#he has little trouble clearing heights and generally lands on his feet

[cornerstonc]

#i like how surefooted cats seem in comparison to dogs aha #like they pad around very #uh #carefully?? #compared to like #most every dog i've seen which tend to come stampeding into a room fjfjkd;a #and don't get me wrong i love that about dogs lmao #but having never had a cat before there's definitely something Intriguing about them laughs #tbd #now granted i have seen plenty of videos of cats falling off things so there's That #but i do like the thought that despite his age natori is pretty agile #he has little trouble clearing heights and generally lands on his feet #just don't ask him to like #run a marathon or lift more than five pounds jfjkda;

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

------------------------

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though. 

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?” 

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?” 

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

#fanfic #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #swashbuckling au #geraskier swashbuckling au #pirate au #geraskier pirate au #geraskier pirates au #geraskier pirates #limrx is a fucking queen and i owe her my life #collab #geraskier collab #limrx #i borrowed starkey from Peter Pan #lambert #eskel #the witcher fanfic

[neonthewrite]

Washed Up Winchesters 2

Jacob has brought the waterlogged strangers to shore, where his smaller friends can help them get back on their feet. There's only one issue ... we're not in Kansas - ehhh, Blefuscu anymore!

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

Reading time ~10 minutes.

( 1 ) -2- ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 )

Story Tag

~~~~~

Jacob looked down just in time to see that exhausted lean. He paused his trek through the now-waist-deep water to move his hands even closer to his chest. The tiny knife rested precariously on his knuckle, no longer clung to as a desperate defense by the tiny little person in his hand. Now both of them were out cold, reminding him how much trouble they’d been in when he spotted them.

If he hadn’t rushed out to get to them fast enough …

He didn’t let himself dwell on it. Instead, as carefully as he could, he moved his hands together so he could gently settle the second guy down on his palm next to the first. They lay exhausted and unconscious, hopefully getting plenty of warmth from his hand. For all he knew, they could have been out on the water for hours before he wandered by. That knife tumbled to rest near the first of the two, and he hoped they wouldn’t wake up and decide to put it to use on him.

Hunting monsters. Does that include giants?

On his way back to shore, Jacob kept his eye on the pair of them, but they didn’t stir. By the time the water was barely up to his knees, he worried they might be worse off than he thought.

He was so preoccupied, he missed a small voice calling out for him at first. Back on dry land, with water rushing off of him and almost creating a small lagoon, he didn’t know what approach to take next.

“Jacob! What the hell!”

He finally glanced down to find a familiar, tiny shape waving frantically at him from the seaside cliffs. Those didn’t even come up to half his height, so he squatted down to put himself closer to Chase’s level.

“Chase, they were just floating out there on the water,” he explained. His voice pitched higher with worry, and he held his hand out to the cliff edge for Chase to see.

Chase, normally always ready with a joke or a cheesy remark, was serious as he beheld the bedraggled forms collapsed on Jacob’s hand. “Holy shit!” he hissed, hopping onto Jacob’s fingers like a ramp. He gingerly stepped around the pair and knelt down to see them closer, but frowned. “They were out in the water? How far?”

Jacob leaned closer as if he might see the pair as well as Chase could. “Pretty far. I couldn’t even stand up.”

Chase shook his head and his pitch black hair waved messily. “O-okay. Well. We should probably get them some help. Bring us all back to the house, alright? They probably need blankets, and stuff, or something. I dunno.”

Jacob nodded. “Let me know if they look like they’re gonna wake up before we get there,” he said, before rising to his feet with three tiny people on his hand.

~~~

The first thing Sam noticed, upon waking up, was how dry his mouth was.

Drawing in a raspy breath, Sam turned his head to the side and coughed. His throat was scratchy and dry, as though he'd had no water in hours. Squinting his eyes open, he blinked a few times, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings keeping him confused.

"Dee--" Sam only got the first sound of Dean's name out before his voice gave out and he coughed again. Licking his lips, he tried again, this time forcing out a "Dean?"

“Oh, shit!” a voice from somewhere else blurted. Footsteps followed, echoing slightly in the room lit mostly by tall windows on one side. Thin curtains wafted in a slight breeze, creating a gentle but bright view above where Sam lay.

Until suddenly someone was leaning over him to check on him. Sam balked back, deeper into the pillow his head was resting on.

“Hey, dude,” Chase greeted quietly. “Take it easy, okay? Your guy is on the other couch,” he leaned back and glanced over his shoulder to indicate the couch sitting opposite the one Sam occupied. Dean was there, wrapped in blankets and towels just like Sam, after their prolonged dip in the ocean. “It’s uh. We couldn’t get you guys to any beds to rest, so. Couches it is.”

He belatedly realized that he had a glass of water in his hand. “You probably need this, right? Man, I’m glad to see you’re awake. Had us worried there.”

Before anything, Sam glanced in the direction indicated to see Dean sprawled out, a boot sticking out of the blankets wrapped around him. Relieved to see that his brother had survived their short attempt at infiltration, Sam sank down into the cushions, accepting the water and tenderly wetting his mouth so he could talk. "Thanks," Sam managed. The water had helped. He was left with a thousand questions about just how they'd gotten here, though, considering the last he recalled, they had been floating in the ocean, long abandoned by the ship they'd taken out. Trying to condense those questions into one, all Sam could get out was "Who are you?"

Chase grinned. “Name's Chase. This is my house. My friend pulled you guys out of the water clear out in the bay and brought you here since he, ah, doesn't go into town much. Ta-da!” He held his hands open to grandly display the tidy, modestly-decorated living room.

Quickly enough, a more serious look replaced his bemused expression. “Other than, yknow, almost drowning … are you hurt or anything?”

Sam shook his head quickly, then paused to actually check. Other than the general aches and pains that came from hours keeping afloat in the ocean, nothing stood out to Sam as abnormal. “No, but Dean took the fall harder,” Sam admitted. He sipped at the water, then pushed himself up. He needed to check on Dean and make sure there weren’t any injuries.

So far, Dean hadn’t roused or budged since Sam and Chase had started talking. Much like Sam, he was still in the same clothes as when they were on the boat, with the towels and blankets bundled around to keep him warm.

When he got over, Sam checked to make sure Dean was breathing steadily. The leather jacket his older brother was known for was bundled up nearby, drenched with salt water.

“Dean’s not gonna be happy,” Sam commented dryly when he saw the state the jacket was in. He looked over at Chase. “How’d we get here? Last I knew, we were stranded with land too far off to see.”

Chase’s smile was more subdued this time as he tried to figure out how to approach the topic. From what he’d heard, one of these guys was quite freaked out when Jacob had found them, and he didn’t want to cause more upset while they were still in his house. “My friend Jacob actually spotted you and got you out of the water in the nick of time,” he hedged. “He was pretty worried, we had to send him on a walk so he wasn’t just pacing in the backyard wondering if he’d let you drown.”

He glanced at the curtained windows. “Guess you were already passed out when he showed up,” he said more gently. “I can get my sister to go find him, if ya want?”

“Yeah, if you could,” Sam said offhandedly, the importance of Chase’s statement not really sinking in. He wanted to thank their rescuer for himself, as soon as possible.

After, he would need to get Dean up to see what he remembered. They were on a case, after all. If they kept getting held up, by the time they caught up to the ship there’d be a trail of bodies to follow.

They had started out ten steps ahead on this case. How had it all gone so wrong?

"Just a sec," Chase agreed, before retreating to an arched doorway leading somewhere else in the house. He spared Dean one last glance, then nodded at Sam and disappeared through that doorway.

Even out of sight, it would be hard to miss the footsteps moving away. Even tougher to ignore was the shout that followed as Chase called up the stairs. "Hey, Minnie!"

"What?" Her voice from far away would be muffled to Sam, but still easily heard in the otherwise empty house.

"Go get Jacob back here!"

"Why can't you do it?"

Chase sighed in the most put-upon way he could manage. "Because, I have to be a good host and stuff!"

Minnie appeared at the top of the stairs, eyes narrowed and mouth turned down in a frown. "Then why are you yelling at me?" she countered, even as she hurried down to join him. Chase smirked as she had to step around him, before she shoved lightly at his side and made him stumble against the railing.

He followed her into the living room just as she reached it to check on their would-be guests herself. Her stern look softened when she saw that only one of them had woken up yet. "He gave you some water, right?"

Sam was bemused by the sight of the siblings' argument. It reminded him sharply of several arguments with Dean that had gone in nearly the same direction.

“He did,” Sam confirmed, getting Chase off at least one hook. He had a suspicion that it wouldn’t take the kid long to get himself in trouble yet again, much like Dean managed on an hourly basis. “We’re just waiting for Dean to wake up now.”

Minnie nodded, glancing once more at Dean with a small glimmer of concern in her eyes. “Alright. I’ll go get Jacob. Chase,” she fixed him with an almost accusing look, “will get you guys whatever you need.” She could see in his face that he had yet to explain who Jacob was, and if this guy was unconscious when the resident giant showed up, he wouldn’t be expecting his return now.

Chase gave Minnie a thumbs up as she left again, and then wandered closer to where Sam stood by Dean. Privately, he rued how tall both these guys were; they could barely fit on the couches in the living room, and had required every extra blanket he and Minnie could find in the house.

On one hand, they had the right build for sailors. On the other, it would be weird for sailors to be out floating in the bay, so far from shore that only a giant had a chance of spotting them.

“Won’t take him long to wander back here,” Chase said mildly. “Do you, uh. Why were you in the water?”

Sam sat back on his heels, continuing to hover close to Dean. “We’re on a job,” he explained. “It’s… complicated. Suffice to say, we got tossed overboard when our cover was blown.”

There was a lot about that nagging at Sam. His lips turned down as he thought over the events leading up to getting tossed overboard. Nothing, right up until the moment they were grabbed, stood out to him as out of the ordinary. They went undercover all the time, and on that ragtag ship of passengers and personnel, they’d blended right in even in their standard outfits.

“We just don’t know how they found us,” Sam mused.

“You were undercover?” Chase echoed, his eyes widening with intrigue. Jacob would be shocked to find out that he’d somehow rescued a pair of … well, whatever these two were to require undercover work. It was probably super cool. “Dude, so that means me, Minnie, and Jacob are helping out your, uh. Mission?”

Amused, Sam gave a half-shrug. “Uh, I guess?” he said. “It’s not like we’re government agents, after all…”

Dean stirred on the couch, mumbling in his spot. Sam was up in a flash, offering the cup of water before Dean tried to say anything. He remembered the raw, dry feeling in his throat from being stranded at sea for so long and didn’t want Dean to go through that any longer than he had to.

While he watched to make sure Dean didn’t spill the cup, Sam frowned. “We need to make sure no one gets hurt, and this whole thing will just get covered up if anyone else in Blefuscu finds out--”

“Blefuscu?!” Chase blurted, only reining in his volume on the last syllable of the word. He glanced at Dean, still barely conscious, before fixing his surprised look on Sam once more. “You’re from Blefuscu?”

They weren’t even from Lilliput. Blefuscu, the neighboring land across a wide bay, had a storied past with Lilliput. They weren’t really at war anymore, but even with some tense trade moving back and forth across the bay, the two countries weren’t exactly best friends. Chase wasn’t sure he’d even told Jacob very much about Blefuscu yet.

A distant rumble sounded, far enough to seem like a simple gust of wind if one didn’t know what it really was. Jacob must have wandered quite far, but he could cover distances like no one else. As this Sam and Dean were about to find out. “Anyway, uh. I guess you oughta know … Jacob brought you to Lilliput. Surprise?”

#mywriting #collab #washed up winchesters #jacob andris #chase lisong #g/t #g/t handheld #gullivers travels fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #chase in lilliput au #sam winchester #dean winchester

[krizaland]

zim x irken!reader based on the trial? the reader being a higher up that wants to save him (the tallest liking them would be an extra point)

Yes!!! I love this!

This came out waaay more angsty than I intended.

Be warned: There’s self sacrifice and attempted execution ahead!

Here’s the song I used btw

You felt your squeedilyspooch churn as you landed on Judgementia.

You didn’t know why you were so surprised.

It was only a matter of time before  Zim would have an Existence Evaluation.

As much as you hated to admit it, Zim was responsible for some of the worst tragedies on Irk.

From causing a massive blackout on planet, Devestus, to nearly annihilating their entire civilization during Operation Impending Doom 1; You should’ve expected this to happen a long long time ago.

Nevertheless, the mere thought of Zim having an Existence Evaluation made you burst into tears.

In spite of his numerous sins, you knew Zim never meant to cause so much trouble.

All Zim ever wanted to do was prove he was worthy of respect.

The life of a short Irken was filed with ridicule and discrimination.  You could never even imagine what it felt like to be as short as Zim.

He was even shorter than Skoodge!

It was a miracle he didn’t end up a Table-headed Service drone nor The Tallest’s personal foot stool.

You thanked your lucky stars you had the privilege to train with him.

Despite all the hateful words flung his way, you quickly learned that all of them were untrue.

From the moment you met Zim, you knew he was someone extraordinary.

He had more passion, determination, perseverance, and loyalty than anyone else.

Zim fought tooth and claw every day just to prove that he was just as worthy as anyone else.

And you deeply admired him for that.

No matter what anyone else said, you always stood by Zim’s side.

You cheered him on during training, you patched up his wounds, you even listened to him vent about his day.

Whenever Zim said he’d be a Tallest someday, you genuinely believed him.

He may have been short, but by god did he have the spirit of a leader.

Over time, you and Zim begun to fall in love.

Unfortunately, due to the drastic height difference, you and Zim had to keep the relationship a secret.

As time went on, you became the highest ranking general the Irken Army had to offer and Zim became an Invader.

You couldn’t have been more proud of him! You always knew he was destined for greatness!

Even after the catastrophe that was Operation Impending Doom 1, you still never gave up on Zim.

Unfortunately, the rest of the Empire didn’t feel the same.

Not one little bit

You thought that once Zim had been banished to the far reaches of the Galaxy he would be safe!

However, Red and Purple had been planning Zim’s Existence Evaluation for quite some time now.

You tried to talk them out if it. After all, Red and Purple adored you. You were so sure they’d listen.

Oh how wrong you were.

Red and Purple simply laughed in your face and thought you were joking.

As much as you wanted to fight for Zim, you didn’t want to upset Red and Purple.

Despite their trashy behavior, Red and Purple were still The Tallest and you had to respect them whether you liked it or not.

And you really really didn’t like it.

Neither Red nor Purple had any business being in a leadership position.

Both of them were arrogant, selfish, and childish.

They didn’t give a sandworm’s last whisker about Irk! All they cared about was snacks and which poor Navigator to yell at.

You always hated being invited to ‘oversee’ their ‘projects’.

You knew damn well that was just code for asking you on a date.

You could usually get away with declining but not today.

Every Irken was required to be present for an Existence Evaluation.

And you were given a front row seat.

You dragged your feet as you slunk inside the judgement hall.

“Hey Y/N! Over here!”

The sound of Purple’s excited voice woke you from your thoughts.

You jumped a bit before scurrying over to his side.

“Ah! Y/N! Glad you could make it. This Existence Evaluation wouldn’t nearly be as enjoyable without you.” Red purred as he floated over to you.

“But it would still be pretty enjoyable. After all, Zim’s totally going to be deleted!” Purple chuckled.

“Yeah! We’ll finally be rid of him!”

Red and Purple burst into a loud fit of laughter while you fought back the urge to cry.

Had they really no shame? Not even the tiniest inkling of remorse?

You held your tongue as you turned your attention to the center of the hall.

The Control Brains loomed ominously over The Spike of Judgement as they waited fir Zim’s arrival.

You always hated those dumb Brains.

Their rules were always so ridiculous! 

In fact it was their very rules that stood in the way between you and Zim!

You tried not to scowl as you took in a deep breath.

FWUMP!

Zim was tossed into the center of the Spike of Judgment.

He looked a bit bruised and confused but other than that Zim seemed fine.

“ZIM, YOUR TIME HAS COME. PREPARE FOR ALL YOU DESERVE,” The first Control Brain bellowed.

Zim jumped a bit as he felt a shudder run down his spine.

“Eh?! Oh! A surprise party?! That’s what this was all about?! I was wondering why I was beaten up and transported from Earth to this place! A party for Zim!” 

Zim sounded cheerful but you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

You could see the panic radiate from his beautiful magenta eyes.

He was simply in denial to protect his mind from the truth.

“SILENCE! ALL WILL BE MADE CLEAR ZIM.” The first Brain bellowed, almost sounding annoyed.

“Geez this is a party, lighten up!” Zim huffed as he rolled his eyes, “Hey can I make a quick call?”

The guards exchanged annoyed glances before begrudgingly agreeing.

After a few minutes, Zim returned to the center of the Spike of Judgement.

“C’mon hurry up and praise me! Every second I spend off Earth is time lost! Zim time! Because I am Zim!!” 

“IT MAKES NOISES.” The second Control Brain bellowed.

“BOTHERSOME NOISES” Replied the third.

Zim looked over and let out an excited gasp.

“My Tallest! And Y/N! This really *is* a surprise party! You honor me greatly on the most wobbly gelatinous parts of my squeedilyspooch!” 

You let out a whimper as you turned away from Zim’s excited grin.

“That’s Zim! Start already!” Purple commanded.

And with that, The Control Brains plugged into Zim’s PAK and begun the Evaluation.

You watched Zim’s memories playback on a large monitor next to The Control Brains.

While Zim did indeed commit quite a few atrocities, most if not all of them were the result of accidents.

It wasn’t long before Zim realized what was going on.

After a comical escape attempt, Zim was dragged back to Judgementia and plugged back into the Control Brains.

“OUR RULING: ZIM’S I.D PAK IS DAMAGED AND HAS LED TO A CORRUPT DATA PATH. HE IS...A DEFECTIVE!” The first Control Brain bellowed.

“But..I can’t live without my PAK!” Zim wailed.

Purple opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“WAIT!! Almighty Control  Brains! Please spare him!”

The entire room gasped before falling silent.

“IT DARES TO DEFIE US?” Asked The second brain

“HOW FOOLISH” replied the third.

“Y/N ARE YOU CRA-“

“GENERAL Y/N. STATE WHY ZIM’S I.D PAK SHOULD NOT BE DELETED.” The first Brain ordered “YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE”

 You cleared your throat and took in a deep breath.

“Almighty Control Brains, while it’s true that Zim has committed many atrocities, I believe these atrocities to be the result of mere accidents and not the result of a damaged PAK. Therefore I propose that Zim train in my boot camp in order to correct these mistakes!” Your voice was laced with a slight plea as a few tears trickled down your cheeks.

The first Control Brain hummed for a moment.

“YOUR OFFER SOUNDS INTERESTING....”

Both you and Zim lit up but it was way too early to celebrate.

“HOWEVER IT SHALL BE DENIED.”

“WHAT?!” You and Zim exclaimed in unison.

In a last ditch effort to save Zim you cried out.

“If you won’t accept my offer than delete my PAK instead!”

Another gasp echoed throughout the hall as Purple fainted into Red’s arms.

“Y/N NO! ARE YOU INSANE?!” Zim yelped.

In spite of everyone’s protests you continued.

“My PAK data is just as damaged if not more so than Zim’s! I am one of the few Irkens capable of feeling compassion and,” you looked into Zim’s eyes, “.......affection...”

“IT WISHES TO SACRIFICE ITS LIFE FOR THE DEFECTIVE’S?” Asked the second Brain.

“THIS ONE TRULY IS FOOLISH.” The third Brain tutted.

The first Control Brain almost seemed surprised

“GENERAL Y/N, ARE YOU CERTAIN YOU WISH TO SACRIFICE YOUR PAK DATA IN EXCHANGE FOR ZIM’S?”

“Y/N NO-ACK!”

ZAP!

Zim was cut of by a shock from the first Brain.

“Yes! Yes I am! Just as long as you spare Zim!” You pleaded as you looked into the many eyes of the first Brain.

“Y/N NO-“ Red cried out

“VERY WELL. IN EXCHANGE FOR GENERAL Y/N’S PAK DATA, ZIM

SHALL BE SPARED FOR NOW.” The first Brain interjected.

“Y/N!!!!! NOOOOO!!!!” Zim wailed as the first Brain released his PAK.

FWIP!

CLANG!

The first Brain latched on to your PAK and dragged you to the center of the spike of Judges.

“Control Brains! Stop this at once! General Y/N is not a defective!” Red pleaded as a few tears trickled down his cheeks.

“THE DECISION HAS ALREADY BEEN MADE. COMMENCING DELETION PROTOCOL!” 

With another ZAP! You felt the life slowly drain from your PAK.

Zim let out a panicked cry and shoved past the guards.

“Y/N! Why...Why would you do this?! Why would you something so stupid?!” 

You gave Zim a sad smile and caressed his face.

“Because I love you....”

With a soft sniffle you gazed deeply into Zim’s magenta eyes.

“One day you will realize...The stars you are chasing shine bright deep inside you...but will you ever let it shine from within... And cast all your fears aside... You’ll see the light but until that day comes...”

Zim burst into tears as he desperately clung to your gentle hands.

You winced but still tried to keep a smile.

“My dearly beloved, be strong I shall be there. Always here beside you. So keep your head held high..”

Zim tried his best to hold you close as you kept singing.

“The shadows of this world will try to steal you away into their arms but you belong in mine...”

You returned the hug and let out a soft purr.

“We are one within a dream, so hold me close and count the stars with me... All our scattered memories... I will find the pieces one by one..”

Zim clung to you for dear life. 

The Control Brains lifted you up in a poor attempt to shake Zim off of you, only fir him to cling tighter.

“Solar flares fly over me... I’ll keep you in my memory...”

You and Zim were gently spinning in the air. 

If Red didn’t know any better he’d assumed you and Zim had planned this as some kind of elaborate performance before Zim was deleted.

“This dream that lives within your eyes, I wish to see it come to life.”

Both you and Zim were in tears as the song continued

“A thousand blades into the sky, reach out and link our worlds, yours and mine. Let the stars rush over you. And one day I know we shall meet again!”

“My dearly beloved, be strong I shall be there. Always here beside you. So keep your head held high. The shadows of this world will try to steal you away into their arms but you belong in mine! ” Zim’s desperate plea melted with your voice.

You pulled Zim into a gentle kiss and sung softly.

“My dearly beloved...”

Just as you felt your last spark of life start to fade-

CRACK! CRASH!

Zim pulled with all his might and tore you free from The first Brain’sclutches.

Wasting no time, Zim scooped you up into his arms, hopped into his Voot and took you back to Earth with him.

Once he made it back to his base, he immediately hooked your PAK up to a medical bay.

After days of tedious labor, your F/C eyes finally opened.

“Y/N! You’re ok!” Tears of joy spilled down Zim’s cheeks as he caressed your face.

“Zim? I... I’m alive?” Your voice was dry and scratchy.

“Yes! So very much alive!”

 You let out a soft laugh.

“I knew we’d meet again...”

“Yes! And I’ll never ever let you leave my side!” Zim sobbed as he gently held you close.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll never leave you again, My dearly beloved

#invader zim #invader zim x reader #anonymous #sorry if the formatting is weird I posted this on mobile

[hitsuackerman]

Soul Chicken (Hawks x Reader)

Prompt: Soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate says to you are written on your wrist and while Hawks has an absolutely unhelpful phrase written on them, y/n has something....unique.

(so this was generated by an OTP one shot generator and it caught my attention :D it was... challenging to say the least but still fun!)

contains: 4 year age gap (not that ya’ll would mind), fluff

Soulmates.

This was the one thing Hawks always managed to save for later. With just how fast he likes to move, he regularly shoved the idea aside. It was as if his mouth acquired a bitter taste each time it entered his train of thought.

How did this enter his mind once more? Oh right. The two people he had saved turned out to be soulmates. Such luck for them, he supposed.

Not that he didn't care, though. This bird child-man always dreamed of seeing who the universe had paired him up with. But to his luck, the letters etched on his skin were almost cursed. Cursed to the point where he merely gave up his search.

The first words his soulmate would tell him. The first words that would open new doors for his feathers to explore. Despite keeping his smirk pasted on his face, his heart would ache when he hears people saying it.

'Hey'

Those were the words inked on his inner wrist. A 3 letter word that was as overused as the word 'you'. How in heaven's name was he supposed to find his other half with every other person greeting him 'hey' with different variations.

Munching on his piece of chicken, he cleared his desk and began to look over the files his agency prepared for him. Laid on his desk were the profiles of possible interns he could gather intel from.

"Todoroki Shoto." He read and scanned the bio data. Endeavor would not be happy if he took him in. As tempting as it would be, he placed it on the discard pile.

"Bakugo Katsuki." His pupils shrunk at the memory of this kid being chained to the post. All while trying to bite off All Might's hand. "Little too wild for my taste."

"Tokoyami Fumikage." He immediately stamped the approval sign on it. A fellow bird in his agency? Hella fun!

