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cherryjuicegf · 4 years

Note

Geraskier prompt 💜🥰

(5+1) 5 times Geralt showed Jaskier he loves him +1 time he actually said it out loud (geraskier-trashh)

thank you so much for the prompt, i hope you enjoy! 💕

If Jaskier was in the mood of reciting poetry right now, he would definitely say something about how the soles of his boots had become one with the ground to the point he sometimes wondered if he actually wore shoes. They had been walking all day, barely stopping for ten minutes before they set off again. He dared not speak, he knew they had to reach the next town without any delay, they were really out of supplies now and Geralt wouldn't put up with another night under the stars just because he couldn't move his feet. Well, it was not just because. But he knew better than to whine for the hundredth time that day, realizing he was wasting his saliva.

That did not stop him from grunting though. And if he had to be honest, he didn't grunt to get on Geralt's nerves, although he knew he had succeeded at that with flying colours. But he was tired. Really tired.

At least Geralt was walking beside him. At least. Otherwise he would collapse just by looking at him resting on Roach's back while he was dragging his feet on the ground.

The sun had almost set.

"Are we there yet?" That was the question he concluded to after another choir of grunts and sighs accompanied by a lively performance of stumbling every five minutes. When Geralt didn't answer he took the chance to sigh once more, for the drama of it all.

And then Geralt stopped. Turned at him, and Jaskier knew perfectly well that look of utter indignation. And waited to be sweared at, smiling to himself. Only that Geralt's expression wasn't that of a man ready to swear.

"Get on Roach."

Jaskier was persuaded he heard wrong and didn't bother to move an inch. But then Geralt pushed him forward with a sigh that was almost fond. "Go on."

"Um... Are you–"

"Last chance."

He'd be a fool to miss it. So he climbed Roach as the mare snorted and wiggled her tail and he stroked her neck with an endearment. They went on. He glanced at Geralt. Didn't wait to receive a glance in return though. He just smiled.

Geralt didn't look back. "Don't get asleep up there," he said, even though he didn't mean it, and when he heard a whispered *thank you* that was almost lost with the wind, he hummed.

ii.

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Why, thank you." Jaskier pouted and hissed silently as Geralt cleaned the blood off his bruised cheek with a wet cloth. He knew he had no right to complain now, particularly when Geralt was rather gentle with his movements, albeit the annoyance in his eyes. Yet he would burst if he didn't say anything. "You're not less of an idiot yourself." Geralt opened his eyes wide and stareed at him, making it really hard for him to hold back his laughter. "Excuse me, dear witcher," he snorted, "were you not the one who said you didn't care about what sort of trouble I got myself in from now on? You were, yes, yes, you were. So you had no business dragging me from the fight, as you have no business tending to my cheek right now. Right?"

"Shut up, Jaskier." Geralt pressed the cloth on the bard's cheek ever so slightly, just to receive another his and Jaskier getting his tongue out at him. He hid a smile. "You'd be beaten up in an alley had I not been there."

"Aww, you sweet soul," Jaskier chuckled and had no intention of regretting it although the witcher glared at him. He squinted in thought for a moment, then grinned. "Ohh, I see."

Geralt grimaced. "You see, huh?"

"Yes, I see. You don't want me to get beaten up, is that right? You don't like it, no matter how you tease about it. I know now. You wouldn't let anyone hurt me, Geralt. You love me too much to do that. You would never."

Geralt halted for a second, his hand hovering above Jaskier's cheek. Thought of raising his look but he glanced to the side instead, swallowed. Then went on cleaning the last of the blood.

No sound was heard for a couple of minutes. Paradoxically. He finished applying a salve on the bard's cheek and stood up without turning to look at him.

The air felt a bit heavy.

"Geralt." Jaskier didn't wait for the witcher to answer and the hum he received almost made him choke on his words. "You wouldn't, would you?"

He saw Geralt freezing for a moment, then his breath hitched. He turned around and Jaskier would lie if he said he had seen his eyes soft like that before. Geralt shook his head lightly. "No, I wouldn't."

I love you too much for that.

He stayed silent. The grin he saw on Jaskier's face was enough.

iii.

Geralt returned to the camp to see Jaskier's head hidden in the saddlebags, cursing in a language he wasn't entirely sure he'd heard before. The bard revealed himself with an exasperated grunt.

"I can't find my pen," he said even though Geralt didn't ask and kept on searching inside the bag. "It has to be here, I put it here! It can't just be lost! What, did it pop out legs? No, it fucking didn't, of course it didn't, so where the fuck – oh, what's this?"

Geralt had barely managed to make out what Jaskier was holding in the firelight and his heart flutttered when he understood. "Not that!" He saw Jaskier hesitating, his eyes darkening before he nodded and went to put the little box he was holding back in the bag. Geralt snorted. "No, keep it, it's–" He paused, thought about it for the millionth time since he'd bought it and tried to speak. Not that he would succeed anyway. "I bought it... I-I thought you'd like it."

Jaskier frowned in confusion for a couple of seconds before he understood and his face lit up like the sun. "Oh, for... me?" Geralt nodded. He could watch him smiling like that forever. Jaskier opened the box and gasped. "Oh, Geralt."

He took the ring in his hands, stroked his thumb over it. It was silver, carved with flowers on the top. His cheeks were burning. Probably his eyes too. "Geralt, it's beautiful." He looked up at the witcher and saw him smiling faintly, and his heart singed with love. "Thank you so much, dear." He slipped the ring on his finger, stared at it. Felt Geralt approaching.

"It suits you."

He looked up, met his eyes. Their stares were locked for a second. Then Geralt snorted and glanced at the ground, taking some steps back. Jaskier didn't speak. Only closed his eyes.

iv.

The sound of whimpers made Geralt open his eyes and huffing as he realized it was still night. He stayed still for some moments, heard the whimpers coming from behind his back and turned around. Sleep abandoned him entirely as he saw Jaskier's shoulders shaking, his face hidden inside his hands. He was taking deep breaths that didn't manage to stable the whining escaping his lips. Geralt sat on the bedroll and gently placed his hand on the bard's shoulder. "Jaskier."

Jaskier jerked in surprise and his head whipped to the side just to find Geralt looking at him with a deep frown. Suddenly, he felt worse than before. "Fuck, I woke you, I'm sorry," he panted and ran his hands through his hair, heaving a long sigh and closing his eyes.

Geralt hummed and came closer. "It's fine. What's going on?" Jaskier glanced at him behind his lashes and he discerned unshed tears hanging on their edges. A sudden desire to kiss them dry overwhelmed him and he swallowed hard.

"Nothing, just a nightmare." Jaskier wiped his eyes on his own and cleared his throat. "I'll go to sleep again and it'll vanish." A fake smile curved his lips. Geralt felt his heart aching. The way Jaskier's hands trembled on his knees made it hard to resist the urge to hold them.

Still, as Jaskier laid down without speaking and he saw his shoulders still shaking under the blanket, he knew he'd be damned if he went back to sleep. So he dragged his bedroll closer and wrapped his hand around the bard, holding him tight on his chest until the trembling stopped and Jaskier breathed a sleepy hum and Geralt felt warmth flooding his body. And even if after some time he leaned to press a kiss on Jaskier's head, no one would ever know. And he hoped Jaskier was too exhausted to feel it.

And Jaskier smiled.

"I'm going to win and you can bet to that! Those people are amateurs, can't even compose a proper rhyme. It's too easy."

Geralt shook his head. "Better keep your mouth shut in front of them if that's the only thing you're gonna say for the next days."

Jaskier huffed and strummed his lute, raised his head proudly. "Please, what are they gonna do? Sing me to death? There are barely two or three worthy opponents."

The walls of Novigrad showed up before them. Geralt peered at them before turning to the bard, just to see him wearing the same expression of slight hesitation he didn't dare to make visible. Jaskier lowered his eyes, then looked at him, bitting his lip. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can," he tilted his head with a smile, "I can buy as as much ale as you want with the money of the prize, we'll... have a celebration."

Geralt would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted, staring into begging blue eyes. But he shook his head. "There's a noonwraith in the next town. I can't stay." The darkening of Jaskier's face made his heart ache. "We can celebrate after I'm done," he rushed to say and really hoped he didn't sound too desperate. Jaskier's wide grin erased his fear.

"You're right!" He shifted the lute in his hands and took some steps, waving his hand at the witcher. "I'll see you then, Geralt." Then turned to leave.

Geralt clenched his fists, sniffed. He raised his look. "Jaskier." The bard looked back, eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming. Geralt gazed at him. Oh, how he loved. How he loved him. "Take care."

Jaskier smirked, stared at him for some moments and nodded. Then turned around again.

vi.

Geralt thought it was a good time.

He had put way much thought into it to reach to a conclusion. Thought that had kept him going for quite long, thought that gave him the illusion of impermanence. He was refuted though by his own self, every time his look flied to the man standing beside him to always find him there, with a speech ready on his lips and a sparkling light flowing from his eyes. Annoying, he would once say. Still said. But not just.

It was simple. Ever so simple, so that he wondered what held him back previously. This time he didn't think about it. Maybe that's what made the difference. He didn't think. Only spoke what he saw.

"Jaskier." The bard was sitting beside him on the log, strumming soft melodies and working out rhymes. He raised his head and met Geralt's look. Geralt tilted his head, observed him. The way his eyebrows raised in question, the way his lips curved into a curious smile.

Jaskier waited, not long though, as the shade he discerned in Geralt's eyes wasn't one of a starting conversation. It was calm and gentle, almost loving. He shook his head. "What?"

Geralt frowned, then bit his lip, as if making a last moment's decision. And when he made it, he spoke. "I love you."

He realised that no matter how many years he knew Jaskier, the expressions that passed from his face at once were too difficult to decipher. Yet Jaskier didn't seem surprised. Only he seemed happy, happier than before as he chuckled softly and placed the lute beside him without turning away. "I love you too, Geralt."

Oh, no. That was wrong. He can't have understood...

Geralt huffed shaking his head. "No, it's not... I mean–"

"Geralt." Jaskier came closer and took the witcher's face inside his hands. "I love you too."

Oh.

It was simple. Ever so simple.

So Geralt simply leaned and pressed their lips together just enough to feel Jaskier's breath warming his face. A simple touch. And then Jaskier went deeper into the kiss and Geralt couldn't believe how familiar loving Jaskier felt, as if every time he'd silently said I love you, he proceeded to be as loud about it as he could.

So it was simple. He had loved Jaskier before. He would love him now too. Not silently, though.

Now he would love him out loud.

send me a prompt and i'll write you a fic ✨

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #fic recs #prompt fill #chrysa writes #geraskier-trashh

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

no great revelation (4/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,057

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

IV:

—

“I owe you a favour?” Rebecca said, and her voice sounded amused. “Is that how we’re remembering it?”

“Yup. After that fiasco you put me through in that club on Nar Shaddaa.”

The sound of an incredulous huff of laughter came through the cracked speakers of the transceiver in a staticky burst. “What is it this time?”

“Nothing special,” said Jamie. “In fact, it’s even a little boring.”

“You? Boring?”

“I like boring.”

“Pull the other one.”

“More boring than last time, then.”

“Last time you had me move three hundred freed Twi’lek slaves from Hutt space and back to their home planets.”

“And they’ve been singing your praises ever since. I know that for a fact, because one family sent me a holo-card which showed that party you went to where they made you godmother of their newborn child.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Rebecca said, sounding suddenly excited. “Do you want to see the latest pictures of the kid? He’s four and adorable.”

“That had better be a rhetorical question,” Jamie drawled.

“So, that’s a no?”

“Shut up and send me the pictures to my personal transceiver when I see you.”

Rebecca’s laugh was infectious. Always had been. A smile pulled at the corner of Jamie’s mouth in spite of herself. The Jawas had crowded off to the other end of the tiny room, talking amongst themselves while Jamie used their transceiver. On the other hand Dani drifted closer, hovering just out of range of the transceiver’s camera, which — along with the microphone and speakers — seemed to be the only thing about it that actually functioned properly.

“It’s been too long,” Rebecca was saying. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

“So, you’ll do me the favour?”

“You know I hate moving people,” Rebecca sighed. “Pressurising the cargo hold is so expensive.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Always is with you.”

"It's not like that."

"Sure it isn't." Rebecca said, then groaned. "Why can't you ever ask me to run something normal? Like food? Or weapons?"

"I asked you to run those emergency rations to Taris that one time."

"The planet was being blockaded by the Empire!"

"And you snuck through like a ghost," Jamie said. "I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Flatterer."

"Fuckin' right I am. Is it working?"

A sigh down the other line. "All right. How many people is it this time?"

Jamie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak Dani came into frame and sat beside Jamie with a wave towards the camera.

"Hi," she said with as much false cheer as she could muster. "Just me. Dani Clayton. Nice to meet you."

Silence on the other end. Jamie really wished this piece of crap transceiver had a working screen of its own so she could gauge Rebecca's reaction. As it was: the silence didn't seem like a good start.

“I see,” Rebecca said slowly. “Jamie, you always did have a soft spot for a pretty face.”

Heat flushed all the way up to Jamie’s hairline. “That’s not -!” she said, then turned to Dani and insisted, “It’s not.”

Dani did not answer. Her own cheeks were pink and she was studiously avoiding Jamie’s gaze, watching the broken monitor instead where Rebecca’s face should have been displayed.

Rebecca — damn her — was the one who spoke next. "And where are you from, Dani?"

"Alderaan," Dani said at the same time Jamie hissed, "Don't answer that."

Dani shot Jamie a puzzled look and lowered her voice, “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are, but -”

“No whispering,” said Rebecca through the crackling speakers in a sing-song voice. “If you’re talking about me, at least let me hear the juicy gossip.”

Rather than continue down that vein, Jamie corrected course. “We need to get to Tython. We’re on a transport through the Hydian Way to Coruscant, but we’ve got some undesirables on our tail. Think you can help?”

Rebecca gave a thoughtful hum. “You know I’m not a Core World girl. Not my speciality.”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate.”

“Next time,” Rebecca said in a dry tone, “just call me for drinks and a laugh.”

“First round’s on me,” Jamie promised with a grin.

The sound of tapping down the line and a series of beeps as Rebecca did something with her ship’s computer. “I’m picking up your signal from hyperspace just past Bandomeer. I won’t be able to meet up with your transport until you come out of hyperspace for a stop over at Corsin tomorrow afternoon. Think you can survive that long?”

Leaning back, Jamie exhaled a long relieved breath, her shoulders slumping. “It’ll have to do. Thanks, Becs. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

And just like that, the call ended. No fanfare. No goodbyes. That’s how it always was with her — touch and go. Probably why the two of them got along so well, Jamie thought. Not many people could go without exchanging a single word for four years and then pick up where they’d left off as if no time had passed at all.

Jamie pushed the transceiver away. Dani was watching her with a curious tilt of her head so that a lock of her hair was curled along the column of her neck in a way that made Jamie want to reach out and card her fingers through her hair.

“She seems nice,” Dani said.

“It’s complicated.”

Understanding lit up in Dani’s mismatched eyes. “Ah.”

“Not like that,” Jamie said quickly. “We never - I just meant that she’s complicated. For a smuggler like Rebecca, trust is its own currency. And now I owe her a very big favour.”

Dani nodded but didn’t comment further. She had turned her attention back to the huddle of Jawas, listening to them quibble and murmur together. “As much as I like them,” she said, “I don’t think we can hide here for a full day without imposing.”

That and Jamie could not imagine trying to sleep in a pile with a bunch of Jawas. She made a face at the very thought. It was cramped with two people in one of these rooms. Let alone eleven. Even if the other nine were less than a meter in height and smelled of damp womprat.

“Please tell me the alternative doesn’t involve the garbage chute,” Dani said.

The alternative only partially involved the garbage chute. And even then, they only had to use it once to ferry their way up to the mid decks when their transport dropped out of hyperspace and docked at Corsin. Jamie kept checking over her shoulder for sign of the Jedi and the Troopers as she and Dani snuck off the transport with a crowd of others. She did not relax even as they stepped free of the transport and into the hangar bays of Corsin.

The arched transparisteel ceiling was a void of star-speckled ink viewing out into space, and far below the planet was a marble of blue oceans and green islands, white tufts of cloud drifting across its surface.

“It looks beautiful,” said Dani, pausing to wistfully admire the planet below.

“It looks unaffordable,” Jamie replied, not sparing it a glance and instead standing up on her toes, craning her neck to get a better look around the hangar.

“Reminds me of Alderaan.”

It was said almost softly enough that Jamie couldn’t hear it. Jamie stopped her search and turned back to Dani, who was still staring longingly out the windows. Hesitating for a second, Jamie curled her fingers around Dani’s hand. Startled, Dani blinked at her.

Jamie offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “C’mon,” she said, and gave Dani’s hand a tug.

Dani did not pull her hand away as Jamie pulled her along further into the hangar in search of their ticket out of this mess. She linked their fingers together and held on tight, her hand cold; Dani was always cold. Jamie needed to think about buying her a set of thermals.

Pushing through the crowd, they made their way from various bay to various bay. Other passengers who knew their destinations went straight to the cruiser that would ferry them down to the planet below. Most of them wore enough Ottegan silk to last Jamie a year if she sold it on the black market, no questions asked. This was not a planet for people like them, and a few security droids around the place had started to take notice of that fact. Jamie was constructing an elaborate lie in her head about how they were janitorial staff, when she finally saw her.

Rebecca was standing before a side bay with her hand resting easily on the holster of her blaster pistol. She looked just as Jamie remembered. All in smart and durable beige and black, the cut of her clothes fashionable in a rakish sort of way but unafraid of hard labour. Her dark hair was longer and was bound in a long plait over one shoulder. And her dark skin was slightly darker, too — she must have been visiting a sunny planet lately. Letting go of Dani’s hand and striding forward with a broad smile, Jamie caught her in a fierce warm hug.

“God, but it’s good to see you again,” Jamie said.

Only one of Rebecca’s hands came up to rest against Jamie’s back to return the hug. When she pulled back slightly her smile had an oddly sad slant, and she murmured, “I really am sorry for this, Jamie.”

Jamie blinked, her face falling. “What -?”

Before she could move, Rebecca’s other hand came up and pressed something to Jamie’s flank. A flash of something like fire rippled through Jamie’s body, and then she slumped forwards into Rebecca’s arms, the world spinning and going dark.

When Jamie came to, she had a splitting headache and her side felt like it had been kicked by a very large very angry animal. She winced and slowly sat up with a groan. Blinking muzzily, she took inventory of her surroundings. Just a small room sheathed in dark metal panels from floor to ceiling, complete with the only door blocked by yellow plasma beam bars, and a Czerka logo stamped into one of the panels on the hallway outside.

And worst of all: no Dani in sight.

Great. Alone in the brig of a Czerka ship. And given her shit luck, Jamie had an inkling of exactly whose ship this belonged to as well.

“Fuck,” she said, lingering emphatically over every aspect of the word.

She had been placed along a bench in the cell, and now she dragged her sorry carcass into the corner so that she could prop her legs atop the bench and lean her head back against the wall. When the world finally stopped trying to tilt with every sluggish beat of her heart, Jamie patted herself down.

No mining laser, of course. That would’ve been the first thing they stripped off of her. No credit chits in her pocket. No multitools that she always kept on her person in case she ever needed to disassemble some machinery at work. The dogtags were still around her neck at least. At least if she died, whoever found her would be able to identify her body and return it to Tython or wherever the fuck nobodies like her in The Order went after death. Small miracles.

Nothing for it, then. She staggered upright and went to use the loo. When she’d finished, she returned to her place on the bench and thought about how fucked she was.

She’d been in plenty of bad scrapes in her time, but this was taking the coveted position of ‘Worst Hole Ever Dug by Jamie Taylor — May the Force Be With Her.’

A door opened in the near distance, then another, followed by quick footsteps. Jamie frowned at the hallway, waiting for some Czerka pillock to come take her away and shove her out an airlock. Instead Rebecca came into swift view.

"Here," she said, sliding Jamie's handheld mining laser along the floor through the bars, then began trying to pry a section of the wall away from the hallway in order to reveal a nest of wires leading to the control panel. "I've disabled the alarms and cameras for the brig, but we don't have much time. There's a cruiser docked in bay three. It has a hyperdrive and enough rations to get you to wherever you need to go. The Czerka fleet won't fire upon it so long as you're quick and you don't let them figure out it's you."

Jamie did not move. Teeth clenched, she crossed her arms and glowered at the opposite wall.

"Jamie -"

"Nope," Jamie said, jaw taut, refusing to even look in her direction.

"Listen to me," Rebecca gave up on hacking the control panel. She tried to move into Jamie's line of sight but Jamie kept turning her head aside. "There is more to this than what it appears. I know about the infiltration of House Thul. I know about the -"

"I don't care about what you know,” Jamie cut her off. "If you think I'll listen to another word out of your mouth, then you've got another thing coming."

"I'm trying to make sure I can get you out of here alive, you thick-headed Rim-Rat!" Rebecca snapped.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

With a bitter laugh, Rebecca leaned against the frame of the cell, careful to not touch the plasma beam bars. “That’s rich, knowing your history. I’ve never met a person who gets into more trouble than you.”

Jamie put on her best sneer and asked, "What's Quint got over you this time, then? Eh?"

Rebecca shook her head and looked away with an incredulous noise, hands on her hips. "It's not like that."

"Like hell it's not," Jamie growled. "All that time you spent outwitting the Empire, and now this? He is Imperial through and through."

"I know exactly what Peter is."

"Yeah. A piece of shit, who'd sell his mother if it means saving his own sorry hide."

