Ross painting. The wind was blowing and if you breathed deeply for a second you forgot that just a few kilometers away the meanest, most out-of-control fire in BC was tip-toeing closer and closer. Just as we got settled to soak up our last day of vacation, the evacuation order came in. We took an hour or so to pack up and we were out by 1 pm yesterday. Due to road closures, construction, two car accidents and general traffic, it took us about 9 hours to get home to Calgary.

It felt wonderful to wake up in our own bed this morning, but our minds are still thinking about what is going on the Okanagan. The whole of Vernon is now on alert. They fear embers from the fire could create new fires by jumping the lake. We saw a video showing parts of Westside road, the road we take to get to our place, ablaze in rampant flames. Our hearts are sinking a bit in pessimism that it might reach our doorstep. I can’t help but feel selfish, here worrying about a vacation home. There are those who are displaced, in an evacuation center, praying their homes don’t burn to the ground. And I feel for them. Wholeheartedly. I can’t imagine the torment and anxiety of such a situation. But also, the lake house on Beachwood Road is our little slice of paradise. It harbors countless family memories, photos, the kid’s heights on a hallway ruler, meals cooked over wine and laughter, projects started and finished, a safe haven during quarantine. Aaron’s dad has put endless blood, sweat and tears into getting the cottage just right for every family visit. Putting in stone patios, a brilliant deck built from scratch, his peach tree he desperately tries to save from the deer, bedroom renovations to accommodate the entire gaggle of us so everyone has a place to sleep. Our kids have gone out a number of times to help their Bumpa hammer nails, dig window wells, drywall and install shiplap for their Amma. I am sad to think all that will be lost and what it means moving forward. At the end of the day, there is insurance and all materials can be replaced and structures rebuilt. We are all safe and my fingers are crossed in hopes that the brave people fighting this fire start to get it under control. May our piece of heaven be spared, but most importantly mother nature run it’s course with forgiveness.

#wildfires #british columbia #white rock lake fire #okanagan #bc strong

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verdigrisprowl · 6 years

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Dec 17 Odothon Part 6 - DS9 S4E1 S4E10 S4E11 S4E12 S4E20 S4E25 S5E1 S5E8 S5E9 S5E12 S5E22 S6E1 S6E2 S6E3 S6E4

Do you know what Prowl has missed? Binge-watching things.

Since last Wednesday he's done nothing except sleep, go to work, and watch TV with Soundwave—and even at that he's used a couple of his work breaks to sneak off and watch even more.

So here they are on day five, where now each installment is less about the people and more about the war that they've found themselves in. By the end, the space station has been occupied by enemy forces. The star of their marathon is very quickly being seduced into complacency under the new oppressive rulers, and then into aligning with a representative of his villainous home world. And Prowl is intensely scared for this lonely little shapeshifter he’s never met in his life.

Me 10:43 am *ping, ping, can Prowl come over* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:44 am *After all that noise and all those thoughts and all those lights, Soundwave is 100% ready to settle in on a couch with his amica and turn Earth potato until the next work shift.*

*So yes. Yes, he can. Downstairs, this time, as usual.* FakeProwl 10:45 am *appears and immediately sits let's go what are the klingons up to* *... greeting/permission ping* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:47 am [[Good morning.]]

*Had to finish passing out trade orders for the minicons whose duty is to see the vendors today.*

[[We go.]] ((or we will as soon as it loads lmfao)) FakeProwl 10:48 am *Leans on Soundwave.* *... No. Insufficient. Gets on Soundwave's lap.*

ItsyBitsySpyers 10:50 am *??? What is this? He'll accept it, and wrap his arms around Prowl, but this is unexpected.*

[[Hello.]] FakeProwl 10:52 am Hello. *wraps an arm around Soundwave's back.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:54 am *How do you ask this politely when you're as curious about it as he is?*

[[In the mood for contact?]] FakeProwl 10:55 am ... Clever. Deliberately "leak" the information to a known spy. *oh. question. hm.* ... Obviously. Provided you're not Bevel this time. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:56 am *Quiet puffing.* [[Bevel is no telepath.]] FakeProwl 10:56 am Thank goodness. FakeProwl 10:58 am Is Wharf perceived as a traitor to his people? He seems popular with every Klingon he's spoken with. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:02 am [[In years before this one, his father was framed for an act that betrayed the Empire. Those responsible for judging refused Worf's evidence of his father's innocence. To prevent the civil war that would occur if the true traitor were revealed, and the death of his brother, he accepted a punishment removing him from the Empire.]] FakeProwl 11:03 am Ah. Is that why he's in the Federation. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:03 am [[He was in the Federation before then.]] FakeProwl 11:03 am Hm. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:04 am [[He joined because a vision from one of his culture's legendary figures told him he would eventually do something no Klingon had ever done. He believed it meant becoming the first Klingon in Starfleet.]] FakeProwl 11:05 am /Hm./ Visions. FakeProwl 11:06 am Conveniently vague, allowing room for a self-fulfilling prophecy. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:06 am *Soundwave spreads his feelers in place of his hands, unwilling to let go of Prowl.*

[[He does not claim to believe in them. He only relates what he knows.]] FakeProwl 11:08 am *Good, Prowl has no interest in being let go of.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:14 am [[Now they listen.]] FakeProwl 11:17 am Even if they had listened the first time, the Klingons are out of line. Conquering a planet for mere suspicion of shapeshifters is wildly out of line. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:17 am [[No, no, not the conquering. The blood screening.]] FakeProwl 11:19 am I know. I don't think they specifically objected to the blood screening. So even if they'd listened to it it wouldn't have prevented all this. FakeProwl 11:20 am *That was a very nice analysis of humans. ... What's root beer though.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:21 am *Don't ask him; all he knows is what they just saw.*

[[Ah. No, it likely would not. Conquering seems to have been their plan from the start.]] FakeProwl 11:21 am Mhm. FakeProwl 11:24 am *Huff. Good, Odo. Demand no less than an opera.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:25 am *Bobs his helm. What a good sense of humor.* FakeProwl 11:25 am *HUFF. Odo is in fine form today. Excellent deadpan.* Why are Cardassians so... *vague gesture.* Are they ALL like that, or just the two of them? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:26 am [[Dramatic?]] FakeProwl 11:27 am Dramatic like a spy movie where they all think everything they say has three meanings. Garak is a spy, the other one doesn't have that excuse. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:28 am [[Gul Dukat is egotistical and cocky. Garak uses humor to deflect, cover, and protect. Each loathes the other. They often engage in such barbed banter.]]

[[There are many others, and they are not all so... prone to putting on displays.]] FakeProwl 11:29 am Oh, good. Otherwise their entire planet sounded insufferable. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:33 am [[He approves of their devotion to their family units and closest friends. And the functional quality of the Obsidian Order, before its destruction. The fanatical devotion to a tightly controlled state with a legal system like theirs, however... that, he could do without.]] FakeProwl 11:33 am I'll take your word about the family and friends. FakeProwl 11:34 am The one on the right is overly optimistic. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:35 am [[Indeed.]]

FakeProwl 11:42 am *Poor Odo.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:42 am *You're telling him.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:47 am [[The twins sometimes find it amusing to change the order of the objects on his shelves. Unfortunately, it is safer for him to move them back himself.]] FakeProwl 11:48 am Reprehensible. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:48 am [[...The organ replacement?]] FakeProwl 11:49 am No, the moving objects around merely to vex the owner of the objects. Both Docks and the twins. ((check out these larping nerds)) ItsyBitsySpyers 11:50 am [[It is hardly the worst offense he can think of. But it IS irritating.]] *Pause.* [[...Docks?]] FakeProwl 11:51 am Docks, yes. The one with the spots on her face who messed up Odo's room. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:51 am ((i love his whole speech so much)) FakeProwl 11:52 am ((it was beautiful)) ItsyBitsySpyers 11:52 am [[...The Trill?]] *Light huff.* [[Dax, Prowl. She is not a place to settle a boat.]] FakeProwl 11:52 am ... D...ax. *that's not a word.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:53 am *Nod, nod. Of course it's not a word; it's an organic name. Their names never make sense.* *LOUD huff* FakeProwl 11:53 am *Pff. The Klingons know how to handle gods.* FakeProwl 11:58 am All right. The captain's father is now a suspect as a shapeshifter. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:58 am [[Reasoning?]] FakeProwl 11:59 am He isn't eating in front of them. He's a weak link to the person who's guarding over their one access gate into this part of the galaxy. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:00 pm *Nods.* [[That makes sense.]] FakeProwl 12:01 pm The president guy in the stripey suit is a suspect too. There was just a massive terrorist attack with 27 deaths and— Hah. Impressive, Odo. FakeProwl 12:03 pm ... EARTH is a PEACEFUL HAVEN? Earth is a PARADISE? FakeProwl 12:04 pm *the future is wild* FakeProwl 12:05 pm ... Red Squad is all suspect too. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:06 pm [[By then. Hunger solved, mass peace, the removal of judgments against those with differences, and so on. After a war which nearly destroyed their full planet.]] FakeProwl 12:06 pm Isolate a pack of students, tell them they're better then others—start taking them away from other people, get them alone—and they start refusing to interact with other people. FakeProwl 12:09 pm The admiral is unnecessarily hostile. ... The admiral is prob— yes. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:10 pm [[He wonders how much the changeling gathered before he was found.]] FakeProwl 12:12 pm He couldn't go into any places that would have phaser scans, which limits things. So he's limited to things he could discover by talking to people outside. FakeProwl 12:13 pm Still a great deal, but no classified files. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:13 pm [[They appear to do much of their talking outside.]] *Nods.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:16 pm ((i know this is Future Medicine but "just a mild stroke" is a hell of a line to get whapped with)) FakeProwl 12:17 pm ((yeah :,) )) ItsyBitsySpyers 12:17 pm [[He has something of a point about the stolen blood. Odo contained a datapad when he was a briefcase.]] FakeProwl 12:17 pm ((... my mom had a mild stroke. she went to the hospital for something unrelated and they did a brain scan and said "uhhhh you've got mild brain damage that says you had a stroke a few months ago???" and she went "hahaha what")) ItsyBitsySpyers 12:18 pm ((oh my goodness gracious 😧 i'm glad it wasn't a worse one, at least)) FakeProwl 12:19 pm This is true. *Earth is in trouble. Sits up straighter.* FakeProwl 12:21 pm "With the exception of the Borg incident there hasn't been a state of emergency in a century"? Well then, call this one an exception too. Problem solved. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:22 pm *Soundwave muffles his amusement by pressing his mouth against Prowl's shoulder.*