"(L/N) (Y/N)." The 4th placer in the UA sports festival. His eyes drifted to your age. "Huh, interesting. Eldest of the class due to late enrollment and personal issues. 18 while the rest 16."

Nodding his head, your quirk wasn't too flashy but made up for its efficiency. Similar to his Fierce Wings. With his index finger tapping on his desk, he turned to his desktop and began digging up information about you.

Orphaned at the age of 6 due to villain attack. Jumped from foster house to foster house, a trouble maker? Top 2 in the class, makes up for intelligence? Pleasing to the eyes. Not bad, if he were to put it more into thought.

Biting the last chunk of meat, he approved of your possible application in his agency.

-----

"Yami…" You nervously whispered as you gripped onto his sleeve. "I'm nervous. I don't understand why he'd include me as a possible intern "

"Nonsense. You proved yourself worthy during the Sports Festival." Tokoyami tried to reassure you. Behind you, the window gave him a grand view of the city moving fast.

The two of you were now seated snugly inside the shinkansen. Because it was in the afternoon, the train wasn't as crowded despite buying reserved seats in advance.

Tokoyami's words seemed to work. Letting go of his now crumpled sleeve, you apologized but he simply told you it was no big deal. Looking at your hero suit cases, your eyes landed on your wrist.

It always made you wonder, what situation would your soulmate say those words. It was all too… random yet specific. Rubbing your thumb on the rather long phrase, your thoughts were cut.

"Is that… what your soulmate is supposed to say?" Tokoyami asked as he read the sentences. "Rather unique to say that on your first meeting."

"Ugh. I know." You sighed and tugged your sleeve a little lower. "I honestly gave up thinking of scenarios on how I'd meet this person."

"You are of legal age. I think it would be much easier to access places. But seeing those words, maybe you just have to look for people eating?"

"That's true but I think a part of me just wants to be surprised as to how we'd meet and how we'd exchange phrases. I did think this person would be at a fast food chain or some sorts, but I'd like to think he's responsible enough."

Tokoyami simply nodded. Looking down on his wrist, he too, began to wonder what circumstances would bring him and his soulmate together.

Feeling the train come to a halt, the two of you began to exit and board off the train. It felt like a blur, to be saying farewell to faces you see everyday. Though it would only be for a week, you would miss Ochako and Tsuyu.

When the high rise buildings were now in sight, Tokoyami nudged your elbow and pointed to a hero holding up a sign with your school's name on it. As the two of you walked towards the hero, you saw how the sign truly matched Hawk's Agency.

Ah yes. Hawks.

Your anxiety began to creep back up. Why would a pro-hero like him want an orphan who went to school late intern for his agency? Was this some sort of pity party? Or was your quirk enough to catch his attention?

"Calm down, (L/N)." Your friend whispered as he opened the car door for you. You sat in the back as he sat on the passenger's seat.

"Are you all excited to meet the #2 Pro-Hero?" The hero asked as he set the car to drive. His cheeks gave off he was smiling from your angle. "He's a pretty chill guy, you know. So if ya'll are anxious, he'll only catch that and make fun of you."

"How long till we reach the office?" Tokoyami asked.

"2 blocks from now. It's that building over there."

The two of you followed where his index was pointing at. It wasn't easy to miss. The building was huge and it was evident that his office was on the top floor. From your eyes, it would be the perfect height to take off for his wings.

The hero dropped the two of you by the entrance. Thanking him for the ride, 2 sets of eyes watched as the car turned to the corner. Probably to park in the underground carpark.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

The two of you proceeded to the receptionist. Judging by your uniforms, the two of you were given key cards to enter his office on the 35th floor.

"He's still out, though. Make yourselves comfortable. He won't be taking too long!" The receptionist said with a smile as she pointed towards the glass elevator. That got you thinking fire drills must be a pain in the ass with this amount of floors.

The view going up felt as if you two were flying. The way the horizon slowly showed itself was something you could look forward to for the whole week. Your bird friend agreed as well.

When the elevator doors opened, you two were met with a frosted glass wall with 2 capital 'H' on it. Similar to what his belt had. It was nice tho. Branding on point.

Before you could enter, you heard the buzzing of a phone. Feeling it wasn't yours, you looked at Tokoyami and told him it was alright for him to take it. Telling you he'd follow suit once the call was over. Pushing the door for you, you walked into his office. 

The office was definitely expensive. Glass windows framed 3 out 4 corners, his desk was simple but you could tell that the material was durable and expensive, 2 large paintings hung on the wall as well. Most probably commissioned since it fits Hawks image.

Walking towards one painting, you were about to touch the edges when your vision began to blur. Your body felt as if it were being tugged into the air rather forcefully. Harshly spinning you around, you were face to face with the Pro-Hero himself.

Your heart raced when it sunk in that it really was him. He was more handsome in person. His piercing yellow eyes seemed to observe you. Watching your every move.

His hands began to roam your sides. Patting motions till he seemed to find what he was looking for. Taking it out from your pocket, his gloved hand now held on to your ID.

"Hey!"

His eye twitched. You were officially the 15th person who had said 'hey' to him in a span of 4 hours.

"I swear that phrase would be the death of me." Hawks reacted in an emotionless face. Trying his best to compose himself to a student who merely wanted to feel the painting. "Tsk. Knew that last nugget was bad luck."

Though it wasn't his intent to scare you, he just thought it would make a good long running joke for the duration you would stay. He just… snapped when he heard those words coming from you.

Looking back at you, he placed you back on your feet and took off his yellow visor. A big teasing smile appearing on his features. Complete opposite to what yours had.

"Hey, take a chill pill, my little intern. I was just messin' with ya." Hawks assured you as he gave you the finger guns.

"Y-You… S-S-Sentence…" Your mind failed to function upon hearing his first to you. The same words you had memorized and knew by heart. Your eyes were desperately trying to hold on to something but all you could focus on was Hawks and his crimson red wings in front of you.

The look on your face was a mix of shock, fear, and a slight dash of awe. What did he say that made you react that way? All he commented about was…

His mind clicked and his jaw slightly dropped. His pupils enlarged when he finally bought 2 and 2 together.

"Holy pidgeon smokes…" Hawks thought out loud while nodding his head. "Looks like things are bout to get interesting, my little soul chicken~"

You couldn't help it. A soft giggle escaped your lips when he called you his 'little soul chicken'. By now, you were positive your cheeks were all sorts of red. When he took a step closer, you bit your lower lip in an attempt to calm your rapid beating heart.

"Don't bite your lip now, birdy. We just met." He said as he used his index and thumb to make you face him. Damn. You're prettier up close.

His feathers seemed to shake a bit and he let go of his touch. A second after, Tokoyami entered the door and bowed at his new mentor. After telling him there was no need to act all business like, he pointed towards the couch and told you both to sit down.

"So today," Hawks began. "I won't let you both do much. Just get settled in and take the feel of this agency."

His eyes would linger at you when he said the words 'settled in' and 'take the feel'. When he saw you understood his implied meanings, he gave you a wink and proceeded with the necessary instructions.

"Tsukuyomi. Your room would be on the 27th floor." He said and tossed the keycard. Tokoyami caught it with ease. "And you, my precious love nugget, will stay on the 30th floor."

By now your face was numb from all the heat that had traveled upwards. Expecting him to toss it, the key card was given to you by one of his feathers. Taking it from the floating feather, your breath hitched when the feather found its way to your lips. Brushing it ever so softly before returning back to his wings.

Tokoyami wasn't quite sure what was happening. He had heard that Hawks had a carefree attitude, he just didn't expect him to hit on you right then and there. (Though he did have a feeling that at one point you were bound to get bombarded with his flirtatious attempts.)

"So… Any questions?"

"What time do we start tomorrow, Sir Hawks?"

"We start at 7am. That good?"

The two of you nodded. With that, he dismissed you both and gave you free will with what you wanted to do on the first unofficial day of internship.

"Not you though, chickadee!" The way the light bounced from his golden eyes made them glow. "We still gotta talk."

Tokoyami squinted his eyes at you. His peripheral vision on Hawks. Brushing the thought aside, he excused himself and went towards the elevator.

When you heard the ding, your heart stopped when Hawks stretched his wings. Showcasing their impressive span. They began to shake a bit with each step he took. He would spread his wings and pull them back half way before extending them once more.

By the time he was in front of you, you were all smiles as he began to fold his wings alternatively. It was all too amazing, how this person had wings as a quirk. In the blink of an eye, all you could see around you were his feathers and the gorgeousness of his face.

"What was that for, Hawks?" You covered your mouth. Trying to hold in a giggle.

"Hey. Don't. I like seeing your smile." He said as he gently held your wrist, pulling it down to reveal what his eyes wanted to see. "And that little exhibition I did was a small mating call, soul chicken."

You began to fold your arm and imitate how chickens flap their wings.

"Not as impressive as yours, but I hope that did the trick!" You were now grinning from ear to ear. Seeing him chuckle at your lame attempt at flirting caused his stomach to swarm with little lovebirds.

"Oh. It definitely sealed the deal~"

His hand began to trace your arm till he stopped on your hand bringing it closer in order to see his first words meant for you.

'I swear that phrase would be the death of me. Tsk. Knew that last nugget was bad luck.'

"I can see why your eye twitched when I said 'hey'. That's literally the most overused word." You commented when you saw his mark.

"That's what I tell myself everyday." An amused grin plastered on his face. Suddenly, his pupils shrunk and his feathers began to ruffle. "You afraid of heights, birdy?"

"Not really. No. Why?"

His arms wrapped you tightly. Bringing you chest to chest with him. His wings now spread out with the occasional flap.

"Hawks…"

"Better hug me tight, nugget. You're in for a wild ride~"

Giving your cheek a quick kiss, he flapped his wings once more. This time with a bit more force in them. You could feel your feet leaving the ground. On instinct, you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck.

Next thing you knew, you were screaming with joy at the feeling of being swooped away from your feet. Literally.

Little did you know that Tokoyami had been watching the whole fiasco.

"Things really are going to get interesting." He said with a small smile on his face. Happy that his close friend found her soulmate.

With that he finally exited the office and made his way to his room.

#hawks #hawks bnha #hawks mha #mha keigo takami #keigo takami #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #wing hero hawks

[jason-the-mommas-boy]

SFW Alphabet with Jason Voorhees

Summary: What the title says! The SFW alphabet with Jason and his S/O (that’s you!) 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This has been in my google docs for awhile and I’ve been trying to finish up all of my drafts, so here we are! Hope you enjoy these <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they with a s/o?)

Whenever you and Jason are free for a while, all he ever does is be affectionate! Don’t be surprised if he keeps you in his lap and just cuddles you there (with mask nuzzles included!) for as long as time permits him to. 

Jason tends to be very affectionate to make up for the fact that he can’t say “I love you” since he lacks a voice. It’s also his way of showing you how much he appreciates you!

Your daily tasks are usually interrupted by Jason just picking you up for a hug! He loves hugs the most..

Whenever he comes home, he drops everything to just spend at least a good 10 minutes in a cuddle session with you.

Honestly, if he could, he’d spend the rest of his days by just sitting by a fire with you in his arms. 

B = Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?) 

Going to be completely honest, you will not need to do much at all to take Jason’s breath away

Wearing makeup or something cute? He’s finding himself dead in his tracks because he’s so in awe!

Calling him a pet name or giving him something? He’s on the verge of crying or completely flustered! He’s already thinking of ways to show you his thanks and what he could give you in return! There’s no such thing as giving Jason Voorhees a gift and not getting one back within a few days.

Literally doing anything that’s considered kind? His heart is melting and he’s at your mercy. He’s very attention/touch starved, so anything sweet you do is usually completely new for him.  

C = Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

This is a big yes!!! Of course Jason loves to cuddle with you, it’s one of his favorite pastime activities. 

Typically, Jason would enjoy having you sit in his lap so he can wrap his arms around you and hold you there. 

When it comes to little-spoon and big-spoon cuddling, it’s up to what you want to be. He’s fine with being either and doesn’t necessarily have a preference. Anytime spent with you is cherished either way.

Evenings and nights are usually the times you both cuddle, as Jason spends his days walking around the camp, on search for any trespassers, and resetting traps and all the like. As much as he loves you, responsibilities come first. 

D = Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

Jason dreams of not having to worry about teenagers, tourists, and just plain dumb people who didn’t listen to the warnings from the townspeople. He wishes to not have to kill and kill again just so he can spend all of his time with you! 

He just wants to help you, make your day easier by doing your chores, and then shower you with gifts and love. 

E = Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

To say it easily, Jason gives a 20/10 when it comes to his relationship with you. 

You said you liked this thing? Even if it’s not easy to get, especially when he gets most of his things from campers, he’ll find a way to get it for you!

Feeling blue? He will bring you your favorite food, get a blanket, and bundle up with you. If you tell him what’s wrong, he’ll listen and try desperately to fix the problem. Just need comfort? He understands and has your back. 

Always thinking of you! This outfit that he stole from a camper fits your fashion sense, so he’ll definitely bring it home. 

You want to start a project? Okay! As long as it doesn’t involve you getting hurt or walking around on your own, he’s totally for it! He’ll try to get you everything you need.

He’ll listen and follow your command unless it’s against his wishes. Your happiness is his number one priority.

F = Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

He’ll have to understand what you’re scared of to truly really know how to help.

Jason will remain calm to the best of his abilities and assure you in the only way he knows that you’re fine, he’s here for you. 

If you have a fear of anything scary like wolves and such, he’ll try to explain that there’s no need to be scared. He’s the scariest thing living in the woods and you’re brave enough to sleep by his side every night! But to make sure, he’ll take extra precautions and shoo away any unwanted animal visitors around the cabin.

If you’re scared of thunder, he’ll try to find something that he could play or get you to read a book with him to take your mind off of the storms outside. 

If your fear stems from trauma or memories, by god does he understand. He will try his best to avoid whatever stirs the reaction from you just as you stay clear from the dock at the lake. 

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

Jason will give all kinds of things to you! Cool rocks he finds, the pretty flowers in his garden that remind him of you, stolen clothes that he thinks that might fit, and anything you’ve shown interest in!

Sometimes he’ll do grand gestures, such as building you a little tree house to stay in if you’re ever too cramped in the cabin. He’s ensured that it’s 100% safe and free from accidentally stepping in any bear traps.  

Jason will never ever expect anything in return. Giving you gifts is no trouble to him at all as your reaction and a ‘thank you’ is good enough for him.

But, if you’d insist on getting him a gift, expect this poor boy to be completely flustered. He’s definitely not used to getting stuff from other people. 

H = Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

This is the most obvious yes I have to put here. Jason loves hugging you and will try to do so daily.  

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

At the beginning of your relationship, Jason will be extremely hesitant and cautious to do anything in fear of upsetting or scaring you away.

You would have had to initiate a lot of things at first to show it as a sign to him that it was okay! Yes, he can give you hugs and yes, he can hold your hand. 

Jason will try his best to be romantic based on what he knows. He’ll take you out to see the sunset, for example. 

A lot of things that he does he won’t see as romantic, such as giving you support whenever you need it and showing you a lot of affection, or y’know, leaving you gifts. 

When it comes to intimacy, Jason would be...very hesitant. He has a lot of self image issues, which is understandable, he was bullied for his looks. He doesn’t want you to have second thoughts if you saw him entirely, he doesn’t want you to leave..

He also doesn’t know much about being intimate. He sees teenagers have crude sex, but he doesn’t pay attention to what they’re really doing.

After driving over many small bumps in the road, Jason is yours to teach and make love with. 

J = Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

Jason really isn’t the type to get jealous...often. 

If he sees you talking or even walking with someone that is camping on his land, he’d be mad at the trespasser and be more worried for you instead.

The times he does get jealous, don’t expect him to really act on it besides an occasional pout and maybe be extra clingy.

Don’t get him wrong, though. He is extremely protective over you. 

K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

Jason is an incredibly inexperienced kisser. In fact, you were probably his first kiss! 

Jason doesn’t like to take his mask off often unless asked to do so, so you’re getting the mock kisses he gives you. 

He tends to give you forehead kisses the most, no matter what the height difference is between you two. 

Don’t expect him to initiate actual kisses, he’s shy..

But his kisses are generally very...teeth-y. He doesn’t mean to nibble or bite, but he can’t help it sometimes. 

L = Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?)

Jason can’t literally say it, he’s a mute, but damn him if he didn’t try to convey that he loves you all the time!

If you’re going to teach him American Sign Language, that’s the first thing he wants to learn! 

He loves showing you little acts of affection to let you know that he loves you. It’s the simple things of just sitting you in his lap and enjoying the moment for what it is. He doesn't need words to let you know that he loves you so much. 

So, essentially, he’s a puppy. Sitting at your feet and lapping at whatever attention you give him. 

You can tell you that this man would break the earth for you if you so much as asked. 

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?) 

It’s something that doesn’t cross his mind unless you show interest in wanting to get married.

But he’s totally up for it if you bring it up! It’s definitely something his mom would have wanted for him, or at the least, wanted to see. And, obviously, because he loves you. 

He’d love to hold the ceremony outside/out in the woods! He’s such a sucker for nature, it would be a crime to not have nature included in some way. 

Sadly, it wouldn’t be an official marriage, but it’s definitely the thought that counts here. 

N = Night out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?) 

Jason just absolutely adores taking you out to see the sunset or sunrise. There’s something so beautiful about it that he just wants to share the view with you by his side. 

He also prefers little nature walks in the forest, teaching you the paths that are safe to walk and point out where the traps were. View the wildlife, befriend them maybe. Jason was a natural when it came that, he did have a bit of that disney princess inside him after all. 

Honestly, if you guys don’t have anything planned personally, he’ll take the time out of his day to take you out, sometimes even for dinner! Whatever you prefer, really. 

O = Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?) 

For as often as I write about it, Jason does not take off his mask and clothes very often. He is much too self conscious and has to be assured that he has no reason to be ashamed. 

He’s typically just happy with the little kisses he gets on his mask, and he’s never been one to care much about sex, so taking off his clothes hasn’t been that much of an issue. Unless forced to get him to wash up or clean his clothes, of course. 

P = Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?) 

Usually, Jason is very straight forward in his relationship with you. And usually the one being playfully teased.

But every now and then, he’ll definitely play up the killer act to give a little spook to you if he’s in the mood. 

Or give very playful eyerolls or head tilts to silly questions, but maybe that’s about it. 

And...maybe, if his darling S/O (that’s you!) doesn’t listen to his set rules for an amount of time, he’ll set up a playful punishment. 

Q = Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?) 

Jason is very old fashioned and was born in a time where there wasn’t a lot of technology, so of course he has questions and wants to know what you think about stuff!

I’m sure something as simple as you pulling your phone out to take a selfie with him is enough to make him tilt his head and point a finger at the cellular device, as if to say what’s that? and so on. 

R = Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?) 

It’s not really spontaneous to expect Jason to do something special maybe once a week after the day is over. 

He’s a busy man! He has a camp to watch over and take care of, and his mother’s memory to keep up. He has many little chores to do and can’t really make room out of his schedule, especially when it’s summer. 

But in seasons like Winter, he will devote his time to you and plan many dates. Typically, though, you usually don’t know about them until he carries on with what he wants to do, so his relationship with them can be spontaneous, but also expecting. 

S = Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

Jason has no need to sleep while he’s out and about. The only time he really does is when he goes into hibernation mode if his body desperately needs to regenerate/heal. 

So, while you two share a bed, he does not sleep. Instead, he spends the night cuddling with you and watches you. 

Don’t expect him to stay long in the morning, though. He is completely restless and needs to get out and about on his morning routine. He can only handle laying down for a certain amount of time.  A perfect killer can’t get tired, after all. 

T = Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?) 

Oh, jeez, if you can somehow capture the Killer of Camp Blood as your boyfriend, he has put his 100% trust into you to show this sweet side of his. 

I mean, the townspeople don’t call him Killer of Camp Blood for nothing. He’s a murderer with a messed up and heartbreaking backstory. 

To date you, he has full trust that you won’t tell the police where he resides. To let you in on the truths of his legend, to see how vulnerable he really is, and just let that inner puppy of his to shine. 

So, all he asks is that you don’t break his trust, be honest, and love him back. 

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a s/o?) 

Big slasher boyfriend who could probably lift 4x your weight with ease. 

Jason is also basically an undead zombie roaming around a really old camp that resides in the woods and is a momma’s boy!

He’s a good listener, very respectful of what you want, and will treat you like royalty just because! 

Everything about this giant guy is unique!

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?) 

It will...take a lot of time for Jason to even become close with you.

It will more than likely take months for him to finally trust you to not judge him, and then he will maybe open up. 

Essentially, someone could assume as an outsider, that Jason being soft and sweet is the exact definition of vulnerable for a killer. And they wouldn’t be wrong. 

To allow himself to be, well, himself! Not have to be scary and brutal, to be allowed to have a break and just confide in you. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random domestic headcanon of the character of your choice) 

Jason knows how to sew! 

He usually makes clothes for himself when he needs to get new ones. And seeing as he’s monster size, he can’t usually come across clothes that naturally fit. 

But, as a gift, he will start to learn how to sew hats and other types of clothes that you show interest in! He definitely wants to make you things and see your reaction! 

It’s probably a once in the blue moon thing as Jason doesn’t take much pleasure in sewing (his fingers are much too big to get much done), but he knows its worth it if you enjoy the present! 

X = X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?) 

Panic. 

Maybe panic a bit more, but then he’ll search the area to see what caused the injury. Some asshole campers? They’re dead in a heartbeat. Tripped or got cut against a corner? He’s baby-proofing everything possible. The last thing he wants to see is his S/O hurt. 

He will then try to locate where the injury is and take care of it to the best of his abilities. He naturally regenerates when he’s hurt, so he’s not the best educated on this topic. Of course, with each little injury comes a mock kiss and bandaid. 

If he can’t do anything to help with a first aid kit, he will have to take a bite off his ego and pride and sneakily bring his S/O to the closest house so the owners can take them to a hospital. He can only hope for the best then. 

Y = Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?) 

It’s not so much as anything he finds yuck, but maybe upsetting. He hates seeing you leave the cabin without him. It's an awful habit he dislikes because you’re risking yourself getting hurt! He has bear traps about everywhere in and around the camp, and you could even run into intruders! Much too dangerous and risky.

Z = Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

Jason is very passionate when he wants to be! He definitely craves the attention and is definitely willing to give it back! 

So, this is probably the second biggest yes I’d have to put in here! Treat this pup right, he definitely deserves the love (:

#jason voorhees #friday the 13th #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees imagines #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers fandom #slasher #slashers #sfw alphabet #narrator's writing #500+ #1000+ #1500+ #2000+ #2500+ #3000+

[10kiaoi]

For the 007 Fest Anon prompts: Magical realism

Scav hunt item #55: Create art using a prompt from the MI6Cafe Weekly Art Prompts + “Mayday”

Notes: Unbetaed as always. Canon typical violence.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday-!"

The city is caught in a deluge when he arrives. 

Traffic is backed up for miles, vehicle after vehicle trapped in complete  frustrating gridlock. 

He's walked the two miles to his destination, leaving behind an irate cab driver with a generous tip for his trouble.

Along the way, a young nymph looking to be no more than 10 summers old, offers a flower garland weaved of fresh white Heather from the shelter of a narrow porch. He eyes the fresh cut hanging over the front door. 

He purchases two, to the girl's cheery delight. 

----

“We've lost three engines! Requesting immediate vectors to the nearest airfield! Mayday, mayday, mayday! Shit, Number 4's go-"

----

One mile in, he stumbles across a heavily flooded street.

Earsplittingly loud lighting cracks overhead, an occasional flash that lights the street up. 

The flood waters are ice cold. With the water level at thigh height, his wellies do nothing to keep them from gushing around his equally frozen feet. He resigns himself to a hot bath later.

Here, no cars are able to pass through at all. 

Despite the hazards, there are people out and about in front of their buildings. There are merchants desperately hauling their merchandise to higher ground, attempting to salvage what they can from the havoc. Some are putting up brightly coloured banners and decorative displays. At every door, a stalk of white Heather hangs, children gleefully arranging whole seashells in intriguing patterns around them. 

The mood, though dampened by the terrible weather, borders on festive. 

There are neighbours exchanging sweet breads, a friendly trade of roasted poultry, a shared fish or two in covered dishes to shield the food from the downpour. 

Their joy is a distant consideration in comparison to his inner disquiet. 

An elderly man catches sight of him standing and staring openly at the activities. He glances down to his hand, to the two Heather garlands cradled protectively.  The old man tuts reprovingly and wades through the waters towards him. 

"Shells," the old man tuts as he offers two perfect clam shells, canine tail wagging, "Intention means nothing without it."

He crosses the street, with his gifts in hand. 

----

"Mayday, mayday, mayday! We've lost all four engines- Christ, we're not going to make it back to land-!" 

----

He hears the adolescents well before he sees them. 