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rebecca said and her voice was low. She darted her eyes down the hall, as if watching for any potential eavesdroppers. “And you are in far deeper shit than you could possibly understand. That woman you’re with -”

Sitting up straighter, Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bench and onto the ground, suddenly alert. “Where is she?”

Rebecca fixed her with a serious expression. Rather than answer, she said, “She’s dangerous.”

“She’s scared,” Jamie corrected.

“Which is quite possibly the worst thing for her to be.”

Rising to her feet, Jamie glowered through the plasma bars. Her voice was pure venom. “If you had just helped me get her to Tython, then I could’ve gotten her proper training.”

“The Order won’t take her.”

Jamie had to stop herself from striking out at the bars, even knowing they would give her burns all across her skin. “You know fuck all about The Order!” she snarled, pointing at Rebecca’s infuriatingly calm face through the bars.

In the distance a door opened with a hiss of pressurized air. Both Jamie and Rebecca tensed and looked over in that direction. Or, well, Jamie tried to look but the view from the cell was pretty limited, all things considered. She'd had better views from the brigs of far less fancy ships than this.

Footsteps approached. Turning back, Rebecca lowered her voice and said in a rush, "Jamie, listen to me for once in your life. You are my friend, and I am going to get you out of this, but you have to do what I say."

Jamie shook her head. "No. Not without her."

Swearing fluently under her breath, Rebecca slammed the section of wall back into place to hide her attempted tampering. She’d only just managed to get everything in place and turn around, when no less than four Czerka guards in green and gold livery marched into sight. All of them were holding blaster rifles and were armoured to boot. They weren’t walking military-grade arsenals like the Republic Troopers from the transport, but they still weren’t people Jamie wanted to fuck with unless she had some serious firepower at her back. Hastily Jamie hid her mining laser in one of her bulky pockets, praying they wouldn’t pat her down.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” one of them said to Rebecca.

Rebecca pointed to a corner of the ceiling. “I noticed the cameras were down and came to investigate in case the prisoner managed to escape.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, then stomped past her to key in a code into the control panel leading to Jamie’s cell. “Next time, alert one of us instead.”

The plasma bars fizzed out of existence. The leader of this particular pillock squad made a sharp motion to the others, and two of them marched forward, grabbed Jamie by the shoulders, and hauled her upright.

“Easy does it, lads,” Jamie grumbled. “Could’ve just asked.”

One of them clipped her on the back of the head with his gauntleted fist. “Quiet.”

After they yanked her hands behind her back and clipped a set of handcuffs around her wrists, they marched her out of the cell. Jamie gave Rebecca the dirtiest glare she possibly could, and Rebecca just rolled her eyes in response, trailing after the group. Two sets of hands remained firm around Jamie’s upper arms as they walked, guiding her further into the depths of the ship.

When they all crowded into an elevator together, doors sliding shut behind them, a cheerful cantina tune began to play.

“So,” Jamie ventured. “Don’t suppose anyone’s got a light?”

No answer. From the corner of her vision, Jamie could just make out Rebecca biting back an ill-timed smile in the back of the elevator. Or maybe she was trying to stop herself from screaming in frustration. Difficult to tell from this angle.

“Just trying to be neighbourly,” Jamie grumbled.

“Shut up,” said one of the guards whose fingers dug into her arm.

A light dinged, the music stopped, and the elevator doors opened with a hiss. Jamie couldn’t see beyond the massive frame of the two guards standing in front of her, but soon the four of them were flanking her as they all moved forward, leading her onto the bridge of what appeared to be Peter Quint’s flagship.

Or at least, that was what Jamie assumed. And given that Peter Quint was standing at the head of the bridge, she reckoned she wasn’t too far off the mark.

His hands were clasped behind his back and he faced away, looking out through the transparisteel windows at the sleek fore of the ship pointing into space, surrounded by a veritable fleet of other vessels that looked like they were on direct loan from the Empire. The long hems of Peter’s dark coat brushed his ankles, but he did not turn around or indeed take any notice of the new arrivals. In fact, he seemed engaged in deep conversation with someone whom Jamie could not see. The light glinted off one of his hands, the metal dark of his cybernetic limb dark. If Jamie hadn’t been looking for it, she might have mistaken it for a glove of some sort.

The bridge split into three segments, the centre being command ending in a . Two of the guards veered off to the left, while another marched straight forward to address Peter. The last kept a firm hold of Jamie’s arm and hauled her off to the right, circling around while Rebecca trailed behind them, silent. As they went, Jamie got a better view of exactly who Peter was talking to, and she started.

“Dani -”

The guard yanked at Jamie’s arm to keep her on course, and the three of them stopped at the head of the right wing, separated from command by a pit sunk into the floor, where engineers and pilots and God only knows who else toiled away pressing buttons or something. Jamie had no idea what was required to run a ship this size. Armed men, apparently, for that constituted the majority of people on the bridge. Guards at the doors. Guards at the helm. Guards along the walls.

Dani’s wrists weren’t bound with handcuffs, but she was kneeling on the ground as if she’d fallen there, and her cheek bore a bruise that was already starting to go purple. Her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she was leaning away from Peter. When Jamie had spoken, Dani’s eyes flicked in her direction then widened. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but snapped it shut once more, wringing her hands together in her lap. She was not wearing the lightsabre anywhere on her person.

Peter had tilted his head to listen to whatever report the guard was delivering to him. He nodded and the guard went away with a sharp salute. And then he turned to look at Jamie.

“Jamie,” he said, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, not nearly enough,” Jamie muttered.

The guard cuffed her again. Not enough to bruise, but enough to sting. On the other side of her, Jamie saw Rebecca’s hand tighten into a fist.

If Peter seemed at all troubled by this exchange, he did not show it. “You’ve led us on a bit of a merry chase, you know. Could’ve saved me the trouble and just let me have her back on Telos IV.”

Nodding towards Dani, Jamie said, "Since when do you care about dead Jedi? Or bounties for that matter? You’re rolling in credits."

Peter let out a bark of laughter. "About - what?" He looked down at Dani, saw the stricken expression on her face, and then he smiled that sickly sweet smile of his. "Oh, I see."

Dani did not move. She did not speak.

When Peter continued speaking, it was not to Jamie. “No, it’s not credits I’m after. Or Jedi. But you know that. Don’t you, darling?” He crouched down before Dani, who shrank back from him. His voice was soft when he said, "You know what I want. Just give it back, love, and you can be on your way. I'll even give you your own personal escort back to Alderaan with enough credits to drown yourself in. How does that sound?"

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. Then her eyes darted in Jamie's direction.

Peter followed her gaze, and Jamie wanted to burn the smirk off his smug fucking face. "Ah, no," he said, turning back to Dani. "I'm afraid that one stays with me."

Dani licked at her lips and straightened her shoulders. "You let her go, or I won’t give it to you."

From this angle Jamie couldn't see the expression on Peter's face. His broad shoulders held a barely restrained tension, as though on the cusp of explosive movement. And when he spoke, even the gentle softness of his voice was a lie, "Very well. You have my word."

Don't, Jamie wanted to shout in warning. Don't do it.

Slowly, Dani reached into her cloak and unpicked a section of the lining, revealing a makeshift hidden pocket. She rummaged around then pulled something out and set it on the floor. Jamie strained to get a better look. Her captor kneed her roughly in the back for her trouble, and she would've gone face first into the ground if not for the hand in her hair yanking her back so that she remained upright.

It didn't stop her from catching a glimpse of what was being exchanged, however. Shards of metal, black gold. All in pieces, like a disassembled puzzle.

Peter was silent. He stared down at the pieces Dani had placed at his feet. Then in a smooth motion he stood, pushing himself upright to loom over her.

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked in that too quiet, too dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, Dani shook her head. "No, I -"

Peter kicked the pieces away with a vicious swipe of his foot, and Dani flinched back with a startled cry. He darted forward and seized a handful of her cloak.

"Where is it?" he snarled.

"That's - That's all I have! The box fell apart after I touched it, I swear!"

Peter's hand tightened around the fabric, pulling up so that Dani was held slightly off the ground by the scruff of her neck, her feet scrambling for purchase on the metal flooring. "Box?" he repeated. "I'm not asking about a fucking toy box! Where is the holocron?"

"The -? The what?"

With a vicious curse, he threw her back onto the ground. Dani caught herself on her hands with a hiss of pain, and she flinched back when Peter began to circle her.

"Don't play dumb," he said. "You know what I'm after."

"I don't -"

"You think I'm fucking blind? You think a piece of shit nobody from a backwater in Alderaan can kill a Jedi? You think you just woke up one day with powers?" He stalked around her, his expression a mask of fury. "You are nothing. You are nobody. You're not Force sensitive. You're a puppet. Just a piece of meat to house something greater, and you don't even fucking know it!"

The deck fell silent but for the beep of electronics, the rustle of fabric as pilots kept the ship on course. Jamie darted a look towards Rebecca, but her face was carefully blank and guarded, her thumb hooked through the belt of her blaster pistol in a way that Jamie knew meant she was actually nervous about something. None of which boded well.

“I was so close,” Peter was saying, and he didn’t even seem to be talking to Dani anymore. His words were a ranting mutter, wrathful and desperate. The metal of his robotic arm clicked in a menacing fashion every time he clenched his hand into a rhythmic fist. “This was it. This was my last run. The last deed I’d ever have to do for those evil cocksuckers on Dromund Kaas. Plant a holocron and be done with it. Be free of the Empire forever. Until you -”

His voice trailed off and his steps slowed to a halt. In the muddy light of the bridge, he was a faceless silhouette. He clenched his metal fist so tightly that it creaked and sparked. Dani shivered on the ground at his feet, her shoulders hunched, as though she were trying to make herself small enough to disappear.

“You went snooping. You took something that didn’t belong to you. And I need it back. No matter the price.” In a swift movement, Peter crouched down on his haunches again. Dani flinched back, but Peter merely watched her for a long and uncomfortable moment before he continued, “So, what’s it going to be?”

From where she stood, Jamie could just make out the defiant set of Dani’s jaw.

Sighing, Peter reached out and tucked a stray curl of hair behind Dani’s ear, while Dani sat, frozen in place. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like hurting people,” he said. “Always the worst way of going about it. And, you know, it just doesn’t work as well as you’d think. So, tell me. What’s your price? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you to talk?”

When again Dani did not answer, Peter withdrew his hand. “Normally I’m a patient man, but as we live and breathe, there’s a Dark Lord of the Sith coming our way. If you don’t deal with me, then you’ll be dealing with him. And I assure you: you want to be dealing with me instead.”

Licking her lips, Dani said, “I already told you everything I know.”

“Well, that is disappointing.”

Jamie tried to shift her feet slightly so she could get a better angle on the rest of the bridge, but the guard behind her kicked her in the back of the knee. When she went down with a grunt of pain, her knee slamming into the ground, the guard then yanked her back up by the handcuffs behind her with enough force she felt her arm sockets complain.

“Get up,” the guard growled, and Jamie shot him a look that should have dropped him on the spot.

The brief commotion drew Peter and Dani’s attention back in this direction. Peter pushed himself upright and turned, while Dani’s panicked gaze moved from him to Jamie and back again.

“Or maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Peter murmured. He walked slowly across the bridge towards Jamie.

“Even if I did know something, you and I both know I’d rather cut out my own tongue than tell you,” Jamie spat. The guard tightened his hold on her handcuffs, but she pinned him in place with a fierce glare and said, “Touch me again, and I’ll end you, mate.”

Peter held up his hand before the guard could react. When Jamie faced him once more, Peter was close enough that she could see the thin scar on his cheek. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been the one to give it to him. She didn’t know where in his sordid past he’d gotten it.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that never touched his eyes. “Oh, Jamie. I never thought you actually knew something. You’re much too simple to get sensible answers before leaping to a lost cause.”

In spite of herself, Jamie’s gaze darted to Dani who was watching their interaction with naked dread.

Peter followed her gaze and grinned. “Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.”

And without further ado, he drew his blaster pistol, pointed it at Jamie, and shot her. The smell of burnt flesh was an afterthought to the blinding pain that sent her vision white. Jamie staggered, keeling slowly over the charred wound low in her abdomen just above her hip. Something cold was pressed against her face, and it was with a blurred realisation that Jamie found herself lying on the floor. She blinked through the muzzy borders of her vision, trying to move and only managing to gurgle weakly.

Right. Bad idea, that.

At least blaster fire didn’t allow for my bleeding. Mass internal burn trauma, yes, but she wasn’t about to bleed out on the floor. Every breath was a sharp lance through Jamie’s stomach. She pushed herself into a crouch on all fours, registering the commotion around her as if experiencing it through water.

“ - Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare -!”

“Peter, killing her gets you nothing. You should -”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Becs! I won’t be taking orders ever again! Not from you, and especially not from the Empire!”

“Then get what you need, but Jamie doesn’t have it. And neither, it seems, does she.”

Three sets of boots surrounded her. The guard beside her, and Rebecca standing between her and Peter. As Jamie tilted her head up, Peter started to stalk away. His footsteps were loud against the metal grating of the floor, and he dropped heavily into the captain’s chair at the head of the bridge. He had holstered his pistol and now he reached down to pick up something that had been propped up against the base of the chair.

He pressed a button, and the lightsabre leapt to life. The blue light scattered across his face. “The holocron isn’t on Alderaan,” Peter said. “We did a very thorough check. Which means you -” he pointed the lightsabre at Dani, who was now standing at the centre of the bridge facing him, “- must have left it somewhere between there and Telos IV.”

Dani’s expression was dark, her hands were trembling fists at her side.

With a sigh, Peter sheathed the lightsabre and set it on the arm of his chair. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs so that his ankle was propped on his opposite knee. Addressing the guard beside Jamie, he said, “Rebecca’s right Jamie doesn’t know anything of use. Take her to the lower decks and throw her out the airlock.”

The guard did not even say an affirmative. He simply hauled Jamie to her feet, and began dragging her back towards the exit despite Rebecca’s protests.

“Leave her alone.”

There was something wrong with Dani’s voice. An odd burr, a hard quality that did not suit her. She still had her gaze fixed upon Peter, but something in the way she spoke made every person in the room tense. The guard shoving Jamie along froze, looking back towards Peter for further instruction.

There was an internal pressure building in Jamie’s chest, something like desperation, like the acrid aftertaste of gunmetal and blasterfire. All around them, the wall panels groaned. A few crumpled beneath the strain. Rupture of pipe and control panels, and with a screech of metal on metal all the lights on the bridge went out. Steam from the burst pipes billowed along the floor. Every guard in the room — even Jamie’s — raised their weapon towards Dani, glancing nervously around. Moments later, the emergency lighting flickered to life, illuminating the deck with a faint glow.

Quint’s face was cast from below. Unlike the others, he had not moved, remaining slouched on his captain’s chair like a low-slung throne. He smiled at Dani. “Was that supposed to impress anyone?”

Dani reached out her hand and the sabre that had been resting on the arm of Peter’s chair was in Dani’s grasp before Jamie could even blink, as though it had leapt into place there. With a press of her thumb, the blade extended, slicing a blue line through the gloom. The air was cold, so cold that Jamie could see her own breath misting in a cloud, and the icy fear that had twisted in her chest was a thing now slicked with darkness. A treachery of black ice beneath every step.

She watched, handcuffed and helpless, as Dani gripped the sabre so tightly that her hands shook. One of Dani’s eyes gleamed gold and bright, unblinking, fixed upon Peter, and from the hilt a crimson light peeled down the length of the blade, a slow and burning bleed of kyber, until the sabre was completely engulfed in a light as red as a dying star.

“Open fire,” Peter said, voice trembling, face pale, staring at her with wide eyes. He jabbed his finger in Dani’s direction and repeated in a shout to the room at large, “Open fucking fire!”

Over a dozen guardsmen sighted down their blaster rifles and began shooting. The lightsabre was a living thing in Dani’s hands. It moved in ways Jamie had only ever seen in training manuals, in the hands of Knights and Masters. No motion wasted. Every angle of the blade made with surety of purpose.

Four guards were dead by their own reflected blaster fire before they could even manage to pull the trigger a second time. Dani reached out, and four others had their rifles ripped from their hands, the weapons warping into useless hunks of metal and cast aside. One of the guards stationed at the exit raced forward, pulling out a long knife that had been strapped to his thigh. Dani did not even pause in deflecting incoming blaster fire; she swept the lightsabre behind her, passing the hilt between her hands and bringing it back around. Half of the guard’s severed body went careening into the control pit, where the pilots and engineers cowered with hands over their heads. The other half skidded to a halt on the floor, dead weight.

Jamie’s mouth hung open. Blaster fire continued to fly through the air in streaks of red. The guard who had been assigned to her was torn between trying to shoot Dani and trying to keep a hand on his charge. Then Rebecca stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of her pistol to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, and Jamie swore loudly.

Crouching down, Rebecca grabbed something off the guard’s body and used it to unlock Jamie’s handcuffs. “Don’t just stand there!” Rebecca yelled over the din, and she circled an arm around Jamie’s waist to help her along. “Let’s go!”

The two of them lurched towards the exit. A deflected shot struck the ground beside them, and they ducked down. Smoke and steam filled the air. The smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh was thick enough to make Jamie gag. Cursing under her breath all the while, Rebecca pulled Jamie to the exit, where a guardsman was sprawled, dead on the floor with a hole the size of a fist burnt through his chest. Rebecca had to let go of Jamie for a second to haul the guard closer so she could use his hand to unlock the biosecurity lock on the exit. The panel flashed green, and Rebecca dropped the guard in favour of Jamie again.

The elevator was eleven floors down and slowly started to ascend.

“Come on,” Rebecca was muttering under her breath to herself. “Come on, come on, come on -”

Behind them, the blaster fire dwindled to a halt. There was the sound of something heavy and wet falling to the ground. With a thrill of sickening fear gripping her stomach, Jamie turned and felt Rebecca do the same.

The walls were scarred and pitted. A shower of sparks fell from the ceiling where a wall panel had been shot loose. Through the haze of smoke, Jamie could make out the shape of bodies scattered across the floor, and at the very centre of it all Dani stood.

Her back was to them. She faced the captain’s chair, the lightsabre burning red through the acrid smoke. For a moment it seemed Peter was standing to his feet, but then Jamie realised he was being lifted up. He grasped at his throat with both hands, heels lashing out at the air, making wordless strangled noises, gasping. Then his head snapped to one side with a sickening crack, and he went still. Dani looked up at him and with an almost lazy gesture, tossed him aside. His body slammed into a far wall and fell to the ground in a heap.

Jamie’s pulse skyrocketed when Dani turned around and looked at them. And when Dani started to stalk in their direction, adrenaline coursed through Jamie; every nerve in her body was screaming for her to flee, to hide in some small dark place until this danger had passed over the land like the shadow of night.

Dani’s cold gaze fell upon Rebecca, and she raised the lightsabre once more.

“Woah!” Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the pain doing funny things to her head, but Jamie leapt in front of Rebecca, hands trembling and lifted as though in surrender. “No, no! I mean, yeah, I’m also mad at her, but I don’t want her to die!”

“Thanks,” muttered Rebecca behind her.

“Shut up,” Jamie muttered back.

Dani had gone still, but the weapon was still a gleaming line of bloody crimson held overhead.

“She can get us a cruiser with a hyperdrive,” Jamie said. “We can get out of here. Just - put down the lightsabre? Please?”

The elevator made a bright ding behind them and the doors slid open. Dani leveled the lightsabre and for a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cut it straight through her from shoulder to hip. The blade stopped, pointing at Rebecca just over Jamie’s shoulder, and she made a sharp little gesture with the tip that Jamie could hear burning up the air right next to her ear.

"Move," Dani ordered softly, and her voice sounded odd. As though there was more than one person speaking in unison.

Rebecca moved, backing slowly into the elevator. Lowering her hands, Jamie followed. Dani watched them with the fixedness of a predator, the air around her cold enough that Jamie shivered when Dani stepped into the small enclosed space with them. The lightsabre still seared in Dani’s fist, pointed towards the ground. Rebecca hit a button for hangar bay three, and the doors of the elevator shut with a hiss.

The elevator started its descent. If this had been any other time, Jamie might have been tempted to reach out, gently grasp Dani’s wrist and urge her to put the lightsabre away. But this was not any other time, and there was nothing of the woman Jamie had grown to know over the last week in Dani’s face now. She stared blankly at the shut elevator doors, never blinking.

They arrived at hangar bay three and Rebecca immediately rushed over to the console that controlled access to the ship docked just beyond the hangar doors. She hooked something into the base of the console, making the screen flicker before giving her full admin privileges. As she started keying in the right commands, Jamie walked up beside her.

Dani drifted behind her, blade in hand, completely silent. It felt like being followed by a mute ghost.

Whatever Rebecca did worked. The hangar doors unlatched, turned, then slowly opened to reveal the sleek polished interior of a luxury cruiser yacht. Jamie stepped into the yacht’s entryway and looked around at the gleaming walls. Finally, Dani hit the button to sheathe the lightsabre and brushed past Jamie without a glance in her direction, vanishing around a corner of the cruiser. The brief contact made Jamie shiver.

“Right. Okay,” said Jamie, hand pressing on the wound at her abdomen, still jittery from that feeling of being prey in the sights of something with very big teeth. She turned to Rebecca. “Fuck you, I guess?”

From behind the console, Rebecca smiled weakly at her. “I suppose I deserve that. Does this mean I owe you a favour?”

“The biggest favour,” Jamie said gravely. “Like - seriously huge.”

“Until next time, then. Oh, and Jamie?” Rebecca said, and Jamie paused to glance back at her. “Don’t die.”

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded, then Rebecca hit the button to shut the doors.