[[Are you certain you were never a politician?]] FakeProwl 12:23 pm Fairly certain, but I've hung out with quite a few. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:23 pm [[And listened closely.]] FakeProwl 12:24 pm Coming from a politician and a good listener, I'm taking that as a high compliment.

ItsyBitsySpyers 12:25 pm [[Former.]] *He's not a senator anymore, Prowl.* [[But good. It was.]] FakeProwl 12:26 pm I consider "politician" an enduring skillset, not a job. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:26 pm [[Don't tell Ratbat.]] FakeProwl 12:26 pm ... And in HIS case, a personality. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:27 pm *Shaking enough he's probably causing Prowl to wobble too.* FakeProwl 12:28 pm *turns to bump Soundwave's crest.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:28 pm *Bump! And a good nuzzling rub before he sits up properly.* [[You have a fine instinct for suspects. Or... what is it the other timelines say.]] *Tap tap tap.* [[Oh. Yes. A nose for it.]] FakeProwl 12:30 pm Heh. I'd say Red Squad is definitely a changeling infiltration squad. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:31 pm [[Then the Bolian officer we just saw would need to be one as well. He asked the Sisko human to cover their tracks.]] FakeProwl 12:32 pm Indeed. FakeProwl 12:33 pm ... And they're not scared of the Dominion. ... AND they want to know more about "the man at the front line." ItsyBitsySpyers 12:36 pm [[What a delightful data-gathering plan.]] [[And a sloppy cadet. He should not have been so willing to divulge that data.]] FakeProwl 12:36 pm Indeed. FakeProwl 12:38 pm ... If it IS a Starfleet operation, it's brilliant. Get past the president's reluctance to up security by taking out power, framing the Dominion, and instituting martial law. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:40 pm [[Brilliant, but foolish. What if his work had exposed Earth to the very changelings they were worried about? Some were already present. They could have notified the others.]] FakeProwl 12:42 pm Or what if—as is now the case—the civilians find out the truth. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:43 pm [[He recalls Bashir's wolf story.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 12:46 pm [[Bold of this one.]] FakeProwl 12:46 pm Very bold. FakeProwl 12:48 pm Although I have no respect for people who come up to their enemies just to gloat. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:50 pm [[It is inefficient. And grants them a chance to terminate you.]]

[[The only exception is when they are the type to let their anger overwhelm all their sense. Which Sisko is not.]] FakeProwl 12:51 pm And gives away part of their plans. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:51 pm [[He counted that under inefficiency.]] FakeProwl 12:51 pm Ah. Fair. FakeProwl 12:54 pm An interesting trick. Where did they get a fake sample of shape-shifter goo? ItsyBitsySpyers 12:54 pm [[Odo, he expects.]] FakeProwl 12:54 pm I imagine Odo is very protective of his goo. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:56 pm [[They were clever enough liars to get away with taking down the power relays. They may have found a way to convince him to part with it.]] FakeProwl 12:58 pm I doubt it. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:58 pm [[What do you propose, then? He is most curious.]] *Attentively listening. He's not being rude; he's genuinely interested.* FakeProwl 12:59 pm I don't know. Perhaps some synthetic substance that can turn from a red liquid into a clear goo when introduced to the correct conditions. FakeProwl 1:01 pm ... This would be a circumstance in which recording every conversation would be extremely beneficial. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:02 pm [[Hm. Perhaps.]] *He's no chemist, so he doesn't know what it would be, but he's seen various Shockwaves do odd things with substances before.*

[[They happen far more often than others think.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 1:03 pm *Soundwave's fingers twitch tighter at the one human trying to lecture the other about what loyalty means. It strikes an old and irritated nerve.* ItsyBitsySpyers 1:08 pm [[A mother hen?]] FakeProwl 1:09 pm Don't know. ... An interesting... examination of paranoia.

ItsyBitsySpyers 1:10 pm [[You disagree with some part of it?]] *Throwing darts at that hesitation.* FakeProwl 1:10 pm Nnnno, I don't think so. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:11 pm [[Why pause?]] ((bluh)) FakeProwl 1:11 pm Looking for a good word. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:12 pm [[Ah.]] FakeProwl 1:15 pm ... While mildly amusing, I do not approve of Odo deliberately antagonizing Quark via taking quarters over him. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:15 pm [[Even though a poorly-rested Quark is a Quark likely to make more slip-ups and be caught quicker?]] FakeProwl 1:18 pm I sincerely doubt that that is why Odo did it. Regardless, deliberately exhausting someone in an effort to prevent them from committing hypothetical future crimes is torture. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:19 pm [[Hm.]] *He'll wisely keep his mouth shut.* FakeProwl 1:19 pm *Prowl has a good guess why.* FakeProwl 1:21 pm ... You never see that. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:22 pm [[Others approving of minimal socialization?]] FakeProwl 1:22 pm Indeed. People talking frankly and non-judgmentally about how to make their rooms and schedules more orderly and how to make their quarters more inhospitable to visitors. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:24 pm [[Extremely high-pitched frequencies.]] FakeProwl 1:24 pm Pff. FakeProwl 1:25 pm ((that's the cutest thing)) ItsyBitsySpyers 1:25 pm [[High enough to make them uncomfortable without being blatantly noticeable. It makes their plating crawl and you can filter it out if you know what you set it to be.]] *Feeler wave* [[If you want his suggestion.]] FakeProwl 1:25 pm ((fwoomp. belt.)) ItsyBitsySpyers 1:25 pm ((it is!!) FakeProwl 1:26 pm Fortunately, I already find my current quarters quite inhospitable to visitors. Something about telling people I'm imprisoned and there are guards outside. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:26 pm [[And yet, Arcee.]] FakeProwl 1:26 pm I think Arcee thrives on inhospitable. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:28 pm [[...Perhaps next time she arrives you should offer her every available comfort. She might leave after the fifth offer to refill her cube and bring her a tarp.]] *Shakes his helm.* [[Then again, she may grow accustomed to it. Better we prevent invasion in the first place.]] FakeProwl 1:29 pm Space bridges it is. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:29 pm [[He enjoys being useful.]] FakeProwl 1:30 pm *nuzzle* I know. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:31 pm *Low rumble and nuzzle. Such affection, today. He enjoys that, too, when Prowl feels up to delivering it.* FakeProwl 1:32 pm *Oh hello Odo, what an awkward position, Prowl's been there before.* ItsyBitsySpyers 1:33 pm [[But fun.]] FakeProwl 1:34 pm *snorts* ItsyBitsySpyers 1:37 pm [[That looks like a ritual you would like.]] *Idle nibble.* [[Going over reports.]] FakeProwl 1:40 pm I'd like for it to be. But most people are so /bad/ at reports. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:41 pm [[If they file them to begin with.]] FakeProwl 1:46 pm ... At this point, for his own effectiveness as an officer, Odo needs to put serious effort into emotionally separating himself from Kira as much as possible. ... That's a reasonable starting point. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:47 pm [[Yes. He is clearly unpracticed at separating his personal matters from his work hours.]] FakeProwl 1:48 pm The first time is hardest. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:50 pm [[May he ask...?]] FakeProwl 1:51 pm No. Maybe another time. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:52 pm *Nods.* [[As you wish.]] *Another nibble. No harm meant.* FakeProwl 1:53 pm Odo made the correct decision. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:55 pm [[Agreed. May he learn from it.]]