In a deserted street, dull with old street lamps and filthy storefronts, the hooded teens giggle with cruel delight as they rip down fabric banners and shatter the crystal glass figurines of various marine creatures. The lovely shells and stalks of white Heather meet the same dismal fate.

Amidst their destruction, one of the teens happens to look up, forked tongue flickering out to taste the wind. Their eyes drop to his arms and they elbow their companions. The group sneers, wisely backing off momentarily and not doing anything as foolish as engage him in a fight. 

Given his state of mind, it is more than likely that the teens will not come out the other end of the fight unscathed despite the protection of armoured scales. 

"The sea witch's a fucking sham anyways!" the kid yells over their retreating backs, "ya'll nuts for believing that shit!" 

When the last teen disappears round the street corner, he sighs, taking the moment to sweep the glass shards to the side with his foot instead of leaving them in the middle of the pavement for some poor sod to injure themselves on later. The rising waters will take care of the mess soon enough anyways. 

The glint of light on glass draws his eye to the ledge, where several pristine figures lie untouched. He is irrepressibly drawn to one in particular- a carving not of an animal but a floating feather caressed by an invisible wind. 

His eyes surveys the street warily for a moment. The glass feather slips unnoticed into the depths of his jacket. 

In the distance, the sea churns with rage. 

----

"Mayday, mayday, may-"

----

There is little else he can do but scour the shores, buffeted by strong gusts and blinded by sea spray. 

The boats are all docked away, no skipper daring enough to take on the sea in her volatility. The worst of the storm is miles away from land, but its effects are felt all the same. 

A set of files arrives in his email courtesy of Q Branch and Tanner- maps and coordinates and prediction models, all of which he studies intensively in the comfort of his temporary safe house. The glass feather sits prominently besides his laptop, a silent but steadfast companion to his activities. 

It, along with the Heather garlands and clam shells, bear witness to him smashing his ceramic mug in a fit of fury. 

The lone image glares accusingly at him from his laptop screen, a low quality shot worsened by the movement of the camera it was shot with. 

The object is a blurry mess, details rendered indistinct by the rolling waves and heavy rainfall. But enough of the form remains for the item to be identified- its implications are what trigger his episode of temper. 

A lone tail fin, ripped from its place at the rear of an aircraft, is a death sentence. 

----

He's on his fifth bottle, drowning his sorrows with a vengeance. Outside, the deluge lets up a little into a light patter against the balcony. 

The helplessness weighs heavily like an albatross around his neck. 

Squeals waft up from the street below, a pod of local mers grasping the opportunity the flood waters present and taking the chance to explore streets they have never traversed before. Their melodious cries of astonishment and wonder, once music to his ears, prove too much for the dark cloud hanging over him. 

He throws back his head against the couch and guzzles down more bitter ale. 

----

He comes to in his tiled bathroom, curled over the toilet seat with acidic sick stinking up his nose. It's no gentle thing, he wakes up with a jerk, disorientated and without memory of how he has gotten to the bathroom in the first place. Adrenaline rushes through his veins. 

With the fog in his head clearing up, he notices the rattling coming from his balcony, accompanied by quiet curses. 

He gets up, hand curling around the walther under his arm. He creeps towards the source of the commotion, feet as light as a cat's paws. Whatever and whomever the intruder is, he's of no mood to be gracious. 

The rattling pauses, an indignant squawk of frustration follows it. 

It speaks volumes of his training, both military and 00 that he does not drop his piece from shock. 

There on his balcony, his Quartermaster scowls angrily at the offending lock while looking like a drowned rat. 

In his chest, his heart leaps. 

His movement draws Q's attention and it's then he's hollered at to "open the bloody doors before I kick them down!" 

There's no word vast enough, deep enough to encompass the depth of his emotions as he swiftly undoes the lock and throws the double doors open. Heather and shells are sent flying but all he cares for is pulling Q into a bone crushing embrace. 

----

The rain picks up, droplets soaking through the cotton of his shirt. The front is already soaked through, thoroughly pressed against a sopping wet Quartermaster as he is. 

He pulls them inside, away from the storm, away from the windows. Disbelief and hope war within his chest as he studies Q with an anxious eye, warm towels in his hand to replace soaked clothes. 

He says nothing of the massive bruising on Q's torso, a large swath that belies the extent of physical trauma its owner has gone through. 

Belatedly, he registers the noticeable lack of glasses, the raw scrapes and bruising over pale cheeks and knuckles. 

The hulking set of white wings tipped with black and dusty grey. 

"Albatross," he breathes reverently.

He'd assumed from Q's presence in the tunnels of Q Branch, the way he draws comfort from his underground haven, that his Quartermaster is a member of an underground species of sorts- a Null even, rare as truly non-magical folk are amongst the general population. The personnel file certainly hasn’t provided much insight either given their propensity for obfuscation when executive members of staff are involved.  

"Yes, well, turns out I was just a late bloomer" Q sniffs, squinting at a dust speck on the wall through the conspicuous lack of glasses, "you're not on the water all the time either." 

Bond smiles indulgently though offers no contest. 

With his parents and kin long gone, there was simply no incentive to remain near his family’s seat of power all the time. The murky depths of the loch holds no interest, lacking in the thrill and constant entertainment cities like London offer. Besides-

First M, a hawk, now Q, an albatross - he's always been drawn to the sky much more than his peers. 

He feels out Q's wings carefully, stretching one out to examine the feathers and bone. The appendage trembles under his tentative scrutiny, morphing into a full body shiver that goes right down to Q's toes. The first wing passes muster, so he moves on to the other. 

Q yelps loudly as his fingers prod a particular sore spot. 

It has him relaxing his fingers immediately, though he does not cease supporting the injured wing. 

"I don't think it's broken," Q whimpers, fingers twisting anxiously. 

Like a dam, Q's hard won composure crumbles. "Couldn't get them out," Q sobs, "They were too far forward, I barely got myself out-" The frantic babble dies away into hitched sobs. 

He croons lightly in response, a soothing rumble he's heard mers sing to their fry. He runs his fingers through mussed curls, letting the grief and guilt run its course. 

The kit he has isn't stocked for treating winged individuals or traumatised ones for that matter, but he's a witch- he'll make the best with what he has. He'll get them both home. 

---

In the distance, the sea finally calms.

#00q #007 fest #007 fest 2020 #teambondvillains #james bond #007 #quartermaster #art by op #fanfics #hms 00q

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle (2/?) Crosshair x reader

Part two warnings: mentions of death, death of loved one (sorry) 

Crosshair quickly decides he likes the rain. It’s got a way of blending in so nicely with the rest of the planet that he thinks it would be bland without it.

“Anything?” Hunter asked into the comms, and various grunts and groans of ‘negative’ filled his ear. They’d landed in what looked like an abandoned house, it was situated in the branches of a very tall, and very old tree. How anyone would have managed to climb it was a mystery. 

“How do we even know what we’re lookin’ for?” Wrecker grumbled as they rappelled down the enormous trunk. 

“All we’ve got is that they answer to the name Wren apparently it’s some animal on this planet.” Hunter grumbled, looking over a tech, expecting a lengthy explanation of what exactly a ‘Wren’ was. 

“Fairywren are small birds that  live in typical families of small groups, they come in brilliant colours of purple and blue. Very rare in the galaxy, but common to this planet.” Tech immediately replied, as their feet crunched into the ground. 

“Okay, Bad batch, let's make this quick.” The sergeant ordered before taking off into the undergrowth. 

It had been hours and they were no closer to coming across anyone or  anything that looked like a Fairywren. Keeping to the outskirts of a small town crosshair watches as a group of Trandoshan guards (from the look of their intense armour) patrolled the streets. 

“What are they doing?” He thought aloud to himself, toothpick ever present in his mouth. His concentration broke when he heard someone laughing at him. A group of teenagers were sitting under a broken piece of metal. 

“What does it look like, Laserbrain?” one of them sneered. “The trandoshans are only good for one thing. The hunt.” Crosshair doubled his pace. 

You were running faster than you ever had before, and for longer than you thought was physically possible. Your one and only advantage was the extent of your knowledge of the forest paths. The guards would be faster and run longer, they had keener senses than any human, and you knew if they put out a warrant, anyone and everyone would turn you in. But you were so close. So, so close. 

It was called the Night Lake by the locals, the canopy here was so dense no light illuminated the water below, giving the area a terrifying essence. But also ensured much needed privacy, and in this particular case, somewhere to hide. You threw yourself into the waters, letting the slightly chilly water envelop you. At least four of them had been on your tail and you knew more of them were waiting at the edge of the city, should you try and circle back. 

You swam as deep as you could manage, before stilling in the water, suspended in perfect anxiety as you watched its surface for any movement. Flares began to light up the dark sky and the water below as they tried to clear the area for your whereabouts. Closing your eyes you prayed to anything listening for them not to find you. 

Turns out. No one was listening. 

Crosshair was sprinting in the forest, creatures disturbed by his arrival scattered in every direction. The Trandoshans had taken off moments before answering a call that he couldn't interpret. But his experience and intuition told him to follow. 

It was then that he faltered and fell down the edge of a small but very muddy hill, being followed only by more water filled dirt that almost buried him. Cursing he pulled himself up, checking his whereabouts for signs of a trap. 

“So small for such trouble.” Something hissed to his right, clearly unaware of the clone that had just tumbled into their presence. His eyes snapped forward, four Trandoshans sat at the edge of what was the largest and darkest lake Crosshair had ever seen. 

“Shall we let her drown or yank her out ourselves?” One asked with a snicker. 

“The general wants her alive, something about having fun while making an example.” The first one spoke again. “Right, enough is enough, Drisk get her out of there.” with a nod towards the water, Crosshair watched as the slimmest Trandoshan (who was probably still twice the size of the sniper) dove into the black waters. The ripples dissipated for a moment before the reptile emerged carrying a struggling young girl. She was sopping wet, and struggling and turning so much they had no choice but to dump her in the mud. 

“Now, now little roach, don't run off.” The leader laughed as she started to claw her way through the mud, reaching down he grasped her ankle and yanked her into the arms of the other two reptilians. Crosshair lined up his rifle, he could take out the two grasping the girl and then worry about the leader after. He had the Trandoshans in his sight when his comm crackled to life again. 

“Crosshair, you missed your check in time, you still out there?” it was Tech, curse him and his punctuality. Because now the other two huge beings were dragging him out of his hiding place. 

“Well, would you take a look at this. A clone!” Crosshair was forced to his knees in front of the leader as it spat at him.   

“Crosshair! Come in!” Tech shouted into the helmet, thus resulting in it’s not-so gentle removal from Crosshairs head. He watched as Tech’s voice faded away as the bucket rolled into the lake. 

“Now that the rude interruption is gone, you wanna tell us whatcha up to in these parts?” he said kneeling down and meeting his newest captive eye to eye.

“Bird watching.” Crosshair deadpanned. Really not feeling in a chatty mood at that present moment.  

“Really?” the reptile hummed in thought, pretending to actually believe his answer. “Have you seen any birds yet?” 

“No.” Crosshair told him with a smile, “Saw some Bantha-shit - looking lizards though.”He didn't see the flying fist coming, but he sure as hell felt it. 

You clamp you both of your hands over your mouth. Hard. in the smallest attempt to muffle your screams. You can't tell the difference from lake water, rain water, and tears. But you know you’re wailing at an unforgiving volume. Your mother's blank eyes stare at you. A single blaster to the head. Your father, you got a blaster to the face is now unrecognizable. You don’t know which is worse. Krexx didn't even bother to keep you restrained, knowing that the horror of what he made you witness would be enough to paralyze you into compliance. The sound of conflict falls on deaf ears as you continue to shriek from your converter of what once was the family home. 

The Clone, whose name you either didn't know or couldn't remember, was cuffed to one of the ceiling's support beams by a pair of binders, only just coming to a hit to the head like that will do you in. you watch him lift  his head with a groan, the tattoo on his face covered by layers of mud. He starts pulling at the binders before his eyes meet the figure in the corner. 

You’re curled in a fetal position, still screaming bloody murder into your hands. And barely, Crosshair sees that the fingerless gloves you wear are embroidered with a bird. A bright blue bird. 

“Wren.” He grunted out, the pieces all coming together as his brain shakes the fuzz away. You don't move. “Wren!” he shouts over your tears. And you fall into more of a silent  sob, looking over at him. “I need you to get these off of me.” he gestures to the binders with a shake of his hands. You recoil in the corner and shake your head, your cries are picking up volume again. 

“Wren, please” Crosshair all but begs. The sound of battle is getting closer and closer. “I need you to uncuff me.” His voice  barely registers in your brain. You know you have to move but you feel like you physically can't. There’s no fight or flight left in you, and it appears your entire system has short circuited as a result.   

“We are both going to die if you don’t get me out of  these kriffin’ binders!” Crosshair renewed his struggles as he shouts at you. But one look at you says that would be a preferable outcome for your current state. So, he switches tactics and tries to remember everything Tech has ever told him about shock and trauma. 

“Wren,” he tries once again, softer this time. “I can help you, I can help you out of this. But I can't do that if you don't get these off of me.” Your eyes meet his. ‘Progress’ he thinks. You don't know how you do it, but you try to stand. 

“Just keep looking at me, okay?” The clone who you don't know speaks again, and your eyes meet his. You stare not into his eyes, more like past them. You're not focusing on anything you're just taking one step after another until you reach where he’s awkwardly strewn up. 

“There's a release button on the-” He starts to tell you, but you're already reaching up with shaky hands and fumbling around until they drop to the floor with a horrible clank. Immediately Crosshair jumps into action checking by each window and door and gathering all he can in terms of intel. 

“We need to move, before anyone-” He trails off again when he’s seen that you’ve slid down the wall that he was against. Curling back into a ball. Slowly, he approaches you. He knows the protocol for a clone with shock, but what you're going through looks completely different all together. And Crosshair, well, let's just say there was never any training for caring for a civilian girl whose entire life just got destroyed. 

“My name is Crosshair.” He whispers to you, crouching down to our height. You look at him with wide eyes. “Is it okay if I carry you to a safer spot?” You nod in response fumbling with your arms to lock them around his tall frame. His strength surprises you, as he lifts you with relative ease. And slowly the adrenaline wears off and you sink into his arms, vaguely you feel him pull your head into his shoulder the blasts sound deafening now as he runs through the uproar caused by the execution of an innocent family. Your family. Crosshair tells himself he pulls you closer so that you are not recognized. And that he does it so you don't have to see that carnage. But mostly he does it in hopes that you feel just a little more safe, and a little more calm in his arms.  

tags: @mangoberry43 

#clones #the clone wars #clone wars #clone wars quotes #crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #bad batch x reader #bad batch #the bad batch #clone wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #clone wars x you #clone trooper tech #clone trooper hunter #sergeant hunter #wrecker #clone trooper wrecker #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #clone wars reader insert #star wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic

[auntfinny]

a ref sheet/app for a GoG RP! still waiting to hear back abt it but i wanted to post it regardless and ill probably use him for something whether or not the RP works out!

large bio underneath readmore

Name: Yarrow Age: Adult Species: Blakiston’s Fish Owl (specifically; Bubo Blakistoni Doerriesi subspecies) Gender: male, he/him Sexuality: homosexual Height: 29 in. Weight: 11 lbs. Build: Tall and large, he says a lot of it is feathers. Yarrow is heavy and well muscled due to eating fish and traversing on the ground for food. Appearance: Yarrow is a large tawny owl with very messy feathers. He has white around his face and chest. His torso has lighter beige colored feathers, with many little streaks of black. His wings and tail feathers are barred with dark brown on both sides, lighter underneath.

Faction: Lone Owl Occupation: Blacksmith/artist Birthplace: Frost Forest, near the lakes Family: Kaverna (mother; deceased), Zhelty (father; unknown) Commonly found: at his smithing spot (a toppled fishing shack built by the Others) near Serenity delta, flying through nearby forests, at the beach, trading at Lone Owl island

Theme song: Bottomfeeder - Amanda Palmer Likes: fish, water/rivers/the sea, art, traveling, learning, music, trinquets, green filled landscapes, flowers Dislikes: heat, barren deserts, bugs, thunderstorms/heavy storms, theives

Personality: Yarrow is an eccentric, compassionate, open minded owl. He’s clear about his opinions when he’s passionate and loves to learn about all sorts of things he doesn’t know about. Being a fish owl, some of his lifestyle differs greatly from other owl species and he tends to embrace the feeling of being different. While often on his own, he does enjoy making friends and will gladly join other owls on trips. While his open mind is a good thing in most cases, it does make it easy for him to make up his mind and cut off contact with people he disagrees with- he may not give second changes. He can also be a bit distant, as he has a hard time handling emotions- he likes to stick to logic and often closes off emotional responses to stressful situations. When it comes to scenarios where others are in trouble, he will likely do what is logical and brings others to safety before making up his mind on what's “good” or “bad”. But in personal relations, he has a hard time facing his feelings or dealing with them appropraitely- leading to stubbornness, outbursts, or irrational choices. He may not come off as sensitive or easy to upset as he likes to consider logic and others’ views before reacting, but he is deeply disturbed by betrayal and losing trusted friends. He may be open to changing his opinions for simple things, but changing his emotions is a whole other thing. He is unlikely to act with violence though, unless provoked or in a scenario where it is needed.

Pre-Group History: Yarrow was born to a simple loving family- Kaverna, his mother and Zhelty, his father. They lived near the water in a large tree. There was a sister egg that failed to hatch before Yarrow did. His parents were kind and caring- raising him properly just as any owl should. However, he found himself orphaned one night, when lightning struck near his hollow and caused their tree to fall to the ground. He was at the age where he should fly, and while he managed to escape before getting hurt, his mother at the back of the hollow was killed. His father was out hunting, and due to the circumstances Yarrow had to find safety first and was unable to reunite with his father. While Yarrow faced grief in losing his parent’s, they taught him a lot about loving the world and the land, and he set out to form his own life.

He mostly stayed to the west, cooler and damper parts of the world as he travelled and tried to find inspiration of what to do with his life. On his flights, he acquainted many owls, one of whom was an apprentice blacksmith. This smith was still learning, but introduced him to his mentor. While these two were smithing up weapons and Yarrow didn't care much for that, it piqued Yarrows interest, and he stuck around with the older smith- a scraggly masked owl named Uhlava. Yarrow learned for months about smithing, metals, coals, etc. He did ask about not making weapons- to which Uhlava mentioned “art”. She said that she did not make art, it was not her specialty and she didn’t “get” it. She could teach him how smithing worked in general but he should seek outside knowledge on art. She informed him that she heard the Guardians had many books (said pre-burning of the tree) and that the Glauxian Brothers had a large library as well. He didn’t know how to read yet… and while she gave him a lead to maybe read about the Rogue Smith of Silverveil who stopped making weapons to make art, he knew it was leagues away from Uhlava’s home at the edge of Saint Aegolius Canyons. Yarrow eventually finished his basic training in smithing and moved to his own settlement, a small crumbled stone fishing shack built by the Others, in the Serenity Delta. While he dreamed to read and learn about art, he decided it was quite a lot to do, and would practice what he thought was “art” first. He quite loved living near the water and sea, it gave him inspiration. Yarrow experimented with materials aside from metal and eventually used sand to create glass objects. Nothing as magnificent as the stained glass from the Others, but little baubles strung up with string, little necklaces and charms.

In the present, Yarrow resides at this residence but often travels to trade and get materials for his work. He is not a known name, but has traded his work with a few owls before. His goal is to learn to read so he can learn about art history and improve his work. He also wishes to explore more of the world to fuel his ideas.

Group History: N/A

Relationships: N/A

Other:

Yarrow doesn’t know how to write, but if he did he’d write some good poetry.

He is not a fighter, it's not something he ever learned, but his size makes him incredibly capable of being destructive if he’s driven to it.

Yarrow was named after a bunch of yarrow flowers growing near their hollow, as his mother loved those flowers.

Yarrow thinks about his father, but is unsure if he should accept the possibility that he's dead.

Yarrow enjoys fish, and like many fish owls he spends a lot of time on the ground. He is very good at running around on his feet and hunting on the ground. He enjoys the forest floors more than a tree or hollow.

He does enjoy the few non-fish meals he's gotten in other forests and definitely likes the idea of trying out more.

He has insecurities about philosophy, often having a hard time grasping feelings with death, existence etc and doesn't think scrooms are real. He loves the world but doesnt like thinking about deep questions that may take “logic” away from his typical pattern of thinking. He likes to use logic to form opinions, not emotions.

While a logical thinker, this doesn't take away his compassion or empathy! He's very kind and understanding.

In terms of relationships, he is not a type for long term commitment, does not plan to make a family. He is the type for flings and very sensual/intimate friendships. Its likely he has a few owls he knows awfully well and many he doesn’t know well at all.

Design can be simplified to get rid of or lessen speckles.

#guardians of ga'hoole #owls of ga'hoole #Legend of the Guardians #gog #gogh #owl #blakiston's fish owl #my art #mine #Yarrow

[peacockwinchester]

Mairon/Sauron x Misha

Remembered that I have literally never posted a oneshot of my most hammered out story. I have been in love with Mairon for a couple years, he is my comfort character and this story is probably my most well-developed and longest running one. Anyway, I hope it is good!!

Warnings: Relationship issues, general LOTR things, heights, angst with happy ending, actually no curses (Wow, Misha what are you doing?!)

..

~Misha~

I had been invited (more like summoned) to Imladris by my niece, Galadriel. I had already been made aware of the stirrings near Mordor, and I had had many dreams of my husband, even though he would still be without a body for a long time. Beleg had come with me, since he liked the company of Elrond's sons and Glorfindel.

We were greeted at the entrance by Lindir.

"My lords," he greeted us.

"Lindir," I nodded.

"To what do we owe the pleasure? We had not expected you," Lindir asked politely, though I could sense his unease.

"We were asked here by my niece," I replied. "We won't overstay our welcome."

It was always icy with our kin, even after all these centuries. Such was the curse of my family. Lindir nodded briskly and stepped aside so we could enter. We were almost immediately greeted by Galadriel.

"Welcome," she smiled at Beleg and I, speaking in Sindarin, "I hope Lindir didn't give you too much trouble. He is... untrusting."

"Who isn't untrusting of us?" Beleg scoffed.

"There are many, myself included," Galadriel assured us.

"Why did you ask us here?" I inquired.

"A party of dwarves is coming our way. They are led by Olorin, who I believe has worrying news for us. I was summoned here by Saruman."

"Worrying things are beginning across the land. I assume you and Elrond will want my observations?"

"Yes, but you will not speak to Saruman?"

"I feel evil in him, much like my Atar," Beleg explained.

"He has been acting strangely, but we must not jump to conclusions," Galadriel frowned.

"Perhaps," Beleg pursed his lips. "I will leave you to the talking, I am going to look for Glorfindel."

"Alright," I nodded.

Galadriel led me to the council room, where Elrond was discussing the tidings with Saruman. I felt a similar feeling to Beleg's. Saruman had been striking me as off for a while, but I also understood Galadriel's desire to keep the peace.

When we arrived, Elrond stopped what he was doing.

"Lord Misha," he nodded, "Galadriel."

"It is good to see you, Elrond," I smiled.

"Why have you come?" Saruman frowned.

"Galadriel asked for me. It would likely be beneficial to have my experiences. She also tells me Olorin is coming with a party of dwarves," I narrowed my eyes at the white wizard.

"Very well. What have you seen?" Elrond cleared his throat.

I sat down across the table from my long removed nephew and sighed. Galadriel also took a seat at my side.

"I have been having dreams," I steepled my hands under my chin.

"What sort?" Elrond frowned.

"Troubling for our cause. I have seen my husband many times in my sleep. He speaks to me often. I know he will still need time to regain his full power, but his progression is worrying."

"Do you mind telling us what he says?"

I pursed my lips and looked at my hands. To tell the truth, most of what Mairon talked to me about was insignificant. It was the sort of conversations one has with roommates or after one gets home from work. Just like the old days... He sometimes reminisced about times we had shared together, like the weeks he spent healing me or our time in Valinor. I didn't think any of that was vital to our cause.

"I... All I know is that despite all his sentiments towards me, he isn't going to stop," I shook my head slightly.

Elrond and Galadriel seemed to pick up on my unease and quickly dismissed the council.

..

There was almost always a feast at Elrond's house, and tonight was no different. Afterwards, Beleg and I spent some time in the Hall of Fire, before I decided to go to bed. Beleg and I had been given rooms close to each other. I entered mine and put on my night shirt. My bed was comfortable, and I fell asleep relatively quickly.

..

I opened my eyes to see that I was still in my guest room. However, I knew I was dreaming because on the end of my bed sat Mairon. He looked over at me, smiling slightly.

"I always look forward to visiting you," he said.

"I know," I sighed.

"You're troubled..." Mairon frowned at me.

"Of course I am, Mairon!" I scowled. "How could I not be troubled?! You're trying to take over the world and basically kill my people, not to mention everyone else!!"

"Misha- I don't want to kill everyone! I just want to show everyone that we deserve respect, and order!" Mairon argued.