Easier said than done.

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #roman writes #no great revelation #damie #dani clayton/jamie

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antidotenurse · 3 years

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If you had the chance to rewrite zexal what would you change abt it and what you you put more focus on?

😳 Okay well… Let’s see. I’m no writer. And admittedly, I’m not as versed in episode citing as much as other people I know. I’m just that person who, after watching something else, will come back to zexal and look at it wondering: “Why is literally nothing happening ever?” So bear in mind my lack of tact and proper vocabulary.

I’d probably keep it more or less the same… but with a couple shifts here and there. More indulgent stuff on my end is having the Numbers Club y’know, actually DO things. And it’d be nice to have Astral and Yuma have a slight falling out and work build up trust again post-sargasso before he dies.

Most of what my brain jumps to when it comes to “stuff in zexal i’d wanna full on rewrite” revolves almost primarily around Rio and Nasch stuff since I don’t really like it’s execution in the first place. …And Tori. But Tori might likely have to be a separate discussion altogether. So, I guess I’m trying to make a more semi-realistic scenario within certain boundaries? Ex. No adding other episodes, and if something is taken away something new must be added in. And aside from one duel, duels will remain the same.

FIRST AND FOREMOST: Rio is not killed off for a second time once she wakes up. Her being in a coma fundamentally doesn’t change her role at all as a person giving out “premonitions” whatsoever. It’s actually kind of insane. I’m not gonna go through everything just major moments. A lot and also very little goes on within episodes, I’ll just rely folk can fill in the blanks.

So for some mindfulness, from Abyss onwards, Rio is here.

SHARK VS. ABYSS and then some follow up:

Originally, this set of episodes involved Rio being possessed, and Shark fights Abyss and from there we learn about the Nasch and Merag stuff. Mostly the latter but for some reason focus is on Shark. Rio is then promptly put into a coma again and Shark wangst happens from here on out until the face-heel turn during the Astral World arc.

I’d probably make it start with… Idk. I feel like the original beginning of the episode works fine since it begins with visions being had by Rio. Blah blah, she’s confused, time to find another number. It’s in a weird spot in the middle of the ocean. For whatever reason, this area in the ocean feels really distressing for her. But, regardless, instead of a storm hitting and Rio suddenly going “missing”— as the crew tries deciphering the location, her “powers” take over and cursed by something unknown she jumps from the airship into the sea, followed by Shark who dives in after her (and yuma dives in after shark). Very dumb but the episode must start somehow. And this is likely played more seriously but I can’t help but laugh a bit at the thought.

Shark awakes in an undersea labyrinth, and somehow isn’t dead. Wtf? But hey! He found Rio nearby and she’s okay! The goal is finding the number tho, and her “powers” lead them to it. And uh oh here we go. A guardian is here to keep them from taking it. (As for Yuma, he and Astral’s sideplot about getting lost in the labyrinth is exactly the same, so dw about this)

The duel??? I said I wouldn’t change most, but this is a major exception. I’m making it Shark and Rio VS. Abyss. A two on one duel. We never once saw Rio and Shark play off each other in a duel setting when working together, and I feel like that was a prime missed opportunity. Especially for characters who just episodes prior, had this really weird one v. one duel. This needs something of a resolution. ALSO The memories here do involve both of them, so let both of them go ham.

However, since the memory flashbacks tend to tie into Merag a liiiittle more already (and the more major Nasch stuff will come later), Rio should be the first person to experience the Barian memories out of the two of them. We already got a bit of that with her visions at the start. As the duel progresses, Rio becomes more distressed by what she’s experiencing. During the duel Rio has lots of out of body experiences, on the one hand she’s present in the duel. On the other hand, she slips back into living life as Priestess Merag. But, for some reason, he doesn’t have a lot of control of herself?

But obviously, what Rio remembers is far worse since she pretty much relives her own death and can’t control her “mind.”

Meanwhile, Shark also goes through his vision onslaught, clearly thinking majority of this is some kind of manipulation tactic by Abyss. Episode more or less plays out the same minus damsel stuff. Durbe confronting Yuma and Astral still happens, Abyss being cryptic as hell still occurs and you know. Anyway, they win and get the number, and they all reappear on the deck of the airship knocked out. Everyone wakes up, it feels like a dream but they have the number?? So it couldn’t be?? Rio wakes up last though, which momentarily scares Shark.

TIME FOR REFLECTION!! Rio is fine, but clearly shaken. All those visions she saw… they meant something. Something inside her is telling her that. While Shark too is distraught and stressed by what he experienced during the duel… he doesn’t come to grips at all with it. He’s in more overt denial. In fact, he’s furious. Their lives weren’t lies?! How can she even THINK that? NONE of that was real! Also, wtf why the fuck did she jump into the ocean?! She could’ve died! Shark is emotionally overwhelmed both in potentially losing his sister again, and also the whole barian thing.

Rio isn’t on board either, but she’s always been the more “open” of the two. She’s not down for Shark’s behavior in the slightest, nor his seeming lack of empathy. Y’know? That more abrasive denial thing from Shark that feels a bit more in-line than just moping about a dead sister. Also, she literally relived dying so like. Fuck man that whole lack of empathy thing isn’t cool to her.

P.S Rio isn’t saying they’re Barians, but, maybe it’s her powers of “foresight” getting to her… something about what she saw feels too real to ignore, while the A plot goes on, she’s processing that very real possibility. This starts to cause something of a rift between otherwise close siblings.

Durbe proceeds to use this to his advantage.

[Next episodes: astral dies. Those episodes play out exactly the same except now Rio is part of the peanut gallery. The fearsome four stuff begins]

SHARK AND THOMAS VS. JELLYFISH MAN

Ok we know what happens in the original. Sort of. I’ll be honest? Haven’t seen these eps in a while. But, Shark goes to his old mansion to relive childhood memories, meanwhile coma Rio is poisoned by jelly man, and Shark also gets poisoned too. IV shows up dadada he’s sorry about the Rio thing but he never speaks to her. Things are gettin’ crazy. Something to that effect, I probably went out of order.

I think what I’d do is have Shark and Rio get into a fight about the barian stuff. Or something that really exemplifies the rift between that’s grown between them since Abyss. Either way, it leads to Shark leaving to the one place he feels he can really think — their old childhood home.

(Also Blah blah plot about strings of poisonings fucking people up is going on in the background that Yuma, Trey and Tori are focused on. Why not the numbers club?? Idk you tell me. Real zexal won’t allow that.)

Rio, in the meantime, after reflecting on what was said and done- goes to find Shark. And she knows exactly where he’d go. (Yuma, III, and Tori are present when she does this so they pursue her shortly thereafter. This is to replace the moments in the hospital)

P.S Durbe is watching all of this happen.

Shark reminisces at the mansion, and is promptly attacked by a monster and poisoned. IV shows up how he does originally and yadada duel starts.

Halfway through Rio and co. Find shark and IV dueling jellyfish man. Rio recognizes her bro is hurt, but Shark is not down for Rio or anybody else tagging in for any reason. There’s an interruptive conflict that’s super awkward for everyone involved (so maybe levity from jellyfish or IV can be put here) Yuma and co. show up at the tail end of this brief exchange.

And Rio, still riled up despite attempting to reach out, retreats into the mansion. The duel outside continues, but inside is where she encounters Durbe.

Ideally a moment would be had between Rio and Durbe similarly to a scene in a later episode with Shark and Durbe, but for the most part this will be small and not seen in full. But Durbe holds out Merag’s crest to Rio and he likely says some cryptic anime nonsense about “destiny” or something.

Because she’s been sensing “it” since the Abyss duel, and he firmly believes that she’s known the truth for a lot longer than she wants to admit.

We don’t see Rio again until the duel ends and she’s found inside the mansion. She seems, at “peace” for some reason? Something about her feels… different. Durbe is nowhere to be seen.

Insert moment here where IV and Rio actually, y’know. TALK. But things are kinda too late-ish now… cuz Rio has somebody else to deal with next.

[astral world arc begins]

Aight, while Yuma is off in Astral world dueling Eliphas and saving Astral, Durbe finally puts his final phase into motion to FINALLY convince Shark to accept who he actually is. Something he’s been fighting for a while now. And surprisingly, Rio is helping Durbe, much to Shark’s shock.

Shark at this point had been in his anguish full of regret for being pretty bitchy lately. All the fights, this barian stuff, the confusion, the fact it’s like he doesn’t even KNOW his sister anymore (and this Shark very likely doesn’t), it’s overwhelming as fuck and he’s tired.

Episode plays out normally with Durbe making Shark relive his life during his last encounter with Vector, the Iris thing, the men dying blah blah. That episode is kind of awesome to begin with, so borderline nothing changes here.

The the difference mostly being that the setup is a bit more concrete. Instead of Rio kinda just, being dead and a spirit “guide” to help Shark’s wangst and immediately following his face-heel turn with no insight on how she felt, we’ve been experiencing how she feels for a while and been seeing how it affects her and Shark’s relationship for a while.

It’s eventually mentioned that Durbe showed Rio these memories back at the mansion. Because showing somebody their twins terrible life after you died definitely isn’t horrifying!! Anyway, Rio came to accept the truth… because, like Durbe said before, she’s “always” known.

HOW? Because it turns out Rio’s powers of foresight she’s been experiencing throughout the series were her memories of being Merag trying really really hard to get out this whole time. That’s why she acts differently in those sudden moments. That’s how Rio knows these she couldn’t possibly know.

Rio being present as a “spirit” is there to help guide Shark through this experience, because he’s always been doing things alone for her. Time she returned the favor.

Everything plays out pretty much exactly the same, after all that anguish and reliving trauma where his army dies and Iris dies- Shark FINALLY accepts the truth about himself being Nasch. He and Rio switch sides together (because they weren’t going to do it alone).

Nasch and Merag take their spots in Barian World, and stuff proceeds to play out as normal. Sort of.

None of this is really all that great, but it’s a start? Again, I’m not a writer and a lot of this would realistically be overshadowed by the scheduled duels that play out, the A plot with Yuma, and generally be a lot more condensed due to the limited amount of episodes left. All this to say that there’s more ways than “dead sister” to make something happen. I dunno these are all minor shifts and my vocabulary is hyperbolic.

#antidote asks #again I'm not a writer #the focus is mostly the same. I just didn't like all the wangst #this series isn’t exactly high art in terms of writing so I wouldn’t call this perfect.#THIS TOOK ME MOST OF LAST NIGHT AND THIS MORNINGFF

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arthurtristankingsmen · 4 years

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Night Talks

I made a little one shot of Mystery PoV in the hospital. It’s sad and a bit rough because I’m out of practice, but it’s the longest thing in a while so I’m pretty happy. Enjoy!

He could feel his gaze on him, even with his eyes closed. Something heavy settled on his chest, but there were some things he couldn’t run from forever.

Mystery finally opened his eyes, locking them with Arthur from where he’d curled into a tiny ball. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too deep or shift or jostle the sheets. He was stone, small as possible and smaller still. A statue at the foot of the bed.

Arthur was drawn and pale, bloodless lips already trembling. His jaw locked tight and his throat bobbed with swallows, punctuated by his shallow, harsh breaths. He could hear the rabbiting of Arthur’s heart even from the opposite side of the bed.

He’d seen terror like that before. Years and centuries before, so very long ago. He’d seen men with that look, radiating with a fear so intense it rendered them silent as they drowned under it. It was the look they’d had, right before they’d fallen lifeless. Seeing it before had made him feel so smug. So powerful…

…seeing it on Arthurs’ face was a knife between his ribs. His ears pinned back, flat to his skull. An involuntary whine slipped out, half stifled.

Arthur came alive at the sound. His right arm moved to where his left should have been. His fingers fumbled with air, and he slipped on the bed, sucking in a breath and kicking up the sheets in his effort to sit up. To scramble away. He couldn’t get much further than the far end of the bed with the IV in his arm, but he stayed there, plastered and flat against the plastic headboard until it creaked in protest. He stared at Mystery with eyes crinkled at the edges with pain, so wide he could see himself in them and pupils blown. The room stayed silent, except the soft snores of Vivi as she slept in the chair beside the bed.

Mystery shifted the barest amount, and swallowed something thick and dense when Arthur’s breath caught. “…I can leave.”

Arthur’s gaze bore into him. “Wh—” He coughed, voice hoarse and cracked. “I—.” He looked down to his left, and the bandaged stump of his arm twitched. He winced and swallowed again and looked at Mystery, from the corner of his eyes. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin and he swayed slightly. Another minute of silence.

His voice was microscopic when he found it. “…Why?”

It was such a small question, loaded like a bullet. Mystery’s gaze went to the sheets on the bed. “…There was something in the cave. A spirit—but a malicious one. I…I did what I did, to keep it from consuming you entirely.” Each word felt meticulous in his mouth, plucked with care as if any one of them might shatter everything.

Arthur’s swallow was audible. “Oh.” He slurred slightly from whatever was pumped into his system, and stayed was silent so long Mystery thought that was all he’d say. “I uh…” Arthur cleared his throat, “…I guess that—it makes sense. That cave—it…something was off. I—I don’t remember anything. Anything besides—. ”

Arthur cut off, but Mystery knew what went unsaid. “I am sorry Arthur…but you were right. There was something there. Something dangerous. We didn’t have time for a less…aggressive measure.” He rested his head on his paws, catching the way Arthur zeroed in on the movement in his periphery. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But… I had to.”

“Was it necessary?” Arthur blurted. “I—I just—I mean Vivi was there too—couldn’t’ you have gotten her? She has all those books on exorcisms and shit she could’ve—.” He curled forward on himself.

“…There was an immediate threat.” Mystery murmured. “I—had to.”

“Why?” Arthur asked, hoarse voice turning harsh.

“It wanted to do more than possess you for a time. It wasn’t like the others.” A whine paired with his words. “It was taking you over. It was too quick for assistance. Vivi was—distracted. It wanted to hurt everyone. I just did what I could. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I had to save you.” He had to save someone.

Arthur looked away. “I—sorry. I’m just…” He trailed away, palm covering his eyes. “…it’s. God, it’s so much. I—we’ve known each other a long time. I believe you I just—.”

“It’s not something you can just get over.” Mystery offered in a muted voice. “I know what you saw. What you must have felt. And your arm… I am sorry I had to put you through it.”

“It’s—alright I won’t say it’s okay I’m just—fuck. I don’t know—I can’t even process-- this.” He shook his head hard, wincing and grabbing his shoulder. His eyes were red-ringed and his nose was starting to run and give his words a nasal twang, but Mystery chose not to acknowledge it. “I mean we knew you were something else—you said you weren’t a dog but—I don’t know. I didn’t want that to be how I saw what you were. Are. I just—can’t get it out of my head…”

Mystery tucked his tail between his legs. “….Do you want me to leave? I…would understand.”

Arthur thought for a long moment. He waded through the pause with bated breath. “I—I don’t know… no. No. You said you were protecting me. Us. I—it hurt. I’m—this is a lot. Just— fuck. But—but I believe you. That you did the best you could. I’ve known you years and—and you’ve never given me a reason to not. So. You can stay. Just…just….I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to be scared. Not of you.”

The knife already in his chest twisted. He released his breath and another soft whine broke free, coming from somewhere deeper in his chest than the last. It felt like nettles stung along his skin. “Arthur… ”

Arthur wiped at his face again. “How—what happened? Is—how is Vivi? Lewis? I don’t see him—is he here?”

Mystery’s stomach formed a new knot. “I…..” What could he even say?

He didn’t know how his face had shifted, but Arthur frowned. “That look—Mystery what’s—where’s Lewis…?”

“What…what do you remember, Arthur…?”

Arthur looked at the ceiling. “I remember—going inside the cave. Being creeped out and—a-and just not feeling great.” Arthur swallowed and looked further away. “I—remember us getting to that split with the signs. With those fake skulls. And those—things that hold the ropes. Starts with a…...something. A letter. Um. The S one.”

“Stanchions...”

“Right. Those…what you said. But…yeah. I remember feeling on edge. Then you went with Vi and I went with Lew. We were going up this tunnel and he was saying something and—…that’s it. I remember… I remember feeling sleepy. And then…. nothing. Until—my arm—” His tone lilted the last word, a twinge of fear.

Mystery’s next breath coated his lungs in cobwebs. A beat passed. Two. Arthur opened his mouth again, but Mystery finally filled the silence before he spoke. “Lewis…he… Arthur, Lewis didn’t…make it.”

“………What?”

The whispered word sank like a stone and sent ripples through the room. It seemed to muffle every other noise to nothing. “No. Nono. No. He’s okay right? Lewis is okay. Lewis is always okay. He—he’s fine. He’s just in the other room or at home with his family, right? Mystery now isn’t the time to mess with me tell me he’s okay.”

Mystery lowered himself further on the bed. “Arthur…I can’t.”

It was silent again a beat. Another. And then Arthur crashed forward, clutching at his hair collapsing all at once like a house of cards. “No-- nono no No he’s not— you can’t know that Lewis can’t be—No! I don’t believe it! I never even. I never—. He’s not allowed to be gone—” A sob ripped itself free from his chest.

Mystery could scarcely breathe. He inched forward on the bed at a snail’s crawl, closer to Arthur. Every second of Arthur’s pain garroted his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could help, but he couldn’t just sit there.

When he’d inched close enough, he went to speak, but Arthur’s arm snagged him in a loop around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Arthur buried his face in his fur and clung to his scruff with his fingers, shaking and sobbing.

He hated the relief he felt, that Arthur still sought him for comfort. He shouldn’t feel gratitude while one of the people who mattered most to him mourned a thousand things unsaid.

“Arthur—I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I wish I had been faster.” His every word was laced with whines and his ears laid flatter than ever. “I should have saved him. I could have.” He’d been right there, right behind them. And he’d just watched. Watched and refrained, in case Arthur could stop himself, because he knew transforming meant she might reach him. “I hesitated. I hesitated because I was afraid. It’s my fault...” He did his best, but his composure cracked with every tear wetting his fur. “I should have stopped this—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“How did this happen—how do you know he’s—? How—How do you know he’s not still out there?” Arthur’s voice was soaked in his anguish, and it dripped down his neck.

Mystery’s breath caught. He couldn’t let Arthur know the truth. Not everything. He couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t do this again to him. He couldn’t take his arm and everything else. “The spirit—it killed him. You had both reached a ledge when I caught up. It—the spirit made him fall from the ledge. It killed him and then it tried to possess you.”

Arthur made a sound, an awful sound that was like teeth rending his own flesh. “Did— did I hurt him?”

“….No. No. No you didn’t Arthur.” He swallowed and nuzzled Arthur’s hair, gentle with his mouth pointed away. “I’m sorry… I wish I had done more… he—he’s gone.” It hurt to even say. To think about. Both for the way Arthur crumbled at the words, and the admittance of something he tried not to think about.

He wished dogs could cry. Then he could mourn another friend and all that had happened with Arthur.

If he could cry, at least then he’d have some kind of release.

“It’s not your fault…” Arthur regained his attention with gentle words in his fur. “I-if Lewis really…...did. You—saved me. You did what you could. You said you did. You—You can’t blame you. For not knowing what was there a-and not doing something fast enough. None of us did. And you tried to save us. You—you saved me.”

Mystery swallowed heavier. “I could have done so much more…”

“We—we all could have. We all could have kept this from happening.” Arthur whispered. “If I’d just—we all could’ve…”

Mystery whined softly, though it cut off when Vivi stirred a moment. She settled again in her sleep. “I… suppose…” He nuzzled Arthur again, if only because he could for now, and he wasn’t sure how long that would last. “I am still sorry. That it came to this.”

“That’s how I know I can trust you…” Arthur finally pulled back, red-faced still, but with a resolution on his face he didn’t expect.

The words pinged at him, but he focused on the expression. Arthur continued after a moment. “Tell me exactly what happened. Everything after I—after you…. Stopped the possession.”

Mystery frowned. “…Vivi was… she had been screaming. She had been where Lewis… fell. You were bleeding out… I knew there was not much I do much for you. But Vivi might. I rushed to find her. She was dazed from shock, but she came with me when she knew you were in danger. She did something with her scarf. A tourniquet, to stop you from bleeding out. I helped her get you to the van and…retrieved the keys.” He shuddered. “She drove you here, to the hospital, while I tried to keep you awake.” He looked down.

“You…you both left him…?”

Mystery frowned. “We had…other priorities. You would have died, had we hesitated, or taken any longer.” And that was a terrifying thought on its own.

“Okay…” He could hear the sound of Arthur swallowing this close to him, and of his mind turning something over, the gears turning quick. “Okay. Okay. But—but if you were rushing and— dealing with me—did you check that Lewis was—that he didn’t survive…?”

That pulled Mystery’s gaze back up. “…I didn’t have to.”

“But did you check? Did you make sure?”

“No—but… it was very clear he was not alive, Arthur...” He said it in the gentlest tone he could manage.

“But you don’t know that for sure. You didn’t check his pulse.” Arthur’s voice had an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Arthur. He landed on a stalagmite.”

“—God.” Arthur’s face drained further of any blood, expression twisting and vomitous. “—But—But people have survived worse—adrenaline—.”

“Arthur… he did not survive. I know what you are thinking,” The questions made it obvious, “but he is not alive. I know you want me to be wrong, but—.”

“He could be! You don’t know!” Arthur sounded so desperate, it ached. “and even if he really isn’t—maybe he’d come back! We know that’s possible—he wouldn’t leave Vivi. We have to—I can’t let that be goodbye Mystery—This can’t be it. I can’t let this be it.”