ItsyBitsySpyers 2:00 pm [[Owning a mate against their will.]] *Can you ffffeeeeeeell the disgust.* FakeProwl 2:02 pm *He can, actually.* FakeProwl 2:03 pm ((they've been in one and a half episodes together and i'm already shipping odo and worf)) ((go. go on a walk together.)) ItsyBitsySpyers 2:03 pm ((heh)) ItsyBitsySpyers 2:06 pm [[He wonders if that is what Tarantulas experiences.]] FakeProwl 2:06 pm I don't think any of his eggs have had anything living in them. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:06 pm [[Would that make a difference?]] FakeProwl 2:06 pm No kicks. ... She doesn't LOOK like she feels unwelcome. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:08 pm [[Not in the slightest.]] FakeProwl 2:11 pm He's doing what? ItsyBitsySpyers 2:11 pm [[Using a loophole. Cleverly.]] FakeProwl 2:11 pm He certainly is! FakeProwl 2:13 pm ... Why don't they just tell JL that he's not invited, if his presence could throw the plan into disarray? ItsyBitsySpyers 2:13 pm [[He is already her husband. His approval may be legally required for the transfer to be made.]] FakeProwl 2:13 pm They made no explicit mention of that. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:14 pm [[He is only speculating. He does not know the rest of their law.]] FakeProwl 2:14 pm Nor I. But if that were an explicit requirement, I'd think that would have been stated outright, while explaining the other laws. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:14 pm [[It did say family and friends. He is, now, technically family.]] FakeProwl 2:17 pm *"She saw how different as I was, and she didn't recoil. She wanted to see more." Quietly tightens grip around Soundwave.* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:17 pm *Winds a feeler around one of Prowl's wrists and squeezes. He can guess what that was about.* FakeProwl 2:19 pm ((I love that we're blithely skipping over a clearly very creepy storyline with a writer and what looks like some kind of nightmare vampire-muse so we can focus on this wedding)) ItsyBitsySpyers 2:19 pm ((well i mean if you WANT prowl to watch someone blatantly steal life energy from jake sisko's mind...)) FakeProwl 2:20 pm ((not at all, it's just kinda funny)) ItsyBitsySpyers 2:20 pm ((LOL)) FakeProwl 2:20 pm (("waIT WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON HERE oh hey wedding time")) FakeProwl 2:21 pm She's very sensible about romance. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:22 pm [[She is. She manages to wear her feelings blatantly and keep her head at the same time. It is impressive.]] FakeProwl 2:23 pm Indeed. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:24 pm *And Soundwave quietly appreciates that the marriage was not forced even though it was not an appropriate fit. He grew tired of people bothering him about his views long ago.*

[[A summary, and then he must pause to gather fuel before we continue. He worked long hours yesterday.]] FakeProwl 2:24 pm Very well. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:26 pm [[Sisko and the others are called to help the Dominion hunt down a rare troop of rogue Jem'Hadar, lest those Jem'Hadar seize the Dominion for themselves and do worse than even the changelings. During the hunt, a Vorta named Weyoun secretly infects Odo with a virus while insisting that the Founders love him and want him back. Odo refuses.]]

[[Weyoun is later killed by his own Jem'Hadar team for doubting their loyalty during the hunt.]] FakeProwl 2:27 pm What does the virus do? ItsyBitsySpyers 2:28 pm [[You will see when he has finished refueling.]] FakeProwl 2:28 pm All right. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:29 pm *No need for Prowl to move unless he wants to. Soundwave will just get several cubes from behind the bar with his feelers. Prowl's already seen him eat many times. He doesn't care if Prowl sees it again.* FakeProwl 2:54 pm *Prowl's avatar goes idle until Soundwave says it's time to start again.* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:56 pm *It occurs to him as he begins the second cube (and the next tape) that Prowl was calling the alien husband JL. Who can blame him? The organics call themselves odd things instead of sensible names like Skywarp and Mirage.* *Tap tap the avatar.*

[[He's ready.]] FakeProwl 2:57 pm *optics flicker.* So am I. FakeProwl 2:58 pm {{S4E25 Broken Link}}

Hey, he can use his coffee trick with her. FakeProwl 3:00 pm *sits forward* ... Virus? ItsyBitsySpyers 3:02 pm [[Mm-hmm.]] *Sits forward with* [[Have you considered creating a "coffee trick" of your own?]] FakeProwl 3:02 pm Yes. I don't know how to make a cup. FakeProwl 3:03 pm ... Well, whatever's going on with him, it definitely isn't fatal. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:03 pm *Soundwave points at one of the exhaust pipes - yes, he finally figured out what those are for - and blips to get Prowl to look down.*

[[It is not so different in shape. Add a handle and change the external appearance.]] FakeProwl 3:04 pm The shape isn't the problem, I can't do textures. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:05 pm [[Bonecrusher does fine work. Or Buzzsaw.]] *Chin tap.* [[Perhaps Bevel. He does not know if she has worked with avatars before.]] FakeProwl 3:05 pm SHE'S pregnant now? It's an epidemic. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:06 pm [[It is a complicated situation. The youngling's original host was severely damaged. To prevent them both from perishing, it was implanted within another organic.]] [[Namely, her. With her permission.]] FakeProwl 3:07 pm *Brightens. He understands that concept!* Oh. Oviposition. *Note: he doesn't understand that concept.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:07 pm [[Yes.]] *Note: neither does he.* FakeProwl 3:08 pm Well, everyone that Odo gets along with is coming down with it. Next it's going to be Wharf. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:08 pm [[He already has a son.]] *Still hasn't caught on to that particular misnomer.* FakeProwl 3:09 pm Lack— Lox-won— The one he married already had offspring as well. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:10 pm [[...Good point.]] [[They should all double-check their firew... their...]] *Sit up and slight frown.* [[...Whatever they have.]] FakeProwl 3:11 pm ... Do organic firewall equivalents block reproduction? ItsyBitsySpyers 3:14 pm [[Yes.]] *Pause* [[Maybe.]] *Pause again.* [[He thinks. He's heard from a few scattered pieces of Earth media that the humans have *something* they refer to as protections....]] FakeProwl 3:14 pm Don't they have wheelchairs in the future? ItsyBitsySpyers 3:16 pm [[Perhaps they have some sort of... antivirus program...? Force field? Modular organs?]] *Nearly misses the question.* [[What? Oh. They do.]] FakeProwl 3:17 pm Then Odo should have taken one across the promenade. His pride be damned, it would get him to the Defiant sooner and thus get him to his homeworld sooner. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:18 pm ((all i can ever think of is "the jem'hadar give o'brien a purple nurple")) FakeProwl 3:18 pm ((fff)) ItsyBitsySpyers 3:21 pm *Sets the other question aside. He'll ask Tarantulas. If anyone knows, it'll be him.*

[[Speaking as a former Decepticon... there are those who would interpret it as weakness. A reason to stop fearing his watchful optic. The greatest threat to their criminal operations brought low. It is difficult to reverse such ideas, once those mechs - or fleshlings - have formed them.]] FakeProwl 3:22 pm Limping across the promenade doesn't look weak? FakeProwl 3:24 pm They poisoned him. Does that not count as a changeling harming a changeling? ItsyBitsySpyers 3:24 pm [[He demands to walk despite falling to pieces. It is the promise of one who will pursue them to his last breath.]]