"Mairon, no one will ever respect us if you keep this up! I'm sorry, but I just can't keep acting like you've done nothing wrong. Because you have done so much... and I don't know if we'll ever be the same..."

Mairon sighed and looked away from me.

"I know..." he said quietly. "But they listen to me... The orcs truly listen to me, not like Aule or Melkor who pretended to. Misha, I'm finally important, and I'm not going to stop, because everyone in Middle Earth needs to know how important I am. How important my family really is."

"Mairon," I stopped him by putting a hand up, "Until you stop and you face the consequences of your actions and the actions you're planning on taking... I can't see you. So, please leave me alone..."

Mairon looked stunned at my words, like I had just physically impaled him. But I knew he understood, or he would in time, and he left.

..... Continuity? We don't know her. Time for the destruction of the Ring.....

I had never actually been to Mordor, even after all these years. It was a barren, volcanic wasteland. Looming over everything was the volcano itself and Barad-dur, which was a replica of my own home. My whole head was a hurricane of emotions. I was scared, scared that we would fail, scared of what would happen if we won... Scared to see him.

Frodo and Sam were at my side, disguised in orc armor. But everything was deserted. I swallowed my fear and hesitation and put a hand on Frodo's and Sam's shoulders.

"You two do what we came here to do. I believe in you," I smiled at them.

"What are you gonna do, Mx. Misha?" Sam frowned.

"I'm going to see him," I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"Good luck then," Sam shook my hand.

"You too. I'll see you on the other side," I saluted the Hobbits, before jogging up to Barad-dur.

I stopped just short of the gate. Would he come with me? Would he be too proud to admit defeat and serve time for his crimes? Would everything be too much for our relationship? Almost shaking, I pushed open the giant black gate.

Centered with the door was a large, dark throne, on which sat the person I had been waiting for and dreading seeing simultaneously. I knew it was him by the shock of golden hair and the way he sat. When he saw me walk in, he stood immediately and descended the throne. He didn't come closer yet, probably in fear of my anger. But after all these centuries, I just wanted everything to be over and to heal.

"Misha," Mairon said.

"Mairon," I replied.

"Why did you come?" my husband asked.

"I want to offer something."

"Oh?"

"I want you to come home with me. We can work through everything and you can begin to mend what you've broken. I spoke with Manwe in my dreams, and he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I just... I just want all this to end..."

Mairon sighed, finally coming closer. He stopped just in front of me.

"You came with the Ring, didn't you?" he said.

"Yes. Surely you know you can't win," I crossed my arms. "My friends are taking it to the mountain now. There isn't time to stop them."

"I know," Mairon sighed, "Eru, you always were smarter..."

"So?" I held out my hand between us.

Mairon looked at my hand for a long minute, and I almost though he wouldn't take it. I convinced myself he wouldn't and began to prepare to deal with that. I was pulled out of my wormhole by the warm weight of Mairon's hand in mine.

"I'll come with you," he affirmed. "Nothing will ever erase the damage I've done, but I want to start over. I want... to be a family again."

I felt tears slip out of my eyes unwittingly, and as I looked at him, I saw Mairon was crying a bit too. The weight of all the years without him and all the years of wondering whether we would ever be able to be something again finally hit me and I let go of Mairon's hand to throw my arms around him. Mairon held onto me as tightly as he could.

We just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, before Mairon's grip loosened. I let out a gasp, like the air had just been knocked out of his lungs. His knees buckled and I struggled to keep him upright.

"Mairon?!" I asked, panicking slightly.

"Misha... The-the ring's gone..." Mairon breathed.

"Are you gonna be ok?" I asked fearfully.

"I mean.... Probably??"

"Are you sure?"

"Meh."

It was clear that he was a bit loopy right now. I felt a shower of dust fall onto me and I started coughing. I looked up to see the ceiling begin to crumble.

"Mairon!!" I cried.

My husband, clearly out of it, barely managed to throw up a shield to protect us. When the dust settled, we were under a mountain of rubble. Mairon used what little power he had at the moment to burst the shield and throw rubble off of us. When I could see the sky, I hauled Mairon to his feet (he could barely stand and he ended up leaning heavily on me) and began dragging us out of the ruins of Barad-dur.

Once on top, I let out a string of Quenyan curses. The volcano was erupting and lava was pouring out of it, heading towards us. Overhead, I saw large birds circling. Two swooped down on teh side of the mountain and another began descending towards Mairon and I's position. I had only enough time to yelp and squeeze my eyes shut as the giant eagle picked us up.

"Misha?" I heard Mairon ask.

I let out a strained panicked noise and kept my eyes shut. I happen to be deathly afraid of heights, and I did not trust Manwe's eagles one bit.

"Netya hanu, you're ok, I think. I might be dying, actually, um....." Mairon tried to reassure me, despite him being completely out of it.

"Did... did you just call me... pretty boy?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"Did I? Oh... Didn't mean to say that out loud. Did you know you smell nice?"

I laughed, though it was somewhat strained. We were finally done with the Ring and all of that nasty stuff. It was over. Mairon was going to begin mending the hurt he'd caused Arda and we could finally begin to talk through everything. Despite my issues with my current altitude, I was elated.

.....

Hi. Did you like it? I've never actually written down how this all goes down, so I hope it was good. Anywho, if you want more Mairon content, I can be persuaded to write it more frequently :)). Have a great day/night, and take care of urself!!

#misha writesa #lotr #silmarillion #fanfiction #self insert #mairon

[ragingbookdragon]

To Challenge The Flow of Fate PT. 1

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story

Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence Author’s Note: So, after binge watching seasons 1 and 2, of course, I started a mental story, and I’ve finally put it down to word. Enjoy! Cause I have no idea where this is going tbh. -Thorne <3 Update: I changed the title from ‘To Challenge The Flow Of Immortality’ to what it is now, because I feel that it fits better with the story!

Her eyes snapped open the second after they hit the ground, and she shoved at the legs across her torso. “Trevor. Get the fuck off me before I amputate both your legs.” His chuckle quickly dissolved into a groan as he rolled off her, clutching at his stomach, and she leaned up, hands coming to her side to help push herself up. She muttered to herself as she dusted off her pants, slipping the sword back into its scabbard, “What type of genius lands on metal beams that have been under the goddamn ground for who knows how goddamn long?” Trevor rolled his eyes as he helped Sypha to her feet and retorted,

           “Will you stop complaining (Y/N)? You’re alive, aren’t you?” She jerked around, narrowing her eyes into a glare.

           “You won’t be in the next few minutes if we don’t find a way out of here.” When Sypha found her feet, he looked over at (Y/N), pulling a smug face.

           “And what are you gonna do? Stab me?” Her hand went to her hilt and she spat,

           “Don’t tempt me you arse.” Trevor stuck his tongue out at her, but stopped when the Speaker next to them groaned,

           “Will you two please stop fighting? You’re acting like children.” The siblings glared at each other for a moment before they scoffed and began walking to the hallway. They entered the room, and (Y/N) immediately drew her eyes around the walls.

           “Wow…look at this place…it’s amazing.” She drew her gaze to the center of the room, scanning the large coffin. “Is that what I think it is?” Trevor shrugged and muttered,

           “Won’t know ‘til we find out.” No sooner did the words leave his mouth, did his foot sink into the ground. The sound of gears turning echoed through the room and he blurted, “I didn’t do that.” (Y/N) glowered at him from his right and quipped,

           “Nice goin’ loser. You just woke up whatever’s in there.” Before he could retort, a cloud of gas released from the coffin and they stared at it as it rose, the top sliding off. She leaned over slightly, voice soft as she murmured, “Trevor…is that…” He nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, and (Y/N) gripped the hilt of her sword. The lid dropped against the marble with loud thunk, and she felt it resonate in her chest as the man rose from it, coming to levitate above it. He hunched over, voice low and gravely as he asked,

           “Why are you here?” Sypha’s eyes grew wide as she exclaimed,

           “The story…the Messiah sleeps under Gresit! The man who will save us from Dracula.” The man didn’t respond, simply turning his attention to (Y/N) and Trevor.

           “And you two? Are you in search of a mythical savior as well?” (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as her brother remarked,

           “I fell down a hole.” She grunted, elbowing him in the side.

           “Will you fucking shut the hell up before you say something even more stupid?” He eyed her from the corner of his eye, tempted to stick his tongue out again, and she turned to the man. “We need your help.” Sypha nodded, adding,

           “Dracula is abroad in the land. He has an army of monsters and is determined to wipe out all human life wherever he finds it.” The man’s head simply tipped as he acknowledged her, but then asked,

           “Is that what you believe?”

           “That Dracula’s released his horde on Wallachia? That’s fact. There’s no belief involved.” (Y/N) watched carefully as her brother spoke, hand tightening around the hilt of her sword as his voice dropped and he questioned, “But that’s not what you’re asking.”

           “No.” Trevor drew his gaze up and clarified,

           “You’re asking if I believe you’re some sleeping Messiah who’ll save us and no, I don’t.” Even Sypha’s shocked call of his name didn’t stop him as he growled, “I know what you are.” (Y/N) knew a grin was on the man’s face as he challenged,

           “And what am I?”

           “You’re a vampire.” At this, the man finally looked up at them and with Sypha’s gasp in her ears, she caught sight of pointed fangs. “So, I have to ask myself, have we come down here to wake up the man who’ll kill Dracula…or did we come here to kill Dracula?” The man rose to his full height, but before he could speak, (Y/N) announced,

           “He’s not Dracula.” Everyone’s eyes turned to her, and Trevor scoffed,

           “He’s a vampire (Y/N). Under Gresit. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for misinterpretations.” She side eyed him before glancing at the vampire, eyes scanning his face.

           “And Dracula’s forces are attacking Gresit in a war on humanity. No person, not even a vampire, would sleep as they waged war. You have to be awake and present.” She observed the man for a moment. “Trevor, he might be a vampire…but he isn’t Dracula.” The vampire lowered towards the ground, eyeing (Y/N) as she inconspicuously moved to Trevor’s blindside.

           “One calls me Dracula…the other doesn’t.” Trevor grunted at him.

           “I’ll call you whatever you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth.” The vampire gestured to Sypha.

           “She called you Belmont…are you from the House of Belmont?” (Y/N) could feel the tension rising as Trevor affirmed,

           “Trevor Belmont. Last son of the House of Belmont.” The man glanced at (Y/N).

           “And you? The one who is standing at his back?” (Y/N) met his eyes, amazed at how they looked like pools of molten gold.

           “(Y/N) Belmont. Last daughter of the House of Belmont.” The man’s eyebrows pulled together, and he explained,

           “The Belmont’s fought creatures of the night, did they not? For generations.” Trevor barely spared the two women glances before he moved, ignoring (Y/N)’s hum of concern.

           “Say what you mean.” He threatened, stepping to the sides, watching as the man’s eyes followed him.

           “The Belmont’s killed vampires.” Trevor huffed.

           “Until the good people decided they didn’t want us around.” The nonchalance made (Y/N)’s fingers twitch as she started moving the other direction, opposite of Trevor. The vampire’s eyes darted to her moving figure, letting her know he was aware as he said,

           “And now Dracula is carrying out an execution order on the human race.” He paused, then raised a hand. “Do you care Belmont?” The question gave Trevor a pause, and he looked at the wall in front of him.

           “Honestly, I didn’t, no.” He took a breath and continued. “But now…yes, it’s time to stop it.”

           “Do you think you can?” Trevor turned, hand moving to his whip and declared,

           “What I think…is I’m going to have to kill you.” Sypha grunted, taking a step forward.

           “Belmont! No!” She argued. “He’s the one we’ve been waiting for.” Trevor moved back a bit, (Y/N) doing the same.

           “No, he’s not. He’s a vampire. And he’s not been waiting here for hundreds of years, have you?” The man’s eyes narrowed into slits as he warned,

           “I don’t like your tone, Belmont.”

           “This place is old, but it’s not been abandoned. It’s alive and working. So, go on, vampire, tell her exactly how long you’ve been waiting down here.” The man’s attention turned to the Speaker.

           “What is the year of your Lord?” Her voice was clear as she responded,

           “1476.” He turned back to Trevor.

           “Perhaps a year, then.” Trevor nodded.

           “There. And on top of that, what kind of messiah creates mechanical death traps to buy himself an uninterrupted nap in a stone coffin?”

           “My defenses we not for you.” Trevor huffed.

           “You could’ve told your defenses that.”

           “They are machines, nothing more. They were not intended to protect me from you.” The vampire’s tone was clipped, and (Y/N) quickly concluded,

           “Defenses of that power would give even the best monster hunters trouble.” She regarded him with a look of suspicion. “You’re protecting yourself from something more dangerous than simple monster hunters.” He nodded at her, turning to look back at her brother.

           “I asked you a question. Do you care?” Trevor leaned forward and announced,

           “I care about doing my family’s work. I care about saving lives.” He turned his body. “Am I going to have to kill you?” At this, the man’s tone colored with anger and he sneered,

           “Do you think you can? If you’re really a Belmont and not some runt running around with a family crest, you might be able to.” He flicked a finger, and (Y/N) heard a clinking sound before a silver sword spun through the air. He caught it and slung it back, the air cutting before it with a sharp slice. “Let’s find out.” Sypha leaned forward.

           “Belmont you can’t do this!” She turned to (Y/N). “(Y/N)! Stop him, please!” Trevor cut her off before she could speak.

           “Tell it to your floating vampire Jesus here.” The man’s face pinched and he countered,

           “You’ve got nothing but insults, have you? A tired little-” The whip cracked the lower end of his torso, sending him flying. He skidded across the ground, and looked up, a hiss passing his lips, and (Y/N) warned,

           “Trevor.” He didn’t look at her.

           “Stay there (Y/N). I’m fine.” The two began to fight, and (Y/N) moved back near Sypha, knowing she couldn’t help her brother.

           “(Y/N), please! Stop them!” She glanced at the woman and grunted with laughter as she watched Trevor knee the man in the groin. Her laughter quickly faded into shock as she watched her brother’s short sword snap, then get punched to the ground. The vampire dropped his sword, moving to Trevor, one hand gripping the hair at the crown of his head, the other shoving his shoulder down.

           “Do you have a god to put a last prayer to, Belmont?” A grin played at Trevor’s lips and he quipped,

           “Yeah. Dear God, please don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.” The man’s bled with confusion as he asked,

           “What?” He let out a pained grunt as the dagger entered his chest. He leaned forward, hissing, “I can still rip your throat out.”

           “You can, but it won’t stop me staking you.”

           “But you will still die.”

           “But I don’t care. Killing you was the point. Living through it was just a luxury.” The vampire let out a chuckle, but stopped as a hand tightened in his hair, pulling him back, and an edge of a blade rested against his throat. He made no movement as he felt breath next to his ear.

           “I might be the only Belmont willing to talk my way out of fights, but make no mistake, I will cut your head off if you kill my brother, vampire.” A bright light appeared in the vampire’s gaze and he looked forward at Sypha, who stood in front of him.

           “And I will incinerate you before your fangs touch that man’s throat.”

           “I thought I was your legendary savior.” Sypha’s head lowered.

           “So did I. But he saved my life.”

           “You’re a Speaker-Magician.” She nodded.

           “Yes, and his goal is mine…” Her eyes shone bright as she added, “To stand up for the people.” The vampire regarded her for a moment before looking down and muttering,

           “Good. Very good. Two vampire hunters and a magician.” The cut began to heal on his torso, and he leaned up off Trevor’s dagger. “You’ll do.” He let go of Trevor’s hair, but made no more movement when (Y/N)’s blade didn’t move.

           “You won’t kill us?” She queried. He nodded, as best he could and added,

           “On my honor.” With his confirmation, she drew back her blade, and released her grip, smoothing the hair down from where she had it gripped. He stood up and turned to them. “I am Adrian Tepes. Known to the Wallachians as Alucard…son of Vlad Dracula Tepes.” Before he could continue, (Y/N) leaned around his body, pointing at Trevor.

           “Fuckin’ told you dumbass.” Trevor’s blue eyes filled with annoyance and he gave her a sarcastic clap.

           “Congratulations sister, shall I give you a pat on the back for your excellent deduces?”  She scowled at him.

           “How ‘bout you bend over and let me plant my foot up your ass.”

           “Children, please!” The two went silent at Sypha’s exasperated call, and Adrian continued.

           “I’ve been asleep here in my private keep under Gresit for a year,” He placed a hand over his chest, and (Y/N) caught sight of the angry red scar across his pale skin. “to heal the wounds dealt by my father when I attempted to stop him unleashing his demon armies.” Sypha’s hand lowered and she marveled,

           “You are the sleeping soldier.” Adrian turned to her.

           “I’m aware of the stories. I’m also aware that the Speakers consider the story to be information from the future. Do you know the whole story?” A dust of crimson touched the tips of Sypha’s cheeks, and she ignored (Y/N)’s snicker as she nodded.

           “Yes.”

           “The sleeping soldier will be met by a hunter and a scholar.” Trevor’s neck disappeared into his shoulders as he muttered,

           “No one told me that.” (Y/N) waved him off and questioned,

           “The hell am I then? Chopped liver?”

           “You smell like it.” She flipped her middle finger at Trevor who snorted, and Adrian turned to her, golden eyes zeroing in on the onyx raven crest at her chest.

           “A huntress from the Order of Shadows…I never expected to see one in person.” (Y/N) blinked in stunned silence. When she found her senses, she asked,

           “You know the Order?” Adrian nodded.

           “Only by the outstanding reputation for being protectors of the innocent and oppressed.” He eyed to silver sword in her hand. “And for being deadly in combat.” He looked back at Trevor. “I think I might’ve lost if she’d engaged me instead of you.” Trevor rolled his eyes, ignoring the barb, and Sypha took it as a chance to speak.

           “Why do you think my grandfather tried everything to make you stay?” Trevor picked himself off the ground, groaning,

           “I hate speakers.” The three waited for Adrian to dress, then Sypha inquired,

           “So, what happens now?” Adrian shoved the scabbard into his belt.

           “I need two hunters and a scholar. I need help to save Wallachia…” The sword lifted from the ground, sheathing itself. “Perhaps the world and defeat my father.” Trevor glanced at him, suspicion coloring his tone.

           “Why?” Adrian’s feet stopped and he murmured,

           “Because it is what my mother would have wanted…and we are all, in the end…slaves to our families wishes.” The words made (Y/N)’s heart heavy, but she ignored it, tightening the armor at her wrist.

           “You’ll help us kill Dracula and save Wallachia?” The four met at the doorway, and Adrian nodded.

           “My father has to die.” He glanced at them, eyes stopping to rest on (Y/N). “We four…we can destroy him.” For a moment, no one spoke, then (Y/N) pointed to the doorway, deadpanning,

           “Not to break the dramatic silence here, but numbnuts broke the gears and shit coming down, so how the fuck do we get out of here?” Adrian passed her by, his eyes so focused on her, it almost made her sweat.

           “Follow me.” The vampire walked ahead, Sypha following him, but the two siblings stood solemn. The two didn’t speak at first, then she whispered,

           “Are you sure about this Trevor?” She looked aver at him, watching as he glared daggers into Adrian’s back.

           “No…no I’m not.” (Y/N) took in a breath, then let it out.

           “Well…nothing we can do about it now.” Trevor nodded, following her as she jogged to catch up with the other two. “So, Goldenrod…do you prefer Alucard or Adrian?”

#adrian tepes #adrian tepes imagines #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes x reader imagines #adrian tepes x reader imagine #adrian tepes fanfiction #castlevania #castlevania imagine #castlevania imagines #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #adrian tepes imagine

[karmathecat]

Firewhiskey is Not the Best Mixer Part 3

The third part to my Next Gen time travel to the Marauder era! Thank you for reading guys!

Part 1 | Part 2

AO3 | FF

The halls of Hogwarts were the same James noted. He glanced over at his siblings and saw that they were both standing close to him, himself and Al on either side of Lily. The Marauder’s were oddly silent, sharing glances that James could only assume was a communication that he was not privy to. 

Sirius watched as the three new teenagers stopped at Lily’s behest. She bent over to take off her high heels, using Al’s shoulder for support as she did so. Once at her true height, Sirius noticed that she was quite a lot shorter than the Lily that he knew, coming up to perhaps his chest. She was complaining about her shoes hurting her feet now that the cushioning charm had worn off and there was no point recasting it as her feet already hurt. Sirius watched as one of the boys gave Lily his suit jacket to cover herself and was warmed by the clear love that was shared by the group, and once again wondered about their relationship to each other.

James’ attention was drawn to the group in front again as his grandfather cleared his throat as they reached a tapestry of a tall tower which reminded James of the princess stories that their dad read to Lily when they were younger. 

“This is the Heads’ dorms, there’s a guest room there with a double bed and we have a coach in the common room so you can decide who sleeps where. Evans will either be in her room or in the common room and I think that I might be best explaining what’s going on rather than ambushing her with her clone.” James smiled at the younger redhead as he said this in an attempt to reduce the tension that was not diminished on their journey from the Headmaster’s office. 

Lily pulled her brother's jacket closer around her as they entered the Heads’ common room. It was similar to the Gryffindor common room, which was unsurprising considering both of the Heads this year were lions. Lily wondered if the common room would be altered depending on the house of its occupants. Her grandfather bounded up the steps when the common room was clearly devoid of Lily Evans, and silence fell among the group. Lily let her breath out as a heavy sigh and thought about the current situation that she found herself in: forty years in the past, with her grandparents, Teddy’s dad, and a future traitor. Not only were they in the past, but she couldn’t reveal her true name without upsetting the progression of a relationship between her grandparents that clearly hadn’t begun yet. The more she thought about it, the more she realised how ridiculous everything was, and her attitude was completely backwards. She was meeting people that she had only heard stories about, she could ask questions and have an adventure, is that not what she was truly about? Why were her and her brothers being so closed off? 

With a short huff of a laugh, Lily decided that enough was enough, and yes the situation was strange but she was going to make the most of it, and sitting in silence was not the way to do that. With a new purpose, she walked over to the coach and sat next to Sirius and turned to face both the dark haired boy and Remus who was sat in the armchair next to him. 

“So, have you completed the map yet, or is that still in development?”

Two shocked eyes snapped to hers, and she smirked, “Yes we know about the map, Padfoot and Moony.” 

Hearing the conversation, James and Al also came to join, James sitting on the arm of the coach next to Lily, and Al sitting in the armchair beside him. 

“Yes that map has kept all three of us out of trouble on a number of occasions!” The three marauders grinned at each other delighting in the map being passed down to the next generations, they started asking them questions about how much they knew about the Marauders’ adventures, when a cry of alarm was heard from upstairs. 

“I guess James got to the interesting bit, I wonder how Evans will react.” The group fell silent and tried to distinguish the voices from upstairs. When they heard the door open and the voices became more clear, Lily felt a wave of anxiety come over her. She was about to meet the woman she was named after, she knew so little about her and was desperate to know as much as she could. 

James Potter descended the stairs and into the common room looking incredibly nervous, from behind him appeared Lily Evans, her bright green eyes only previously seen in their dad and Al surveyed the room rapidly, once they fell on Lily her mouth opened as if to speak. 

“If I can interrupt what is surely a very entertaining monologue,” Lily Evans’ eyes snapped to James Sirius and widened in surprise, but did close her mouth to stop her rant, “We are from the future, James is telling the truth, no it isn’t a joke, yes my brother and I are related to your James Potter, yes Lily is related to you, we’re from about forty years in the future. I would let you rant but we’ve already been through this and I really can’t be bothered doing it again. So if it’s alright with you I’d like to skip to the part where you’ve accepted that we are from the future because it’s been a really long day.” 

Lily bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at her brother, and saw Al roll his eyes, but she really couldn’t help agreeing with James, it had been a long day and if they skipped the rollercoaster of not believing to accepting that would be very beneficial. 

Lily Evans opened and closed her mouth several times before looking at the Marauder next to her, “That speech was so like you, and I don’t think anyone would choose to have that fluffy hair. Also Dumbledore sent me a message, so for fear of this blowing up in my face, I will accept that we don’t all need to be shipped to St Mungos immediately.” 

Lily was surprised that she accepted the events so quickly, but the word of the Headmaster clearly carried a lot of weight in this time. Lily Evans came and sat on a cushion in front of the fire directly opposite Lily, and was eyeing her with a great interest that was mirrored in the other redhead’s face. 

Lily looked over towards her brothers and then back at Lily Evans, “The pictures don’t do it justice, we do look oddly similar.” The two girls laughed at each other, and Lily saw the other girl square her shoulders and try to relax. 

“So, you’re my daughter?” 

“Granddaughter.” Lily corrected, and the other girl nodded and then looked at the two other time travellers, “And your James’ grandsons, do I dare ask for your full names?” Lily could see the battle playing on the Head Girl’s face, she clearly wanted to know her future and Lily couldn’t blame her, if she was faced with this situation she wasn’t sure she would be able to hold back her questions. 