Mystery felt the frown on his face deepen, pulling his jowls downwards. “Arthur…you are holding on to a hope that is not there. I cannot confirm he did pass in our haste, but I have no doubt he did. Telling yourself otherwise…you are going to end up disappointed.” Perhaps Lewis would come back. But Mystery refused to hold his breath and allow himself a second heartache. He had lost enough over the years not to expect the world to be so kind to him.

But if Lewis did return, he was sure he would come to Tempo to find them. Lewis would be so worried after seeing Arthur possessed, after all. So if he did find the strength and the will to remain, Lewis would come in search of them instead.

“If I end up disappointing myself, it won’t be anything new.” Arthur mumbled, before shaking his head and pulling further back. He leaned back against the pillow at the headboard. “Lewis has it worse. I just… I can’t leave him out there. Not until I know for sure. That he’s really gone. He wouldn’t leave any of us behind. I—I can’t. Vivi can’t either, I’m sure. As soon as I’m out of here…. I have to look. I have to.”

“…… If you wish, I will help you look.” Mystery relented after a long pause. “I cannot let you go alone. Vivi likely will not either. And she will want to find him as well, I am sure. So if this is what you need, then… we will not stop you. But at least give yourself time to recover. You’ve been through so much…” At Arthur’s nod, he felt his muscles ease of the tension they’d held. “Thank you. I will help you as much as I can. But I am telling you now, Arthur…… do not get your hopes up.”

“I won’t.” Arthur said, already lying by the look on his face.

Mystery could only sigh, soft and defeated. “…You should rest, Arthur. Your body needs to heal.”

Arthur nodded, and waited more cautiously than he likely meant to, until Mystery had jumped off the bed. To his credit, Arthur’s flinch as he landed was slight, all but unnoticeable to anyone else.

Mystery gave him a wider berth and watched as Arthur wriggled down into the sheets and against his pillow. He almost thought Arthur would listen and try to rest. The shadows beneath his eyes were nearly black, and the medicine had to make every further moment awake a battle. But then Arthur’s voice rose again. “How…how is Vivi…? After everything… I… is she okay…?”

“….Vivi is….off.” Mystery admitted. “She has not done much since you were hospitalized. She was also checked into the hospital, and she was brought to a place to change and shower. But she has not left your side since. She has cried some, but she’s…mostly been quiet. She has not spoken of Lewis yet. I think she may still be…processing. I have done what I can, but I am not sure how much help I have been. But I am sure she will be by far more relieved to see you awake.”

“He meant so much to her….” Arthur whispered, and he wiped at his face again. “I—thank you. For taking care of her. I’m—sure she needs it right now.”

Mystery nodded, curling up beside Vivi, giving Arthur more space he might need in the night. “I would trade anything, to not have either of you suffering like you are. But since that is not an option…. I will do anything in my power to help both of you. As long as I am here, I will do what I can”

“I know…” Arthur looked more comfortable when he was farther away, but just as quick as the relief had shown, a frown pulled down on his mouth. “What about Lance…? The Peppers…?”

Mystery looked down. “… Lance had been notified just before visiting hours closed last night. After your surgery by several hours, due to some clerical error. Vivi was allowed to stay, since she was also checked in for observation. I am positive Lance will be here the moment the hospital opens.” Arthur cracked the smallest tired smile, but said nothing, and Mystery continued. “Vivi… did not call anyone. She has not done much since you were brought here, outside of get fresh clothing I mentioned. So the Peppers may not know what happened. Or if they do… it was because Lewis’s body was… found. A police officer tried to speak to Vivi, but she did not react enough for them to have gleaned much.”

Arthur winced as he shifted, and nodded. “I… we’ll call them. Tomorrow. I’m…tired. I’ll do it so she doesn’t have to.” He was mumbling more now, looking up at the ceiling. There were new tear tracks on his face. “Thank you… I wish I—thank you. For…doing what you could. I’m sorry I can’t just— but… you’re a good boy, Mystery.”

Mystery smiled without teeth at Arthur as he said it, and watched him close his eyes. “It is alright, Arthur…” He didn’t speak more, watching until Arthur’s face had smoothed and his breath was even and slow. Only then did he let the smile slip away. Only then did he cover his face with his paws and bury himself beside Vivi’s sleeping form with a whimper. Arthur had said he was a good boy. That he’d tried his best.

If only Arthur knew how untrue that was.

#my original writing #mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #mystery yukino #arthur kingsmen #fanfiction #my original stuff #mention of vivi but not enough to tag her really #it's kinda clunky but i hope people like it #long post #i kinda lost confidence in it but i'll work on it because practice makes perfect #<3

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yandere-ac · 4 years

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Hi I've been dealing with some personal issues, and I wish I could share with you a concept I have: darling having trust issues because her ex boyfriend only used her for her body. She tries to cope with feeling like a sex object by trying to help others feel better about themselves, she sees the internal beauty of the "ugly villagers" and she tries to bring joy to them on a daily basis. Curt is my fav villager, and I'll love to see his yandere side in this scenario. (Is it too edgy ;^;??)

Yandere Curt x Reader

Midnight

Nothing good happens at midnight. It is the time of bad decisions and when people don’t think straight. It’s the time when everyone is asleep, so you are completely alone.

“Hey Y/N! Look what I made!” The gorilla in front of you said as he showed you a macaroni picture of you and him. “Aww, it looks great Al! Good job!” You said as you smiled at the big ape in front of you. He pulled you up into a big bear hug and spun you around a little. “Aww chucks, thank you Y/N!“

Y/N L/N was a sweet girl, always seeing the best in people around her. She brought smiles to everyone and could light up a room in just a couple of seconds. She was infamous for having an island full of ugly villagers. All of them were unconventional and unattractive in the community. And that’s one of the many reasons she felt the need to take them all in. She made sure to spend time with each and every one of them. Diva, Rocket, Al, Tabby, Barold, Jambette, Moose, Gigi, Moe. They all had special activities that you liked to do with them. But by far your favorite of them all was Curt. The bear always made sure you were comfortable and safe.

Once on a rainy day you had run into Redd. He had looked at you and smirked. “Why hello there cuz! Didn’t expect to run into you” he said as he let out a laugh. “Oh...yeah...hey Redd...” you said quietly as you hugged your arms, keeping your composure closed off and cold. You didn’t like Redd. Not at all. He made you very uncomfortable. The way he used people to get what he wanted, discarding any and all feelings...he reminded you of...him.

“Ah cheer up cuz. You look like someone’s just died! Can’t you give yer old buddy ol pal Redd a smile” he said, this time showing off his teeth while smirking. He was now invading your personal space, putting his arm around your shoulder. “Umm no I think I’ll just get goi-“ “is there a problem here?” Suddenly, you were interrupted by a strong voice, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. It was Curt! He’d seen how uncomfortable you were and came to interfere. “O-Oh! No not at all! I was just talking to my friend Y/N about-“ before he could finish the sentence Curt aggressively shoved him away from you. He stood in front of you as some sort of shield, crossing his arms as he short a glare to Redd. “Yeah? Well she’s clearly uncomfortable with you. So why don’t you bug off before you hurt yourself you fraudster!” Curt raised his voice when he said this, asserting his dominance over the fox. He wasn’t gonna let some lowlife fox mess with you. With that, Redd quickly scurried off, tail between his legs and ears tucked behind his head. And sure enough, Redd didn’t show up to your island for another few months.

“Humph...are you alright Y/N” Curt said, turning around to talk to you, his gaze became much softer when speaking with you. “Yes, I’m alright Curt. Thank you” you answered as you gave your friend a hug. While Curt usually wasn’t one for physical touch, he’d make an exception for you. Wrapping his big arms around you as he stroked big circles around your back. “It’s okey now, fuzz ball. Curts here, curts gotcha...”

Ever since that day you trusted him completely. You had some trouble trusting others ever since the incident. Sure you loved the other residents and always tried to make them happy but you didn’t exactly trust them enough to open up to them. You did however trust Curt with that information. It was an ordinary day, you were inside of first house knitting together. You were making a beanie and he was making a sweater. The two of you were making small talk as you knit and soon Curt came with a question that you didn’t know how to answer.

“Y/N? Can I ask why your always so nice to everyone? Its not a secret that you don’t exactly have the most...conventional villagers...yet you continue to invite us and give us homes...why?” He asked, looking at you completely puzzled. “Well...ive always wanted to help people that feel sad or angry. And because I know you all have it rough in our community, I wanna make sure that everyday is a treat! I know how it feels to be treated badly so I try my best so that you guys don’t have to feel that” you said, very nonchalantly. But this caught Curt right off his guard. “Say what! Who has treated you badly!? WHY would they ever treat someone as sweet as you bad!?” Curt yelled out. “Oh...yeah. So...you remember back when Redd came to the island?” “And harassed you?” “...yeah...that one...well theres a reason Why I felt so uncomfortable...” Curt was looking at you very intensely, he wanted to know who would dare to lay a finger on you. “Well...you see...way back before I moved here, I used to live with this guy...my uh- my boyfriend actually and...well I though we had a perfectly normal relationship. I loved him and I thought he loved me. But as it turns out...that wasn’t the case...” you could feel yourself choke up at some parts of the conversation, the stinging feeling of tears welling up in your eyes were present. “Every time we would make love he would refuse to ever look at me...a-and he would never want to do any normal couple stuff...i-i-” you felt a big hand on your shoulder. Looking down at you were Curt, his eyes saddened and mouth in a frown. Needless to say, he got the picture. He brung you in for a big hug as he slowly and gently stroked your hair, whispering reassuring coos. After a few minutes Curt finally broke the silence. “What’s his name...” Curt asked. You didn’t find the question strange at the time so you answered. “Eliot, Eliot Reynolds” Good...he’d deal with him later, but now he had to comfort you. “He sounds like a coward...don’t worry, he’s never gonna hurt you again...” And so he simply wrapped his big arms around your form. You cried in his grasp as he soothes you. He offered to stay the night at your place which you accepted. Little did you know he was planning on doing something dastardly.

You fell asleep in your bed while he slept on the couch, but the thing is, he wasn’t sleeping at all. No, he was waiting until you fell asleep. Once he was sure you were fast asleep he snuck up, going to your computer. Searching in Eliot Reynolds, he smirked when he saw the first result.

“Eliot Reynolds, young owner of five star Island Fallington” he was signed up to various social media platforms and had foolishly left in the name of his island. And with that, Curt went over to the dodo Airlines in order for a midnight visit to good old Fallington...

The next morning you woke up, sun shining through a gap in your blinds. Stretching for a while before going up, you found Curt sleeping deeply on the sofa. Poor guy probably couldn’t sleep, there was a brown stain on his shirt, you waived it off as him probably going for a midnight snack and spilling on himself. Looking over at his sleeping form you couldn’t help but smile, he’d been so sweet lately. You appreciated his help and support so dearly. You loved him so much, and would hope that when the dust has settled, you two could become closer.

But he wasn’t worthy of your love.

Because after all. Anyone who goes out after midnight, anyone who murders a man in cold blood with an axe isn’t worthy of someone so pure. Nothing good ever happens after midnight. Curt proved that when he flied to Fallington...

#yandere #yandere acnh #acnh #curt acnh #animal crossing x reader #yandere animal crossing #x reader #tw yandere #tw dehumanisation #tw sex mention #tw past trauma

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jackals-ships · 3 years

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In Which We Explore Scenes Of The Emotions Of A Human Forced To Work With A Troll They Cannot Stand

contains: 2nd person pov, exploring pitch-pale emotions, they're stupid your honor, semi explicit injury towards the end of the fic, pre relationship+relationship set up

2282 whole words mostly written at 3am. no betta we die like men

Your name is Jackal Glass, you work for Her Imperious Condescension as a great many things: spy and assassin being first and foremost. You are in her words "one of the funniest lil humans [she's] met". It's often accompanied by a smile with too many teeth and a laugh bordering on cruel. (But that is simply how she is you have learned. She was born of the Deeps, of the cruel dark sea, she was not made to be soft and gentle.)

In other words: she likes you. She values what you can do for her empire and because of this she has elevated you to a status that very few humans, trolls or carapacians are capable of reaching.

It is this status that has you gritting your teeth as you wonder for the hundredth time if it's worth it.

Because Her Imperious Condescension has given you a mission, not unusual in and of itself, but that mission is to accompany one Orphaner Dualscar, Captain of the ISS Calamity to crush a small insurrection before it can grow to catastrophic proportions.

You know from the documents his hatchname is Cronus Ampora, he is the Empresses matesprit, and you now know he is a rat fucking bastard.

Not even a minute into the conversation and he has somehow managed to insult you multiple times. Implying that you must be filling one of Her quadrants to have the position you do, outright stating that if it wasn't for Her orders he would throw you off the ship at the first given opportunity.

You are filled with the urge to pull him down by his stupid bejeweled fins and bite him. By the end of the conversation you are vibrating with a barely contained rage. Later Kurloz will laugh at you, tell you how "wicked mother fuckin funny it is that you've up an gotten your pitch on for the fish bastard" and it will leave you flushed from ear to collarbone. The hatred you feel is the most purely platonic, nothing more or less.

(this is of course ignoring your daydreams about throwing him to the floor and kissing him senseless with a knife to his stomach, maybe that will shut him up for more than thirty seconds.)

----

Your first week passes calmly enough. You stay out of the Orphaners way as well as you can, treat your job with the Utmost Respect you show everything you do, and begin to bond with some of the crew. They don't trust you, not yet, because you're human, because you're a part of the Church and that makes people uncomfortable. (you choose not to get into the hours long ramble of the church is more your moirails than yours. you don't find safety in it's cold embrace but you do find it in his.)

And you learn things about the Orphaner. Little things here and there, because no matter where you go people will always love to gossip.

He's always tired, but he'll never admit to it. Not even when he's swaying on his feet and clutching at the rails til his knuckles then ashen. Doesn't have a moirail to speak of apparently. Only quadrant that's filled is his flushed and even that is tenuous at best and often tinged in shades of pitch.

He's as old as Kurlz apparently. Been on the same ship for as long as anyone can remember and been through more crew members than you can count. (It must be lonely you think. There's not many other violets on board and purples often cluster to the Church. hell even ceruleans don't live as long as the others and...maybe that's why he's so tired all the time.)

He's got more scars and tattoos and piercings than he does clear flesh. That one you learn by observation. Sometimes he'll lean over the side of the ship, get a far away look on his face, and strip his outerwear before jumping overboard. Your heart stopped the first time before you reminded yourself he was born of the sea.

(when if you kiss him will you taste it on him? will he taste like brine and blood?)

----

Your name is Jackal Glass and you have decided you will not be telling the Orphaner that.

He calls you dog when he deigns to address you again, venom dripping so sharp from that single word you're surprised you haven't keeled over dead from it. The crew gives you side long glances, expecting it to bother you and send you into a shouting rage but. But you can't help it.

You laugh at him.

The look of shock on his face is enough to make you break down into further giggles, teeth bared up at him in a mockery of a grin as his fins press further against his face. That will do then Captain. Since you're apparently lacking the braincells to recall my name proper.

You have never run so fast in your life, furious seadweller on your heels and still cackling up a storm.

(he will not catch you, you will jump onto the mast of the ship, swing yourself up like the ropes are the silks your Siblings use for practice. you will mock him, affectionately sharp, and inform him if he cannot catch a simple human perhaps he is getting far too old to be the captain.)

(you will both refuse to think on the fact he could have caught up to you in two strides and thrown you overboard.)

----

Orphaner Dualscar is an old troll, older than some stars and old enough that his skin has gone so dark oftentimes you lose him up against the night sky. But when he fights he moves like a troll a tenth his age.

You've always enjoyed watching others. But your Siblings….well. There is an unfortunate truth to the Church and it's brutality you have to admit. Dualscar? He moves like a dancer.

He fights with fancy flourishes that other trolls couldn't get away with. He fights like he's putting on a show. Look at me, look at me. Am I not powerful? Am I not worthy of adoration? I could destroy you with a flick of my wrist and I wouldn't even care.

It is...enthralling. He sends his opponents sword flying before knocking them sharply down, his sword to their throat and a half feral grin on his face. (you do not think about how you want to be under him like that. you do not.)

You also, do not see the look on his face as he watches you flee with your tail between your legs. It is the look of a man who is beginning to realize certain emotions within himself. (he does not under any circumstances think about wanting you under him instead of them. and if he does it's because you're human and it is only natural as a violetblood that he is better than you and. and. fuck)

---

there is blood on your face and on your hands and half of it is yours and. that is. not ideal. things had been going swimmingly until now, heh, swimmingly. oh….. right. you're busy bleeding out aren't you?

the insurrection was easily crushed. it was naught more than a small group of lowbloods, half of them honestly couldn't have been more than ten sweeps old. later you will think on it with a grimace, pressing your palms into your eyes and think once again: is it worth it. should you flee into the wilderness.

but for now you are holding your stomach with one hand, holding yourself up against a wall with the other and gritting your teeth. you will not die today. not here, not now.

you know you only have a few more moments before you succumb to the bloodloss and lose consciousness (you have seen your moirail perform inquisition more times than you can count, and you have seen even the strongest of your siblings drop in battle) so you push yourself forwards, saying a prayer to the Messiah's for good measure. ive payed my way in flesh and blood brothers mine. now let me get the fuck out of here back to my diamond.

Dualscar is the one who finds you. he rounds the corner and almost bowls you over in his haste. vwhere the fuck have you- DOG. he sounds...scared?

oh. what's up asshole. you give him the quickest of finger guns before slumping against him. he's always so cold but….this time you hardly feel it against you. that's..not good is it?

but he's holding you with more care than he ever has, cradled against his chest like a newly hatched wriggler while everything goes fuzzy around the edges. it's...it's nice. in it's own way.

the last thing you think about is the impulse to bite his dumb, stupid dumb bejeweled fins.

---

When you wake again you feel as if you've just been run over by a truck. Which...all things considered you suppose that's better than not waking up at all.

You are in a hospital room apparently, there are bandages covering your hands, a cast on your left wrist and even more bandages around your waist. There is also a very large, very old troll currently draped over your legs. He looks like shit.

His hair is splayed out around him, face scrunched up like he's in the middle of a particularly vicious daymare and the bags under his eyes are far deeper than normal. He has several cuts on his face and neck that you're certain will only add to the mass of scars.

Right now too he's close enough you could just...his face relaxes as you lay your palm on his cheek. Fuck but seadwellers are cold. He's worse than the bloody ocean he spends most of his time in. It doesn't stop you however, from running your hand across his face, tracing the parallel scars that mar his cheeks and eye. (he won't tell anyone how he got that one. he freezes, looks around the room at everywhere but the person asking before telling em it's none of ya fuckin business don't ask me again vwriggler.)

(in this moment you don't know that he will tell you one day. face pressed against your collarbone as he whispers it like a confessional. you don't know that you will mark down a name in your mind with a newfound rage. for now you just know that you hate this man and you also don't want to stop touching his face.)

When he wakes it's slow, shoves his face further into your palm like an overgrown cat before yawning wide. It shows off the double row of fangs and you just. Hm. Well that is your finger on the Orphaner's golden canine and he's fixin you with just such the most bewildered look. Eventually of course you retract your hand and he sits up all proper like the Fine Captain he pretends to be. "So. Ya ain't dead."

"..not for lack of trying." It takes a moment for your mouth to remember how words work. "How long I been out?"

"Boat a vweek now. Medicullers. They vwerent sure... if ya vwould vwake up." His accent comes out stronger when he's stressed you've noticed. It makes you feel such emotions inside.

Your hands find his to give them a gentle pat, his rings are almost as cool against your skin as he is. (what do you feel like to him? does it hurt? you are hotter than even a rustblood you know. does it feel like he's holding a dying star in his hands when he touches you?) "Eh don't worry bout it Captain, we both know I'm too stupid to die."

His smile looks almost fond as he takes your hands proper, dwarfing them in his larger more scared up ones. "Aye that vwe both knoww ya are huh. At any rate, I'll be stayin here til ya fully get back on ya feet. Don't vwant you tryin tae sneak awway from your job." It is the weakest excuse you have ever heard but you nod nonetheless, sink back into your bed and allow him to tell you how things went with Her Imperiousness.

The sound of his voice lulls you to sleep, or maybe it's the heavy painkillers still in your system. Whatever the cause you are soon unconscious again and Captain Cronus Ampora hesitates for a long moment before pulling the blankets up around you and pressing a cool kiss to your forehead.

He doesn't know what he's doing. He knows in his bones he will outlive you, he will outlive your whole species. But you make him feel things. Pitch and pale in equal measure. Fuck.

(it will still be a few sweeps before you get together proper. the crew will place bets on how long it'll take before you get your heads out of your asses and realize you're both swinging the most hate filled rivalry for each other so you just need to fucking kiss already. you will dance around the subject, throw barbs at each other, throw each other to the deck of the ship and swear curses that no one should repeat. you will leave each other bruised and battered but better. pushed mutually to be better.)

(but for now? For now he crawls into the bed next to you, curls up around you like he's not gonna let anyone lay a finger on what's rightfully his.)

(and you will curl up into him, press your face into the hollow of his neck and feel the most relaxed you've felt in a good long while.)

#jackals barks #ship: space pirates <3<#okay 2 rb #non homestucks what is ur winsdom an onions- /lh

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harry-leroy · 4 years

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OK. I've got to ask--Henry VI? I think you're the first person I've met who claims those as their favorite Shakespeare. I'll admit that I've read and seen a fair bit of Shakespeare, but I'm not familiar with them at all. What's the appeal? Why do you love them? Sell them to me. ;)

Oh boy, here we go :))))) (Thank you for giving me permission to scream - I also think I’m the only person I’ve ever met who has those as their favorite Shakespeare plays). Also, as we’ve talked opera - I think these plays could make a great Wagnerian style opera cycle.