*Soundwave hums low, thinking.*

[[It would be better for him to abandon the pretense and prioritize his health. But that thought is what his reason would have been aboard the Nemesis.]] FakeProwl 3:26 pm Oh, I understand why he would do it. Plenty of Autobots would do exactly the same. It's still stupid and inefficient. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:27 pm *Nods.* FakeProwl 3:29 pm *Odo WANTS to be judged for his crime. Prowl's respect for him has gone through the roof.* FakeProwl 3:30 pm *Ugh. A whole sea of people merged into one consciousness. Repulsive.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:31 pm [[Ha.]] FakeProwl 3:31 pm ((he was about to fuckin throw a rock at a bunch of people omg)) ItsyBitsySpyers 3:31 pm [[That would NOT have ended well.]] FakeProwl 3:32 pm N-no. I doubt it would have. FakeProwl 3:34 pm *"Don't tell me you'd object to a little genocide in the name of self-defense?" Prowl is almost furious at how much he has to agree with that sentiment.* FakeProwl 3:35 pm *In this case, under these circumstances... he might have done the same as Garak.* FakeProwl 3:40 pm *An incredibly cruel punishment. Prowl tries to imagine what it would be like to—say, have his ability to transform taken away.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:41 pm *Soundwave rather thought it was simpler than that. After all, Prowl knows what it is to be stuck in a body he doesn't want.* FakeProwl 3:41 pm *... Actually, Prowl doesn't think he'd miss his alt-mode all that much. He'd get used to going without it.* *He chose a poor metaphor.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:42 pm {{S5E1 Apocalypse Rising}} ItsyBitsySpyers 3:43 pm *Not necessarily a poor one. Misapplied to himself, perhaps, but for many, it would be like that.* *Knock Out, for example. It would just about kill him, Soundwave imagines.* FakeProwl 3:43 pm *Poor for his purposes. He was searching for a way to feel empathy. Empathy is a challenging thought exercise.* ... You know, I don't think I'd mind being a monoformer terribly much. It would be an inconvenience, not a—an existential horror. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:47 pm [[It might be if you were unwillingly stuck as... hm. A helicopter in alt-mode. Or in a frame fifty feet taller than the height to which you'd become accustomed.]] [[They did not even trap him as a changeling. They made him a human.]] FakeProwl 3:48 pm No, no, I don't think my feelings about being a monoformer are in the very slightest related to Odo's feelings about being a solid. Completely unrelated. I'm just making converation. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:50 pm [[Ah. That is different.]] *Soundwave chews on the leftmost pointy tip of the piece framing Prowl's light bar.* [[He would not like it now, himself. He enjoys flight. But he thinks he could get used to it some day. Perhaps when it is time for him to undergo the planned reformat.]] FakeProwl 3:51 pm ... Mm. *he's lost the train of conversation, he's intensely worried about Odo.* *Depressed? Drinking too much? Not doing as much work as he used to?* FakeProwl 3:55 pm *He seems like... well. Like Prowl, if you take out the drinking.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:55 pm *He most certainly does.* FakeProwl 3:55 pm *... Well. Right. What was the conversation.* Your reformat? The xenomorph isn't going to be your alt-mode? ItsyBitsySpyers 3:58 pm [[It probably will be. But if he were forced to cope with being stuck, he could do it easier then.]] FakeProwl 3:59 pm Hmm. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:00 pm [[...What?]] FakeProwl 4:01 pm What what? Just contemplating what you said. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:01 pm [[Yes. Usually "hmm"s are followed by statements. He thought you might have one.]] FakeProwl 4:01 pm Oh. No. ... I must have made the "hm" too long. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:03 pm [[It was fine.]] FakeProwl 4:04 pm Oh, sure, leaving a blown-up ship from unknown causes in the middle of space, I'm sure that won't cause an intersolar military incident. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:05 pm [[ [][][]I haven't survived this long by being sloppy,[][][] claims local organic being sloppy. Film at now.]] FakeProwl 4:06 pm Heh. FakeProwl 4:09 pm ... Somebody tell Odo to stop drinking. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:09 pm [[It would be nice if they did.]] FakeProwl 4:11 pm *Mumbles,* "Success," indeed. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:13 pm *Curious perk.* tlhIngan Hol Dajatlh'a'? FakeProwl 4:15 pm Is that what it's called? I can't SPEAK it yet, but I've heard it enough to understand it. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:16 pm [[Fascinating. He will remember that for the future. It may have its uses.]] FakeProwl 4:17 pm ((and your haaauuuus)) ItsyBitsySpyers 4:17 pm ((lol)) ItsyBitsySpyers 4:19 pm [[Now, where has he heard that before.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 4:26 pm *Hmph. There's nothing wrong with fangs.* FakeProwl 4:26 pm *Well, if you're not used to them...* ItsyBitsySpyers 4:27 pm {{S5E8 Things Past}} FakeProwl 4:30 pm ... Is that DS9 during the occupation? Oh, yes, there are the Cardassians. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:30 pm [[It is. It was called Terok Nor then.]] FakeProwl 4:38 pm Is this related to the simulation the changelings ran on the crew while they were captives? ItsyBitsySpyers 4:39 pm [[Not quite.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 4:44 pm [[This is the habit he told you about when we were speculating on the list murder.]] FakeProwl 4:44 pm I assumed as much. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:45 pm [["A". Hmph.]] FakeProwl 4:45 pm Oh, you poor, isolated man, unable to be friendly with the people you enslave. So lonely at the top. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:46 pm *Soundwave does so love it when Prowl oozes sarcasm.* FakeProwl 4:48 pm ... So, the three people they've replaced were innocents executed after being accused of trying to assassinate Gold Docket. There's a very easy way to avoid that fate. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:48 pm [[Succeed.]] FakeProwl 4:48 pm Yes. Try to assassinate him for real. FakeProwl 4:55 pm Now, if, instead of checking on Docks, they'd grabbed somethigns harp and jammed it Gold Docket's neck, they would have changed the past. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:57 pm [[If they hadn't been shot before they got there, thanks to the soldiers being on alert from the grenade.]] FakeProwl 4:57 pm *Listen to Odo pleading for an actual proper forensic examination and interviewing the witnesses.* Ugh. How condescending. HA. ItsyBitsySpyers 4:59 pm [[If only that happened more often.]] FakeProwl 5:03 pm ... Is this his dream? Is he dreaming about trying to fix the past? ...... Is he running a simulation? ItsyBitsySpyers 5:04 pm [[In a sense, yes.]] FakeProwl 5:06 pm He needs more practice at it. Everything jumps around, doors to ships lead to prisons instead. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:09 pm *Quietly* [[He would call this proof of ongoing improvement.]] FakeProwl 5:09 pm As would I. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:11 pm ((it's a lovely mirror of Necessary Evil)) FakeProwl 5:12 pm *"You were the one man who stood apart from everyone else, the one man who stood for justice. Now what?" Prowl's found himself wondering that.* {{S5E9 The Ascent}} ItsyBitsySpyers 5:13 pm ((hup i was gonna type that once i got it positioned stop being fasterrrrr XD)) *They'll have to see.* FakeProwl 5:20 pm I would much like to see someone break Quark's wrinkly little nose. On another note, though, I am INCREDIBLY suspicious of the claim that /the accused/ can't know /the charges made against him/. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:21 pm [[...Are relationship novels required reading for p--]] *Huffs into Prowl's back.* [[But not Odo, yes? Perhaps Kira will do it for him some day.]] FakeProwl 5:22 pm My desire to see Quark get punched and my desire for Odo to be better than that are separate. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:23 pm [[He'll accept that.]] *More laughing.* FakeProwl 5:25 pm And no. Relationship novels are not required reading. FakeProwl 5:27 pm And poor resources for knowledge about how relationships work. He'd be better off with psychology texts and true crime documentaries. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:28 pm [[He should go back to O'Brien for the detective novels.]] [[If he insists on reading fiction.]] FakeProwl 5:29 pm Better than nothing. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:31 pm [[Prowl.]] FakeProwl 5:32 pm Hm? ItsyBitsySpyers 5:32 pm [[He's your chair right now. Just in case you were unaware.]] FakeProwl 5:33 pm I thought my seat didn't feel as flat as usual. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:33 pm [[You're right.]] *Makes a show of looking at himself with a feeler.* [[It's flatter.]] FakeProwl 5:33 pm Hff. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:34 pm *Curls the feeler back around the limb it was holding. A little lightness to break up some of the rougher moments.* FakeProwl 5:41 pm Well, their stupid fight exponentially decreased both their odds of surviving. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:42 pm [[What would you calculate them at now?]] *Bright optics. If Prowl mentions odds, he's probably got some in mind.* FakeProwl 5:44 pm ... Well, I mean, /obviously/ it's about ninety-eight percent. You wouldn't show me all this if you weren't going to give me some sort of story with what you feel to be a satisfactory ending. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:44 pm [[Mm. He prefers to keep the unsatisfactory endings to movie nights.]] FakeProwl 5:45 pm But based solely on the evidence presented in the video: before the fight they had about twenty-two percent odds. After, three percent. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:46 pm *Playback of someone else whistling.*

[[That is even lower than he guessed.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 5:49 pm *Taps Prowl's hand for attention.* FakeProwl 5:49 pm Hm? ItsyBitsySpyers 5:52 pm [[He is not seeking details.]] *That first. He wants to be sure Prowl understands this isn't his way of prying out secrets.* [[This one is important, and he must not skip it. But he suspects it might be somewhat... uncomfortable. Odo's laboratory scientist reappears for a little while.]] FakeProwl 5:54 pm I'm not at all uncomfortable with that. Although I am curious to hear the specifics of why you think I might be. ItsyBitsySpyers 5:59 pm [[You have not liked the other Starfleet members deciding things for Odo, poking at his boundaries, invading his space, or treating him as an experiment. You are familiar with others doing most of that to you. He finds that the typical response to seeing a similar experience on screen is to be discomfited by it.]] [[He thought it best to err on the side of warning you and letting you tell him whether or not you were fine.]] FakeProwl 6:01 pm Mm. Thought it might have something to do, specifically, with the "scientist" aspect. *wan smile* I was concerned I'd somehow given you the impression I don't like scientists. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:07 pm [[Not scientists. Tarantulas is proof of that.]]