“I’m not sure that would be the best idea.” Al looked around the room from his siblings to the marauder’s and his grandmother. 

“Okay, I guess that makes sense,” Remus looked put out that the main question wasn’t going to be answered, “how do you know each other then? How was it that you ended up here together?” 

“We were at the ball together, all the wizarding families were invited.” James dodged the question well in Lily’s opinion, but the dodge was clearly noticed by the group.

“You all seem really close, and that you knew each other well. Especially with a prank war?” James Potter eyed the three newcomers with intense interest, he was desperate to know how close they were, hoping that his life was intricately linked with the love of his life. 

James Sirius laughed nodding, “Well it was actually Lil that started that, it started small I guess at Christmas, using the invisibility cloak to move all my stuff an inch to the left so I kept walking into stuff which was incredibly annoying, so I got a rain cloud to follow her all of New Year’s, and that escalated to me being naked on the roof and then to a de-ageing potion gone wrong, and here we are.” 

Everyone was laughing by the end of James’ speech. “So I see that the desire to cause trouble is genetic!” Lily Evans laughed smirking at James, eyeing the Head Boy with amusement as he ruffled the back of his hair. She truly could not believe the situation that she had landed herself in. If a patronus from the Headmaster had not arrived as James attempted his stuttering explanation of who she would find in the common room, she would have never believed it. But her sense of adventure was peaking, she was a Gryffindor afterall, and she knew that this opportunity was something she couldn’t pass up. 

“Would I be able to get changed? This dress isn’t as comfortable as it is fancy I can assure you!” Lily laughed smoothing out her green dress, she was starting to feel more comfortable with the situation she was being presented with. She had her brothers, yes they’d have to be careful to not reveal too much, but she wasn’t alone and she was technically with even more family. She was going to try and make the most of it. 

Lily followed her grandfather up the other set of stairs and into his room. She walked in and looked around as he searched through his drawers. She smiled at pictures of the Marauders on his bedside table, as she sat on the edge of the four poster bed she picked up the frame watching as the four boys laughed as they sat under a tree down by the lake. 

“Here you go, I always find that quidditch stuff is the best to sleep in.” James smiled as he handed her what looked like a practice top, jumper and a pair of jogging bottoms. 

“I agree, I stole James’ all the time before I went to Hogwarts and he was home, and then once I made the team it was literally all I wore!” Lily laughed, and was slightly surprised when James sat on the bed next to her, appraising her with interest. 

“You play quidditch? Evans has never been too into flying.” 

Lily nodded, and decided that the information wasn’t too revealing and found that talking to James was just like talking to her brothers, “Yeah both my parents played at school, but my mum was a professional she played for the Harpies she retired when I was young. So I couldn’t not play! I’m a chaser for Gryffindor, and I’ve been told I’m just as good as my mum, I’d love to play after I finish school but I want to do it off my own back, rather than because of who my parents are.” 

They continued chatting easily for a few minutes, James voicing his excitement about her mum playing professionally, and encouraging her to play herself. James was surprised by how much Lily was talking to him, she seemed so calm and comfortable in his presence, something he could only dream of achieving with Lily Evans. But if this Lily was so connected to the Potter boys, maybe all was not lost after all when it came to his relationship with Evans. 

He stood and gestured to the other door in the room, “That’s the shared bathroom, feel free to use anything, but maybe not my toothbrush.” They two laughed and Lily thanked him before walking into the bathroom. James made his way downstairs and smiled as he watched the two Potter boys gently teasing Lily and to his surprise Lily was laughing and teasing back with equal intensity. As he entered the group again, he sat on the floor next to Lily and told the two Potters that he had left some clothes on his bed for them. 

As Lily reentered the common room in her new comfortable clothes, pulling the sleeves of the familiar knitted material over her hand and taking comfort in the feel. She could feel several sets of eyes on her, and the conversations ended slowly. She eyed them all in question, before James Potter cleared his throat. 

“I guess I didn’t think how weird it would be to see ‘Potter’ written across your back.” 

Lily frowned and then realised, to these boys and Lily that she was not a Potter, she was an Evans or some undescipt surname. 

Lily Evans viewed her granddaughter and had to admit that seeing another girl, family or not, with James’ quidditch jersey on gave her an unpleasant feeling in her stomach. She had to admit that in the presence of the James who was not her Head Boy, she felt slightly flustered. The new James was clearly a few years older than them, perhaps 19 or 20, and if that was the case James Potter was only going to get more attractive, and she didn’t think that was possible. She could imagine her James becoming more defined and more mature in the coming years, and she had decided during her sixth year that she wanted to be around to see the developments. The proof that her and James’ lives were going to be linked to the point of their grandchildren knowing each other was thrilling to her, but the idea that she didn’t know anything about these children’s relationship bothered her. She wanted James Potter for her own, she knew that in herself, he wasn’t the immature bully that he was three years ago, he was a mature man who had strong morals and a loyalty that she had not witnessed in anyone else. And here in front of her in the form of a girl who could be her twin lay the answers to whether James Potter was serious about a life with her. She could ask all the questions she wanted without fear of losing a friendship with someone she wasn’t sure was romantically interested in her anymore. In that moment a plan formed in Lily Evans’ mind. 

“Lily, why don’t you come and share my room? The bed is big enough and that way the two boys can have the spare room. It would save you sleeping on the coach.” 

Lily looked up into the welcoming eyes of her grandmother and was thrilled by the idea of spending some alone time with the Head Girl, and quickly agreed.

James and Al quickly ran upstairs and got changed and met their sister before she headed up to bed. The Marauders watched in amusement as each of the boys kissed Lily on the cheek goodnight before retiring to the spare room. 

Xxx

Lily watched as her grandmother entered the room from the bathroom and pulled back the covers on her four poster bed. The room was exactly the same as James’ had been, and Lily had looked at the photos that littered the room as she waited for the other girl in the bathroom. She had been intrigued by the mix of muggle and magical photos, and spent extra time looking at Lily Evans’ parents so she could tell her Dad about them once she returned home. 

Once she was sitting in bed next to her grandmother, the light was extinguished. Lily could tell the older girl wasn’t going to sleep, she could feel the tension in the air, so wasn’t surprised when Lily Evans rolled over to look in Lily’s hazel eyes. 

“Are you related to James, my James I mean.” Lily was surprised by the phrase my James, as far as she could tell her grandparents were not in a relationship yet so she knew that she had to tread carefully. 

When the younger girl didn’t respond but continued to look at her, Lily steeled herself to plough on, “It’s just, if you were, that might mean that James and I could be in touch after Hogwarts. And if you aren’t related you just happen to be super chummy with his offspring then I know that I’m wasting my time right now and I need to get over whatever it is I have for James. So if you could help me not waste my time I would be incredibly grateful.” 

Lily watched as her grandmother’s pleading emerald eyes bore into her own, she could see how much bravery it took for her grandmother to admit to her feelings. Lily blew out a huge breath and made the decision. She wasn’t sure if she would regret it, and she definitely knew that she should ask Al his opinion, but Al wasn’t here. 

“You’re right, we are related, I share the same name as my grandmother, my name is Lily Potter.”

#harry potter fic #harry potter time travel #next gen time travel #james sirius potter #lily luna potter #lily evans #james potter #next gen fic #marauder fic

[doctolka]

The Council of Dembirom

::: This is one of the chapters from my WIP, that I wrote the other day... it'd be nice if people could read through and give feedback... but if you don't feel like it, I do hope you enjoy it :::

A Guide to my world building...

Indistinct voices rebounded off the walls as they approached the council chambers. Vevien had found her knight, and the two walked just ahead of Edlaise, arm-in-arm.

While she did not envy them their attraction—to put it mildly—but she did think it had a time and a place. The fact that her consort was a Menatan was no help. It would be far better, and far more proper, for her to chose a member of their own race.

But, you do have to admit he’s a damn fine warrior, she told herself, watching the large man walk, dwarfing her sister. Yes. He was a good fighter. He didn’t use modern Elatan techniques, so when he fought it seemed foreign, and poor quality. But it certainly got results.

It would do them credit to have two of the fiercest warriors on their side of the argument—and the added benefit or royalty.

“Listen here, Locraou! We don’t need that. It would just see the womenfolk killed and the men demoralized! There’s no need for an army, and most certainly no need for it to incorporate—”

“Ahem,” Vevien cleared her throat. Always proper, she was. Never wanted to get an ill-gotten gain over her political opponents. Even if it would save everyone involved a great deal of time and trouble.

“Ah. Princess Vevien, Sir Halifax. Lady Edlaise. Won’t you come in? We were just thinking of getting started without you,” Tuvaulle said, standing and bowing. The rest of their allies, Montre, Libua, Selette and Jacques followed suit. Their opposition remained dutifully seated, frozen under Bedour’s sharp glare.

“It seems to as though you had already started without us, Mr. Tuvaulle,” Halifax said, helping Vevien into her seat. He knew to allow Edlaise to seat herself, thank you very much.

“Listen here, Menat,” Bedour scowled, “you are a guest, and so have no place here but by our leave. You will hold a civilized tongue or you shall be dismissed!”

“Oh, leave off Bedour,” Edlaise said, cutting of Halifax’s reply, “He was stating a simple fact, based on a simple observation! If you take such offense to fact, then perhaps you would like to explain something that does not offend you, such as the fairyland you live in, in which we do not need a standing army to defend ourselves.”

“I—”

“Enough, the both of you!” Tuvaulle interjected, cutting of the beet-faced Bedour. “This is not our business here today, to call names at each other! That’s what we did all last cycle, and I tire of it. As moderator of this session of the Council of Dembirom, I move that we review the arguments on the topic of the defensive army, and of the power of the crown over said army, and then come to a vote. Mr. Bedour, since you are currently the offended party, would you like to begin?”

“I would indeed, Mr. Moderator,” Bedour said coolly, collecting himself as his face bled down to its usual brown.

“Ahem. As you all know, Dembirom has not had a standing army since our grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather’s time. It has been over a quarter a millennium since last we had need of an armed force besides our own city guard, which is perfectly capable of defending even our most remote of settlements from the predations of the lawless and of wolves. It goes without saying, therefore, that we really have no need of an army, of a military, because we have no one to wage war against, and no one who is waging war against us!

“So why does the most recent generation of the royal family demand, incessantly, that we have grave need of a large force of armed men, who will obey only them? I mean not to sound concerned, gentlemen,” he said, pointedly ignoring the three women in the room, “that the royal family seeks to disband this great council of justice and fair law! I do not mean that in the slightest, since we all know the royals are such firm, just people, with no ulterior motives given into their heads by foreigners! But if someone were to—say—dupe the royal family, through criminal wiles and snake-like charm, why, they could gain control very easily of new army, answerable only to the king or queen, or prince or princess, and turn them against us! Why, such a person could weaken us considerably by disbanding this council by force, and open the way for greedy, foreign dictators to thrust their way into this grand city of light, and desecrate our way of life!

“I mean not to sound hysterical, friends. I beg that you do not take me for some lunatic for my very real fears. But I do fear. I fear what it might mean for us, for our people, if the army is used as a mechanism to displace us! I worry, true, about foreign invasions! But do not let lies of Other-Kin and tales of Twisted Children within the borders of this vale reach your ears! They are mechanisms by which a foreign power might seek to placate us, make us think that we must raise an army for the crown to defend our lands, to deal with this non-existent threat!

“Please, gentlemen. I beg of you. Do not allow this Menatan spy to harry your ears with tales of dangerous monsters from children’s stories. The real danger, the very real danger, is that this man gets an army raised which he can swiftly swoop in to control. He seeks a coup with our own people. He seeks to subjugate us to endless years of slavery under the grip of the cruel Menatan kings. We must not give in. We must not allow our people to suffer.

“That is my plea, good gentlemen,” he said softly, burying his face dramatically in his hands, “I pray to Alimis that what I say does not come to pass….”

“Thank you, Mr. Bedour. Do you cede the floor?”

“I do.”

“Very good. Princess, do you care to submit your claim?”

“I do, Mr. Moderator,” Vevien stated slowly, “but first I would like to call witnesses. Sir Jason Halifax, Knight of the Cloud?”

“That is… acceptable,” Tuvaulle said as the knight took to his feet, Bedour mouthing obscenities. “Sir Knight, do you swear to give not false testimony, upon your honor as a knight and a gentleman?”

“I do, Mr. Moderator.”

“Very good, then. We will hear your story.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moderator, Council of Dembirom,” he started, “I am no eloquent speaker. I am no politician, seeking to do with slight of words that which I cannot do with slight of hand. I would like to state, before I begin my testimony, that I detest the slander which the Honorable Mr. Bedour has lain against me, and were I in a Menatan Kingdom I would ask for justice by the blade, for my honor is cleaner than a fresh slate.

“However, being not in a Menatan Kingdom, and perhaps being unfamiliar with the ways of the Esteemed Elatan people, I will forgive this slight, and pay it no heed. Now, onto my account.

“I arrived here, in this Vale of Dembirom nigh on one year ago, following the beckoning of our Lord, Alimis, king of the Sky and husband of the Earth. I was, you see, following in the footsteps of my ancestors, knights in their own right, who did strive to rid this world of the most vile of Other-Kin. I make no game of it, that I was in ill being at the time which I entered this valley of light. It had been several months of tracking this monster through the wilderness, herding it this way and that, trying to keep it away from Menatan settlements, and the homes of innocent Second Children.

“But imagine my surprise, when I reached the heights of this vale, and saw within the gleaming gemstone that is Dembirom, though I knew it not at the time. What I did know, however, was that before me lay a relic, which must not become sullied by the hands of violent Other-Kin, or extremist Second Children, or at worst a Twisted Child!

“And so I harried no more, but sought to end the foul beast which I was tracking. I am sure that many of you have heard this portion of the story before, and so I shall be brief in its accounting. The beast was, in fact, an ogre, with large, protruding teeth and a stubbed nose, spade ears and a balding scalp. It was several men high, and thrice the weight of a horse, and its hue was a wash-out violet.

“I came upon it as Alimis neared his apex, and as it drew close to your grand city, the many mirrors flashed out in divine light, blinding the creature. This is the moment which I took to strike. There is little honor to be had in striking a fellow man when he is blinded, or when he has fallen, but none—save for the foolhardy or cruel—would pass up such an opportunity when there may be a single innocent life yet to be spared.

“Our battle was furious, despite my advantages—my blade was sharp, my plate and will rock-solid, and not to mention my clear vision. The brute was terribly strong, and its great, sweeping blows rent my armor in places. My ribs, I will freely admit, still ache from that day.

“But my conviction was sound, and though I took many a wound, I finally dismembered the beast, and fell to my knees in the bloodied snow, exhausted. And I felt that surely, this must be the end, for I was in no condition to make the long trek back to my fellow Menatans!

“But lo! Alimis was in a kindly mood, and looking down upon me, he sent out an angel, a woman who I took at first to be one of Aorynan, and she helped me to my feet, ignorant of the chill of the wind and the blood which fell from my rent armor, and she supported me as I entered this haven in the mountains.

“And here, I have remained since. I would not eschew such a grand debt to betray your people. I fear that such a notion would only occur to one who would. I cannot stress to you, most Honorable councilmen and women, the need for a large, well-trained military force, even if it is as small as a simple militia. For you were in luck that day that I arrived, and have been in luck since that these beasts have not returned. Or perhaps I should say, have not returned often.

“I urge you to consider this threat seriously, and my word seriously, though I be not one of you venerable subjects. I finish my accounting, and my plea, Mr. Moderator,” Halifax said, bowing sharply to Tuvaulle, “and I thank the Council for hearing it.”

“Very good, Sir Halifax. Thank you for your testimony,” Tuvaulle said, returning the bow in a short manner, “Princess Vevien, do you now wish to make you claim?”

“If it pleases you Mr. Moderator, I would like the council to hear another accounting, today.”

“This is most irregular, Princess. It would have been prudent of you to notify the council before your opposition made its claim known.”

“Prudent, perhaps, Mr. Moderator. But it also would have been prudent for the council to have waited until my arrival—and the arrival of my entourage—to begin their debating.”

“I… suppose that is amenable. Very well,” Tuvaulle said, with a twitch of his lip toward Vevien—he had to know their plan, now, “your second witness may make their testimony, should they take their vows to honesty”

“Thank you for you curtesy, Mr. Moderator. Lady Edlaise?”

“Of course, Princess. Good Lady, do you swear to hold to the truth on your honor as a Lady and representative of the Royal House?”

“I do, Mr. Moderator.”

“Very good. The council will now hear your testimony.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moderator, councilmembers. As you all know, I am the second-born of our king, Jon Lo’Bourelle, and so am free to pursue whichever career I deem fit, so long as the eldest of us lives.

“I have chosen, in no small part because I enjoy working actively to help our people directly, to pursue a warding career, to keep our borders free of all sorts of dangerous creatures, whether they be ordinary wolves or bears, or Other-Kin or even, dare I say, Twisted Children.

“These past cycles have seen to it that I have been increasingly busy, in this regard. Within the past cycle alone, I have killed six Other-Kin that have strayed into our borders. The first five of these were but Greatwolves—which are not beasts to laugh at—and I slew each of them, though it was no simple task.

“Today, I encounter the sixth of these intruding Other-Kin,” she continued. How many times had she rehearsed this speech in her head an in the mirror and to Vevien and Sir Halifax as they prepared for this meeting? It must have been at least a few hundred. “It was nota Greatwolf, much as I might wish that it was. No, this was not something so simple. Today, I slew an ogre.

“Now I see that some of you gawk, and mutter that a woman could never manage such a thing. In this you are wrong. I would gladly bring you to the corpse later, or send for it to be brought here immediately, if you wish. No? Are you certain? Very well.

“Here I must describe the beast for you. It was much as Sir Halifax has described his own ogre—it was quite large, of course, many times the bulk and weight of a bull, with large, flappy ears and tusk-like teeth which jutted from its jaw—but I must say that I would call its coloring more of a purple-gray.

“Regardless of the description of the beast, I fell upon it in the woods south of the village Giros with a swift array of arrows, which did enrage and confuse it. As it thrashed about in the copse, I jabbed at its face from the brush with my spear. I retreated when it finally saw me, smashing the bushes behind which I had hid with one great paw.

“I danced backward, unafraid of tripping—for I know that terrain well, it seems that is the general area that most of these monsters come from—and continued jabbing at its eyes, slipping about it as it charged my.

“I do believe that I managed to blind it—at least partially—before it managed to bat away my thrusting spear and disarm me. But I did still have my trusty sidearm, this arming sword you see here, and I closed on the beast as it clutched at its face.

“Quickly, I scampered up its frame, leaping from bent knee to the thing’s shoulder, where I took a mighty swing at its long neck, clutching my blade in both hands, and severed its spine with a sharp blow. I must admit that I may have been… hasty in my next actions.

“The beast had collapsed—surely dead—but I was afraid enough that I needed to be sure. So I—and I beg your pardon, councilmembers, for the vulgarity and goriness of this—hacked at its neck until the head departed the body, leaving but a long, ragged stump where once the head had sat.

“Now, unlike the Honorable Sir Halifax, I cannot verify where this monstrosity came from initially, nor can I claim that its intent was indeed to do damage to our people and property. But what I feel I must do is to implore you to take this threat seriously. I was not given this scratch be a child’s fairytale, after all!” she said, rolling up her sleeve and unwinding the bandage upon her arm, “and nor was my spear shattered, nor my armor damaged by one!

“The threat is dire, my friends. Currently, you only have two people who have survived a clash with a greater Other-Kin. Many are our friends and neighbors who have fallen prey to even the least of these abominations on a dark night! With an army—or as Sir Halifax suggested—a simple militia, we could secure our borders, and prevent anyone else from being caught unaware, alone and afraid in the night!

“I feel that it is but a small thing to ask. After all, were you not each elected to see to the best interests of you constituents? To see that they are safe? Unafraid? I urge you all to vote to confirm this movement. I, for one, would rather fight with a friend at my side.”

“…Have you completed your testament, Lady Edlaise?” Tuvaulle asked tentatively. She was known for dramatic pauses. I did that once!

“I have, Mr. Moderator. Thank you. Thank you, councilmembers,” she said, bowing slightly to both sides of the council as she took her seat.

“That was great, Edlaise!” Vevien whispered to her, “You should be the one in politics!”

“Princess Vevien? Do you wish to offer your own remarks?”

“All I wish to say, Mr. Moderator, is that any who do not see the truth in the stories of Sir Halifax and Lady Edlaise are blind fools, and that, despite whatever action they might take, these two exemplary individuals will continue to strive to keep them safe from any and all threats to their wellbeing.”

“Very well then, Princess Vevien,” he said, turning back to the court, “Now that these testaments and arguments of both registered sides have been heard, I must ask each of you to dismiss any attendants or witnesses to wait in the hall outside for the duration of the vote.”

:::

The hallway was perfectly silent as Edlaise waited with Halifax and the rest of the various scribes and advisors. No one so much as coughed, or wiped there nose. There was no sound emanating from the council chambers—the time of verbal debate was over. Now it was time for each member to come to their own decision. According to law, speaking during this time could potentially see the speaker’s vote nullified. Edlaise hoped that Bedour attempted to say something.

But he wouldn’t. As much as she disliked the man, and enjoyed insulting his intelligence, he was no idiot. He was the most important person in the coalition against the raising of an army, and he knew it.

Edlaise stared straight ahead as the rainbows filtering through the prism windows changed, stretching, thinning, rising up the wall as the sun began to sink toward the mountains. She stifled a yawn. When were they going to finish up? Surely it didn’t take hours to come to a decision!

A brief murmur from within the council chambers quieted her anxiety, or least, part of it. Would now the verdict be released? Would it be favorable? Had their statements swayed the unswayable?

“Ladies, gentlemen? If you would like to resume your seats?” Tuvaulle said, popping open one the the large double-doors. “I do believe that we have come to our conclusion. If you would bear witness…” he trailed off as the somber—yet contradictorily excited—crowd of courtiers filed into the chamber.

“Now then,” he resumed, “As you all know, today we met with the goal of deciding whether or not to raise a standing army, and if that was done, whether or not the king would have supreme control over the forces. Well, we have done so.

“Miss Cavette? If you would hand me the first ballot box? Thank you, dear. Now. I will proceed to open this box, and, as moderator, shall read out each declaration. I will be clear and concise in my wording so that there may be now confusion. I ask that each of you keep your own tallies regarding the number in favor of each clause, those being as follows: those against the raising of an armed force, and those for the raising of an armed force. I shall begin presently.

“In disfavor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In favor of a military…” Edlaise crept to the edge of her seat, keeping tally. So far, they were tied, “In disfavor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In favor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In disfavor of a military…. In favor of a military… and…. In favor of a military…” Edlaise almost leaped from her chair. The first part’s done with! Now to just get it away from the bureaucrats!

“By my own count, ladies and gentlemen, that comes to eleven in favor of raising an army, and ten against. Are there any objections?” he asked. There almost never were, especially when Tuvaulle was moderating—the man very rarely made a mistake. “No? Very good then. The second ballot box, if you please? Thank you, Miss Cavette.

“Now for the matter of who is to be in control of this newly levied military of ours, and who is responsible for determining its actions. I will ask that the members of the council place their slips into the ballot box as it comes about—you have all had much more than the requisite amount of time to decide, after all—and we will take the count presently.”

“You can’t do that, Tuvaulle!” Bedour shouted, standing abruptly with another of his flushed faces, “This goes against all protocol! I make a motion that Tuvaulle be replaced by an impartial moderator!”

“Motion noted, and rejected, Mr. Bedour,” Tuvaulle said coolly, turning toward him. “I did remind every member of this court of the time restraints upon the vote for each clause—which we exceeded by no less than two hours and twelve minutes, which in turn is forty-two minutes longer than was agreed upon. Therefore, we have already used the voting time for the second portion of the vote.”

“Well why didn’t you give warning!”

“Mr. Bedour. This is not a schoolhouse. You should not be in need of warnings to be able to tell the time. But if it would please you, perhaps the next vote could be upon whether or not to bring alarm clocks to our meetings in the future,” Tuvaulle said scathingly, “Now, hurry along with the ballot box.”

“I move that this vote be re-enacted!”

“Silence, Mr. Bedour! Once more and you shall not have a vote at all! Or need I remind you of the rules of voting, as well as the amount of time allotted for said voting?”

Bedour scowled, but sat down again, his round face a lovely shade of burgundy.

“Thank you, Mr. Bedour. It seems the box has reached you. Has every councilmember had his or her say? Yes? Very good.

“I shall count off in the same manner as before. The outcomes are clear, once again—pro-royal control or anti-royal control. If everyone would keep tally, so as not to waste time… thank you. Let us begin.

“Pro! Pro! Anti! Pro! Anti! Anti! Anti! Pro! Anti! Pro! Pro! Pro! Pro! Anti! Anti! Anti! Anti! Anti! Pro! Pro! And… Pro! I stand at eleven pro-royal command and ten against. Do I hear any objections to this count?”