First off, little disclaimer: I’m not a medievalist, so I can’t say that I’ve definitely got the best interpretation of the Wars of the Roses and the history that the H6 cycle covers. I know I do not - so you may read these plays and have totally different interpretations, and that’s great! This will kind of be how I came to love the plays and why they were (and still are) exciting for me to read.

I will admit, these plays are a bit of a minefield (as my Shakespeare professor said during a lecture on the histories and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that descriptor). Some of these scenes are not as well written, and many of them are almost irrelevant to telling a tight-knit story, so things get cut. Sometimes 1H6 is just cut entirely from productions, and I might venture to say that it is probably the least performed Shakespeare play. We get lines like “O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn’d, / That I in a rage might shoot them at your faces” (1H6.4.4.79-80), which I might say is nearly on par with “a little touch of Harry in the night” from Henry V. But despite the unevenness, there is so much from these plays that are meaningful, heartbreaking, and that continue to fascinate me. There’s so much about power and leadership that we can learn from these plays - and perhaps that’s why I took an interest in 1990s British politics because there are actually some very interesting similarities happening - but also a lot we can learn about empathy, hope, and love.

These plays have a lot of fascinating key players - it would honestly be a privilege to play any of them - and most (if not all) of these key players have some claim to power, just in the family lines they were born into. And this conflict is one that’s been building up since Richard II. With the Wars of the Roses we have a man who is unwilling, and sometimes unable to lead because of various circumstances, some of which having to do with his mental health, which was generally poor, and some of which have to do with the various times he was dethroned, captured, etc. - and I say unable for lack of a better word. Essentially, politics in these plays are caving in, and at a very rapid pace. There’s a hole at the center of government and people are ambitious to fill it. We also have a lot of people who could potentially fill that role, people who on principle, have a lot of political enemies. The nobles in these plays are having to assure that they themselves are in power or that their ally is in power, otherwise it is their livelihood at stake.

We have Henry VI, who was made king at nine months old after the untimely death of his father, the famous Henry V, and basically has people swarming him since birth claiming that they’re working in his best interest. He’s a bit of a self-preservationist to start, but by the end we see a man completely transformed by the horrors of war and ruthless politics. I also think he might be the only Shakespeare character who gets his entire life played out on stage. We see him at every stage of his life, which makes his descent all the more bitter. (One cannot help but see the broken man he is at forty-nine and be forced to remember the spritely, kind boy he was at ten). He’s a man who clings closely to God in an environment where God seems to be absent. He desires peace, if nothing else, and he wants to achieve this by talking things through. He’s an excellent orator (one only needs to look at the “Ay Margaret; my heart is drown’d with grief” monologue from 2H6, but there are countless other examples), but there’s a point where even he realizes that his talking will achieve nothing, and his alternative is heartbreaking.

We have his wife, Queen Margaret, otherwise known as Margaret of Anjou, or the “she-wolf of France”. I advertise her as “if you like Lady Macbeth, you’ll love Margaret of Anjou”. Sometimes Shakespeare can portray her as wanting power for herself, but I genuinely think she wanted a good life for her husband and her child, otherwise the alternative is begging at her uncle’s feet for protection in France (her uncle was Charles VII of France) while separated from her husband, having her or a member of her immediate family be killed, or worse. I think it’s important to remember with Margaret that historically she came from a family where women took power if their husbands were unable to. Her assumption of power in these plays is something that’s natural to her, even if it’s not reflected very well in Shakespeare’s language. You also see some fantastically thrilling monologues from Margaret as well, especially her molehill speech (one of two molehill speeches in 3H6, totally different in nature - the other one is from a heartbroken and forlorn Henry after the Battle of Towton) - Margaret’s monologue has got the energy of a hungry cat holding a mouse by the tail.

Also Henry and Margaret have a fascinating relationship. Because they’re so different in how they resolve conflicts, they grow somewhat disenchanted with each other at times, and can actually be mean to one another, despite their love. My favorite scene might be at the start of 3H6, where Margaret has come in with their seven year old son, Edward, and starts berating Henry for giving the line of succession to the Yorkists. What strikes me there is that we have a little boy having to choose between staying with his mom, or going with his dad - it’s something very domestic, and I think the emotional accessibility of that scene is what makes it memorable. It’s not about politics for me at that moment, it’s about a boy having to choose between his very estranged parents. Here’s a little taste from 1.1. in 3H6 - lines 255-261:

QUEEN MARGARET: Come son, let’s away. / Our army is ready; come, we’ll after them.

KING HENRY: Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.

QUEEN MARGARET: Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone.

KING HENRY: Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?

QUEEN MARGARET: Ay, to be murdered by his enemies.

We also have Richard, Duke of York, who is Henry’s cousin and leader of the Yorkist faction. If you’re at all familiar with 1990s British politics, as I have grown close to over the past month, York reminds me very much of Michael Heseltine (filthy rich and constantly vying for power) - and I would love to stage some kind of modern H6 cycle production just so I could make that connection. York’s father is one of the three traitors executed by Henry V at the start of H5, leaving him an orphan at four years old (historically). He is also Aumerle’s (from R2) nephew, and so when Aumerle dies at the Battle of Agincourt, little four year old Richard inherits both his father’s money and titles, and his uncle’s money and titles, making him the second richest nobleman in England behind the King. All this information is historical and doesn’t really show up in the play, but I think that kind of background would give a man some entitlement. He’s also next in line for the throne if something were to happen to Henry (until Henry has a son), so he feels it is his duty as heir to the throne to protect Henry (or in better words, he feels that he should be running the show) - Margaret feels that it is her duty to protect Henry as she is his wife and mother of Edward of Westminster, the Lancastrian heir, and so you can see where these two are going to disagree.

More fascinating are York’s sons, Edward, George, and Richard. Edward is this (for lack of better words) “hip” eighteen year old who comes and shreds things up at the Battle of Towton - becoming Edward IV in the process and chasing Henry off the throne. He is incredibly problematic, but I might venture to say that he’s the least problematic of the trio of York brothers. George of Clarence is (also for lack of better words) “a hot mess” and feels entitled to power, even though he may not readily give his motivations for it. I think he just wants it, and so he actually ends up switching sides mid-3H6 because he would actually be in a better position in government with those new allies. And finally, we have Richard of Gloucester (future Richard III), and in 3H6, you just get to see him sparkle. It puzzles me a bit how people can just jump into Richard III without getting any of the lead up that Shakespeare gave in the H6 cycle, and I think 3H6 is the perfect play to see that. I think it clears up a lot of his motivation, which Shakespeare didn’t get perfectly either, because there are some ableist things going on with these plays. He’s just as bloodthirsty, just as cynical, but in this play, he wins out the day.

These are just a few of the main characters. We’ve also got Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick (known to history as “The Kingmaker”), who is this incredibly powerful nobleman who is wicked skilled in battle and seems to have a lot of luck in that area (until he doesn’t). We’ve got Clifford, who is just as bloodthirsty as Richard III (if not more so). We’ve also got Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester - Henry’s uncle and quite unpopular with his fellow noblemen, and Eleanor Cobham, his wife who gets caught in the act of witchcraft. (Talk to my lovely friend @nuingiliath if you want to hear about Humphrey or Eleanor). Joan of Arc also makes an appearance in 1H6, and often she’s the only reason that 1H6 gets performed.

There are so many ways to latch onto this cycle, and it can be for the huge arcs that these characters go on, or it can be for the very small reasons, like in the first scene of 3H6, like I mentioned earlier. It’s very much akin to Titus Andronicus in the language (I did a bit of research a while ago about the use of animal-focused language in Shakespeare’s plays, and the H6 cycle and Titus Andronicus lead the charts just in terms of frequency of people being referred to metaphorically as animals- they’re also chronological neighbors, all written very early in Shakespeare’s career). Also, these plays held a huge amount of weight at the time they were written - the effects of the Wars of the Roses were still pressing over the political climate of the 1590s.

I think these plays are great to read just in being able to contextualize the histories as a whole - you get to know how things fared after Henry V (spoiler: not well), and you also get the lead up to Richard III. The ghosts in Richard’s dream make sense after reading the H6 cycle - because those ghosts lived in the H6 cycle, and (spoiler: Richard wronged them in the H6 cycle). They were also the first of Shakespeare’s history plays, so you read subsequent histories plays that make subtle references to the H6 cycle, and I think you can take so much more out of the rest of the histories plays once you’ve read these.

I hope this was a little informative, and perhaps persuaded you to check them out!

Productions I recommend (you can click on the bold titles and it’ll take you to where you can access these productions):

Shakespeare’s Globe at Barnet (2013) // Graham Butler (Henry VI), Mary Doherty (Margaret of Anjou), Brendan O’Hea (Richard, Duke of York), Simon Harrison (Richard of Gloucester) - filmed at Barnet, location of the Battle of Barnet, where Warwick was killed in 1471.

ESC Production (1990) // Paul Brennen (Henry VI), June Watson (Margaret of Anjou), Barry Stanton (Richard, Duke of York), Andrew Jarvis (Richard of Gloucester) - a more modern production, one cast put together all seven major Plantagenet history plays (1H6 and 2H6 are combined into one play - a normal practice). Sometimes this footage can be a bit fuzzy, but I loved this production.

The Hollow Crown Season 2 // Tom Sturridge (Henry VI), Sophie Okonedo (Margaret of Anjou), Adrian Dunbar (Richard, Duke of York), Benedict Cumberbatch (Richard of Gloucester) - done in a film-like style, also with some pretty big name actors as you can see. Season 1 stars Ben Whishaw as Richard II, Jeremy Irons as Henry IV, Simon Russell Beale as Falstaff, and Tom Hiddleston as Hal/Henry V. (also available on iTunes)

RSC Wars of the Roses (1965) // David Warner (Henry VI), Peggy Ashcroft (Margaret of Anjou), Donald Sinden (Richard, Duke of York), Ian Holm (Richard of Gloucester) - black and white film, done in parts on YouTube.

BBC Henry VI Plays (1983) // Peter Benson (Henry VI), Julia Foster (Margaret of Anjou), Bernard Hill (Richard, Duke of York), Ron Cook (Richard of Gloucester) - features my favorite filmed performance of Edward IV (played by Brian Protheroe), and my favorite filmed performance of Warwick (played by Mark Wing-Davey).

Also if you ever get to see Rosa Joshi’s production of an all female H6 cycle... *like every time I see photos my immediate reaction is *heart eyes* I haven’t seen it yet, but my amazing friend and fellow Shakespearean @princess-of-france has - I’m sure she’d love to talk more about it sometime! I’ll leave a picture I found on the internet...

Also tagging @suits-of-woe because we could cry about these plays all day.

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duhragonball · 4 years

Text

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (125/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[7 July, 233 Before Age. Fytpall IV.]

They told stories on Fytpall IV, of a creature that slept at the bottom of the wine-dark sea. Immeasurably old, it had lain dormant for undreaming eons, and one day it would awaken and resume whatever unfathomable business it had upon the surface. It was said that the creature was indescribable, and all who saw it were driven mad by its appearance. Even the fish knew to avoid that part of the sea, and so it was utterly devoid of life.

The legend was mostly true, although the Fytpallians had overestimated the creature somewhat. Gorath'th the Defiler of Souls was eminently describable. It had a body somewhat like a carnivorous dinosaur, only its skin was smooth and slimy like a frog's, and at the end of its long neck was a jawless mouth ringed with pointed teeth. Tentacles would snake out of its throat when it ate, and it had a eerily humanoid eye on the center of its chest. Instead of fingers or toes, its limbs ended with thousands of hair-like cilia.

Also, contrary to the Fytpallian tradition, Gorath'th would never reawaken, as it had been accidentally killed during a battle between Luffa and the Jindan Saiyans who had invaded Fytpall a week earlier. The invaders had tried to lure Luffa underwater, hoping that they would find an advantage there, but instead she unleashed a massive ki attack, as she believed there were no innocent life forms in the area to get caught in the blast. And this was true enough, for the Defiler of Souls was by no means "innocent." Gorath'th was vaporized in its sleep, never knowing what had destroyed it. Would such an ancient and unknowable horror have felt humiliation over such an ignoble death? Probably. Gorath'th was a lot more insecure about these things than anyone knew.

The irony was that the enormous explosion that had destroyed Gorath'th hadn't even been meant to kill anything. Luffa had only used it as a diversion. While her two enemies moved off to escape the range of the attack, Luffa propelled herself through it, just so she could catch one of them off guard and drive her fist into his face. A normal Saiyan would have been killed on impact, but the Jindan power had made this one strong enough to survive. That was fine. She was quite satisfied to simply break his jaw. That would be enough to keep him from saving his comrade.

The Jindan Saiyans were stronger than ordinary Saiyans, but they were still no match for Luffa in a one-on-one scenario. Accordingly, they worked in squads of at least six. Luffa countered this strategy by splitting them up and picking them off one at a time. Now, she closed in on her true prey, a Saiyan woman with scars running down both sides of her face. She had looked very confident in herself when she had been flanked by seven teammates, but now she was alone. Luffa struck her hard enough to knock her out of the water like a missile. She flew after Scarface and battered her with her fists every time she was close enough to strike. By the time Broken Jaw recovered--if he ever recovered--Scarface would be too badly hurt to help him.

The key, Luffa had found, was to resist the urge to finish her enemies off. That was what they expected her to do, after all, and she had found it was best to keep switching targets as quickly as possible. She sensed Bald Guy pulling himself together from the beating she had given him a thousand miles away, while Kidney Punch seemed to be alive, but he had lost the will to fight. The other four--Shorty, Screamer, Kinda Cute, and Head Wound-- were already dead. She would kill them all eventually, but it was important to keep them from regrouping or formulating any kind of plan. Her right knee and left shoulder were still bothering her, and while she was certain that she could kill four Jindan Saiyans at once, she couldn't take that chance. She had been fighting battles like this on a dozen planets already, and each one had taken a toll on her body. If she allowed herself to take too much damage on any one battle, then she would risk losing the war.

Luffa refused to let that happen. Dying in any one battle would rob her of the battles yet to come. That was what she told herself. It was easier than facing the real reasons.

[4 July, 233 Before Age. Buulprind III.]

The city was utterly ruined. The Jindan Saiyans who destroyed it were all dead, and Luffa was overdue to join another battle on Fytpall. But her own ship was hours away, and the transport she had planned to use had been destroyed in the battle. There were other ships, but the spaceports and shipyards were in disarray.

And she needed medical attention. Under different circumstances, Luffa might have simply taken the first spaceworthy vessel available, and headed for her next mission without bothering to bandage her wounds. But she had been too slow this time, and she knew she couldn't afford to lose any more strength. And so, she found a hospital in what remained of the city and waited for someone to treat her.

Unable to sit still for any length of time, she roamed the halls, occasionally helping herself to rolls of bandages. On the sixth floor, she found a woman sobbing over an unoccupied bed. There were a lot of people crying in this place. Some didn't cry. They just stared blankly, as though still registering what had happened to them.

"I couldn't get them all in time," Luffa said from the doorway. She hadn't meant to speak these words aloud. It wasn't until the civilian looked up and noticed her that Luffa realized she had said anything. The woman took one look at her and rose to her feet.

"I'm sorry," Luffa said. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

"Are you all right?"

The woman began to fuss over Luffa's bandages. She had applied them rather sloppily, and several of them were soaked with blood. Before Luffa could object, the woman was close enough to notice her tail.

"You're the Federatrix," she said. "Luffa."

"Yeah," Luffa said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, even as she still wiped the tears from her eyes. "These bandages are a mess. Who put these on?"

"Uh, I did," Luffa said.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you did a better job that I could have done before yesterday," she said. "One of the nurses downstairs finally showed me how."

Luffa watched, but not very carefully. Mostly, it was just an excuse to look away, and to avoid saying anything.

"They won't come back, will they? The Saiyans, I mean."

"No," Luffa said. "I mean, not these Saiyans. I killed them. But there might be others. Sometimes they hide and try to ambush me, or wait for me to leave the planet."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't fast enough to stop them. I didn't think they would blow up the city like they did, not while they were fighting with me."

"Well, you're hurt," the woman said. "I'm sure you did the best you could."

"How'd you end up here?" Luffa asked. She had been trying to steer clear of this topic, but something about the word "best" made her desperate to talk about anything else.

"I brought... It's stupid, really. He was... there was nothing they could do for him. After the blast, I went looking for help. I told him I'd come back for him. But it took me hours to find help, and they couldn't go back right away. There just wasn't enough... He was unconscious when they finally found him, and he'd lost so much blood... They took him into surgery an hour ago, and they'll do what they can, but..."

Her voice started to crack and she set her jaw as she continued to work on Luffa's bandages. "Well, it's not important now. You've seen how it is here. There's plenty of other people who can be helped. I can't just hide in here forever."

She seemed to gather strength as she spoke, and when she was done with Luffa's bandages, she clasped one of her hands into her own.

"Thanks," she said. "I needed a kick in the pants to get me motivated again."

"What?" Luffa asked. "I didn't mean to--"

But the woman wasn't listening. "You've been protecting us all, fighting with everything you have, in spite of your injuries. I don't know how you Saiyans can do it, but it's inspiring to have someone like you on our side. Someone who never gives up."

Luffa's eyes widened and she pulled away. "I... I have to go."

"Oh, of course. I didn't meant to take up your time. You should really have a doctor take a look at you..."

But Luffa had already run out into the hallway, and through the nearest window to escape into the sky...

*******

[7 July, 233 Before Age. Fytpall IV.]

It wasn't the joy of battle, or even the guilt she felt over innocent lives she had been unable to save. Both of those emotions were there, of course. As she kicked a Saiyan hard enough to shatter his pelvis, she couldn't help but enjoy it, and worry that it might not be enough.

But besides these feelings, what coursed through her heart was a very particular dread. She was doing the "best she could". She was the Super Saiyan, which meant that, by definition, her best was the best that any Saiyan could do, anywhere, ever.

Failure was one thing. Luffa had failed before. Her mother had taught her at an early age to get back up and try again. As much as she grieved for the civilian casualties in this conflict, she accepted it as part of the nature of war. The problem for Luffa was that when she wasn't good enough, it meant that the entire Saiyan race wasn't good enough.

Broken Jaw tried to take Luffa's head off with a blade of concentrated ki energy. She dodged it with inches to spare and responded with an energy blast from her mouth. A glancing blow, but good enough for the moment.

For a time, she had believed that a protracted battle with other Saiyans would be satisfying. Now, she wasn't so sure. In the end, they always seemed to fight just like all the other aliens and monsters she had encountered. They were just more familiar to her, in a way. Was that all the Saiyan species really was? King Rehval had boasted about shaping the destiny of the Saiyan people, and Luffa herself had always believed that the Saiyans were capable of an inherent greatness. But time after time, the Saiyans always seemed to fall short of her expectations. She was the best one, and if she was disappointed with herself, what hope was there for the rest of them?

There was no hope at all for Kidney Punch. Luffa finished him off with a Vengeance Canon through the heart. He died a warrior's death, but Luffa knew that was an empty statement. He was no courageous warrior, just a flunky in Trismegistus' mad cult. He had come to this planet to die in a useless battle, and perhaps to kill as many people as he could before death finally caught up to him. If by some miracle he had survived, he would have returned to his master's side, and lived out his days as a pathetic joke of what a Saiyan was supposed to be.

She couldn't get the woman from the hospital out of her mind. She had seen that kind of grief before. Luffa had experienced it firsthand, when she failed to save the Dorluns all those years ago. When she lost her son to the treachery of Kandai and the Tikosi. And yet, these civilians that she had failed, who were too weak to defend themselves, they seemed to bear their suffering far better than any Saiyan. To be so overcome with pain, and then to carry on helping others like that.

And that woman had said Luffa had inspired her. It shamed her to even think about it. These people of the Federation had been mostly an afterthought to Luffa. She cared about them, to a point, but they had never really been high on her list of priorities. She had defended them mostly in the abstract. Other than Extraliga, she had never spent much time among their people, or their soldiers. Now, Luffa was beginning to take some pride in them.

She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Luffa had hoped that fighting these last few cultists on Fytpall might distract her from that heavy feeling in her chest. As she tracked down Scarface, she decided that it wasn't distracting her at all. Scarface was too badly hurt to do much more than beg for her life. Perhaps it just as well that the people of the Federation gave Luffa something to be proud about. The Saiyan people didn't seem to have much to offer.

*******

[8 July, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Treekul's hair had grown to nearly three-quarters of an inch in length, for she had been without her hair trimmer for some time. Despite her confinement on this planet, surrounded by Saiyan cultists, hair growth was the most frustrating burden for her. Treekul took a private comfort in repeatedly trimming her scalp, but Rehval had forbidden this during her "apprenticeship". He said this was to discipline her mind, but she suspected that he just did these things for his own amusement.

She was late for today's "lesson", but Rehval never seemed too concerned with her punctuality. If one of his cultists stepped out of line, he would have them severely punished, but she was different. The only non-Saiyan on the planet, Treekul was never indoctrinated into their belief system. Instead, he made her a priestess and gave her a free hand to wander around his underground compound. This was all balanced by the fact that she was powerless to escape, and had no real way to resist him.

"Your distillate was very well done, Treekul," he said as she entered the chamber leading into his private laboratory. "You have some real talent."

"Look, I don't want to sound ungrateful," she said, "but why are you bothering training me at all? The war with the Federation, your vendetta against Luffa, running this cult of yours. Not to mention brewing up the Jindan potion you use to give them all that extra power you promise them. And I guess you're still the Saiyan King, even if everyone around here only knows you as Trismegistus. You've got enough on your plate already, don't you?"