[[But he has noticed moments of aversion to on-screen psychologists, he knows there is one you do not speak of, and he knows psychology work involves personal meddling and lecturing. He does not know the circumstances behind the refusal to explain and he does not ask for them. He is simply attempting to be a considerate host.]] FakeProwl 6:09 pm It applies to psychologists and those in closely related fields. Nothing else. ... Unless you're saying Odo's laboratory scientist was a psychologist? Considering that they didn't know he was sentient until long after they'd been testing on him, I expected not. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:12 pm [[No. But he acts like a...]] *Gesturing with a hand.* [[As though he knows who Odo truly is, and is an expert in changeling psychology because he raised one.]] FakeProwl 6:14 pm Oh. Armchair psychologist. Got it. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:14 pm *Nod.* FakeProwl 6:14 pm *Dryly.* Well, rest assured that I'm on friendly terms with all of the scientists from the lab who found me, so no lingering trauma there. We may proceed. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:15 pm {{S5E12 The Begotten}} *Uncertain look. He doesn't know whether that's sarcasm or the truth or poking fun at him or what. He'll just focus on the part he does get.*

[[All right.]] FakeProwl 6:16 pm *That was the plan.* FakeProwl 6:18 pm *A baby changeling?* ItsyBitsySpyers 6:18 pm *Indeed!* ItsyBitsySpyers 6:21 pm [[It must be convenient to have such a telltale sign of sickness.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 6:22 pm *....To what? He's checking that on the datanet.* FakeProwl 6:25 pm Hold on, did we skip over Kira? How is she? ((i love that suspicious look worf gives his drink)) ItsyBitsySpyers 6:26 pm *...Oh. Yes, he can see how someone who knows how to do that would be helpful.*

[[She is fine. Her mate and the true father are being idiots about her pregnancy and spoiling her attempt to have a peaceful...]] Uh. Uh. Uh. [[...Deposit?]] FakeProwl 6:27 pm I think the term is "laying." You lay a baby. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:27 pm [[Thank you. To lay the baby peacefully.]] FakeProwl 6:31 pm *Well, Prowl thought this scientist was enthusiastic but fine until he started blaming Odo for not being over whatever invasive methods they used to make him shape shift.* ItsyBitsySpyers 6:31 pm *That feels suspiciously like deliberate manipulation to get the result he wants.* FakeProwl 6:33 pm ... He really sells being a cube. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:34 pm [[He likes that spiral more.]] *Point.* [[But it does sound like an interesting experience.]] FakeProwl 6:36 pm Why rush the child? It's only been around a week. Let it be a blob if it wants. Most organics take years to do something interesting. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:38 pm [[Says the mech from a planet that calls its younglings adults in a month.]] *There's a humor tag following that. He's making a point, but it's not supposed to be a nasty one.* FakeProwl 6:38 pm Half a month. And I /did/ say organics. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:39 pm *Tremble tremble.* [[You did, you did.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 6:44 pm ((bluuuuh)) FakeProwl 6:46 pm ... I can forgive the things he did before he discovered Odo was sentient. And even some of the things he did out of fear of the consequences from the Cardassians if he didn't obtain results. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:47 pm ((bluuuuuuh)) FakeProwl 6:48 pm It's his arrogant claims that it was all absolutely necessary that's... detestable. FakeProwl 6:49 pm Don't tell Odo to wait outside! His blob is dying! Let him wait in the corner or /something./ ItsyBitsySpyers 6:51 pm *Soundwave fidgets slightly, feeler squeezing and not letting go. He's never been a parent, but he's been responsible for other beings before. He has some sense of that.* FakeProwl 6:52 pm *... Well. At least Odo got his ability back. But at the cost of that blob he liked so much...* FakeProwl 6:54 pm ... He wasn't that big a jerk. Just a mild jerk. Only slightly arrogant with trace amounts of emotional manipulation. ... More than slightly arrogant. Medium arrogance. Overall... decent enough. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:57 pm [[He will trust your judgment.]] *Prowl's the one who works with the law and tries to stick to decent social behavior.* [[But he would like a break. He]] *split second too long between words* [[has cubes to finish.]] *There are still three more by the couch, after all, and he wants to focus on those instead of old memories.* FakeProwl 6:57 pm *Curious look?* ... All right. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:58 pm [[He will ping you when he is ready to resume.]] FakeProwl 6:59 pm Do you mind if I stay around. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:00 pm [[...No. He would like it if you did.]] *Gonna bite into the third one and tuck in.* FakeProwl 7:04 pm *watches for a moment. then, mumbles,* Cupholder. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:11 pm *Soundwave smiles despite himself and accidentally drips some down his chin. Damn it, he said it was hard drinking with teeth like his.* *Gonna just. Carefully tilt that cube back and scrub that off.* FakeProwl 7:17 pm *poker face. ... watches closely.* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:21 pm *Resumes gulping it down for a few more moments, watching Prowl's expression.*

*Then:* [[...You are either thirsty or trying to will him into spilling it again.]] FakeProwl 7:21 pm *LOOKS AWAY.* ... I'm not thirsty. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:24 pm [[He sees.]] *Drains the last of that one and peers into the cube like he expects there to be more lurking in a corner. There isn't. He picks up the next one and turns it over, contemplating his tank gauge.* [[Or the other one. You'd want to watch that.]] FakeProwl 7:25 pm Come again? ItsyBitsySpyers 7:25 pm [[He thought you were trying to make him spill it again. But there's no point in that if you're looking away. So he was wrong on both counts.]] FakeProwl 7:26 pm Ah. Well. Not "make," per se. ... Wouldn't have complained if it had happened, though. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:28 pm [[Oh? He'll keep that in mind.]] *Sets the fourth one down for now. He'll save it to distract Prowl with later tonight.*

*Ping.* FakeProwl 7:29 pm *Hff. Unnecessary ping.* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:30 pm *He said he would.*

[[Important events not surrounding Odo and something worth mention that does. You are ready for the summaries?]] FakeProwl 7:30 pm Ready. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:31 pm [[Garak and Worf discover internment camps filled with changeling impersonation victims - including Bashir, who's been there for weeks. A small group escape and return to the station.]]

[[The station's crew try to destroy the wormhole. Bashir's replacement sabotages them and allows Dominion fleets to come through; he is killed during a later attempt to destroy Bajor.]]

[[Dukat negotiates Cardassia's entry into the Dominion as his planet's supreme ruler. Now unable to crush Cardassia alone, the Klingon Empire restores peace with the Federation.]]

[[You have followed this portion?]] FakeProwl 7:32 pm So much for the civilian Cardassian government. Yes, go on. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:32 pm [[Odo meets a woman who's trying to leave the Orion Syndicate and chooses to help. They eventually interface. Her attempt to break free fails. After he saves her, it's revealed that she's an undercover agent gathering data on the Syndicate for her government. After they restore her memories, she remembers that she's already married and cannot stay with Odo.]] FakeProwl 7:33 pm Does that mean we find out what the Orion Syndicate is? What is it? ItsyBitsySpyers 7:34 pm [[The Orion Syndicate is a massive and incredibly powerful criminal organization involved in everything you can imagine they would be. If you name it, they are likely to have a hand in it.]] [[Gambling, assassinations, trafficking, piracy... he could list another half dozen without trying.]] FakeProwl 7:35 pm Jerks of all trades. Got it. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:36 pm [[Hmm. "Jerks of all trades."]] *rolls that around in his head* [[He likes that phrase. Good. Good.]] ((i might have to nudge netflix just a sec)) FakeProwl 7:37 pm *slightly puffs up in pride* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:38 pm {{S5E22 Children Of Time}} FakeProwl 7:42 pm ... Telepaths? ItsyBitsySpyers 7:43 pm [[No. This will be something far more interesting, he hopes.]] FakeProwl 7:43 pm They alrady know his name and recent drink preferences. Ooh, time travel. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:44 pm [[An "ooh"? He hoped correctly.]] FakeProwl 7:48 pm ... They use /Quark/ to teach math? I-I'm glad to see he's making a useful contribution to society. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:49 pm [[It only took 200 years for him to do it.]] FakeProwl 7:50 pm Ah. I'm familiar with quantum duplicates. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:50 pm [[How?]] FakeProwl 7:51 pm ... Classified. But the Autobots have observed the phenomenon. *In other universes, admittedly, but Prowl isn't giving away hints.* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:52 pm *Puffs. Damn that word.*

[[He'll take note of that.]] FakeProwl 7:53 pm He's figured out how to look more human. ... I prefer the smooth features. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:53 pm [[Why is that?]] ((odo in the jar in the box going AAAAAAH SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP)) FakeProwl 7:55 pm *Points at his own face. No wrinkles or folds of flesh.* He's more relatable when he's smooth. ((that man loves babies so much)) ItsyBitsySpyers 7:57 pm [[That makes sense.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 7:58 pm [[...The Tyran mechs. The ones like the Jazz he helps. Do you see their faces as more relatable because they are mechanical, or less than humans because of all the pieces?]] FakeProwl 7:59 pm More relatable than humans, less relatable than Cybertronians from my world. FakeProwl 8:01 pm Yours are midway between Tyran and mine. /Pretty/ familiar, but I'm always worried you're going to horribly dent your faces in alt-mode. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:02 pm [[And he worries you will crush your nose and chin when they collide with pieces of yours.]] *Heh.* FakeProwl 8:03 pm Pff. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:03 pm *And now the part he thought Prowl would like.* FakeProwl 8:03 pm *Indeed. He's focusing intensely.* FakeProwl 8:07 pm *The lives of eight thousand people, versus one dead and forty-eight ripped out of their lives forever. FakeProwl 8:10 pm ... It costs eight thousand lives to go home. But it costs who-knows-how-many hypothetical future lives if they're not back home to create them. But no hypothetical lives are worth real, currently-existent lives. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:12 pm [[What of the *other* lives already present? These are some of the humans most familiar with the Dominion and its activities. And Odo is among them. If he stays here, what insight can the Federation continue to gather? ]] FakeProwl 8:14 pm Yes, I was going to say—there is the question of the war with the Dominion, and what these people could do in those battles. But all that, too, is hypothetical. And it's difficult to calculate the /exact/ benefit that forty-nine individuals could have in a massive galaxy-wide war. FakeProwl 8:16 pm /These/ people exist. These people /will/ cease to exist if they don't go back. That is a guarantee. Nothing else is. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:18 pm [[He still does not think it wise to replace the most experienced front-line warriors at this time.]]