“I—” Bedour started, raising his hand, but then stopped. Dissenting simply to attempt a forced recount could see the dissenter barred from voting on the next bill. And even if it was as simple as whether time keepers should be implemented, Bedour wasn’t the type to risk it. “No objection, Mr. Moderator,” he seethed.

“Very good then. Princess Vevien?” he said, turning to their coalition, “Would you like the honor of informing your father of his newest responsibility?”

“I would be honored, Mr. Tuvaulle,” she replied. Now that the voting was over, there was no need to be overly formal. “and I thank you for this honor.”

“Very well, I trust you to it. If you would also extend an invitation for him to come to our next engagement, the council will discuss the manner in which we shall levee the troops, and the limits to the power that the king shall have.”

“Of course I shall do so, Mr. Tuvaulle. And thank you, again,” Vevien said, rising to leave. Edlaise heard the strain in her voice, the readiness to be off and be done with this political wish-wash.

“Well?” Edlaise demanded as they left the chambers, “When do I get appointed Grand-General?”

“You don’t. That’s Father’s job. You can be a… private!”

“What? But that’s the literal lowest rank, right?” she gasped, feigning injury, “How could you do such a thing?”

“Come now, Lady Edlaise,” Sir Halifax said from his post behind them—what he called the ‘honor guard.’ From any of the lechers from the Council, she might have felt uncomfortable. Halifax was too honorable for such vulgarity. “Surely, since you are easily one of the best—if not the best—combatant Dembirom has to offer, you will see yourself attain at least sergeant! Of course, you will also likely spend your time training recruits…”

“What? No, I won’t! And I’ll stuff anyone who tries to make me!”

“Ha!” Vevien barked in a most un-princess-like fashion, “I’d like to see a pig like Bedour try to keep you out of the army!”

“I might just stuff that one, anyhow.”

“I might pay to see that. But come, Father is waiting.”

#my writing #writeblr #writersociety #wip #first draft #feedback appreciated

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch xviii - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.”

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch 18 / ?? - In which battles almost won are lost.

Emma slept as Killian guided the ship through the portal, and then into the sunlit turquoise waters of a palm tree lined harbor. She had slept the day before in fitful bouts of exhaustion, losing herself in fever as he looked on helplessly, the Darkness snapping its jaws. The black that pooled like ink across her chest had spread, Emma whispering the word parasite in hisses at him between remembering things she shouldn't be remembering. She was hysterical, warning him about 'the parasite', and 'to remember the Dark One', staring at him before begging him for help he could not muster. 

It was clear that he was the cause of Emma's condition, both in action and in reaction to her. His ignorance in not noticing she was sick, throwing away her medicine, listening to the concerns over her cough so they had stayed on the isle for just enough extra time - it all fell on him. 

Alice Jones had been sickly, her disease life long. A spore grew in the dank caves of the Blackwater and its surrounding village, the Ladies Reform Academy, or the Baelfire Hold that caused Lichenlung, a lung disease that took female Fae. The disease itself wasn't deadly, but the fevers caused by weakness generally were. His mother had died from such a fever, her coughing fits and inability to choke down breaths eventually strangling her. He'd studied cures in the Naval academy, his required duties bringing him to the bedside of over two dozen women stricken with the illness. Even Milah had succumbed to it eventually, the message she left him still haunting him. 

Emma sounded and had symptoms like the people he had seen in their last days. He was honestly uncertain that the princess would survive, a thought that thoroughly terrified him and the Darkness. In the secreted corner where he harbored other emotions, terror was an understatement that threatened dire consequences. The Darkness finding he still felt whatever it was that made Emma so much more would break him, and risk it making good on its promises to hurt her. Even as panic gripped the small scrap of light left in him, the Darkness had only just begun to realize its precious shard would disappear. 

How to help her was the issue. The Dark One being loose had most surely made it to places like this . He'd only heard of them in his naval career, been told tales from his Father as a lad when the Blackwater Lord had spared him a glance, and generally been too busy doing the Goblin King's bidding to know too much about his surroundings. But in his understanding of Agrabah's history, it was a blackmarket goods and information brokerage hub. Royalty turned a blind eye on what was good for keeping gold in its coffers and ships in its ports; the thieves, ne'er do wells, and bandits did their best to not rob everyone blind.

He could not bloody well run in the market carrying the Princess of the United Realms in his arms. Were their healers the type to recognize them, or ask questions? Would their ship be inspected? Would he get a knife in his belly or more worryingly, Emma's? Killian didn't have any idea of if they even had healers, or doctors - they knew nothing about the place. It was the blind leading the… 

He found himself at her bedside more than he cared to admit, as if whispering apologies would save her from his spreading filth. As it became clear the waters were placid, he hauled pillows up beside him, laying Emma in the shaded corner. She woke briefly, fluttering her eyelashes against his neck and whispering his name. Steering them into the docks, he threw out his ties to the pier, knotting them with ease. A loud thunk threw off his precision as it reverberated through the planks, Killian on his feet with sword drawn in moments. Two pairs of startled brown eyes looked up at him, Anisapi dressed in embroidered kaftans standing in front of him on a great carpet. 

"We mean you no harm," the first said, his maroon kaftan matching his fez, primate tail whipping back with nervous anxiety. He smiled, or attempted to, but his sharp canines did little to aid his welcome. His voice was slightly scratchy, but it wasn't surprising as he shuffled his body weight between his feet and knuckles. "Our Sultana, may her sight never fail us, summons you to the palace. Come at once!" 

"And who the bloody hell are you, the petting zoo?" Killian flicked his sword upward, motioning for the Anisapi to back away. The monkey scratched at himself, but the jungle predator growled lowly. "I don't know a Sultana. I am here - 

"Be still, Dark One," the larger of the beasts snarled, his whiskers twitching. His eyes were more tawny than the monkey, his orange and black fur bristled in irritation. His large tail flicked wildly, snakelike. "Your lady is in danger. Sultana Jasmine can help your princess."

Killian tried to lunge forward, but the tiger was quick despite its size, pinning him on the deck. 

"How did you -" Killian panted, unable to push off its heavy weight as the Anisapi held him with ease, his paws massive. "How do you know about the princess? Who are -" 

Emma whimpered, Killian turning his head to see the monkey resting its fur covered knuckles against her forehead. 

Thrashing wildly, Killian swore as the monkey reached for her necklace and the shard. "Leave her alone, don't you lay a bloody paw on her  -" 

"Abu!" The tiger Anisapi growled lowly, and the monkey stopped short, pouting. "Don't even think about it. You are in enough trouble as it is." 

"I just wanted to -" The monkey protested, but the tiger snarled viciously. 

"You're upsetting our guests you furry toothpick." 

"To be fair mate," Killian hissed, pressing back against the tiger's hold, "You're the only one who is upsetting me. Get off of me, tell me who you are, and how the hell you knew we were here." 

The tiger's ears pressed lower on his head, but he sprung off of Killian to allow them both to stand. Killian pushed past them to check Emma, the monkey scooting away sheepishly. 

"Our Sultana predicted that you would come, seeking her aid. I am her advisor, Raja." The tiger Anisapi bowed low, his stature even at half height impressive. Emma shivered against him, burying her face into Killian’s warm chest. Raja gestured at the monkey, with a twirl of his claw. "This is her…" 

The tiger exchanged a nervous look with the other Anisapi, before the monkey spoke. 

"I'm her new assistant. Abu, at your service." The monkey winked at Emma with a grin, and she laughed slightly. Turning carefully in Killian’s hold with little noises of protest every so often, he heard her stiff joints creaking from fever. 

All your fault. You made her suffer, you make anyone who you are close to suffer. Imagine, thinking you loved her, or that she could love you! 

You'd destroy her. Ruin her. 

"I'm -" Emma attempted, but could not push any more words past her parched lips. She tried again, but doubled over instead as Killian’s guilt suffocated him without relent. 

Do you think she remembers it was you yet? 

Maybe she won't remember until she takes in her last gulps of air, wouldn't that be poetic? Certainly sounds like our flare for dramatics… 

Imagine her final moments knowing that you were her murderer, the one who she tried so hard to trust. So much for choosing to see you at your best, eh vessel? 

"It's alright. We know who you are, Princess… and we are aware of your companion. The Sultana knew you would be ill. Make haste to the palace, both of you, at once." Raja handed Killian a scroll, Abu unrolling another carpet onto the deck. "We have rooms made up for you both and healers at the ready. Hurry, Dark One."

Abu and Raja moved back to their carpet, which lifted into the air, its gold and royal purple threads shimmering in the sunlight. They sped away towards the city, leaving Emma and him alone again on the deck. She hummed against him, drawing her legs up into his hold before going limp again. 

"I want to go home. I want my mom." Her forehead rubbed against his chest, dampening his shirt. "Please, stay with me. I feel so - please ---" 

Killian couldn't reply, everything caught in his throat or tucked away from the Darkness. Emma didn't seem to notice, to his relief, her eyes fluttering closed. She slept soundly within seconds. Carrying her to the enchanted rug, he pulled her into his lap without comment, noticing how light she had become in only a week's time. 

You knew she wasn't eating, she wasted away in front of you and you knew that it was your fault. You condemned her to die, another reason your love was imagined. You did this to her. You will be her demise. Get the shard, let her - 

"NO!" Killian hissed, the carpet beneath him shuddering to life. It lifted itself, bright reds, oranges and turquoise dancing over the deck. He'd come back and grab their belongings, but for now, Emma needed whatever anyone was willing to give.

It was his hand that had caused this as he squeezed her beating heart, his hands that had tore her from the island, thrown away medicine into the sea, ignored her symptoms, and let her get this bad. 

We get the shard then and we leave, never to hurt her again. She will beg for you to leave her when she learns this is all your fault. The quicker you can get the shard, the better… It would be a shame if she remembered how you crushed her heart with glee. 

Her hair tickled his chin, blowing in the wind as the palace towers appeared. The scroll had been a very easy to follow set of instructions with a map to a far balcony where they would land. Once there, the carpet landed gently on tiled floor, servants appearing in procession. If this was an ambush, it couldn't have been planned better, the group surrounding them against a sheer drop. His neck hair rose, sweat beading there despite his best efforts. The Sultana was draped in blush silks, her dark brown hair seeded with pearls that lay in a golden mesh wrapped plait. She watched Killian warily, eyes darting to Emma as the princess began to wheeze. Taking a deep breath, he hoped beyond measure that they had not fallen into a trap of some kind. 

"She's barely conscious." Killian moved forward, guards raising curved blades to protect the Sultana. "Please, if that's what you brought us here for, the princess needs help." 

The Sultana looked at him, her deep brown eyes narrowing. She stared for a few seconds, blinking with a strange sort of unsure confusion in her eyes before finally straightening. 

"I am the Seer of the Sands, Sultana Jasmine." Jasmine's voice was soft and melodic, accented words clipped with formality. "May my sight be your own, and may we see all."

Her guards lowered their weapons, making the symbol of an eye with their index and middle fingers while muttering some short devotion. Killian glared, grunting at the decorum happening in favor of Emma's health. 

"Great, do you have a healer or help for her, or -" 

"Yes, of course Dark One." The Sultana nodded. "Come, follow me." 

Killian hadn't noticed before, but as he hoisted Emma further against his shoulder, he became aware of why the procession had unnerved him. The Sultana was clearly Fae of some sort, but the group surrounding her was made up of Anisapi, Elves, Fae, Nymphs, Mortals, and more frightening, a few Goblins. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he held Emma tighter to him. 

The Sultana led them nearby, pushing open thick wood doors to reveal a courtyard with a small pool and fountain. A shaded set of chairs were canopied by gauzy linens, with two sets of double doors on the far end. One was open revealing a hallway butted against a balcony looking over the city. The other had linen drapes that blew in the breeze, providing some curtained privacy to another chamber. 

"Down that hallway is your quarters, Dark One. Here," the Sultana opened the first set of doors, motioning Killian to enter, "Is where my Doctors and best healers will treat the Princess Emma."

The room was a polished sand colored marble, bed small but neatly made against a large stained glass window. Strange countertops on wheels were positioned with various bottles and instruments on them, and as Killian eased Emma into the bed he realized that a group of Fae were watching him expectantly in wait. Emma protested weakly when he let go of her to step out of their way, her soft exclaim falling to a sigh when a syringe filled with something the color of mud was injected into her arm. 

"Come." The Sultana linked her arm with Killian’s, his body jolting. She stared deeply into his eyes, ignoring his hatred for her touch, walking him to sit at the pool. "You must have questions, yes? And you must tell us what you know to help save Princess Emma. We must speak."

"Not bloody likely." He wrenched away, pushing back towards where Emma lay still. "What did they just inject her with? I don't care if you're a sodding queen, what are you doing with the princess? How did you know we were coming?" 

"I am Sultana Jasmine, Seer -"

"I know who you bloody are, how did you know!?" 

"If you had listened , rude man in my kingdom, you would know I can see the future. I see its many paths, and I have premonitions. It is how I have kept my Agrabah so safe; the gift of my mother, a Djinn."  She tried to lay a hand on him again, but he backed away, sitting in a corner where he could see Emma clearly. An Elven man with gloved hands was pouring a soft gel over her forehead that glowed a dulled color on contact. Others scribbled notes while a siren carefully peeled away the princess’s sweaty clothes with care, laying down a blanket of sheer silk. The Sultana cleared her throat expectantly, and his eyes flicked back to her with annoyance. 

"A Djinn?" he asked, incredulously. Djinn did not have offspring as far as he knew; they were born of chaos or created. 

"Yes. The premonitions are the reason I knew you would come." The Sultana hesitated, watching him carefully. He stared back, trying to ignore the Darkness and remain impassive. "If you had not come, the princess would have died in three days time. Here, you have a better chance, in the paths I saw."

The news brought an onset of instant relief and elation. He couldn't hide from the Sultana or the Darkness how happy it made him to know Emma would be alright, his words tumbling out without care. 

"So you know she will be healed, and what the future holds -" 

"Oh, God's no." The Sultana laughed, the sound lilting. 

You pathetic simpleton. Your princess is as good as dead, and all thanks to you. 

  "No…?" 

"We will do our best to help her, and she should recover." 

"Ah." He swallowed hard. 

"The paths I see are infinite, and I can only see so many. Like branches on a tree, I can see which direction the limbs go, or how large the tree is from a glance. It's when I need to see the branches and leaves that causes me to focus. You can only take in so much. So no, but I saw some outcomes, and what we are doing now will help prevent what negative outcomes I can." She smiled softly, her brown eyes warm. 

"How can we know that you are trustworthy?" Killian asked, leveling a cold glare at her. Her smile didn't waiver, but grew wider. 

"I suppose you can't, but if we wanted you dead, I have plenty of viper poison at my disposal that could kill you in mere minutes. Since you don't seem to be able to die according to the legend, it would be a painful way to suffer in unending agony, that's for sure." The Sultana shrugged, with a wink. "I suppose we will have to have faith in each other, yes?" 

He nodded slightly, and the Sultana turned, taking her leave. 

After an hour or so of watching different concoctions poured over Emma and watching countless Fae or Elementals write notes, he excused himself to his room. A dwarf with a shocking cobalt beard and studded eyebrows dragged in a large wash basin, not spilling any of the steaming water within. He grunted at Killian, dropping a few bottles and a large towel on a table before leaving. Without a second thought, Killian stripped to dip himself in the tub. The water was hot enough to pink his skin, but the heat felt right in the airy room as he scrubbed himself raw. 

Eventually, Killian felt his thoughts slip to Emma, marveling briefly how well Jasmine and she would get on, even though he had only just met Agrabah's ruler. Of course, Emma loved everyone, because she was too trusting, too bloody good for her own well-being. The Sultana though, seemed genuine. She seemed caring. A person who Emma would find a kinship with. 

If she survives to meet her. 

He buried his head in the steaming water, wishing he could rinse the Darkness and the doubt that ate away at him clean. 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The Darkness did not let him rest as the hours crept past, plaguing him with all manner of its devices, his teeth grinding as he tried to ignore it. It was easy enough to enjoy the heated water, the silks, the fresh fruit and drink that seemed to appear without end as servants politely knocked to leave tray after tray, even with the whine of it in the back of his head. But the unfamiliar feeling of wrong was wearing on Killian’s last nerve. It felt empty, as if the color was muted or his senses were dampened. 

Your senses are as sharp as ever, you delusional idiot. 

Killian chewed slowly on a date, trying to place the feeling while battling with the nasally voice. When he ignored it too long, it fell back on another of its old stand-by irritants sure to get a rise. 

“You’re the picture of a Lord now, Killian. The Blackwater family name lives on as a Jones.”

He choked slightly, his father’s voice echoing in his mind, the sneer on the man’s face as he glared across his desk flashing in his memories. Brennan Jones, surrounded by stacks of papers in his paneled study. Surrounded by his portraits of their ships, the Jones men of the Blackwater fighting war after bloody war for whoever was warring with who, at the expense of anyone but the royals themselves. Survival was guaranteed at a certain level of nobility, his father all but too happy to have two fit lads he could send away to gain glory while he bought or sold ships of lesser born men. Alice Jones had fought to keep Liam and Killian from the truths of their worth and the world for as long as she could. They had always had her love, and her support.

When she had died, it was like the colors of the world had muted where there was light, allowing Liam and him to see what they hadn’t before. In the shadows, the truth stalked. It bore down on them as they grew - Liam into the serious next in line Lordling that fought with Father over lives lost or cut corners, and Killian, who hid his hatred poorly but was the easier target. Liam couldn’t be everywhere at once. 

Brennan Jones, the master of all things in the Blackwater dominion, was keenly aware of Liam’s every limitation. He was more aware of Killian’s.

“Come now, m’boy. Waiting hand and foot on a Princess, and in the harem den of a Sultana feeding on sunned fruits - You spat on such futures when I presented them to you. You wonder why there is no color, no vigor in your blood… Your answer, is it hard to swallow?”

He threw away the fruit in disgust, the cruel laugh of his father a bellowing echo in his brain. Opening the doors to bring more air into his suffocating suite, he nearly ran headlong into a brightly colored mass of feathers. It squawked in surprise, raising arms ending in long plumess, the red and blue flashing in the light. 

“I’m - My Lord I -” A platter of something clattered to its bird taloned feet, as it stared at him with beady eyes over a mouth that tapered into a beak. More bird than Fae, but not an Anisapi, the reptilian skin and strange stature was wrong. The creature took a step back, its ears poking out under its crest, and the pieces clicked together. 

A spy, a snake, sent to watch you! 

“Why are you here?” Killian snarled, kicking the tray out of the way, the Goblin flinching back further. “Who sent you? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize poison?”

Kill it! Kill it, and kill - 

“My Lord, the kitchens - I simply work in the kitchens, my name is Iago -” The Goblin moved to grab the tray, but Killian was on him faster, wrenching his wing behind the creature’s back. “Please - I - what have I done, my Lord?”

Raja appeared from where Emma’s room lay, to Killian’s relief, moving towards them with purpose.

“This thing tried to -” Killian thrust the Goblin forward , twisting its feathered arm to turn it.

Raja cut him off, roughly tackling Killian to the floor. “Iago, did this Fae hurt you?”

Kill them ALL vessel, get the shard, take it and leave nothing but broken - 

“No, no, Raja sir, I don’t -”

“Did I hurt IT ?” Killian roared, staring in disbelief. “That bloody fucking Goblin -”

“Has been in the service of the kitchens here, since before your enemy was born.” Raja growled lowly. “He served the past Sultan and the Divining Light of the Desert Oasis, the Sultana Aura. He now serves the Seer of the Sands, Sultana Jasmine, and will serve her until the day her sight should ever fail us, forbid it to happen. He is no enemy of yours, Dark One, or your Princess.”

"Do it, do as I command, son! You worthless, whining, awful child. Do it. Liam would have! Liam had honor! He should be alive instead of you."

Killian only grunted in return, Raja standing quickly and offering a large paw. He swatted it aside, glaring at the trembling Goblin as he stood. 

“Do not send it up here again,” he hissed. The Goblin looked helpless, and Raja scowled. 

“He will, or your princess will no longer have me as her guard,” Raja rumbled out, his dark eyebrows raising in challenge as he bared his teeth. “Your choice.”

Killian gritted his teeth, glancing between the two.

“Please let him stay, Killian.” Emma’s soft whisper was barely audible, but his gaze immediately snapped to look at her. She leaned against the door to her room further up the hallway, the wind blowing the gauzy white curtains behind her. Still pale and flushed, when she stumbled slightly, both Iago and Raja were by her side within moments. 

"You are pathetic. Even Liam knew it, he told you he never cried when he took your lashes because he knew that you would never be anything more than a nuisance if you knew the truth."

“Princess, you shouldn’t -” Iago said softly, his Feathers bristling. 

"Everyone knew you were pathetic, but Liam took the brunt of it so you could try and be something worthwhile. You failed everyone so completely, and now you can't even protect the key to your freedom resting on that chain."

“Iago, you promised me you would help with my dreams,” Emma moaned slightly as they helped her back through the doorway, the curtains tangling around her slightly. “I want you to stay. You are fine, like none of the Goblin folk I have ever met. Please, please don’t stay away. Killian should have been told - ”

"You could take it, you could make someone get it for you. You won't though, will you, son? You know she's going to die because of you. You don't have to be a failure this time, this time you could be free!" 

“He attacked an innocent staff member because he is garbage specist scum,” Raja gritted out, Emma shaking her head emphatically in disagreement. “Iago could have been hurt -”

“I’m fine Raja, really,” Iago insisted. “My wing is fine, I was just surprised. Let’s drop it.”

“I don’t trust that thing, Emma,” Killian hissed. Raja stood taller, squaring his shoulders, but Emma raised her chin.

"She should not trust you. No one should."

“Leave us,” she whispered. Raja and Iago bowed quickly, leaving with a few of her medical team who were watching with confusion. Killian watched her slow movements, his fingers twitching when her hand rubbed hard against the column of her throat. 

Get the shard. 

"Yes, m'boy, get the shard. Get it and you will have everything you ever want."

"Well,” she said with a tired sigh, settling into her cot. She looked exhausted, but he noticed that more unsettling was her irritation with him. “Hey. I know we haven’t - I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but... Can you stop pissing off the staff and abusing them? It’s not exactly making an unpleasant stay anymore pleasant."

She coughed, looking at him pointedly. 

"Nothing has been pleasant with her around."

"Fine,” he grumbled. She nodded and laid back, with a sigh of relief.

“Now… Good morning. Are you alright? I had wondered if you left. I hadn’t seen you in so long.” 

We should have left. We should have taken the shard and -  

Killian scratched behind his ear, frowning.  “Good morning, Princess. If I leave I’ll say my goodbyes to you beforehand, but I - I haven’t made any plans,” he admitted, quietly.  “How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" Emma whispered, her voice a dry and shrill echo of her normal honey timbre. "Like shit."

Good. Let her perish. Once we get the shard, that is. 

"You must be feeling somewhat better to forego your usual regal manner of speaking," he teased. 

“You are one to talk. What you did - Killian, I can’t -” She pinched the bridge of her nose before violently wheezing into another coughing fit. “I’m so mad at you right now, and I don’t have the energy to be mad. Why? Just -”

“That thing is a Goblin! That’s why!” Killian interrupted, looking at her with disbelief. 

“Just, can you please give him a chance?” When he didn’t answer, she shook her head sadly. “I’m so tired, and I can’t… I can't keep fighting with you. I can't have this dynamic anymore…” Trailing off, he felt a heaviness in his chest, the ache becoming more common. Was he sick as well?

"What is wrong with you?" 

“I said - I said fine! Fine.” He shrugged. “Fine, it’s sodding fine. It’s your bloody funeral.”

“Would you show up to my funeral, just to say I told you so?” Emma chuckled lightly, but he didn’t return her smile. 

“Depends on the menu you serve,” Killian replied dryly, shrugging. She smiled slightly, looking at him expectantly. His frown deepened as he carded his hand through his hair. “I’m just worried for you, and I -”

“I’ve been more worried about you,” Emma stated without irony. The Darkness scoffed in his Father's voice. 

She hummed, eyes closing and a cough rattling her chest. "You've been acting weird, and not just because I'm sick. This whole fight, this attack, how awful you've been lately to me and anyone else crossing your path… It’s not the you I know. I thought honesty and a little bit of snark -" Emma broke into more hacking, taking deep gulps of air. She reached for his hand, but he snatched it away, making a point of not looking at her directly after he saw her face fall. 

This is why you must leave! 

"I'll go get you some more water." He stood, dusting himself off. The ache in his chest was sharper, coupled with a feeling of shame. The Darkness tried to press at him to be angry, to attack her again, to insult and belittle her as he had done on board the ship but he refused. 