"You've answered your own question," he said. "A king is only exceptional among his subjects. Surround him with other kings, and his crown becomes commonplace. So too does a teacher lose standing outside of a classroom. An alchemist loses grandeur when compared to other alchemists. A Saiyan becomes insignificant in a crowd of Saiyans. But a man who can be a king and an alchemist! A teacher and a deity. A Saiyan and a diplomat."

There were bottles and equipment arranged on her lab bench, but he was focused on a large pot of water that was suspended over a flame. Every few seconds, he sprinkled leaves and red powder into the pot, then stared intently at the surface of the liquid.

"Are you a fortune teller, too?" Treekul asked.

"You recognize the technique," Rehval said. "I'm impressed."

"I'm not an alchemist, I just study their history," Treekul replied. "I wouldn't be much good at that if I didn't know a scrying pool from a retort."

"Luffa is on Fytpall," he said. "By morning, my followers there will be dead."

"You don't sound too concerned about that," Treekul said.

"They give their lives for a higher purpose," he said.

"Level with me," Treekul said. "I'm not exactly in a position to expose your plans, and no one here would believe me if I told your secrets. What's this war of yours really for, anyway? Is it just a diversion for some other plan? Or are you really trying to kill off your own people?"

"Not at all," he said with a chuckle. "If one of them manages to kill Luffa, I would reward him beyond his wildest imaginations. Or her, but to be honest, I don't think any of the women in my fold would ever stand a chance. But for the men at least, it's not impossible, just very unlikely."

"Then why bother sending them?" Treekul asked.

"To wear her down," Rehval explained. "Before, I made the mistake of luring her to my home. I thought it would give me the advantage, but she escaped, and destroyed a lot of things I considered precious. I see now that that the only way to defeat her is by force. Not a single, decisive strike, but through attrition. My followers will chip away at her, little by little, across dozens of worlds. She seems to be healing between battles, but she still has to travel from planet to planet to block my offensives."

"What if she just quits?" Treekul suggested. At last, Rehval looked up at her, and his glare made her regret the question.

"You don't understand anything," Rehval said. "She's not just some general, like the ones you probably studied in your history books. She is a force of nature. As I rise up to claim supremacy over the Saiyan race-- and through them, the entire universe-- she rises up to oppose me. Force, counterforce. She would never back down from this challenge, and even if she did, it would only prove that she is not the threat I took her for."

"Oh," Treekul said, not understanding any of this. "Why didn't you just say so before?"

"You would understand if you had met her like I did," Rehval muttered. "If you had seen the wild look in her eyes, felt the raw intensity of her ki. No. No, she's the one. Nature resists alchemy, my dear. Each reaction, every shortcut, every convenience we make, there is a price that nature demands in return. A shrewd practitioner knows how to reach a fair bargain. This scrying pool only demands a few drops of blood, and the caloric from the fire. A glimpse into the future doesn't cost much, if that's all you seek. But my goal is to change the universe itself, and so the price I must pay is nothing less than the head of my nemesis. I was a fool to think she could ever be convinced to join me, but I had to try. Yes... I had to try. She's far too magnificent a woman... far too magnificent indeed..."

The one good thing about this rambling, Treekul thought, was that he was obsessing over some other woman, instead of herself. It wasn't much comfort to her, though. "You wanted to show me something, Boss?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Yes, of course," he said. "Your performance on your last few exercises proves that you're ready to take a more hands-on approach with the cult."

"Huh?" Treekul asked.

"I want you to administer the Jindan potion, Treekul," Rehval said. "One day, I may have you manufacture it yourself, but for now, I just want you to oversee the ritual with the next class of recruits. It will help you understand how it works."

"I... I thought they just..." Treekul mimicked the act of drinking from an imaginary cup, and gulped for emphasis.

"Oh, that's definitely part of it," Rehval said. "But the rituals before that are important for preparing the subject. Heh. If you just drank the principal elixir by itself... well, I'd show you what happened to some unruly followers when they tried it, but... there isn't really anything left of them to see."

"Oh," Treekul said. Without realizing it, she took a step backward. He had been so calm and composed around her before. Almost friendly. But each time she met him, the gentle self-assured confidence seemed to slip a little more. It frightened her more than she wanted to admit. And while she knew there was no point in trying to run from him, her instincts sometimes got the better of her.

Suddenly she found herself leaning back in his arms. He had crossed the distance between them with a burst of speed she could hardly comprehend. Treekul knew about the immense power of the Saiyans, but this was her first personal demonstration.

"Ley lines," Rehval said as he looked deeply into her eyes. Her back rested against his left hand, while his right was steadying her at the hip. If he noticed her trembling, or the fear in her eyes, he didn't show it.

"I built these caverns to align with different ley lines across the planet," he said. "Can you feel it? We're standing on a node right now."

"Is that right?" Treekul said.

"The Jindan elixir is a medium between the living energy of the body and the geological energy of the planet. The Jindan transmutation allows a Saiyan to supplement his own ki with planetary power, which is usually much greater. I estimate that a planet with a high population and good biodiversity contains enough ki energy to rival any living foe, including Luffa. The trouble is that there's been no way to direct this sort of power, or to put it all at the command of an individual."

"Until you found a way," Treekul said.

"I found a better way," Rehval said with a smile. "Instead of drawing upon the life energy on Nagaoka's surface, I can tap into the energy of the planet underfoot. The hard part is converting that energy into a form that living beings can use. But I'll show you. I'll show you everything..."

"Could you, uh, let go of me?" she asked, fighting the urge to panic. She wasn't sure how he would react if she struggled, but she was reluctant to find out.

"Is that what you want?" Rehval asked. "I have so much power, Treekul. Far more than any Super Saiyan. I'm offering to share that power with you. You can feel it, can't you? Through my hands, the caverns, my followers? I very much want you to understand that power. It means a great deal to me."

"Hey, I can tell you're powerful," Treekul said, choosing her words very carefully. "But I won't fully appreciate it all until you teach me what you know, and you can't exactly do that while your hands are full, can you?"

He began to laugh, gently, the way someone would during a conversation over a meal. She was beginning to think he saw her as a friend.

"You're right, of course," he said as he finally released her. "Let's get back to the matter at hand. Alchemy is a path to power, Treekul. The Jindan ritual will show you how I can manipulate incredible energies."

"Okay, but that's not really sharing power with me," Treekul said. "Even if I learn how to do this thing, I can only make Saiyans stronger and bind them to your cult, right? That's just me doing your work for you, and you've already got me under your thumb."

"You know, that's an interesting point," Rehval said. "I hadn't thought of it that way. You see, this is exactly why teaching is so rewarding. It gives the teacher a fresh perspective." He stepped away from Treekul and began to pace around the lab, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the floor as he mulled it over.

"All right," he finally said, turning to look at Treekul again. "We'll do it like this. Tell me what you want. What do you desire most? Then let me show you how you can use alchemy to achieve it."

"How about a haircut?" Treekul said. This was a lie. What she wanted most was to leave Nagaoka and never return, but she doubted the wisdom of saying so out loud.

Rehval looked disappointed. "A haircut. You know, I'm starting to think you lack imagination."

"You didn't ask me to think big, you asked me what I wanted," Treekul said. "And right now, that's my answer."

"It would me much more interesting to show you how to make hair grow," Rehval replied. "Abiogenesis is a fascinating topic."

"Maybe so, but that would be the opposite of what I want, so it would be a waste of time," Treekul said. "You talk about power like all that matters is having more of it. What good is owning a mansion if the shower doesn't work?"

"Fine, you've made your point," Rehval said. "I'll need to prepare your materials for the lesson. Why don't you rest for now, and I'll send for you when I'm ready. Hm, yes, this might be interesting after all...."

With that, he began to busy himself with the reagents and glassware on the benches, and muttering to himself as he rummaged through the cabinets. Treekul hesitated for a moment, half-worried that he might grab her again if she moved, but eventually she decided that he had dismissed her, and that this might be her best chance to get away from him for a while.

She felt a strange elation as she wandered the halls of the compound. As shocked and afraid as she had been when he suddenly grabbed her like that, now that it was over, she felt like she had come away with a bit more leverage. He seemed almost desperate in some way, like he needed her approval, or something else from her that he couldn't simply take by force. As long as that was true, then she still had a chance.

And he was going to teach her something she could actually use, which was an unexpected bonus. Trimming her hair was a low priority in this situation, but he had been the one to confiscate her electric trimmer in the first place, so the fact that he might let her cut her own hair again seemed like a step in the right direction. If she couldn't escape the planet herself, and if she couldn't trick the cultists into helping her, then maybe Rehval himself might provide her with a way out.

The only problem with that, she reasoned, was that she would have to spend even more time with him for her lessons. And yet, this session had turned out to be almost exciting. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

NEXT: Morale

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #lssjluffafic #treekul #trismegistus #nagaoka #buulprind #fytpall

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youralternantpersonality · 4 years

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Endless Love

Paul x Reader: Endless love

Part 1: Eternal Love

Part 2: Everlasting Love

Part 3: Endless Love

Part 4: Enduring Love

***

Your POV

The sun came up and it was slightly warm again. I looked around for Snout but couldn’t find him. I get up tirelessly from the ground only to see a figure of a woman in front of me. She is blurry but shaped like a shadow. She was slender and small with an authority like stance. And without a second thought, I ran.

I looked behind me and I saw her just standing there. Looking in my direction. Whoever it was, or whatever it was, wasn’t going to leave. That I was for sure aware of.

Paul’s POV

We pull up to this small cottage in the middle of nowhere (shocking!) and watched as some of the Cullen’s friends step out of the house. My inner wolf is just dying to come out at this point. The Cullen’s, I can handle, but these people…unknown leeches…that’s a different story. Carlisle does his grand gesture and greeting, and we all move inside.

“Come, young Paul, I will show you where she is at. I know the last place you want to be at is here with us.” One of the blondes said. I followed her down a long hallway into a guest bedroom. From the door, I could see her, tubes tied, and machines keeping her alive. Blondie tells me she’ll be outside if I need anything.

I just watch her from the door. Tears forming in my eyes as I watch her from across the room. I somehow find myself walking towards her, ignoring the chair next to her bed and lay down next to her. making sure I move all the tubes around so that I don’t hurt her. Her body isn’t as warm as it used to be. As if she was barely hanging on. As if she was ready to let go. As if she was showing me what she’d feel like when she’s turned. Could I be ready for that?

Your POV

It started raining not too long ago. I ran around looking for protection until I came upon a cave. I had been sitting in here for a while, watching the rainfall endlessly outside. Trying to keep warm, I curl into a ball and try to lock in warmth. Not too long afterward, a rush of heat consumes me, and I do nothing but relax into it.

Not paying attention anymore, I don’t realize that at the entryway of the cave is the woman and Snout. He barks and it echoes through the cave. I turn to look, and I see them. She points at me and Snouts comes running my way. To frightened to move, and too cold to scream, I wait for my ending. But instead, Snout comes up to me and licks my face with his tail wagging and his barking throughout the cave. It’s not until I notice the lady at the cave is now sitting in front of me.

In an instant flash, the cave brightens up and I see her face. She was beautiful. I’ve seen her somewhere, but I can’t remember where. She looks like someone I know, but I keep coming up blank. She smiles at me and starts talking.

“He was right. You are beautiful. It’s ashamed I never got to meet you.” The lady smiles. I look at her confused and respond.

“Who’s he? And what do you mean? Do I know you?” I ask, confused as can be. She shakes her head and smiles.

“No, but I know plentiful of you and have been watching you for a while now. I see you’ve taken great care of my son. I just wanted to say thank you.” She smiles. I take a good look at her. She has clear and bright honey-olive skin with beautiful brown eyes. Her long black hair extenuates the glow around her skin and her smile just brightens the room. There was a calming and motherly feel around her.

“Your son? Who’s your son?” I look at her confused. Her head falls slightly, and the corner of her lips turn downward.

“It’s okay that you don’t remember him. You will eventually. Just remember one thing,” she pauses to look at me and I nod my head.

“Promise me, you’ll at least listen to him. Allow him to speak and to forgive him. It might be hard, lord knows he gets himself into some situations with you, but all I ask is for you to give him one more chance.” She looked at me with pleading eyes. I can’t help but nod at her, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

“Another thing…you’ll be given two choices soon. Make sure you choose the right one. Your life depends on it.” she then reaches over to me and hugs me, kisses my forehead, then walks to the edge of the cave. She looks back and smiles at me before disappearing. I look down at a sleeping Snout curled up to me. I am comfortably warm and decide to join him. I curl next to him and fall asleep too.

Paul’s POV

There’s a knock at the door and I turn to see the Good Doctor Cullen. Letting me know it is time and ask me if I’m 100 percent sure of this. I nod my head and go to sit in the chair next to her and hold her hand. It is only us two, Edward and Carlisle in the room. I watch as the Good Doctor take out eight syringes’—three of them look like clear water and the other five are filled with this silver thick liquid stuff.

“What the fuck is that?” I say looking at this shit. Carlisle chuckles and explains the clear stuff is morphine and the other ones are their venom.

“I always thought you guy’s venom would be, I don’t know, green, or black, or something. Not something like a kids art project where you put a crap tone of glue and add silver glitter and paint mix to it.”

“Are you saying our venom is pretty?” One of the blondes says from behind us. I let out a growl to warn her.

“Okay, okay, I’ll back away. I’ll see you guys in a few.”

“Thank you, Kate. Garrett should be here soon.” I hear the door shut and the front door to the house open and close. Good, we’re alone.

“So how is this going to work? You’re going to put her more to sleep and then put the venom in?”

“Essentially, yes. I don’t want to overdose her, but I want to numb her as much as possible with the morphine so she doesn’t feel nearly as much as she would.” Carlisle said.

“And we also don’t want you freaking out if she starts screaming in pain.” Edward finishes.

“Wait, screaming? In pain?! I thought it would be a little pinch or something. But screaming!?” I start freaking out a little. How bad is this transformation supposed to be?

“The venom reconstructs the bones, organs, tissues, cells, all of it. The body is calcifying itself to stone, which is a painful process even if she wasn’t dying.” I look at both of them in disbelief.

“Are you sure you want to-“ I cut him off,

“Yes. Just…make her as comfortable as possible. I can’t lose her…” I said looking down at her. This may be a selfish thing to do, but its either both of us, or none on earth. Carlisle nods and grab one of the morphine needles and stick it into her IV tube. After a few minutes, her smell heightens a little. Not sure if that’s good or bad.

“The morphine is settling in her.” Edward nods towards Carlisle and grabs the other one and injects it into her IV tube. All I can do is sit there, helplessly, watching her fight. I say a silent prayer to whoever wants to listen to protect her and bring her back. I wonder when she comes back, will she hate me? Resent me? Remember me? Forgive me? Would she love me again? Will I love her?

That last thought scared me. I looked at Edward and Carlisle then think back on everything about their type that irks me and wonder, will my views change just for her or because of her? Will I feel like that to her the way I feel about leeches in general? Or will she be the only one in my heart? I ask all these unanswered questions until one comment stops me.

“Are you ready Paul?” without looking up, I nod my head and allowed the Good Doctor to inject his venom into my love’s veins. ‘Till death do us part.

Your POV

The warmth that consumed me left, but in its place came a rush of drowsiness. I was disoriented and confused. I felt like I was plastered drunk. I didn’t know what was going on, but I couldn’t get up or move without struggling. Every time I tried to move, it’d get worse and worse and I begged it to stop. I wanted, for once, to touch the rain. Maybe it would help the dizziness. But right before I could reach it, it stopped raining. It was sunny instantly and the sun was making it warmer and warmer by the second.

I wanted to stay in the cave, but it was hotter in there than it was outside. I looked around for Snout, but I couldn’t find him again. I was walking from tree to tree, holding on in this heat. I need to get out of the forest before a fire starts. I tried running, but nothing happened. I just fell and screamed against the steaming hot ground. I grabbed onto the equally hot trees and just kept moving. I prayed to whoever is listening, to get me out of this heat before I die. I try to think happy thoughts, thoughts of my friends. Yes! My friends! I remember them! My friends and Snout when he was a puppy. I remember some of my family, but not really. Then I remember someone else. I don’t know who he is, but I know him. And I feel…I feel…hurt? Anger? Happy? I was so caught up in him that I didn’t notice a tree was falling in front of me.

“Ahh!” I scream and tried my best to run, but to no avail, I can’t. I cry more as it gets hotter and hotter as I go. Wishing for it to all stop.

Narrator POV

“I heard her,” Edward said.

“What?” Paul and Carlisle looked at him. Carlisle was injecting the second syringe in when he said it.

“I heard her. This whole time, I haven’t been able to, but now…now I can. I just heard her.”

“What did you see? What is she dreaming of? Is she dreaming?” Paul asked anxiously.

“It was a small glimpse; I just saw her grabbing on a tree, and she screamed. Then her mind shut off again. Something must’ve scared her. I’m not sure what, but something caught her off guard enough to let me see her.” Edward said with slight pride.

“The venom must be working then. She still has a long way to go Paul. But if Edward can read her, that’s a lot of progress.” Carlisle goes around the bed and places a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“Trust me, she will be okay, as long as Edward can read her.” He goes back to what he was doing by grabbing the third syringe and injecting it into her major artery in her inner thigh. Making sure to inject her in different areas to assure her body takes the venom.

Paul grabs Y/n hand and gently strokes in, occasionally kisses it, but bows his head on it as Carlisle finished the last one. They go to leave and plan on checking her every hour or so. Paul would never admit this out loud—and not when Edwards is in the proximity of him—but he’s grateful for them. Now, is all about playing the waiting game for the next three days.

My Love (for the series)

MasterList

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christianmarkchristian · 4 years

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LOVE IN THE TIME OF COVID “I have answers. I’m not at all confused.” -I told my friend Austin. I cant say that I “know it all” or that “I am 100% “right.” But I have incredible peace during this pandemic; a peace like I’ve never felt before. And its not just a feeling. It’s a peace and a confidence based on a lifetime of research, study, meditation and prayer. You see, for years I was a struggling artist/writer. I lived here in L.A., like so many artists and writers, paycheck to check. I rarely enjoyed discretionary income. For decades, I pleaded with God for a high paying, steady job. A few came...and went. Then the crash came...and went. So here I sit. But today I am incredibly wealthy. Not Bill Gates wealthy. But not dollars wealthy, (yet) but knowledge wealthy. You see, during the lean times when I didn’t even have the money to travel, go to movies, or even McDonalds, I was forced to stay at home instead. (welcome to my world) What did I do? I was cramming my brain, indulging my voracious appetite for reading, study and research. It was like I spent thirty or forty years prepping for an exam (and an experience) I had no idea was coming. I was a writer; I thought, “I need to know all these things so my movie scripts will be authentic.” Yes, there is some truth in that but not the “whole truth.” The truth is, the “exam” I’ve been cramming for, without knowing it, for decades, was this (Cornonavirus) exam. There is widespread confusion, panic and anxiety like few of us have ever seen. Everyone I know is experiencing some kind of surprise or fear; caught off guard and even in shock. Over and over, we all hear “what the heck’s going on?” Well, I’ve been preparing, without knowing it, for the late winter and spring of 2020, most of my adult life. My mind is now a living, GOOGLE-like repository of facts, information and experience. I’ve read at least 1,000 hard cover, serious, academic books about topics that all relate directly or indirectly to the “pandemic:” -Medicine (my step dad was a doctor) -Religion/prophecy (starting with my step dad introducing me to Hal Lindsey’s books, when I was in High School) -Art, sociology, culture, politics, history, psychology, as well as many other related subjects. I also suffered with a severe respiratory illness (asthma) since I was six years old, even hospitalized several times although today I feel pretty good. So, I know well the struggles that thousands are going through, with the virus. I suffered greatly, 2-3 days fighting for my life in hospital beds in Fairfield California and Wiesbaden, Germany. I was on IV fluids, emergency meds, an oxygen tent and “The Bird” ventilator. Later, as a teen in Biloxi, MS., I had to wake my pediatrician step Dad up at 2am, many times, asking for an injection of epinephrine “in oil.” So, to get to the point: What’s going on? What’s this pandemic really all about? First of all, let me say this: Only God really knows. One can only guess. But one can make an educated guess and that’s what I’m doing. And I have yet to speak to anyone or be made aware of anyone who has more exposure to the unique puzzle pieces of information that all interact in harmony to produce what I believe are the answers to this mystery. The puzzle piece subjects are: Pharmaceuticals, vaccines, medicine, healing, (my step Dad was a doctor) culture, media, (I live in Hollywood) the news media (I starred in an MSNBC documentary and worked for a PR firm contacting news media every day. Two of my best friends currently star in a TLC reality show) prophecy, (I am a follower of a prophetic Judaeo-Christian tradition and church) history, science, politics, psychology, physics, spirituality and economics. If you don’t have experience and a solid knowledge of ALL of these, you are not in possession of the pieces of the puzzle and cant see the big picture. I’m not boasting. I’m sure there are thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, even millions of individuals smarter than I am. Its not about how “smart” we are, it’s about having every one of these puzzle pieces and perceiving how they fit, fitting them together. SO HERE IT IS The questions are perhaps as important as the answers: 1. Is this man made or nature? 2. Who or what is responsible? 3. Why is this happening? 4. What changes can I expect in my life now? 5. What does the future hold? MAN MADE NOR NATURE? It’s hard to say. There are probably people who know the answer to this but I am not one. Everyone agrees that it came from China. The facts support the idea that the Chinese communist party suppressed the information for far too long. And of course, that they are indirectly responsible for thousands of deaths. If it was nature, many say it was a combination of bat and an anteater like scaly creature that the Chinese eat. For me, this is one puzzle piece clue. The bible forbids the eating of these exotic wild animals and most humans find the practice repulsive. The Kosher laws (I eat pork and shellfish by the way) have proven over and over again to be instrumental in preventing deaths. For example, during the black plague, gentiles left dead bodies in stagnant water, against kosher laws...and that spread the disease. The microscope had not been invented yet and so no one was aware of the existence of bacteria and of the need for sanitation. THIS IS A CLUE. The bible has wisdom, from a non-science view that often supports science, or science often supports it. And HERE ARE ANSWERS. Where did Covid begin? Let’s start “InThe Beginning.” The Garden of Eden. Millions of us own and love our iPhones. The symbol of APPLE corp. comes from one of the most well known stories in all history: The story of Adam, Eve and the serpent. Again, here are clues to the answers of what is going on. The serpent, of course, represents Satan. It doesn't really matter whether the serpent was, or is, a snake or a red man with horns and a pitchfork and forked tail. Arguing that point or doubting because of that point, is to miss the point. The point is not about the physical appearance of Satan or even if he was, or is, a physical being or a spiritual being or a myth. The point is that there is GOOD and EVIL in the world. To deny this at this point in time, is to be considered a bit out of touch with, reality. And consider that the unseen world is the source of all seen things. This is indisputable: before there could be a chair, the thought had to exist. Before there could be a table, the idea had to exist. Nothing happens without it first being thought; at least nothing we value. So, what happened with the apple? The Apple, the fruit of “The Tree of the knowledge of good and evil” represents knowledge and power and technology. The bible says that if they ate of this fruit, they “could be like God.” Over and over in history, we see that those with the superior knowledge and technology usually, almost every time, win. You’ve heard the saying “don’t bring knife to a gunfight.” When that happens, those with the knife usually die and are left in the dust bin of history. Wisdom and knowledge, victory over death,victory over those individuals or groups or animals or a natural force that threatens to destroy us, this is basically what the bible is about. You might think the bible is about “rules” and “morals” and there is some truth to that one could argue that what the bible is really about is a manual on HOW TO LIVE AND NOT DIE. NOW, more than ever, we need a manual like this. -to be continued

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itgetsbetterproject · 9 days

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📚 QUEERBOOK 2024 is hereee! We made a book by and for LGBTQ+ youth! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Last year, we asked LGBTQ+ youth: what's your idea of a "queer utopia?"