[[Nor does he have faith in time travel. He has always heard that changes in actions will splinter the timelines. That is how there are so many of us. Surely, now that the original crew know everything to come, it will affect their future on this planet. How can we be certain it saves the same 8,000 to begin with?]] FakeProwl 8:18 pm ... Of course, they're not going to get to the past. That would end the story and the story isn't over, is it? Obviously, they can't be certain it will save the same eight thousand. But they definitely WON'T save the same eight thousand if they don't crash. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:19 pm [[But those eight thousand could die either way.]] FakeProwl 8:19 pm Irrelevant. They MIGHT die either way. They WILL die if they don't go back. ... Correction, they DID die because they didn't go back. ...... Ugh, time travel. The eight thousand never existed and yet this crew remembers interacting with them even though they never existed to be interacted with. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:21 pm [[You said that the 8000 was a guarantee. If the 8000 is not a guarantee because they cannot know what their update in knowledge will do, does that not make the 49 the guarantee?]] FakeProwl 8:21 pm *Opens mouth.* ... Uh. ... I'm not going to be deciphering that sentence while the Odo is saying things. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:22 pm [[He'll wait.]] *This is a Moment.* FakeProwl 8:22 pm *Anyway Prowl's pointing at Kira. He's on Kira's side.* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:23 pm {{ S5E26 Call to Arms }} FakeProwl 8:25 pm These people have a military branch dedicated to timeline anomalies. I'm trusting their interpretation of the timeline better than ours, we're all still very fuzzy about time travel over here. If they think going into the past would preserve those eight thousand lives, I'm inclined to trust their experience over our guesstimates. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:25 pm [[He is inclined to trust what he has observed here in the multiverse.]] [[...He will agree that doing so to keep Kira alive was a poor reason. But he believes the 49 were more sound.]] [[Ah. Wait. He forgot something.]] FakeProwl 8:27 pm 8000 lives against 1 isn't a fair trade but 163 lives against 1 is a fair trade? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:28 pm *Squint.* Remind him of the 163 lives. *He doesn't remember the number 163 in what they just watched...* FakeProwl 8:28 pm 8000 divided by 49 is 163.265306 et cetera. That's how much each of those 49 "saved" lives costs. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:33 pm [[8000 lives that are just as likely to be destroyed because they told their history to the ancestors who were supposed to have made it. O'Brien "knows" that he married the ensign after 10 years because he finally gave up when it was clear he couldn't get away. He made the decision to stay and knew who he would end up with and why. Why not get a decade's head start? That is the reasonable thing to do to ensure the colony's survival, and that is what they claimed to want.]]

[[If 8000 may die from that as easily as they would from leaving the planet, then it is ridiculous to worry about them as much as the ones in a more stable space, who are key figures in what promises to be a horrible war.]] [[So yes. One hundred and sixty-three uncertain splinters for each of the forty-nine stable ones and all they may save.]] FakeProwl 8:35 pm As I said, I trust their experience with time travel. We might know about splintering timelines but we do not have a very good grasp of time travel, whereas their society does. So I do not consider them "uncertain splinters," I consider them VERY CERTAIN splinters. What ISN'T certain is whatever people the forty-nine may save, as those forty-nine are completely hypothetical. FakeProwl 8:36 pm Also, how do we know their telling their ancestors their history wasn't how it happened the first time around? How do we know the first ship didn't encounter the same colony, get told the same things, and make the same deliberate decision to go into the past, and the only change between that cycle and this one was Odo's actions? They never explicitly said either way. Stable time loops are nonsensical and ridiculous, it's entirely possible. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:38 pm [[But Starfleet was so concerned about changes with the tribbles...]] FakeProwl 8:39 pm The fact that they WEREN'T concerned HERE suggests that, for some reason, there is less here to be concerned about. I am taking the continued existence of those eight thousand people as safe and guaranteed if the crew decides to go into the past. Therefore the only number that those eight thousand can rationally be balanced out against is the hypothetical however-many people that those 49 might help save during the brewing war with the Dominion. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:39 pm *Is tempted to mentally mutter something about how the Kirk human was never that concerned and look how things turned out. Keeps it to himself.* FakeProwl 8:40 pm *well the kirk human is an idjit* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:41 pm [[Hrm. He does not think this is a debate either of us will bend on until we gather more data on time travel.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 8:42 pm *Soundwave has very little faith in most people's abilities to agree to stay lonely for ten years and follow through with it.* FakeProwl 8:42 pm And I am not so convinced that any of those forty-nine is /statistically guaranteed/ to be /indespensibly pivotal/ in the war, /except/ perhaps Odo, who would have instantly been replaced with the two-hundred-years-older-and-much-better-at-shapeshifting-under-adverse-circumstances Odo because they sent out a probe with a location beacon right before taking off. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:42 pm [[Providing the Dominion didn't find the beacon and come destroy them all.]] FakeProwl 8:43 pm They'd have to harm a changeling to do so. They've already issued his punishment, I imagine they'd be reluctant to do so again. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:44 pm [[The other 7,999, then.]] FakeProwl 8:45 pm Well, they /are/ the descendants of Starfleet personnel. I imagine they'd think of something. Anyway—that's no guarantee either. ... Although the fact that they launched the probe at all if that was a risk is... unlikely. What ARE the odds it could be intercepted and lead to a slaughter? Perhaps they programmed it to head home first before transmitting its message? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:47 pm [[It is in the Gamma Quadrant. He fears the odds would be high. And they programmed it to begin transmitting its location as soon as it cleared the barrier.]] FakeProwl 8:48 pm Yes, that's right, they did. Hmm. ... That's a little dumb. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:49 pm [[They didn't have much time]] *There's a flutter of amusement there* [[to think things through.]] FakeProwl 8:49 pm They had a couple of days. Maybe if they hadn't wasted so much time /farming./ ItsyBitsySpyers 8:50 pm [[Now that he will grant you.]] [[But we have much to see yet, and insufficient access to time travel data. Shall we?]] FakeProwl 8:51 pm Yes, right. Let's go on. ... You paused for some reason. Were you going to explain something? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:51 pm *Though he did like that debate. He wouldn't mind more of them in the future.*

[[Hm?]] *Reviews personal notes.* [[Yes. Yes, the - the priest Bajoran. Again.]]

[[Kai Winn Adami is approached by the Dominion with a nonaggression pact. Seeing no good coming of either side, she stalls until she is forced to deliver the treaty to the Bajoran government without recommendation.]] FakeProwl 8:52 pm Hm. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:53 pm [[He finds it cowardly of one so devoted to ambition and power, but he is from a different side of the war.]] FakeProwl 8:53 pm I don't consider it cowardly to admit that you see no advantage to either of two options. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:53 pm [[She doesn't admit it. She simply waits until they take it from her.]] FakeProwl 8:54 pm Hm. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:54 pm [[*Now* we can go on.]] [[Ah. And that Cardassian, the one with Garak - that is Gul Dukat's daughter. With a Bajoran prisoner.]] FakeProwl 8:57 pm Why can all these aliens have offspring together? They're from different planets, do they even use the same genetic language? Humans can't even interbreed with other species on their own planet, how are they creating viable offspring with Vulcans. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:58 pm [[...He does not know the answer to that.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 9:00 pm *Soundwave quietly adjusts the images of things like centaurs and merpeople into the Definitely Fictional file though.* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:02 pm [[Either they are poor observers or Quark is a very good one.]] FakeProwl 9:04 pm Or, unlike them, Quark has difficulty imagining that someone can be friendly to someone else without desperately wanting to get under their panels. ... Under theirrr... pants. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:05 pm [[Also an excellent point. And recovery.]] FakeProwl 9:05 pm Thank you. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:06 pm [[...Is worrying that much that common?]] FakeProwl 9:07 pm And Quark DID say earlier that any marriage where the wife is allowed to speak and wear clothing is doomed. So I question his judgment. FakeProwl 9:09 pm What, before conjugation? If so, they do their worrying alone. Conjugation is private. Anyone outside of close friends typically don't hear about it until long after it's become legally binding. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:10 pm [[He wonders why the organics make such a deal of it, then.]] FakeProwl 9:10 pm Probably because most of them don't keep it private. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:10 pm [[Perhaps creatures with lives as short as theirs want every excuse to have a party they can take.]] FakeProwl 9:11 pm Mm... no, I think it's just us that are odd. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:12 pm *Soundwave tries not to be mildly unsettled by the familiarity of that voice. After all, Soundwaves everywhere tend to share similar ones. Why not aliens to others?* FakeProwl 9:12 pm Before the war, openly discussing or demonstrating romance at all was taboo. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:13 pm *Leans to the side to better see Prowl's face and find out whether or not it's pokering.* FakeProwl 9:14 pm *To be honest, it's almost always pokering. Sometimes it's just more pokery than usual.* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:14 pm *Extremely Pokery, then.* FakeProwl 9:14 pm *Right now, it's normal poker. With a side of ?* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:15 pm [[...Why in the name of Onyx's hooves was it taboo?]] FakeProwl 9:16 pm It was considered crass, crude, and overly sentimental. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:18 pm [[...Holding your hand would have been considered crass and crude.]] *Please wait. He's trying to process this.* FakeProwl 9:19 pm I mean—it was considered a lot more than that. But very generally. FakeProwl 9:21 pm I can't give you many specifics; I wasn't very, mm, culturally aware back then. It was probably Functionism? ItsyBitsySpyers 9:22 pm *Processing. Processing. It makes no damn sense. If they were trading fuel or something, that would be one thing. And he knows he can handle things being kept on the downlow for himself. But how did everyone else...?*