"No, wait - please stay, don't leave me here alone already." Emma reached out for him, but he walked away briskly towards a servant. She started coughing again, the steady decline of her health making it harder for her to breathe. "Killian, please?" she whimpered, but he rounded the corner as fast as he could get away from her. It wasn't the first time he had fled from her as she fought whatever illness had taken hold. 

His room sat behind her own, the walk out of the wing putting him in full view of where she rested. It had worried him at first, the open air home to the wind, pests, and sand, but a caregiver had eased his thoughts by mentioning a protective spell around the room. Emma seemed eased by the breezes, which had given way to his taciturn reluctance to be anywhere near where she was. Several times she had called out for him, once even attempting to follow after him until she stumbled into the arms of a nurse. 

When they were forced into conversation by Jasmine's crafty handiwork, Emma continued to question him about what came to pass in their shared dream. She was remembering more and more, specific details that made him squirm in his seat. She believed wholeheartedly they were simply dreams, but as they continued he caught her glances at him more and more. Her lingering looks, the blush in her cheeks that she tried to will away with a bite to her lip, the soft tone she said his name in - it all was entirely too much to be close to. 

It was as if his body wanted her desperately, her closeness addicting, but the Darkness and his common sense screeched at the reaction. Running from her was cowardice, but necessary. 

He spent time wandering the stalls of the market, numbly taking in the scents of foreign spices and the colors of vibrant silks. 

Get the shard and leave. Run away to freedom, take your life back from the hands of the weak Princess. Leave her behind. You're doing her a favor by abandoning her before we break her. 

The Darkness chattered non stop, its grating voice a low hum in the front of his mind. Deeper, there was an echo that he clung too, even if it was in whispers. It pointed at emerald pendants that caught the light, sparkling at him, and the patterns embroidered in the clothing the Agrabah people favored, hung on display. Golden swans swimming in unfurled blooms across damask and silk, a jeweled veil that went along to match made him pause, his fingers sliding along the fabric of their own will. 

"Pretty silks for a pretty woman in your life, yes?" The shopkeeper grinned, eyeing Killian with narrowed eyes. 

"No, I'm afraid I don't have -" 

The shopkeeper scoffed, swatting at his hand with annoyance. "Then look with your eyes, and begone."

He blinked at the man's bluntness, turning away with a snort of laughter. Emma would have loved this. If she were here, she would have charmed the man into giving her the bloody outfit for free, just because that was the beauty of who she was - 

The Darkness whined louder, as if it could sense his weakness. He fled, not to his ship where he had once felt nothing but comfort - no, that was filled with her too, her smell, her laughter; the bed was still a twisted mess of covers from where she had lain ill. He could see her there, or worse still, the images of them together, curled around each other in a gentle doze. Being there was like a candle being smothered, the air taken from every space. 

It took a few days of wandering, but he found a makeshift place to rest away from the palace that suited him. It had been, or was, a home of some vagabond at one point, cloth rags curtaining what had once been a wall, a full view of the palace and sky, while broken produce crates had been placed to use as shelves. A threadbare rug lay on the dusty floor, next to a straw pallet. 

Killian did not use the bed, instead sitting on the edge of the wall, looking out over the view as he tried to lose himself. 

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" 

The voice startled him, his head whipping around to see the man approaching him cautiously. He was dark haired, a true shock of it that was swept back in a messy swipe, his large brown eyes regarding Killian with a wary curiosity. 

"Sorry mate. Don't want trouble if this is your spot; just liked the view," Killian said evenly, not moving save to gesture at the palace. 

The man nodded, moving to sit across from Killian, producing two apples from his pocket. He threw one at Killian, who caught it easily. 

"It is one heck of a view," he said simply. After a long moment of silence, he spoke again. "Do you think that the people who live there are happy?" 

Killian tilted his head, looking out at the gleaming towers of the palace, and taking a bite of the apple. Chewing slowly, he swallowed hard without looking at the man. "No. I don't think there is much true happiness to be found there." 

More silence followed, both men eating their apples. It was broken again by the stranger. 

"Name is Aladdin, by the way." 

"Killian."

"It was nice to meet you, but a word of warning. Trouble is coming for those in the palace - and they deserve every bit of it. You're new here. Stay clear if you know what's best for you." Aladdin wiped his fingers on his patched pants, and Killian frowned. 

"Fair advice, but not very specific," Killian mused, shrugging off his frown before slouching back with false amusement. "What if I like getting into trouble? Is it worth my time to go seeking some fortune in their golden coffers?" 

Aladdin narrowed his eyes, jaw jutting up slightly. Anger rippled across his face. "No. No treasure," he said, the words dripping venom. His anger seemed to dissipate as he frowned, staring at the dirty floor. "There isn't anything there for a common thief of a street rat."

"Then tell me what is worth stealing, if you aren't part of the usual riff raff." Killian smirked. 

Aladdin hesitated, his earlier energy gone. 

"I won't know until tomorrow. I get the orders, and then I grab the object." He scratched his head, adjusting his fez cap. "I just know that any chance I get to punish the Royals is a chance I'm willing to take. The Sultana is heartless. She's a diamond that blinds you before cutting you into ribbons."

Killian arched an eyebrow. "It rather sounds like you and this Sultana are more than intimately acquainted."

Aladdin glared, turning red in his cheeks. "She's much too grand for someone like me," he hissed out. 

Killian nodded slowly. "Fine, I'll stay out of your way. I hope the job is worth it."

"When we're done, it will be." Aladdin grinned. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Days passed slowly as Emma begged for company, particularly his. The Sultana and her had taken to each other as soon as Emma began to improve, giggling together as he passed, eating meals together, or talking long into the evenings. Jasmine exerted pressure on him to join them, but Killian dodged her with a practiced finesse he hadn't used since the days before Milah, escaping his father's rages. 

The Darkness still slithered in his mind relentlessly, bouncing back and forth between the voice of his captor the Goblin King, and his accursed father. The lack of rest coupled with the descriptions of his mother or a gory ending to Emma's life in Brennan Jones tongue was enough to turn Killian’s insides. 

It's fitting you lose every woman in your life to tragedy, isn't it? All three, sickened into an early grave. 

"Luckily, your mother never lived to know what you become. You would have her blood on your hands as well."

His mother had died so much like this, her frail body lost among the bedding as a healer sat nearby. 

Killian was beyond relieved at the absence of everyone in the palace upon his return, when he saw the princess hobbling towards him in the hallway with a determined look in her eyes. He tried to find an escape, but beyond leaping out of the window, there were none. She bared down on him, menacing even as he took in her exhausted countenance. 

"We," she gestured between the two of them, "Have a meeting in 5 minutes." 

Killian shook his head. "I don't think - I'm unavailable for any sort of counsel. I'm sorry -" 

Emma cut him off, with an annoyed wave of her hand. "Jasmine has been turning away suitors, and she mentioned that she was housing a sick woman with no known cure. Now, my life is tied to Jasmine's hand in marriage." Her voice broke slightly, but she was quick to cough, looking at him with hard eyes as her words dropped with wry, unhappy sarcasm. "You know, just royal things."

"The Sultana did what?" he hissed, anger beginning to course through him steadily. " Bloody hell , Emma, we need to -" 

"I tried . Jasmine is bound by the law here, and I am bound by… I need a cure. These suitors of hers may have something that can rid me of this. One of them says he knows what this illness is." She pointed to her chest. "The healers Jasmine has blessed us with can keep treating the symptoms of this, but not for long. I - There's nothing else that can be done. I need a cure, and quickly."

"This doesn't concern me, or you. We will stay here while they -" 

"Killian, you're not understanding me. I have no other options. This - this is a last resort that I'll be lucky to have work." Emma bit her lip, looking downcast. She did not meet his gaze as his rage grew into a panicked fury. 

Swallowing hard, she wrapped her arms around her frail frame. "We need to talk, Killian. I've tried - The treatment isn't going to do much more than make my symptoms better until it doesn't. I don't have a lot of hope at this point." The last sentence was whispered, and she closed her eyes before wiping away wetness. "I wanted your input. The situation here just didn't, well, pan out… Therefore, I have named you as my second. Should I die, you will be the shard's owner."

You've killed her, vessel of mine. Maybe I was wrong about your usefulness after all! You've freed us, and the United Realms will fall for it. 

"Your vengeance is finally within sight." 

Killian struggled to breathe, the Darkness triumphantly purring in his mind. The secreted feelings he held close burned, disbelief at the possibility that he might lose her, that he was the cause of her death, of her pain. He stared at her, trying to focus on her words. 

"Jasmine has helped me prepare all the documents that will be needed if Fae law ever returns to the realms." Emma pointed to the space on her chest where the shard had laid, its long chain empty. The absence of the silvery pendant was as jarring as the black bruise-like tinge of her skin underneath. 

WHERE IS OUR SHARD!? 

WHERE HAS THE SICK, SPENT, BITCH PUT IT!? 

The Darkness screeched in many voices at once, each enraged as his eardrums pounded inside his skull. His fingers balled into fists, the urge to bruise, to make Emma suffer for this crushing him under its weight. He couldn't, he would never - 

FIND IT FIND IT FIND IT AND PUNISH HER. FIND IT AND MAKE HER PAY - 

"You gave it to someone else!?" Killian growled as he moved closer, dwarfing her. She took an uncertain step back, her breathing catching in her throat. 

Emma gasped slightly, but choked out an answer with wide eyes. "It's alright. I trust the safety of it. Please -" 

"You trust - You trust ?" Killian laughed darkly, grinning at her with a malicious sneer. "When has your trust ever been worth a bloody damn? Your trust is meaningless, your faith is worth nothing, and now you have forced me to follow by your side if I want my freedom."

RIP HER APART, GET THE SHARD!

"I made the deal, I need the cure. I am sorry, but you have to trust me on this. I wanted to discuss it, but…" She pleaded, but he refused to hear any of it. The Darkness rose like a tidal wave, furthering every bit of him that sparked with hatred. "It's done. I need you to know my funerary needs, just in case the cure fails, but first we have to meet these suitors - "

"I don't care, Princess. When are you going to understand that I don't want to be here? We aren't friends, I am not doing this out of good will or kindness like your naivete expects. I want to be free of you," he snarled, watching her shrink into a coughing fit. "Does it please you to leash me, Princess? Do you relish in having your faithful pet at your beck and call? I don't want to have your blood on my hands, by tether or not, but if you insist, I will make sure that you regret it." 

"Killian, please, I -" 

  "THAT'S IT, M'BOY.

MAKE HER SUFFER."

"I don't want to be your second. I wouldn't want to be your fifth, or even your sixty-third!" Killian spat, his anger pouring out of him. His father's voice taunted him relentlessly, egging him on, and he could barely think over its noise. Something quieter tugged at him too, begging him to stop. It begged him to look at her tearstained face, and her clear horror as her hands rose to cover her mouth in shock. At the way she flinched back when he moved, or made a gesture, obviously in fear. He ignored it, lashing out as his father laughed. "You are an absolutely infuriating and insufferable companion; once you are healthy, you will give me the shard, we will end this alliance, and you will never see me again."

Emma stood in stunned silence for a long moment as he panted, before giving a short, barely there nod. 

"As you wish," she whispered, finally meeting his eyes. They were nearly as bloodshot as his own as she trembled. 

THE PRINCESS DESERVES THIS.

The smallest, barely there whisper was almost drowned out completely as it cried, trying to get him not to listen. 

The Princess does not deserve any of this, or any of this rage. She's scared of you. You hurt her . 

You caused this. You . 

"Now, where the sodding fuck are these suitors? The sooner we get this finished, the better," he seethed, Emma pointing in silence to a set of double doors with thick golden inlay. He pushed them open forcefully, coming face to face with a familiar man dressed in traditional finery.

"Ah, Dark One. Princess." Jasmine gestured from her throne for them to approach. A group of men stood before her, giving bows as Emma was helped to a smaller chair next to Jasmine's, Raja gesturing at him to move so that Killian stood by her side. The men drew closer beckoned by Raja as he stood in front of his Sultana. 

"The kingdom of Camelot has demanded the laws of the open palm be laid out, here forward," Raja boomed out. "The offer stands at a cure for the mystery illness plaguing her guest, given with an open palm, in return for the Sultana's hand in marriage. One by one, please present yourself. Tonight we dine together, and tomorrow you will begin seeking a cure. If the guest is injured, made worse, or dies from a proposed cure, the offer is void. If the guest dies before a cure is found, the offer is void."

"Thank you, Raja," Jasmine stated robotically. Her face was solemn, no hint of any emotion. 

Raja nodded, then set his sights on the first of the four men. 

The first was tall, and somehow sinewy, his fingers long around a golden cane shaped like a snake. His deep, wine and dark garnet robes were elaborately lined in golden embroidery that made his dark skin and eyes seem to glow as if lit by embers. 

"I am Jafar." He bowed low, the deep plum jewel in his tall turban glinting in the light. "I was the vizier of this kingdom at one time, and helped the queen navigate life with her Djinn powers. I have come to seek a place for my wisdom once more."

Jafar's thick, syrupy voice made Killian want to shudder, but what was more unnerving was that the man had spared no glance to his would be bride, or Emma. Jafar had leveled his gaze straight into Killian’s own, blinking slow, and never looked away even as his lips curled into a smirk. 

Killian tore his eyes away with difficulty as the next man began to speak. He was dressed in a grey and blue chiton, the silver clasps accentuating his pale skin, red hair, and matching the ice of his pinched glare at Emma. 

"I am Hades, named for the God and blessed by him to rule the Southern Hills. I conquered the Amazons, defeated the monsters this world let loose, and I alone tamed the great Titans of the old world until they grew too willful. I crushed them, and will crush anything in my path with ease should I gain your foresight." He knelt, dragging his glare from Emma to stare up at Jasmine. "You may not be my Persephone, but you will be a beautiful prize, hard won."

A knight dressed in leather studded mail bowed low next, dark hair and cheerful eyes matched by a blinding smile. He looked between both Jasmine and Emma with a prideful grin. 

"I am Arthur, the reason we are all here, King of Camelot, Holder of the Sword of Pure Truth, given to me by the spirit of Lake Nostros. I come to ask for either of your hands in marriage." Emma visibly tensed, and Killian swallowed back the urge to glare. "I am in need of a queen who loves her people, her kingdom, and her king. I thought I had that once, but betrayal and hardship is not unknown to any of us. I hope to not only heal you, Princess Emma, but potentially bring you or the beautiful desert diamond Sultana Jasmine happiness. You both deserve it, along with the utmost peace."

Arthur's eyes flicked to Killian briefly, and there was a glimmer of something that felt dishonest and unclean. It was gone so quickly it had to be imagined as Killian looked at the last man once more. 

His dark shock of hair was laid under a turban, the bright peacock feather in it held on by a glittering plum jewel. His face was familiar, large dark eyes and long eyelashes full of mirth and trepidation, as if he didn't quite belong. Killian looked harder, trying to place him. Was he a courtier? No, that couldn't be. Had he been in the market? The realization hit him, putting him immediately on edge. Aladdin winked at Killian in his disguise, as he purred out an introduction.

"I am Shah Ali of Ab'dua," Aladdin smirked up at the three of them. "And I will easily win your heart, as well as cure the Princess Emma. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you both."

#Courtorderedcake #18th #June #2020 #June 18th 2020 #Hallow #My writing #CSSNS 2019 #CSSNS #I'm so close to being done #God #What a relief #Fuuuuck #Captain Swan #CS AU #CS FF #CS AU FF #CS FIC

[polaristranslations]

Chapter 1 - The First Generation Maniwa Koumori

This is a story from when this country was a warring country, when times were troubled times.

◇　　　◇

1

◇　　　◇

Maniwa Koumori was the possessor of talent recognized by everybody in the Maniwa village, but regrettably, there was a flaw to his character. Greed, violence, treachery, wickedness—he had none of those things. In fact, he was the complete opposite of them.

Koumori lacked ambition.

He lacked a goal.

He had no desire to do anything.

And thus, he had no ambition to accomplish anything.

He simply did as he was told, which one could say made him a model for ninja.

He excelled, but he lacked a certain something.

He surpassed, but he lacked a kind of charm.

That was the ninja known as Maniwa Koumori.

But it wasn't that he was a man of strict morals. He was plenty flexible, he appreciated a good joke, and if you associated with him one-on-one—for example, if you worked together with him on a task—he was extremely easy to deal with.

He treated others with respect, to the point that he never asserted himself.

For the Maniwa Ninja Corps, a gathering of shinobi with strong senses of individuality, he was quite the rare existence, and on top of that, he bore the responsibility of being the core of the Maniwa village.

The only flaw being that he himself wasn't aware of that fact.

"Y'know, 'bout me,"

expressed Koumori one day to his fellow ninja.

"I feel like I'm kinda one of those underling types—like, there'd be nothin' easier for me than if someone decided for me what my goals were, or what I wanted to do in the future, everything like that. Living? Life? There's no rule that says I gotta decide all that for myself. If there's a commanding officer that can make use of my talent and my ninpou (ninja arts) better than me, then I won't go against them. Even if they can't really make use of it, I won't complain as long as they're gonna take responsibility."

Well.

This would be fine to hear from some town youth, but hearing it from one of the top ten influential people in a village of shinobi did not look very good for them. Nonetheless, Maniwa Koumori was still young, with a long life still ahead of him—so the villagers remained optimistic that he would one day become aware of his true ability as he completed his tasks.

However.

Showing no signs of reaching such awareness, Maniwa Koumori continued to live out his days—and that was when the Maniwa Ninja Corps came up with the plan to reorganize so that they would not take directions from just one chief, but appoint Twelve Chiefs to take directions from.

◇　　　◇

"Aah, there he is—so you were in a place like this, Koumori-chan."

In a small thicket just outside of the village, Maniwa Koumori was dozing off upside-down with his legs hooked over a branch of a sturdy-looking tree when a voice called out to him. And that voice belonged to Maniwa Kyouken.

Though her appearance was that of a girl.

Her entire body was covered with tattoos.

After being called, Koumori opens his eyes ever so slightly—and in his field of vision, he sees the form of an upside-down Kyouken.

"—What is it,"

replied Koumori with a displeased tone.

Though it wasn't because he was actually displeased—he was just sleepy.

"I'm sleeping. Don't bother me right now."

"If you're gonna sleep, then sleep at home—just because your name means 'bat', it doesn't mean you have to sleep like that."

"You suuure like to complain."

Flip.

Letting go of the branch with his feet, Koumori did a half-rotation in mid-air and landed neatly on the ground.

"Everyone's all rowdy today. I can't sleep like that."

"Well, that's for sure."

Kyouken laughed wryly.

To Koumori, it didn't really seem like a laughing matter—but feelings like that weren't really her problem, and Koumori knew that very well.

"Going from one chief to Twelve Chiefs, huh—it's like, what on earth are they thinking, right? If we do that, the chain of command is gonna become a mess. Our organization will stop being an organization—there isn't gonna be order or anything."

"Organization. Order. Never thought words like those would come outta your mouth,"

said Kyouken while laughing.

"Well, I'm sure Houou-chan has his reasons."

"And you're okay with that? The whole basis of the Maniwa village is about to be toppled over, y'know? The village of the Maniwa that's stronger than anyone—"

"What's important isn't just to leave our mark, okay?"

Kyouken shrugged, though it wasn't clear if she was serious or not.

"Plus, I'm really just an advisor here—the brains of this village is all Houou-chan. Houou-chan decided this reorganization was necessary for us to survive in this warring country's troubled times—so I'm not going to oppose him."

Not to mention the dispute with the Aioi Ninja Corps is getting worse—continued Kyouken.

Tch, went Koumori under his breath.

"You shoulda said that in the first place—'sides, when they decide on the Twelve Chiefs, you'll for sure be set up as one of them, y'know? After that you won't be an advisor or anything. You won't be able to act like you're just an observer in this village after that."

"If that happens, then it happens. I'll accept my fate. ...But aren't those words something you should be hearing? Koumori-chan."

"......"

That was indeed the case.

The chain of command would become a mess and the organization would stop being an organization—but Maniwa Koumori was not so admirable to worry about such things. He was not the type to respect the idea of keeping order. He was just a shinobi that followed whatever orders he had from above. Though he had a will, he didn't have a goal—that was what Maniwa Koumori's character was.

That's why, the problem was.

If twelve people were to be appointed as chiefs, then without a doubt—Koumori would be chosen as one of them.

"Well, putting aside Houou-chan as an exception—Koumori-chan, Kuizame-chan, and then Kamakiri-chan and Umigame-chan are sure picks, I'd say. After that, I wonder who else—"

"I feel like if you're gonna be chief, you gotta have the capacity to be the chief—and I don't have that capacity. I'm the kind of guy that gets used."

"You're the only one who thinks that—everyone else is waiting for you to just grow up."

Including me, said Kyouken.

Even though her appearance looked to be far younger than Koumori, her way of speaking seemed to be far older than him.

She didn't call herself the village's observer just for show.

"Then they can give me that role after I've grown up. All of them, seriously. They keep coming at me assuming I'm definitely gonna become the chief. There's no end to them."

That's why.

There's no way he could sleep at home.

One after another, someone would keep visiting Koumori, who was a "Twelve Chiefs Candidate".

"People change when they're put in positions of power—and shinobi are no exception. Like how it's meaningless to just leave appearances behind, it's important in a way to start with appearances, y'see."

And with that, you can take on the appearance of a someone with capacity—said Kyouken, finishing her statement.

Koumori had come to the thicket to escape from the eyes of others because he'd gotten fed up, from the bottom of his heart, with the way people seemed to be blowing smoke at others, even though they surely had no ill intent. However, now that he'd been discovered by Kyouken, it seemed he'd realized this place was no longer a safe haven.

"...So?"

said Koumori.

"What do you want, Kyouken?"

"Hm?"

"Since you came looking for me and all—don'tcha want something from me?"

"Ah, nah—it's not really anything major."

You'd get in the way of a person's good sleep for something that wasn't major, was what Koumori thought, wanting to snap at her. But with Kyouken, if you snapped at every little thing she said, there'd be no end to it.

"It's just that, right now, there's a pretty interesting exhibition going on down at the square—so I came to invite you."

"An exhibition?"

"Haruzemi-chan—you know, right?"

"Ah..."

Maniwa Haruzemi.

It wasn't to the same extent as Koumori's or Kyouken's, but the name was certainly well-known in the Maniwa village. And even though it was called a village, it wasn't a particularly large village—if someone had wits or behavior that stood out, they would soon become well-known. That meant that Maniwa Haruzemi had either, or perhaps even both. He'd never met him directly before (at the very least, he'd never worked with him before—Koumori certainly never forgot a partner he'd worked together with), but he'd definitely heard of the shinobi.

If he saw his face, he'd probably remember.

"Rumor has it he's a guy with quite the lust for power."

"Yeah. That's why he's naturally aiming to be one of the Twelve Chiefs—although, as for whether he has the qualifications, to be honest, I'd say it's about fifty-fifty."

"Is there a problem with his personality?"

"'Having a problem with their personality' applies to everyone—in the first place, the Maniwa Ninja Corps is a group of people each with their own individuality, and not a group with strong camaraderie. It's fine as long as they can show results. Plus—it's just as you said earlier. People change when they're put in positions of power."

Perhaps, added Kyouken this time.

She was smirking.

As the self-proclaimed observer of the village, she surely knew more about Maniwa Haruzemi than Koumori did.

"...So? What's that Haruzemi doing in the square?"

"He's demonstrating a new ninpou,"

said Kyouken.

"In other words, showing off his accomplishments to get picked for the Twelve Chiefs. Unlike you and me, it's clear he actually wants that extra push to become one of the chiefs—"

"And, that new ninpou is that 'extra push'?"

Hmm, thought Koumori.

Koumori didn't want to be one of the Twelve Chiefs, and yet he didn't think he could refuse if told to be one, which put him in a bind. So the fact that someone actually wanted to become one of the Twelve Chiefs seemed kind of ironic to him.

He didn't suppose Haruzemi could take his place.

If he actually wanted to be one, then they should just let him, thought Koumori.

"So—what kind of ninpou is it?"

"Oho. Are you curious?"

"Don't mess with me. I'm only asking because it looked like you wanted me to ask."

"Mmm."

Kyouken made a face as if she was at a loss for words.

"Well, I guess it's a variation on the doton-no-jutsu (earth submerging technique)?"

"Doton-no-jutsu? He's going after something pretty plain, isn't he."

Although, you could say that made it practical for combat.

It seemed like it could leave a much better impression than ninpou that was overly flashy.

If that choice was planned out, then aha, he must not just be a person with a simple lust for power.

"However, you don't really need a lot of training for something like that, right? Even I can do it."

"You can pretty much do most things, though—by the way, I can't do it."

"If you would just put your mind to it, you'd be able to do it any time."

Koumori intentionally spoke as if he was insinuating something, but Kyouken responded unconcerned, continuing the conversation with an "Even so."

"I said it was a variation, right?"