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pinkykitten · 5 years

Text

kinda like a date

Detroit: Become Human

Connor x human! female

Warning: some vulgar language about ur pizza, u failing cuz that COIN trick is too DANG hard

Specifics: comedy, fluff, race neutral reader, one-shot, human reader, police officer reader

People: connor, hank anderson, store lady (oc)

Words: 1,155

Requested: By anon I'm desperately looking for someone that will write a Connor x Reader where the Reader is buying a Android for the first time after saving enough money. But I don't know if ya okay with smut? If not then the request without smut.

Authors Note: this has no smut in it cuz ur girl dont write smut srry but i hope this is what u meant lol i kinda went a lil bit over board with this hehehehe. but i made u a police officer in this cuz i wanted it to fit connor’s story still so this is all i could think of. its been a while since ive written for dbh so im happy i gots a request if u want to request more for this fandom pls do my requests r currently open dearies!!!!

You worked at the police department. Working a full shift was tiring but you made it work. Your job as a police officer was normal until more and more androids were used in the department. To you it was a thought of why not? You personally did not mind androids helping police, that just means you get less work, but some were against it.

You then decided, with the money you saved up that you would go and buy an android. You’ve seen some be used for nannies, caretakers, just workers every where. Unfortunately, since the company of the department you worked for didn’t want the model of the new android, you would have to get it with your own cash. To you it seemed right, you created the idea that this thing would work and you would get some days off.

Arriving at the place you noticed many of different models of androids.

“Hello ma’am, what can I get for you today?” The store lady gave a fake smile and you couldn’t tell if she was an android or a real human.

“Yeah, um, hi, I’m looking for a specific android that was made for my department-”

“Oh I’ll get you the exotic dancer android right now.”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head and hands. “I work at the police department. I’m here to buy and pick up the one that was made for us. Its sent from cyberlife?”

The lady nodded and typed some things in the computer. You handed her your hard working money and waited for the android. He walked out, so smoothly. He was a very handsome android. You hit yourself in the head for thinking that. The android walked up to you and with a serious face said, “hello my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.” His face was so stoic, so empty.

You smiled and waved at him, “hello there Connor, my name is y/n. I’m the human that came out of my mother’s vagina. Now lets get to know each other.”

As you said that word Connor’s eyes flew open slowly until he had a shocked expression. It made you laugh to know that an android can think that way and have that expression. All he said was wow as he muttered next to you.

“So y/n, what is your status at the police department?” Connor asked as he walked by you as you walked out of the store.

“Oh me? I’m just a uniformed office, just a regular police gal. I already have the info that you are going to be partnered up with my friend Hank Anderson, he’s a detective. So you’ll have fun with that one.” You placed a hand on Connor’s back. Connor peered around and saw your hand. “Do you enjoy your job y/n?”

You went to a cart nearby and paid for a drink since it was hot outside, “oh well you know, its work. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for this job its just, sometimes work can be really stressful and time consuming. I just wish I had more freedom and not so much job.”

“Would you like me to discuss your situation with the head of the police department?” Connor asked so innocently. His brown, doe, plastic orbs staring right into your e/c ones.

You almost chocked on your drink, “no please don’t, I might get fired if you do. I don’t know when the day will come when I do speak out or I do something about it, huh maybe I never will.”

“If would be informative to the head of the police department if you were to say something. Also, I understand that there is a case you all are currently working on.”

You took a sip of your drink and paused, “yeah we do but how do you know about that?”

Connor tilts his head to one side, “all the information and data about past cases and present cases are stored within me. I now know much of what you all have worked on.”

“Wow, thats pretty cool actually.” It was weird, you were actually really enjoying talking to Connor. He was a robot, he was not real, he did not feel anything. Maybe thats why you liked talking to him so much, he didn’t put personal feelings or opinions in the conversation, no he just listened to you. You were starting to like Connor’s company more and more.

Suddenly, Connor did a trick with a coin.

“Okay, alright then.” You backed away, pretty impressed, “where did you learn that? Or was that in your data too?”

“Would you like to try?” Connor says giving you the coin.

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll be good at it.” You tried to resist, feeling bashful.

“You will never know until you try, go ahead and give it a go.” As Connor passed the coin to you your hands touched. His skin felt almost like human skin, but it felt more plastic and more artificial, a little rubbery as well.

“Alright then,” you took the coin and Connor went right beside you. His body close to yours but it was odd. There was no body heat like normal, no body smell nothing just Connor. His lips were right by your ear. “You have to pay close attention to this.” (omg this so reminds me of when bryan taught jacksepticeye how to do it) “You have to try to get it between your fingers, so let me toss it to you.”

“Can I look down?”

“No.”

“Connor!”

Connor sighed, “fine you may, but just the first time.”

As Connor stood close to you he flicked to coin in your direction. You tried closing your fingers as fast as you could but the coin only hit a piece of your finger and fell to the floor.

“NAILED IT!” You joked as you danced at your failing victory.

For a minute you thought you saw Connor smile at your silliness. As you proceeded to walk you spotted a dog with his owner walking by.

“Awww look how cute he is,” you bent down and pet the dogs back. The dog barking and wagging his tail.

“I like dogs,” Connor says as he too bends down.

“Really? You too? I didn’t know you liked dogs, aren’t they the best?”

“They are perfect companions, like what folks say in this day and age, dogs are a mans best friend.”

You grinned, “they certainly are.”

After you two had your little fangirling moment with dogs you two went onto the police department. You two talked about everything and anything. This was going to be a new experience not just for you but for everyone you worked with, but you know somehow some way it would work itself out. Plus you thought Connor was great, and who knows maybe you and him could become closer in the future.

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @andreaoreas, @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @fangirl-4-life415

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

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smokenhoney · 5 years

Text

IV.

“Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” Lowell says as he walks, leading Allister somewhere but not telling him where. “No one’s ever killed on their first night in the dream. Either they’re scared of their familiar or they don’t know how to use their weapon or they’re so damn confused they can barely tell up from down.” He tosses a knife idly to twirl in the air, catches it by the handle.

Allister feels strange about Lowell’s typical nonchalance, as even now he seemingly treats death like something trivial. Allister’s shaking hand is still fisted in his wolf’s fur, but he still has a grip on the icy calm he felt before as he relaxed his fingers and released his arrow. Icy and cold like a killer, he thinks to himself. He looks to his other hand, still holding the bow. You are a killer now. It suits you.

But really, he’s always been able to swallow his fear, to steel himself against things he knows should shake him. What he lacks in physical resemblance to his mother he makes up for in character. She had always been the calm in the eye of the storm, the rock that held him and Eldin steady through everything. She hadn’t cried when she died, and because of that, neither did he. Now he’s hardening himself like he wears armour as he stares at the blood on Skadi’s maw. Already accepting the blood on his hands.

Skadi had dropped her guard when Allister did, which was as soon as he’d recognized Lowell’s voice. Now Lowell’s pup is nipping jubilantly at her heels, and every so often she returns a nip playfully at him to entertain him, but for the most part she simply ignores him and stares straight ahead with an icy calm similar to Allister’s. Lowell’s little wolf likes to dash gallantly about, but Allister’s much larger one seems to prefer to stay right by his side.

“I’m our group’s recruiter,” Lowell is saying, Allister barely paying attention to him. “I’m friendly, and Baudoin’s friendly”–the pup’s ears lift and he yips happily at the sound of his name–“but I’ve also got a good knife arm if it’s needed. It’s not usually necessary, though; hunters aren’t too common right now. They sure found you quick, though…” He glances uneasily at Skadi, and Allister’s not sure what to make of the look. “The size of her… You must have quite the draw to you. Has she told you her name?”

Allister is only half listening, and he’s not prepared to have to actually take part in conversation. “Um,” he trails off, staring at his wolf for a moment too long. “Skadi.”

“Skadi!” Lowell repeats, reaching out a hand to ruffle the fur on the top of her head. She glares at him, looking annoyed, but does nothing. “You’re one hell of a beast, I’ll tell you that.”

She lets out an unthreatening growl, seemingly in agreeance. He laughs, and Allister’s hand relaxes in her fur, no longer shaking.

After a few minutes of walking and of Lowell’s constant chattering, they arrive at a very familiar building, the sign above the door reading “Wit’s End.” Two bouncers stand outside, and Allister recognizes them both. He is opening his mouth to greet them when Lowell stops him.

“We choose the names we use when we’re in the dream.” Lowell speaks quietly, just out of earshot. They watch as if they know what he’s saying anyway. “You may know them as something else, but here, he’s Dov,” he says, nodding towards the shorter, stockier man, and as Allister looks his way, he notices the small bear standing attentively at his side. “And he’s Branwen.” Lowell then nods towards the tall, wiry man who is currently leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes nearly closed. They open, however, as a graceful, snow-white bird flutters down to perch on his forearm, its head angled to the side.

They approach slowly, and Allister does his best not to gawk at the bear. Still, he finds himself staring at it, the disbelief clear in his eyes. Skadi, on the other hand, parts from him briefly to trot right up to the bear. They stretch their necks to sniff at each other, and Allister almost laughs at the sight–Skadi is nearly twice the bear’s size.

On the other hand, both Dov and Branwen seem almost uneasy at the sight of the wolf, and Allister can see it in their faces. Maybe it’s just the size of her, he thinks, but he can’t help but wonder if there’s something else to it. His thoughts trail off as Lowell claps him on the back.

“So he finally managed it!” Lowell exclaims towards the men with a grin. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up here for a while now,” he says to Allister, the smile still on his face. “You really took your time.”

The two men simply nod respectfully in Allister’s direction, holding their silent guard. The white bird cocks its head and watches Allister intently as he and Lowell step to the door before it takes to the skies again.

Skadi is back at Allister’s side when they enter the building, and he’s only half surprised to see that he recognizes nearly every face there, either as a coworker or as a bar regular. He’s also only half surprised to see that they all seem to have some sort of animal–had Lowell called them familiars?–standing by their side, or laying at their feet, or pacing happily or fretfully across the floor, or perhaps perched on a shoulder. The room falls silent as all eyes turn to them–or more specifically to his wolf.

“Melisande turned this place into a safe haven for people in the dream,” Lowell tells him. The name doesn’t sound familiar, but Allister is sure that the face that goes with it will be. “That’s why I told you to apply here a few months ago.”

“Why, look at you! You’re finally here,” exclaims the woman behind the bar. He knows her quite well, but he’s quick to learn that he doesn’t know the true names of anyone here. She’s a tall, no-bullshit woman with close cropped hair and a face that only looks warm and welcoming to him because she knows him. A serpentine dragon tattoo he’s seen before snakes its way up her arm, teeth bared and wings spread across her bicep… but he doesn’t expect to see a small, living scaled creature who looks very similar to the creature in ink, his green head poking up curiously from behind her shoulder. His tail is hooked around the same arm that holds the tattoo, and his sharp claws cling to her shirt.

Allister can feel his jaw beginning to drop in awe, and it takes all of his willpower to keep himself from running right up to the creature like an excited child. “That’s a fucking dragon,” he says under his breath, hoping only Lowell can hear him.

The woman simply smirks at him. “This is Errol,” she says as she sticks a hand out for the little dragon to perch on. He puffs his chest out proudly and stretches his tiny wings as he burps out a small plume of smoke. “And here, my name’s Tiama. And you?” It’s clear that she’s asking him to introduce himself, giving him the opportunity to choose a new name of his own.

At this, Lowell leans in close and whispers, “Remember, we’re who we want to be when we’re here. You can be Allister if you want, but it’d be just as strange to us if you kept your name as it would be if you changed it.”

He tries not to notice how probably fifteen human pairs of eyes turn to him and instead pretends he’s only introducing himself to Tiama. He doesn’t even have to think about the name he wants. “This is Skadi,” he tells her, resting a hand on the silent wolf’s head, “and I’m Vili.”

The name his mother gave him, and the last word on her lips. He feels a weight lift off his chest as the name hits his ears for the first time in years.

#smoke&honey #s&h ch4 #writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #nosebleedclub #thesproutclub #writler

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wittyy-name · 6 years

Text

Wild Magic - Part V: Flying - Now on Patreon

Keith/Lance, Rated M, Part Five: 27,920 words | Total So Far: 119,000+ violence, magic, vastaya au, strangers to lovers, freedom fighter Keith, entertainer Lance, action, adventure, fantasy, pining

Fic Summary: The Vastaya are an ancient and proud race, born of magic and man, and they are dying. The spread of humans makes the magic of their homelands run thin. What is left is preyed upon and corrupted by the rising galra influence.

After losing their home, what remains of the Marmora tribe scatters, fighting the spread of corruption where they can. For the last century, this is the only life Keith has known. And with Shiro’s disappearance, he’s more alone than ever. But he keeps going, even if it means losing himself. For the fight. For his people. For their future. For his homelands. For magic.

The last thing he expected to find was another feathered Vastaya, one with wings that shone like the sky and moved like waves when he danced. He never asked for company, never wanted it. But as Keith finds himself growing fond of Lance’s flippant attitude and determined blue eyes, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to fight alone anymore.

Part I: Falling – Part II: Rising – Part III: Soaring - Part IV: Gliding

Wild Magic is my upcoming fic collab with @wolfpainters. I’ll be working on this fic between major fic updates, and posting the chapters to my Patreon for all patrons of the $15 tier and up. This fic wont be posted to Ao3 until its completely finished, and Sora is done with all the art. This will be a while in the making, so become a patron for early access!

This is by far my favorite thing I’ve ever written, and it’s by far both of our favorite fic/au that we’ve done. Part V dives deeper into the lore and world building as the gang finds the altean monastery, convinces them to unite against the galra, Keith finds Krolia, and Keith and Lance share more tender moments.

Patreon | Ko-fi | Twitter | Ao3

Excerpt Below

He's no stranger to chasing rumors. He's done so for centuries. Following whispered words and letting gossip guide him.

As such, he's familiar with the frustration that comes when a lead runs dry.

"This sucks," Pidge huffs, voice trailing to a strangled yelp as she once again on the roots and vines that crawl across the pathways. Keith peers down from his perch, watching as she stumbles, pointing angrily at the ground. "Okay, I know they're doing that on purpose! I saw it this time! The vines are moving, I swear."

Lance's chuckle comes lilting on the breeze, voice drifting from within the home Keith perches on top of. "The forest is having fun with you, Pidge."

"I hate forests." She sits on the lip of a cracked stone fountain, crossing her arms and legs, shoulders hunched. "I thought the ones outside Piltover were bad, but at least those ones didn't try to kill me."

"It's not trying to kill you," Shiro says from across what had once been a village square. His hands rest on his hips, tail flicking the air behind him and ears twitching restlessly. He turns slowly, eyes roaming. "It's just... playful."

"You talk like it has a mind of it's own."

"It does!"

Keith looks down to see Lance crawl out of one of the building's windows. He dusts himself off, straightening his clothes and taking gentle care to check Keith's feathers pinned to his cloak. He knows the feathers are far more durable than that, but the fact that he checks them incessantly makes a warmth flicker in Keith's chest.

"All forests do, but here the magic from the spirit realm is so thick that it saturates everything. The forest is actually able to act on its mind instead of standing idle."

"Great," Pidge says dryly. "So it's alive. Wonderful."

"Technically, all forests are alive." Hunk walks out of the building below Keith, using the open doorway. There's a bundle of bound parchment in his arms.

"You know what I mean," Pidge snaps, but Hunk hardly notices.

"Guys, this is so cool. I found some books? But they're like, really, really old books. It's in a language I don't even understand! I found a couple in what I assume was the kitchen, so maybe they're cook books? I found a few others scattered in the house. Do you think the Alteans can help us decipher them?"

"Probably," Matt says, swinging down from atop another building on a loose branch. He lands easily, picking a leaf out of his hair. "If they're really as old as people say they are. I agree with Hunk, though. This is amazing." He throws his arms out, gesturing to the village as he spins. "This is a footprint of ancient Ionian civilization. Back when people used to work with magic and natural to build their homes. I've read about it, but I never thought I'd see it."

"Too bad it's abandoned," Keith mutters.

"Well, yes, there is that."

Keith crosses his arms over his chest, taking a step back to turn and let his eyes scan across the village. It isn't the first they've come across. Since setting foot on this island, they haven't seen a single living person. Aside from the spirits and animals, they had nothing but eerie silence to keep them company. Even the strong melody of magic couldn't detract from the feeling of emptiness that settled across the landscape.

Like all the other villages they'd come across, the buildings of this one were woven from the trees themselves. Not built from the trees, but rather that the trees had grown and shaped to suit the village needs. They'd seen all sorts of natural architecture as they'd ventured deeper into the island. From all sorts of plant life and the earth itself. The buildings they'd come across settled naturally into the landscape rather than stand atop it.

He'd heard of such magic. Nature magic. The ability to communicate with the energies of the earth. To call out to the magic of living things and will them to grow in specific ways. Wood weavers. Earth builders.

Many vastaya villages were made in a similar way, but he'd heard that long ago, humans could use this kind of magic. He never truly believed it, but now the proof was all around him. On an island that had been abandoned and left an empty husk for spirits to roam.

The humans had fallen far if this is where their ancestry lied.

"Pidge, you have a few..." Keith glances down to find Matt sitting on the lip of the fountain next to Pidge, gesturing vaguely around his head.

Pidge sighs, shoulders slumping. There's a faint glowing bobbing around her head. Two of them. "I know. I tried getting rid of them, but they keep coming back." As Keith watches, the glowing seems to solidify. Two spirits, pale in color and bodies fat and round. Looking like palm sized caterpillars with large eyes and markings that pulsed with light. They became more corporeal, nuzzling into Pidge's hair. "Besides," She says, unable to stop her smile. "They're kind of cute, I guess."

"They think your hair is a nest," Matt snickers, and Pidge playfully shoves him.

Shiro sighs, arms crossing over his chest. "I don't think we're going to find much here."

They all glance over, smiles fading, but it's Pidge who speaks up first. "What're we looking for anyway?"

"At this point, I'd say we're looking for any sign of life around here. We know the altean monastery used to be on this island, we just don't know where or how to find it," Matt says, leaning back on his hands, eyes on Shiro.

"You said they've been missing for thousands of years," Pidge says, slight frown as she stares at Shiro's back. Her voice softens. "Are we sure they're even still alive?"

"No," Shiro breathes out a long sigh. "But we have to hope. We have to make sure. The galra are still wary of them, and the galra fear nothing. That's as good of a reason as any to believe they're still alive."

"Maybe they don't want to be found?" Hunk shifts his weight as eyes turn to him. He busies himself with organizing the bound parchment in his hands, shifting them gently into his bag. "I mean, obviously they don't want to be found. That's why they've been missing for like, forever. But maybe they really don't want to be found? What if they don't want anything to do with us or Ionia?"

"We're not going to give them a choice," Keith says, perhaps a hair too sharply.

One of Shiro's ears swivel in his direction, and the look in his eyes is of exasperated fondness. "Everyone has a choice, Keith. We just need them to hear us out."

"What if they don't want to listen?"

"Then we'll just have to be super convincing, won't we?" Lance scrambles up the building, feet and hands finding easy holds in the woven and twisted bark of the tree. He pulls himself up to Keith's perch on a wide, flat expanse that serves as a roof and a ledge before the tree continues to spiral upwards.