*Weak attempt to use humor to cover for his bewilderment: go.*

[[...He never realized how much of an outlaw you are.]] *Given Prowl's sitting on his lap and wrapped around and wrapped up, and all.* FakeProwl 9:22 pm It wasn't /illegal./ ItsyBitsySpyers 9:23 pm [[He was - never mind.]] FakeProwl 9:24 pm ... And I /shouldn't/ have done anything back then. I'd have been much better off figuring out how romance worked after the war had been going on for a while and the taboo had gotten more lax. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:25 pm [[Because the taboo existed or because of things he is not to ask about?]] FakeProwl 9:26 pm Because I could have talked to other people about it. Try having your first relationship, wondering if you're doing it right, not being able to look to media or documentaries or psychological works to research proper relationships, and not even being able to ask the people around you if you're doing it right because that would mean admitting to something obscene. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:28 pm [[...It would be a wonder if *anyone* managed it.]] FakeProwl 9:28 pm I can assure you, everyone was, in fact, trying. Just... very quietly. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:31 pm [[Hm. He will have to investigate this. The idea, not you specifically.]] *He already understands not to poke there.* [[It is... surprising. These were taboo,]] *Mlaaaah.* [[But not the rest.]] [[Up to a point, of course. But that point was higher than yours.]] FakeProwl 9:32 pm Hm. ... None of our anatomy was taboo. FakeProwl 9:35 pm ... With a FEW limits. Masturbating at work was generally discouraged. Even during one's break. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:36 pm *Soft hissy-puffy 'pfft' noise from vent.* FakeProwl 9:36 pm ((having a, gaaaawd walk amongst us)) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:38 pm [[He did wonder how it could be 'none', if other things were socially unacceptable.]] FakeProwl 9:38 pm Well, no part of one's anatomy is inherently romantic, is it? *They spent the entire episode about the Dominion conquering DS9 talking about romance.* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:39 pm [[No. But to his knowlege they're usually brought out in acts that would be considered 'crass'.]] *Hey, he was still listening and watching.* {{S6E1 A Time to Stand}} FakeProwl 9:41 pm They're considered far more crass in most other timelines than they are in ours. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:42 pm [[He has noticed that. It is refreshing. He finds that mechs from timelines where it is obsess over it more.]] FakeProwl 9:44 pm ... Bashir has a genetically-enhanced brain that can calculate their odds of survival? ItsyBitsySpyers 9:44 pm [[He does.]] FakeProwl 9:44 pm ... I really want to know his calculations. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:46 pm [[He does not have them. Would that he did.]] *He'd love to see how Bashir and Prowl's compare.* FakeProwl 9:47 pm *Bashir's will probably be better, he knows the situation better than Prowl does.* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:47 pm *The way they're set up.* FakeProwl 10:00 pm I'm sure the Dominion's mercy toward Bajor and DS9 are only temporary. The Dominion detests solids, they'll want Bajor under its thumb, just like everyone else. FakeProwl 10:01 pm He makes a good point. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:01 pm [[Of course they will. And sharpened pieces of rebar aren't the easiest way to take over a population. That is why the Vorta go in first.]] [[Which point?]] FakeProwl 10:03 pm The captain's father. Isn't space big enough for everyone to leave everyone alone? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:03 pm [[One would think.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 10:06 pm [[Agreeable visits between members of populations would be fine. But sprawling wars? He is tired of them.]] FakeProwl 10:06 pm Indeed. FakeProwl 10:08 pm ... Interesting technology. An HUD viewscreen instead of a typical bridge screen. You can see outside from anywhere in the ship. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:08 pm [[..............He wants it.]] FakeProwl 10:09 pm Software could probably installed in any ship that would provide a feed like that via comm to an HUD. I would very much like to see Kira punch Docket's throat. Or teeth. Forehead spoon. The sides of his ribs look vulnerable. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:11 pm [[He already has something like it with the cameras in stationary locations, but on a ship...]]

[[He votes teeth. Not having to listen to him speak would be nice.]] FakeProwl 10:14 pm ... Noggin is far too young to be on that ship. He still lacks the necessary training. Who let him on? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:15 pm [[Noggin?]] FakeProwl 10:15 pm Yes. The uh... Quark's... brother's son. Niece? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:15 pm [[The shortest Ferengi?]] FakeProwl 10:15 pm Yes. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:16 pm [[Nog?]] FakeProwl 10:16 pm ... Yyyes? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:17 pm [[Short on officers, perhaps?]]

[[...Why Noggin?]] FakeProwl 10:17 pm *Go Odo, use that authority.* Isn't that his name? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:20 pm [[Just Nog. He's fairly sure "noggin" is a term for someone's head.]] *Small frown.* [[Being named after an Earth beverage doesn't make sense either, though.]] [[Perhaps it's because his father's brother is a bartender.]] FakeProwl 10:20 pm I thought the fact that it was a term for a head was /why/ his name was Noggin. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:21 pm *Prowl, you're getting him all twisted around today. Docks and JL and Gold Docket and Noggin and - wait.*

[[Wait. The Starfleet Klingon. What is his name?]] FakeProwl 10:23 pm *Grimace. The last time they saw the doctor and Garak in an episode together, they were... decently respectful to each other. Now Garak knows the doctor is genetically enhanced to make calculations and he's calling him arrogant and saying he thinks like a computer.* The one that gets along with Odo? Wharf? What about him? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:24 pm *Tilts his helm.* [[Worf.]] FakeProwl 10:25 pm {{S6E2 Rocks and Shoals}}

Yes, Wharf. What about him? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:25 pm [[No, it - with a - hold on.]] *Soundwave's just gonna pull his visor out of subspace and click it back in place for a second.* [[Here. Write it out so he can see it.]] FakeProwl 10:26 pm ... Okay? *reaches up to write on Soundwave's visor, then pauses.* Should I write it backwards, or...? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:27 pm [[Whichever way you feel comfortable. He can still read it.]] [[Reading from unusual directions *is* an important skill for someone like him. Not every datapad he wants to peek at will be facing him straight on.]] *Humor.* FakeProwl 10:29 pm Fair enough. *Forwards it is. In rigid, blocky letters: "wharf," as in a place to moor a ship, with a glyph under it indicating that the word is being used as a name.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:30 pm *That's what he thought his file review said Prowl was saying.*

((OH WHOOP uhhhh S6E2 Rocks and Shoals?)) FakeProwl 10:32 pm ((*edits episode title in where it belongs*)) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:32 pm ((sorry ;;)) FakeProwl 10:33 pm ((it's cool, it's all chronological now FakeProwl 10:36 pm ... Sorry, why did he tie Noggin up and threaten to kill him? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:37 pm *He writes a set of super-basic glyphs representing specific sounds - the kind Ratchet used when first teaching Raf - beneath "wharf", then strikes out both words.*

*Writes the correct ones next.* FakeProwl 10:39 pm ... That's not a word. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:40 pm [[It was a mission to an abandoned and booby-trapped Cardassian space station. There, Garak was accidentally exposed to experimental chemicals meant to enhance Cardassian paranoia and xenophobia and attacked Nog while under its influence.]] FakeProwl 10:41 pm Ah. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:41 pm [[And no, it is not. Most organic names do not translate well to us.]] FakeProwl 10:43 pm Yes, I know that. I've spent most of my life on alien worlds. ... Actually. *Hold on, he's got to do math. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:43 pm *Holds on.* FakeProwl 10:44 pm No, more like a third. Still. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:44 pm [[It is a long time.]] FakeProwl 10:44 pm Populated worlds, anyway. FakeProwl 10:45 pm Anyway, I know that most species don't use names that mean things. It's still stupid. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:46 pm *Heh. Nod.* FakeProwl 10:53 pm ... That's one way to protest, I suppose. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:54 pm [[It is the voluntary death of a spiritual figure from a heavily religious planet. It will capture attention.]] FakeProwl 10:54 pm *no, hold on, wait a second, that's usually fatal for organics, isn't it?* ... That's one HELL of a protest. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:54 pm [[Indeed.]] FakeProwl 10:58 pm ... And the one who killed herself is correct. They need to be fighting back. Not complying until the occupying forces' demands become unbearable. By the time they're unbearable, it's too late. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:59 pm [[That is, he thinks, how so many of our planets' wars begin.]] [[Complying until demands become unbearable.]] FakeProwl 11:00 pm It's figuring out how and when to most effectively fight back, but... in cases like this, with occupying forces, the answer is early and often. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:01 pm [[This is an ideal time. There are many Bajorans aboard, and none of them in camps.]] FakeProwl 11:01 pm Indeed. Yes, active resistance WILL trigger a crackdown—which is why they have to get it active as early as possible before they get more resources for a stronger crackdown. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:03 pm *...Curious lean.* [[Did your Autobots have to help many other planets this way?]] [[Or your Decepticons?]] *Because he doubts every Autobot-held planet was a good one.* FakeProwl 11:04 pm The Decepticons didn't occupy. They slaughtered. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:04 pm [[Always?]] FakeProwl 11:04 pm Always. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:05 pm [[How do you know so much about it, then?]] FakeProwl 11:05 pm Before they occupied, sometimes they infiltrated. On rare occasions, they enslaved. Because they didn't occupy "other planets." They occupied Cybertron. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:07 pm [[Ah. And you helped against those, he takes it.]] *Tap. Tap.* [[Were you a part from the beginning?]] FakeProwl 11:08 pm "A part"? Of? I never lived in a city under occupation, if that's what you mean. {{S6E3 Sons And Daughters}} ItsyBitsySpyers 11:09 pm ((*eats your keyboard*)) ((speedfingers)) [[Of the resistances. Of teaching them what you were saying, or how to do the fighting. Though he appreciates being given that fact.]] [[Also: the Klingon General Martok has rescued and delivered Sisko and the others. He will spend the rest of this incident with Worf and Worf's son, fighting Jem'Hadar.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 11:12 pm *Thinks he knows the actual reason Gul Dukat brought Ziyal back.* FakeProwl 11:12 pm No, I was always on the outside. I had already been drafted into the Autobots. And I'm... nnnot well-equipped for infiltration missions. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:14 pm *Remembers to pluck his visor off again at last.*

[[Ah. The Autobots gathered you quickly. The infiltration missions - a matter of flexibility?]] FakeProwl 11:14 pm A matter of being good at lying on your feet. But, I... Well, classified. But I helped. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:17 pm [[He hopes you will declassify those things some day. The data would be invaluable for the map predictions on similar portions of the multiverse.]] *Rests his chin on Prowl.* [[Though he expects that is the reason you do not.]] FakeProwl 11:17 pm I also don't because it's illegal. Anyway—the Autobots didn't need to "gather" me. I was law enforcement. We were restructured /into/ the Autobots. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:19 pm [[Yes, that would stop you.]] And they're unlikely to become declassified any time soon. Good thing his timelines' lifespans are so long. [[But - none of you were given a choice?]] FakeProwl 11:21 pm No. All military and paramilitary forces were redefined into Autobots. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:21 pm [[Convenient.]] FakeProwl 11:22 pm After Optimus took charge and the exodus began, anyone who hadn't joined the Autobots voluntarily was given the option to resign and leave if they wanted. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:23 pm ((we can just about squeeze in one last one if you wish)) FakeProwl 11:23 pm ((... yeah let's do it. i have a full pizza in me.)) ((i am Fueled)) ItsyBitsySpyers 11:23 pm ((LOL okay)) {{S6E4 Behind the Lines}} [[It took *that* long? For a faction led by a mech who claims freedom for all?]] FakeProwl 11:25 pm ... No one really asked before then. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:25 pm [[That is what he means.]] FakeProwl 11:25 pm No, I mean no one really asked him to let them leave. FakeProwl 11:28 pm He was recruited into the Autobots just like anyone else. He was doing his duty and fighting to defend Cybertron. We were all doing our duty and fighting to defend Cybertron. And until the exodus, there was nowhere else /to/ go. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:28 pm [[...He supposes they wouldn't. Not if they had been connected to the government like that.]] FakeProwl 11:30 pm I can honestly say that, until he announced that anyone who wanted to resign from the Autobots, could, complete with speedily-issued honorable discharges and a guarantee that they could re-enlist at any point to their old rank if they changed their mind... None of us had ever once considered the thought that we /could/ resign. That it might ever be an /option./ ((his smile tho)) (( òvó )) ItsyBitsySpyers 11:32 pm *He has a dozen whirling thoughts about that. Most are about the existing government of the time and the effect it had on its people. Some concern whether or not some of them were even capable of thinking for themselves, whether or not they realized they could. None of them are polite.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:34 pm *He tries to scrape one together anyway.*

[[Not even you?]] *Shakes his helm.* [[Wait, no. Not that you would have taken it. But the - [][][]that it might ever be an option.[][][] ]] FakeProwl 11:35 pm *"not that you would have taken it." just a little bit more pokerface.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:35 pm *If Prowl wants to try to convince Soundwave that he'd go to the Decepticons, he's welcome to make the effort. It'll be an uphill climb.* FakeProwl 11:36 pm *as though they were the only other option.* The announcement came as a surprise to me, as well. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:37 pm *Given that Prowl has removed his police decals but kept his Autobot insignia, Soundwave is disinclined to believe Prowl would have gone neutral either, whether or not that's true.* [[...That is surprising, considering all your simulating.]] FakeProwl 11:37 pm I do not run simulations on impossibilities. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:38 pm [[Hmm.]] FakeProwl 11:38 pm And I'm designed to run physics simulations, not political simulations. That was a skill I had to learn through the war. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:39 pm [[Which did not happen until after Optimus' offer?]] [[The developing of that skill.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 11:41 pm [[...And on an unrelated note, it surprises him that Odo does not immediately conclude that her presence is dangerous.]] FakeProwl 11:41 pm He might suspect it on some level. ... And I am afraid that he is becoming a collaborator. Not intentionally and not willingly. But all the same. He's too afraid of the chaos that proper resistance would bring. ... He links with her, and she can learn about the resistance. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:44 pm *Soundwave shakes his helm.* [[That was the single stupidest...]] [[Homesickness or no homesickness.]] *Fortunately, they have a little way to go.* FakeProwl 11:46 pm ... Anyway—I'd only just barely begun thinking of my position in the war as an actor, rather than a soldier. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:47 pm [[Explain?]] FakeProwl 11:49 pm Realizing I could do things other than just obey orders. I could share ideas that might change the way people behaved and thus change the way the war progressed. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:52 pm [[Then you were not always so high in the ranks. That is more of a shock to him than it has the right to be. It is difficult to picture the Autobots succeeding without you guiding them.]] FakeProwl 11:53 pm This may surprise you, but once, I was on traffic duty. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:53 pm [[*Traffic duty*?]] FakeProwl 11:53 pm And they took me /off/ traffic duty because I wasn't good enough. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:54 pm *He's gonna need a second.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:55 pm *Okay. Okay. He's got a hold on that. Sort of.*

[[This was - also during the war?]] FakeProwl 11:55 pm So, no. By the time I was serving under Optimus, I was only beginning to think about strategy. I certainly hadn't ever thought about running calculations on it. Oh, no no no. In Petrex. Just—on the subject of me not always being highly ranked. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:58 pm [[That is a relief - that it was in Petrex, not during the war. He thought of them placing you at a hallway intersection in a base with a portable stop sign.]] Yesterday FakeProwl 11:58 pm Heh. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:01 am [[They still didn't value you as much as they should have. But at least it was not that.]]

[[He was one of Megatron's highest from the start. There were times when he had to fight to keep his position or to outperform newcomers and other rivals, but he did not have to climb as far.]] FakeProwl 12:02 am ... If Odo isn't there to disable the alarms... Dammit. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:04 am [[The Founder's plan all along, he's sure.]] FakeProwl 12:04 am And... and that Ferengi was seen with Kira minutes earlier. And Quark is the only person who could have told them about the array. That's three out of five of the resistance brought down because of one stupid act. Maybe seeing Kira go down too will snap Odo out of it, nothing else seems to be doing it. FakeProwl 12:07 am It has PLENTY to do with you! It's YOUR FAULT! This is— He's— *... shoulders sag.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:08 am *Squeezes carefully.*

[[He told you there would be a fall.]] FakeProwl 12:08 am ... I don't remember that but I'm sure you did. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:09 am ((mun suddenly goes "fuck DID he?" because pretty sure but suddenly not perfectly sure)) ((mun carries on boldly)) ItsyBitsySpyers 12:11 am [[He is fairly certain. Perhaps he only thought it? He will check his files later.]]

[[We have reached a large disappointment. He suggests we pause here to process it. We can continue tomorrow, before the others arrive for movie night.]] FakeProwl 12:11 am ((boldly go, mun)) *nnnnnh it's close to time to leave for work.* ... Very well. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:13 am *Blips and offers his crest. He is not this cruel, Prowl. Not to you. Odo's story will not end here.* FakeProwl 12:14 am *Crest bump.* FakeProwl 12:15 am *And thinks about what he just saw and thinks about his own position, sitting in the lap of someone trying to convince him that he /shouldn't/ be plotting the destruction of Cybertron.* *That's probably not the comparison Soundwave wanted him to take away from this, but there it is.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:16 am *He knew he risked it.* *He is hoping what is yet to come will not leave that thought seared into Prowl's head.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:18 am [[You should get ready. There is much to do, and he has another cube to consume before recharge. It would only distract you further if you stay.]] *Unwraps arms and feeler.* FakeProwl 12:19 am *... Soundwave goes through a lot of cubes.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:20 am *Not a lot of time to eat when one spends a day and a half in public eyesight.* FakeProwl 12:20 am I'll see you tomorrow. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:20 am [[Good. He'll look forward to it. Goodnight.]] FakeProwl 12:21 am Good night. *another bump, and he disappears.*

#((if you're on mobile without functional readmores and see this post: i am so sorry))#slenderwave #chat

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