He hooks an arm over Keith's shoulders, leaning into him and offering a curl of his lips. He leans in close, breath whispering against the fur of Keith's ears. "I've heard I'm very convincing."

A shiver runs down his spine, and while Keith says nothing, Lance seems pleased with himself nonetheless.

"Do we have any idea where the monastery is?" Pidge asks, looking to Matt who only shakes his head.

"Unfortunately, no. Everything I've read and everyone I've talked to just says that it was located at the heart of the north eastern isle." He purses his lips, looking up at the trees that towered above them. "I was kind of hoping we'd just... wander around and eventually find someone who could point us in the right direction. Ask the locals, you know? Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. Everything I've read about explorers trying to find the monastery says it's impossible. Like the whole place just disappeared without a trace."

"How does a whole monastery and civilization just..." Hunk waves a hand around vaguely. "Disappear?"

Shiro steps closer to where they gather near the fountain. His brows crease as he stares at the moss covered stonework, tail twitching behind him. "The Alteans were known to be masters of magic. From legends, we know that they were apart of an ancient order dedicated to keeping the balance in Ionia. They watched over spiritual gates and the ley lines. It's entirely possible that it's magic that's keeping them hidden."

"Cool, so we just gotta find a magically hidden ancient civilization," Hunk says, nodding as he closes up his bag and swings it over his shoulder once more. "Easy. No problem."

Pidge turns to Matt, and even from here, Keith can see the clockwork turning behind her eyes. "Do you think we could reverse engineer our magic analyzer to seek magic instead? Like read the levels in the air?"

Keith watched that brilliant spark of magic light up Matt's eyes. "Because if they're being hidden by magic, then there's gotta be a huge concentration of it."

"That would at least lead us in the right direction."

They keep going. A back and forth with no end. Finishing each other's thoughts and sentences. That precious madness flaring between them. Then Hunk joins a grounding force that allowed them to grow. Keith doesn't understand most of what they're saying, but he supposes he doesn't need to.

Shiro looks about as lost as he feels, but he's at least making an attempt to understand.

"I think we're going about this the wrong way." Lance's voice is light and thoughtful, soft enough to be kept private. Keith tilts his head, eyeing him sidelong and lifting a brow to show he has his attention. He watches Lance's profile as he frowns, brows furrowing as he tilts his head. He gestures to those below. "We're going about this like humans."

"The Alteans are human."

The pinch between his brows relaxes, and his lips start to ease upwards. "True, but they weren't blind, nor were they deaf." Lance tilts his head, catching Keith's gaze. There's a sharpness there, and a gleam in his smirk. "Shiro said they were masters of magic and keepers of spiritual gates. What are we, Keith?" His voice dips, and a shiver runs through Keith.

He feels his own lips curl in an answering grin.

Lance steps away from him, arm leaving Keith's shoulder but hand running down his arm to clutch at Keith's as he turns to face him. "We're children of the spirit realm. They might be masters of magic, but we're born from it. I think it's time we stop acting like humans and start acting like vastaya."

His fingers curl between Keith's, grin wide and fangs glinting in the light peeking between the trees. Keith smirks, heart beating wildly in his chest. He understands.

He drops to a crouch, pulling Lance with him. Lance drops at his side, allowing the tug to drag him down. Keith presses their joined hands to the bark beneath them, smooth and woven and ancient, but still very much alive.

He closes his eyes.

He breathes out.

He feels his magic swirl in his core. Bright and vibrant. Harsh warm hues. Warming to deeper purples and indigos and violets.

He feels Lance's magic next to him. Nearly as bright as his own. Washing over him. Cool and soothing. Grounding as it is chaotic. Powerful and rolling. Strength hidden in the illusion of calm. Blues of every shade, swirling and igniting together.

He feels the clash where their hands touch. The sparks where their energies connect. Arcing toward each other. Unable to resist. Unable to stop the attraction, even on a molecular level.

Reaching out, he feels the energy humming through the tree. Chases it down to the earth, where the ley lines run thick and uninhibited. They fracture outward. A spiderweb of fissures that run endless through the ground. He feels where the plant life draws from them. He feels the way it radiates from the earth into the air.

He feels the forest.

He feels the animals.

He feels the ley lines.

He feels the minor spirits that drift through the trees and hover just out of reach, drawn and curious by their presence.

He feels... something stronger. A tug. A distant pull. Something calling to him, but not in any manner he's familiar with. Faint and fleeting. A whispered question.

He snaps his eyes open, gaze locking with Lance's. His eyes are bright. Crinkling at the edges. Dancing with the dust motes.

"You felt it." It's not a question.

Lance's smile curls wide. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"Only one way to find out."

They leap from their perch, darting off into the village with hands still joined. He can hear the others' shouts of surprise. He can hear the questions. He ignores their fading voices, focusing on that distant tug.

They weave through the village, darting between trees that shape homes. Abandoned and empty husks within the woven trunks. Though the shadows and the rays of light drifting down from between branches.

Lance slows at his side. "I lost it."

Keith's hand tightens around his. "I didn't."

He still feels it. Getting stronger and stronger. He realizes that he's following the ley lines. That they're all converging on a point ahead. He pushes his pace. Feet barely touching the grass-lined cobblestones. Lance runs at his side until Keith pulls ahead. Until his hand slips from Keith as Keith darts ahead. Faster. Faster. Faster.

He stops when he reaches another clearing. Another square within the village. He stops suddenly, brought up short by a feeling in his gut. His momentum carries his wing forward, feathers rustling as they settle back down his back.

The ley lines pool here, creating a small wellspring that was no doubt once the village's heart. At the center of the village square is a pillar of stone. It rises from the earth, somehow looking natural despite the deliberate craft to it. The smooth spiral and twisting rise of it.

He steps closer, eyes narrowing at the symbols carved around the pillar. He doesn't recognize them, but he feels like he should.

He feels a presence. A sudden power that makes his hair stand on end and his feathers bristle.

He spins into a crouch, wing automatically flaring out and fingers combing through his feathers, plucking three at random. Magic sparks at his fingertips, sharpening and steeling them.

His eyes lock onto a creature that hovers at the edge of the square, tucked into the shadows of two buildings.

A spirit.

A powerful spirit at that.

Keith can feel the energy radiating from them. Cold on his tongue and washing over his skin like water. Strangely soothing, but sharp enough to keep him on edge. The spirit's body, while corporeal, seems to blur at the edges. Wisps of mist curling from it and obscuring its form. Blue of all shades, swirling and shifting and constantly in motion.

The form of... a lion? Certainly a cat of some sort. Body large. Ears pointed and curled at the tips. Tail thin and flickering, a tuft of hair at the end. Features sharp in places that seem odd and rounded at others. A feline, yes, but definitely a spirit creature.

It stares at Keith, and Keith stares black. Unblinking. Wary. It doesn't feel malicious, but he can never be too certain. Spirits rarely mean harm, especially to vastaya, but he fears if he looks away, the magnificent creature will disappear.

It's gaze, however, is fixed to him. Eyes dark and endless as the night sky. Drawing him in. Seeing through him. Taking the weight of his soul and measuring it.

His breath is caught in his lungs.

Then there's a rustle behind him. A familiar press of cool magic. A soft inhale, and a gentle rush of air. "Whoa..."

The spirit's eyes leave Keith's, snapping to Lance instead. Keith finds himself still unable to move. Waiting, though he isn't sure for what.

A flash of blue in the corner of his eye. "Lance," He hisses, but Lance is already moving forward.

His steps aren't wary, but they're slow. Deliberate. He moves forward with the same grace that fills his every movement, swaying up to the spirit with a confidence that lacks cockiness. When he nears, he drops to his knees, holding his hands out.

And Keith watches, amazed and awed, as the spirit moves forward. As it bumps its head into Lance's hands. As Lance laughs, hands running through the mane of mist.

Lance cradles the spirit's feline head in his hands, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

Keith hears the clatter of footsteps, loud in the silence. The voices of their friends. He hears their heavy breathing and loud arrival. He hears them stop behind him. Their soft gasps.

"What's... what's he doing?" Hunk asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Lance turns then, head whipping around and grin catching the light as his eyes dance. "Guys! I know where we need to go!"

Keith feels a tug at his lips. "He's asking the locals."

#klance #vastaya au #fic: wild magic #fic: wm #wing fic sorta #fantasy au #high fantasy #magic au #adventure #action #wittyywrites #patreon #long post

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roggling · 5 years

Text

An Alternate Reality’s Gift (IV)

“These people are buttholes.”

The team’s eyes widened and they all warned, “Kallur!”

The boy in question pouted and crossed his arms and turned away from their reprimanding eyes and just stared at his father’s white armor. Keith kneeled down and looked into his son’s blue eyes sternly, “Even though people may be mean, we don’t call them names. Especially something as vulgar as that.”

“Well,” Lance started, everyone turning to look at him as he leaned against a wall, “He isn’t wrong.”

Keith glared at the Red Paladin, eyeing Kallur’s admiration for his uncle’s defense, and he warned, “Don’t encourage him, Lance. He shouldn’t be using such strong words. He’s just three.”

Lance shrugged and winked at Kallur before turning away from Keith and continuing his failing attempts to free them. Allura, from her spot beside Lukeia playing with Keilu, agreed with Keith, “You are right, Keith. “Buttholes” is much too vulgar for you, Kallur.”

Kallur pouted, but this time he seemed more guilty now that his mom was chastising him and Keith looked at her with a look of gratitude. At least, until she spoke again.

“We call these kinds of people little quiznakers.”

Keith’s jaw dropped, Shiro facepalmed, Pidge struggled to keep her laugh hidden, and the rest looked surprise, yet they all gasped, “Allura!”

Just then the prison door slid open and they all fell quiet as two familiar figures stepped inside. Keith furrowed his brows in recognition and asked, “Zethrid? Ezor?”

The two women didn’t even look in his direction. The first thing they looked at were at the kids standing in between Allura and Keith. Zethrid chuckled and stood in front of the kids.

Lukeia cocked her head in curiosity and asked Ezor, “Why is your hair a tail?”

Ezor laughed and took a step closer to the little girl but Lukeia leaned closer into her mother’s thigh, and she quickly grabbed her baby brother into her arms as well. Kallur, however, merely stood still and threw his head back trying to see Zethrid’s head. When he almost stumbled backwards he mumbled, “You’re too big to be a little quiznaker.”

Allura and Keith just about died.

Zethrid and Ezor merely chuckled and Ezor crossed her arms and cocked an amused eyebrow towards Keith and Allura, “You two sure got busy. Acxa’ll be disappointed to hear the emo one is taken.”

Keith and Allura merely stayed quiet but Keith took a step closer to the two, hoping to be able to move before they do anything to his kid.

Ezor bends down and smiles at Kallur, who just looks at her owlishly, and asks, “Hey buddy, have you seen Prince Lotor recently?”

Kallur scrunched his face, “Who’s Price Motor?”

Ezor glares at Lance once he starts laughing behind Kallur. Kallur smiles at hearing his uncle laugh and Ezor sighs, “No. Prince Lotor. You know, big and tall with light purple skin, white hair, and ears like yours? You’ve never seen him?”

Kallur shakes his head, “I don’t know who Lotor is.”

Zethrid scoffs and bares her teeth at the team, “He’s lying.”

Allura glares at her and takes a step closer, “My son is no liar. He has never seen Lotor. We left him in the quintessence field between realities. He’s dead.”

“That doesn’t add up. Why aren’t you dead?”

“No,” Allura replied sternly, “Lotor went on a rampage and he was knocked unconscious. He’s dead.”

Zethrid pounded on the walls with her fist and spat, “Lies.”

Kallur looked up at the threatening woman with wide, fearful eyes and Zethrid picked up the child from his collar and lifted him up into the air.

There was a chorus of ‘No!’s ringing through the air and Keith threw himself at the pair to get his son away from them, but Ezor expertly kicked him in the abdomen, successfully throwing him across the room and on top of the team, disabling them for a second as Zethrid glared at the kid in her hand and asked, “Where is Prince Lotor?”

The child kicked in her arms, though it did nothing, and yelled, “I don’t know who that is!”

Lukeia, crouching over her baby brother, had wide eyes as she looked at her family groaning on the floor in pain and her little brother in danger.

Zethrid step closer to her family threateningly and she ran in between the tall woman and her family and screamed, “Get back!”

Zethrid stopped midstep and looks down at the child in front of her and chuckles wryly, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Keith, trying to free himself from the pile of people, screamed, “Lukeia get away from them.”

Zethrid sneers, “You should listen to your parents, kid. You might just get hurt.”

Ezor took a step closer to Lukeia, but Lukeia’s hand suddenly began glowing a bright aqua blue and she held her hand up in between her and the enemy. The two women stepped back in surprise and the team watched the little girl in awe. Lukeia glared and she demanded, “Put Kallur down!”

Allura and Keith were finally free and they both ran towards Lukeia. Both were forced to stand a few feet away from the intense brightness of Lukeia’s power, but they were able to make out Zethrid letting Kallur down gently on the floor. Kallur immediately ran away and ran behind Keith’s leg and peered at the scene unfolding. Lukeia started glowing brightly all over, her blue altean marks glowed as her mother’s had when they were near Oriande and her purple irises turned a ghostly blue.

“Lukeia, stop! You can hurt yourself and us if you attack!”

Lukeia, however, didn’t stop glowing, “Ummm… I can’t?”

Keith took a step closer and yelled, “Just relax!”

“I can’t relax if you’re yelling at me, dad!”

“Lukeia, you do not speak to your father with that attitude!”

“Are we really doing this now?” Lance questioned as he lifted Pidge up from under Hunk in the pile, “We’re all going to die!”

Suddenly, a loud explosion shook the ground and a loud alarm sounded throughout the room and the rest of the ship. The whole group froze and Ezor and Zethrid looked towards their men behind them, all of them running out of the room and towards the offense.

“Hull breach in hangar one. Lockdown sequence initiated.” The monotone voice of the speakers filled in the confusion inside the room and Ezor and Zethrid bolted for the door and locked it, leaving the team trapped inside with Lukeia’s glowing hand...quintessence...weapon continuing to glow.

“Lukeia, sweetheart, I need you to relax your hand,” Allura urged, speaking to the spooked child with a soothing voice.

Lukeia took a deep breath and relaxed her hand and let the quintessence go. The force of the blast threw her backwards and her father caught her in his arms. The team looked at the door and gaped at the huge hole steaming from it, seeing a row of holes in the walls in front of the door.

Allura and Keith looked down at their daughter and smiled and Allura passed a hand through Lukeia’s silver hair, “Thank you, my little juniberry.”

“Allura,” Krolia interrupted, who was rocking baby Keilu in her arms and trying to calm him down. Allura looked up at the older woman and saw her pointing at the ground in front of the steaming door.

There, fazed and shivering in fear, were the mice. Allura chuckled as they all ran towards her and onto her shoulders, “It’s alright. We’re fine.”

The mice then began squeaking and squeaking, the team peering over Allura’s shoulder and still wondering how she can understand them.

“Where?”

“What are they saying mommy?” Kallur asked, the child holding the tiniest mice in his hand and petting him.

“Coran’s trying to save us and he’s got help. Acxa.”

His face turned soft and whispered a soft ‘what?’ and Allura felt a weight on her stomach, though she didn’t know why. “Come on,” Keith began, taking Lukeia into his arms and leading the group, “We’ve gotta get out of here and into our lions.” Quickly, the paladins started running towards the hangar, running into Coran and knocking out the Galra cornering him and returning to their jog.

Nearby, they heard pair of Galra messing around with their Bayards and they hid behind some walls.

“Great,” Lance whispered, “They’ve got our Bayards. What are going to do?”

Suddenly, Kallur jumped out and took out his Bayard and yelled, “Let me at ‘em!”

Lance and Pidge quickly grabbed Kallur and hid him behind the wall again, Lance’s hand muffling the little boy’s mouth and Pidge sighed in exasperation, “There goes the element of surprise.”

Then, Keith’s bayard was in his hand in a flash, surprising the team, and he jumped at the two guards, defeating them in exactly five seconds. Kallur peered over the wall and his eyes sparkled with admiration and gasped, “Dad’s so cool!”

Keith slipped on his helmet and turned towards the team with orders, “Lance, lead the way. Keep the team together.”

The team rushed to get their equipment and to get moving and Lance stopped Keith for a second, “Wait, where are you going?”

“Acxa saved our skin. I’m not going to leave her behind.”

Allura turned around to watch Keith leave and smiled fondly when she saw Keith ruffled Kallur’s head as he left the team to go help Acxa. Kallur looked at his mom next, and rose a confused eyebrow when he saw her watching his dad walking off and he tugged on her hand, “Mom you’re looking at dad all lovey-dovey again.”

Allura shook out of her daydreaming and she looked mortified as she saw the team smiling at her knowingly. She backed up in surprise, “N-No! I’m not!”

“Alright, kiddo,” Krolia plopped a helmet Kallur’s head, saving Allura from his oblivious teasing, “We need to get you suited up.”

As Krolia dressed Kallur, Allura dressed Lukeia, who was still unconscious, and Shiro, Romelle, and Coran struggled to find a way to fit baby Keilu in a tiny suit and helmet they found in one of the crates.

“Let’s get to the Lions,” Lance ordered as Keith’s right-hand and began moving towards the hangar.

Kallur beamed and rose his right hand, “I call dibs on riding with dad!”

Allura looked up at Shiro, who was running beside her, and asked, “Would you take him with you?”

Keith lifted Kallur up on top of his shoulders and smiled reassuringly, “I’ve got him.”

Kallur laughed and rose up his hands in excitement, “Yay! Uncle Shiro!”

Lance ran up to the controls beside the hatch of the hangar and pulled down a lever, the door immediately opening and the team was sucked out of the ship and into space. Kallur was laughing and enjoying the ride with his uncle, gazing up at the sky and the red nebula nearby.

Behind the team, a group of Galrans ganged up together and began firing on them, Shiro having to swerve out of the way to avoid getting hit and Kallur whooped and cheered him on. The Black Lion was kind enough to open its jaws and let them in but it would not power up and it waited for Keith to return.

Allura entered her lion once she made sure her son was safe inside and she gently laid Lukeia on the pod inside her Lion. Romelle braced herself against Allura’s chair and held onto baby Keilu tightly as Allura powered up the Blue Lion.

“Guys!” Keith’s voice sounded through their helmet, “Zero in on my location and fire on the ship!”

Allura’s eyes widened and reluctantly prepared the Blue Lion to fire, “Are you sure?”

“Just do it!”

Allura took a deep breath and prayed to the ancients that Keith wasn’t pulling anything stupid in the ship and did as she was told, seeing the rest of the lions fire on Keith’s location as well and she hoped for the best.

Her eyes widened in worry when she saw an intense explosion erupt and multiple explosions throughout the ship followed after. The Black Lion rushed towards the ship and a wave of relief overtook her once she saw Keith fly through a thick black smoke. However, once she saw him holding Acxa’s hand, another feeling overwhelmed her and she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t jealousy. Once Keith was inside the Black Lion, it turned around and left the ship to destroy itself, the rest of the lions following close behind.

When Keith walked into the cockpit, he was bombarded by a little tornado and almost fell backwards when Kallur jumped into his arms.

“You were so awesome dad! I want to be just like you when I grow up!” Keith chuckled at the little kid in his arms and smiled softly.

“Thanks, buddy. I’ll teach some moves when we arrive on Earth, alright?”

“Yay!” Kallur punched his fist in the air and something caught his eye. He turned around and saw Acxa behind his father and he asked her, “Who are you?”

“Acxa,” the woman replied curtly and Keith noticed her gaze kept shifting between him and Kallur in his arms before she asked Keith, “Is this your son?”

“Yep!” Kallur answered proudly and he beamed.

Keith wanted to say the truth so that Acxa wouldn’t be confused, but it wasn’t the right moment. Kallur didn’t need to know the truth yet. Not when he already lost his universe. Keith put Kallur down and headed for the pilot seat sending a curt, ‘thank you’ to Acxa before sitting down and taking the controls.

“You can send your team these coordinates. That’s my hideout for now. You can rest up there,” Acxa sent coordinates on over to Keith, who later passed it on to his Lion to send it to the team and offered her another ‘thank you’ before making plans with the team.

Acxa stood behind in a corner, seeing that Kallur wouldn’t stop looking at her but she didn’t really know what to say to him so she stayed quiet. Right up until Kallur decided to say what he thought.

“You’re pretty.”

Acxa’s eyes widened at the compliment and she looked down at the kid in shock. He had a completely innocent face gazing up at her. “Uh, thank...you?”

She looked over at Keith, hoping he would save her from the awkward conversation with his child. But, alas, that was not the case since he continued making plans with the team.

“Have you met my brother and sister? They’re with mommy now.”

“No. I haven’t.”

“That’s okay. I’ll introduce you to them when we see them again. My older sister’s name is Lukeia, she’s bossy and grouchy sometimes but she’s cool and looks just like mommy. My little brother’s Keilu. He’s just a baby so he just cries a lot. Oh! And he uses the bathroom a lot too. Gamma said that we both look like dad but we have mom’s eyes.”

Acxa nodded along and ate up all the information, “And… who’s your mother?” She asked it, but she felt she already knew judging by the boy’s altean marks.

“My mom’s the Blue Paladin! Allura!”

Acxa nodded in understanding and looked at the man piloting the Black Lion. She was too late. But, judging by how Keith handled the child in his arms, she was glad that he’s happy. That’s all that matters.

#kallura #kallura alternate reality kids au #an alternate reality's gift #keilu #kallur #lukeia #allura #keith #lance #pidge #shiro #hunk #krolia #coran #acxa

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