"A variation, huh. I wonder what he's changing up. No matter what you say, doton-no-jutsu is just holding a bamboo tube in your mouth and hiding yourself in the ground. And then it's just a matter of how you pay attention to the presences aboveground—"

Koumori thought there wasn't any part that could be changed up.

It was a ninpou that was basically perfect, with no room for variation.

"—So yeah. You hold a bamboo tube in your mouth, right?"

"Well, of course. Although, it doesn't have to be a bamboo tube—it's just any breathing tube. Without it, you'd just suffocate. Although, you can't last a long time—at some point you'd have trouble breathing. That's more or less the doton-no-jutsu's weak point."

"So yeah,"

said Kyouken.

"The point of Haruzemi's revision is to strengthen that weak point."

"......"

"To not need a breathing tube. Moreover, to be able to stay submerged in the ground for a long time—that's the new doton-no-jutsu."

"The new—doton-no-jutsu."

"He called it the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi (Submerged Chrysalis)', you see—"

Being told that.

Koumori wasn't sure how he responded.

Ninpou "Moguri Sanagi".

If that was possible—it would be of great use for everyone's work. But as a result, it seemed entirely too idealistic—he thought it was a ninpou that couldn't exist.

Whether it was a bamboo tube or something else, the traditional doton-no-jutsu required a breathing tube—in other words, it meant that it indicated your location submerged in the ground to those aboveground. And, though it was a technique for concealing yourself, you couldn't conceal yourself for long—however, it wasn't quite right to call that a weak point.

It wasn't a weak point, but a necessity of human physiology.

However, Haruzemi's ninpou supposedly managed to compensate for that.

"...There's no way."

That was all Maniwa Koumori could say after being told about a ninpou that couldn't possibly exist. At the very least, it would have a great effect were that ninpou to be actually performed.

"If he manages to do that—he'll be one of the Twelve Chiefs for sure."

"Indeed. I think so, too."

"But what's the logic behind it? If there's no need for a breathing tube, that means he figured out some other way of breathing—"

"Well, it's not like I can tell you even if you ask me about it. Apparently he thought of it on his own, so it's probably not something especially mysterious, but the 'Moguri Sanagi' is Haruzemi-chan's weapon for the sake of becoming one of the Twelve Chiefs. He's not going to just teach it to someone else just like that."

"Well, guess you're right."

"Also—it's not like he's succeeded yet."

Hence—the exhibition.

Koumori was convinced.

Plus, a bit of curiosity welled up within him.

"Apparently, the grubs of a cicada can live in the earth for seven years or whatever. By absorbing nutrients from the roots of plants. I think he said the logic had something to do with that."

"...Sounds like a stretch."

It was hard to believe humans could follow the same logic as cicada grubs.

Nevertheless, it wasn't like Koumori could come up with a different logical explanation for it.

"Well, it's a ninpou that's rather befitting of the name Maniwa Haruzemi—that is, if he manages to succeed."

"Yup."

"So, what about the exhibition? How's he doing it?"

"Mmm... Well, you see."

There, Kyouken tilted her head.

"It was maybe a bit misleading to call it an exhibition. After all, there's really nothing to see if he's underground—basically, he dug a hole in the square. With the help of one of his subordinates, he was able to bury himself—afterwards, it's just a matter of some genin, his subordinates included, standing guard."

"Standing guard? What for?"

"So that he doesn't secretly come aboveground or whatever."

"Ah."

"And, just like that—for now, it'll go for one week."

Saying that, Kyouken raised one finger.

"Apparently, Haruzemi himself said he'd be able to last for years at a time, just like cicada grubs, but it's not like we can wait that long for that—if we waste too much time, it won't just be the dispute with the Aioi Ninja Corps, but the troubled times themselves that are gonna end. You know, that new shogun that conquered the six daimyo? Apparently, he's been on a roll lately."

"The new shogun, huh?"

The new shogun.

In actuality, he hadn't become the shogun just yet, but there existed a military commander that called himself that. The Maniwa village was a unit of hired mercenaries that did not belong under any one influence, but on the other hand, it meant that they could take action regardless of whatever influence commanded them—and among those, Koumori couldn't help but think that the influence of the new shogun felt a bit ominous.

It was hard for Koumori to imagine someone that could unite this country at war that was disarrayed by disorder, but if someone like that did exist, it was surely a being not unlike the new shogun.

—That was.

That was, most likely—someone with the capacity to stand above others.

"...Oi, Koumori-chan. Are you listening?"

"Hm? Yeah, sorry. Um, what were we talking about?"

"Like I was saying—for now, it's one week. If he can stay hidden underground for one week—then it will be considered a success."

"Well, a success, huh? I'd say three days would be enough."

If he wanted to be extreme, he'd be fine with even one day.

After all, if a normal person tried to last that long buried underground, they would definitely pass on.

"Well—it doesn't end there, right?"

"Right. Afterwards, he has to be able to come out of the ground on his own, without any assistance—and after that, he has to correctly guess who was standing guard over him."

"......"

"It's not like the same people are going to be standing guard for the whole week. Every day, they're going to take turns standing guard—and he's going to have to guess the order correctly."

If he's unable to grasp the state of affairs aboveground while buried under the earth, then it wouldn't be much use as a ninpou—said Kyouken.

"Of course, the order gets determined after Haruzemi is buried. So there's no way anyone will have informed him beforehand."

"I see..."

It didn't seem like there was any room to cheat.

It was very thorough.

"As long as the ones standing guard aren't all his accomplices, seems like we're gonna have to recognize it as a new ninpou if he succeeds."

"There's no way they'll all be his accomplices. While there are subordinates of Haruzemi, there are also subordinates of those hostile to Haruzemi."

"Hostile?"

"Well, it might be an exaggeration to call them hostile. Maybe I should describe them as rivals? Haruzemi isn't the only one aiming to be one of the Twelve Chiefs, after all."

"Oh yeah."

"From their point of view, if Haruzemi fails here, then it'll be a good chance for them—so they'll probably cooperate for that reason."

"He's really thought it through."

However—it was quite tenacious of him.

It was surprising how far he'd go for such a thing, thought Koumori.

And, he felt just a little bit embarrassed at his own lack of enthusiasm.

It may sound nice to be able to claim that he had no lust for power, but could that actually mean that he was lacking in affection for the Maniwa village?

"Seriously—if he wants, he can just take my place."

"That's no good, either. There's no way someone can just take someone else's place—even with your ninpou, for example."

As a result of the words of the honest Koumori, Kyouken couldn't help but smile.

"So, what are you gonna do? Do you want to go and watch? I'm going to go head there right now, if you are."

"—Well."

Maniwa Koumori.

Lazily shook his head from side to side.

"Maybe if I feel like it."

And, having said that.

Koumori would ultimately not go to watch Maniwa Haruzemi's demonstration of his new ninpou, 'Moguri Sanagi', in the village square.

◇　　　◇

2

◇　　　◇

It was a week later when notice of Maniwa Haruzemi's death spread throughout the village. Normally, it would've been the day that the success or failure of his new ninpou was ascertained, and since it had been a ninpou that had gathered a lot of attention due to the exhibition, the reality of Haruzemi's death stretched out to the corners of the village in an instant.

Naturally, it also reached the ears of Koumori, who was dozing off in a nearby thicket as usual.

At first, Koumori thought,

"Oh."

So he failed, was what he thought.

Though he'd boldly claimed how he'd revised the doton-no-jutsu into a new ninpou, it must have still been in the experimental stage in the end. Since the plan to reorganize the Corps to have Twelve Chiefs itself was decided rather suddenly, Haruzemi must not have had enough time to test out his new ninpou. Of course, in a way, the odds had been in his favor—after all, if things always turned out as expected, there would be no need for ninja in this world.

But, as expected, one week was too long a period for a human to stay buried underground. It wasn't just a matter of breathing—there were definitely more problems than just that. In other words, it meant that Haruzemi's revision failed to resolve all those problems—that was what Koumori thought.

However.

When he heard the details, apparently, that wasn't actually the case.

Success, and failure.

The problem was something that came before that.

After the week-long period had passed and Maniwa Haruzemi had not reappeared, the genin that were standing guard had decided that he had failed, and moved to dig Haruzemi back up. While it was probably too late, perhaps they could make it in time to resuscitate him.

Just as expected.

Maniwa Haruzemi was dead.

It was death by suffocation—however, the genin discovered something from Haruzemi's body that wasn't just as expected.

On the back of Maniwa Haruzemi's neck.

They found the mark of a rope imprinted clearly on his skin.

Underground, Maniwa Haruzemi had been hanged—

And murdered.

◇　　　◇

"—What's the estimated time of death?"

Maniwa Kyouken peeked into the hole where Haruzemi had been buried—the hole in the village square that had been dug out and not refilled—as she spoke the following.

"According to the Shiryouhan (Death Healing Squad), it was five days ago. In other words, from the start of the unveiling of his new ninpou, it was about two days. For the five days after that, he was buried here as a corpse."

"I see—"

It was Koumori, standing directly behind Kyouken, who responded.

There was nobody else around.

They'd ordered everyone else to stay away.

Right now, the ones in the square were—Kyouken and Koumori, just the two of them.

"—So the genin that were standing guard were just watching over a corpse, huh. What an empty task."

"Well, it certainly is empty. Of life—"

Hup.

And with that, Kyouken dove into the hole.

It wasn't that deep a hole—but it wasn't that shallow, either. It had a depth of about one jou. For any ninja from the Maniwa village, it was a depth that they would easily be able to enter or exit from.

Kyouken lay down at the bottom of the hole.

"Hey, do you mind burying me for a bit?"

"Hm? Sure."

Being told that, Koumori went to the mound of dirt beside the hole—most likely the dirt that had been dug up—and began dropping it onto Kyouken's body, one lump at a time.

However, soon after.

"Blech, I give up,"

said Kyouken, standing up and jumping back out of the hole.

"It's no use, it's way too intense."

"Of course it is."

Koumori had a dumbfounded look on his face.

Kyouken, covered with dirt, tried to dust herself off.

"In the first place, trying to spend time underground completely cut off from the outside world is going to be pretty uncomfortable."

"Yeah. In that sense—if it had been completed, it would've made for a really useful ninpou. The ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi', that is."

"Maybe it actually had been completed?"

said Kyouken.

"Maybe that's why—he was murdered."

"......"

The fact that Maniwa Haruzemi had died.

In itself, it wasn't that much of a problem.

For shinobi, life and death weren’t that big of an issue—to them, living and dying may as well be the same thing.

Even Koumori had that level of awareness.

However—being murdered was a different matter.

"Not to mention, it's one thing if he was killed while being careless on a job—but since he was killed right in the middle of our village, that's not something we can ignore. No matter how much I pretend to be an observer—and no matter how much you pretend to be a hermit."

"I don't remember pretending to be a hermit, though,"

said Koumori.

He looked back into the hole.

"Well, the first suspects that come to mind would be those Aioi Ninja Corps that are constantly after us... But I wonder. It feels like it's fine to actually cross them off the suspect list in this case only. If they were able to infiltrate the village for this, then that would be another problem entirely."

"That's for sure. So that can't be it—the Maniwa village hasn't fallen so far that they wouldn't notice any intruders. Not to mention, Pengin-chan and the others have been setting up a barrier—"

"So that means,"

said Koumori, sounding fed up with the whole thing.

"It was someone among us that killed him, huh."

"Indeed."

There wasn't even a need to confirm it a second time.

Koumori had already realized it when he'd first heard the news, and had confirmed it today when he was called out by Kyouken.

After all, Maniwa Kyouken...

Was extremely sharp when it came to these things.

"And that's why I said we should stop this Twelve Chiefs stuff—Houou shoulda known that struggles for power'd turn into us killing each other."

"You're probably only against the Twelve Chiefs plan because you're too lazy to get your noggin running. Don't act as if you foresaw this happening—and if we're talking about Houou-chan, then I think he already took this situation into account."

"Huh?"

"Basically, it's thinning out the ranks. Uncovering the kind of immature person that would kill their comrades out of a lust for power—maybe."

"That's not really fair to the person that gets killed, is it?"

"Well, if they're going to get killed, then that makes them pretty immature, too. A person that gets betrayed lacks the disposition to lead others."

Being respected is a talent in itself.

That was what Kyouken said.

"In that sense, you're completely equipped to have the capacity for leadership—Koumori-chan."

"I dunno about that. Who knows when someone'll take me out some day."

"I'm saying you have enough talent to not be taken out."

"Oh."

He nods noncommittally.

There wasn't really any point to arguing against it.

"But thinking about it that way... Hmm. For Haruzemi, it wasn't completely certain whether or not he'd become one of the Twelve Chiefs, right? If this was a murder due to a struggle for power, then they shoulda aimed for me or you. Then that would've opened up a seat for sure."

"Like I'm saying—the culprit didn't have the confidence to take one of us out,"

said Kyouken with a smirk.

"That's why—I can see why they'd make the choice to take out Haruzemi-chan, who was aiming for a spot as one of the Twelve Chiefs by demonstrating his new ninpou. It's certainly one type of strategy to ignore the ones that are sure to be elected and enter into a mudslinging match with other candidates instead."

"Even so, killing is kinda going too far, I'd say. They coulda just gotten in the way of him demonstrating the ninpou instead."

"That's—that's true."

There was no need to actually kill him.

Of course, killing him was the easiest way to handle it—but killing your comrades wasn't exactly a common affair.

"Why—why did they kill him? Actually..."

Koumori.

Spun around, taking a look at his surroundings—and then spoke.

"How did they kill him?"

"......"

Naturally, Kyouken had no response.

She couldn't respond.

Indeed—the problem here was not why Haruzemi was killed, but how he was killed.

The ninja hidden in the earth.

Who could've been the one to kill him, and how?

"Especially if it was strangulation—it would be a lot easier to figure out if he'd been stabbed from aboveground with a spear or something. Although, that would be impossible because of the ones standing guard—"

"Incidentally, did anyone find the rope that was used as the murder weapon?"

"Nope."

Kyouken shook her head.

"Unfortunately not. It would probably just be a normal rope, after all—like you said, it would be one thing if it was a spear, but there are any number of ways to get rid of a rope like this. I think it'll be impossible to tie down the culprit from that direction."

"I see... A way to strangle someone who's underground, huh. Well, it may be a bit anomalous, but..."

Koumori seemed a little embarrassed at his own words, but he continued.

"It's basically a locked-room murder."

"......Yeah."

Kyouken nodded and clapped her hands together.

"That's true. It's certainly a locked room. It can't get any more locked off than this."

Though whether it was a "lock" or not was pretty dodgy, continued Kyouken.

"However, isn't the usual premise of a locked-room murder to try and convince people that it was a suicide? But if they went and strangled him, then there's no way it's a suicide here."

"I just said it because I felt like I had to say it. You don't need to take me so seriously—well, putting aside what the motive could be, I don't have any idea what the method could be at all. Since, even if it's a locked room, it's not like there was an actual lock or key."

"Yep, it's a little too physical for that."

"...This is just for example's sake, but..."

Koumori lowered his voice, and then continued.

"Is it possible for the guys standing guard to have lied?"

"Hm?"

"Basically—it's only thanks to their testimony that we know that Haruzemi was buried for that entire week, right? But... um... was it two days? The people on watch around that time could have lied—"

No, wait.

If they were going to go as far as lie.

If that was going to be assumed—

"—isn't it possible that they're the culprits?"

"......"

Kyouken suddenly put on a serious expression.

It was an uncommon sight for her.

No—this was her natural expression, thought Koumori.

After all, even though she pretended to be just an observer.

She was someone that stayed at the center of the village more than anyone—and surely, even if the number of chiefs were to increase to twelve, that wouldn't change.

"Basically,"

said Koumori.

"Maybe at night, when everyone left but the ones standing guard, they dug out Haruzemi from underground—and strangled him to death. No matter how good of a ninja Haruzemi was, well, he'd probably get killed if he faced all the ones standing guard at once. And, after he was killed, they put him back into the ground just as before. Then they'd just have to nonchalantly keep standing guard—and, when it became time, they could nonchalantly call the next group of guards."

"There's no way."

In an instant.

Maniwa Kyouken denied Koumori's theory.

"I said this before, didn't I? There was no room for the guards to conspire with each other. If that had been possible, then the whole demonstration of the new ninpou would have been pointless."

"Ah—that's right, isn't it."

Those that were for Haruzemi, and those that were against.

The guards had been woven together with people from both sides.

"Well, just in case, I did hear the stories of the genin that were on guard during the estimated time of death—but I don't think they're going to be of any use."

"There were a few people that could use the ninpou of truth detection, right? Although, I guess they're pretty popular, so they're more often than not outside the village—"

"Lucky, one of them was still in the village and said they would help us out. But without even needing to look into it, all the guards are innocent. As far as I can see."

"—Well, if you're saying that as the observer, then I suppose it's gotta be true—"

However.

In that case, the crime couldn't have been committed.

"Having said that, we shouldn't just use truth detection willy-nilly on just anyone. It sucks that we carelessly got the estimate for the time of death, though—if it wasn't for that, we could just end the case by saying, 'one of the guards secretly strangled him while they were digging him up'."

"Seems like it would be pretty difficult to secretly strangle someone with a village full of ninja watching, even if they were all genin."

"Incidentally, about this case—has Houou said anything?"

"Not really. He hasn't even told us to go look for the culprit."

I'm just doing this on my own volition—said Kyouken.

That was about what Koumori had expected, so he said nothing and nodded.

"What if, when he was being buried..."

Koumori began to describe what had just come to mind.

Even though it was a theory that he knew from the beginning was wrong.

"Someone wrapped a long rope around him. So that the ends of the rope were still left aboveground. Then, it's just a matter of pulling those ends—and that would strangle him. And after checking that Haruzemi was dead, they could just pull the rope from just one end—then only the rope itself would get pulled out from underground. Leaving just Haruzemi's strangled corpse in the ground..."

After all that, he said,

"How about that?"

and waited for Kyouken's response.

"It's impossible."

Again, in an instant, Kyouken denied it.

"There are way too many parts of that that are impossible. You probably already realized it yourself, so I won't pick it apart bit by bit. In the first place... The whole point of the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi' was to not leave any traces of it aboveground. If there was a rope coming out from underground, someone would have noticed."

"Hmm. Well, that's true."

"It might not be good to say this, but..."

Kyouken began speaking with a rather desolate tone of voice.

"This might be a case of, 'the nail that sticks out gets hammered down'. It was pretty ostentatious, this demonstration of his—and it wasn't exactly ninja-like, so to speak."

"...Is that so?"

"Well, it's a bit late now, and I'm not saying this because I find it amusing—but for example, I'm familiar with your ninpou. And you're familiar with my ninpou. But that's only because we've managed to see through each other's ninpou—it's not like we taught each other about ours in detail. That's fine. That's what ninja are all about, and that's what ninpou are all about—they aren't something that should expressly be taught. Ninpou aren't something to be taught, but something to be learned."

But then, said Kyouken.

"No matter how much he wanted to be part of the Twelve Chiefs—if he didn't try to teach everyone in the village so ostentatiously—"

"That's why he died like this?"

said Koumori, finishing Kyouken's thought.

"Well, yeah, Haruzemi had his own problems. Even so, that doesn't mean he shoulda been killed. To kill one of your own—that's a disgrace to ninja."

Although it’s true that we aren't really a group with a sense of camaraderie, Koumori said as if spitting out the words.

At this point, finally.

Koumori became aware that his feelings had been extremely hurt because of this incident.

He wondered why.

It wasn't like he'd worked together with Haruzemi before.

Was it because Haruzemi had had a sense of enthusiasm—that he himself didn't have?

A lust for power.

In other words, ambition.

Though the problem was he had too much of it—

However, not having enough of it could also be considered a problem.

To be honest, Koumori had already gotten prepared for the idea of himself becoming one of the Twelve Chiefs. This wasn't him getting conceited or presumptuous, but a composed decision that it was sure to happen.

He didn't have any other choice.

If this was his destiny, then he'd follow it.

But he felt pity for the subordinates who would have to work under a person with no urges like him. At the very least, Koumori could never show off the workings of his ninpou for the sake of getting ahead in life—and then.

Suddenly, Koumori hit upon an idea.

"...Hey, Kyouken."

"Hm?"

"What about you? For whatever reason—would you ever show off your ninpou, your precious ninpou to everyone else?"

"No... That's kind of..."

After thinking about it, Kyouken responded like so.

"I've never thought about doing that, though."

"Just for instance—let's say you weren't in the position of advisor, nor were you a candidate to be one of the Twelve Chiefs... And let's say you would be promised a position if you decided to demonstrate your ninpou. Would you still do it?"

"...Well, if I was actually placed in that situation, then maybe my opinion would change."

After thinking about it—and after saying that as a preface, Kyouken responded like so.

"But... No, I don't think I would. I don't think ninpou should be used for that purpose."

"Yeah."

Koumori nodded.

"I—think the same way."

"...But, that could just be my and your way of thinking—if Haruzemi-chan thought differently, then that could just be chalked up to our individual differences, right? It's just a difference in our principles. Though it's as a result that he became the nail that stuck out, though—"

"No."

Koumori interrupted Kyouken's words.

"I think I got it—I think I figured out why Haruzemi did something like that. Or should I say, I was only able to figure it out because it was me. Because my way of thinking was the exact opposite of Haruzemi's—"

"......?"

"So, Kyouken."

Now, Koumori was the one to jump into the hole.

And, from there, he looked up at Kyouken—

"I think I figured out how Haruzemi was killed,"

he continued.

"Eh? You figured it out?"

To the astonished Kyouken, Koumori said, "Though I only think I figured it out."

"Besides, the only thing I think I figured out was the method behind the crime—well, I guess maybe I might have figured out the motive, t too. However, I dunno who the culprit is specifically."

"......"

"But I should be able to narrow it down—it's definitely a crime done by one of us. It wasn't the Aioi Ninja Corps or some other powerful shinobi group... At least, I hope."

"That doesn't sound very dependable after all that."

Kyouken could only smile wryly.

To Koumori, who was in the hole.

"However, if you've figured out that much, then that should be enough—Maniwa Koumori. Koumori-chan. That's why you—are one of the Twelve Chiefs."

"It hasn't been decided yet, y'know."

After saying that, irritated...

Koumori closed his eyes and deliberated for a moment.

And, as if he finally hit upon something—

"How's Haruzemi's body being dealt with right now?"

he asked Kyouken from within the hole.

"Let's see—well, we couldn't just leave it alone. Following the usual process, I'd say he was buried."

"Hm."

Koumori nodded exaggeratedly.

"Then—shall we go with that plan of attack?"

◇　　　◇

3

◇　　　◇

It had been yet another week before the news that Maniwa Haruzemi had returned from the dead had propagated throughout the Maniwa village. It seemed almost like a joke, the way he casually greeted the gatekeeper and entered the village, as if he had just come back from shopping.

When pressed for an explanation, he simply said without diffidence,

"It's nothing, this was what the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi' was all about,"

as a response.

Everyone was struck with admiration and bewilderment at that response, but he said, "I'll explain it, so gather everybody," and headed to the village square—yes, the very same square where Haruzemi should have died while demonstrating his new ninpou.

There, he explained it like so.

"Basically, the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi' is a technique where you die while staying alive. Some people thought it was a breathing technique that manipulated the respiratory organs, but in actuality, it's a method to manipulate your life force. To make a long story short, I put myself in a state of suspended animation, and limited my biological responses like breathing to the bare minimum—that way, it's possible to survive even underground. Well, it was a pretty grueling task to make out what was going on aboveground while in a state of suspended animation, but that's where I can show off the fruits of my training."

"B-but, wait, Haruzemi-dono."

One of the ninja—one of the genin that had stood guard while Haruzemi was underground—hesitatingly interjected into Haruzemi's words.

"When we dug you up, Haruzemi-dono—you had absolutely for sure been dead."

"That's right. Otherwise, the 'Moguri Sanagi' wouldn't have worked. There are several ninpou that can put you in suspended animation, but those ninpou put you at half alive and half dead at best, about fifty-fifty. However, the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi' puts you at nine-tenths dead, and the remaining tenth alive. ...Of course, I was still alive in the end, and while I was maintaining my consciousness I got to enjoy the confusion from you fellows."

"N-no way—"

The genin wheezed.

"Haruzemi-dono, wasn't the plan for you to dig yourself out of the earth?"

"It wouldn't be any fun that way. I wanted to put on a little show—however, I figured at least one person would realize, so I maintained my state of suspended animation, but I was shocked that even the members of the Shiryouhan concluded that I was actually dead. What a great lineup of doctors we have, here. If any of you get hurt, you should be careful if you go see them."

"W-well then."

Not knowing when to give up, the genin continued.

"What about—the mark of a rope that was found on the back of your neck?"

"That was a part of the show I was putting on. I can't reveal that person's name now, but the truth is, I revealed what I was plotting to a single one among you fellows. My request was, as my body was being dug up, so that nobody would notice—for them to strangle my neck and leave a mark."

"......!"

This put everyone present at a loss for words, all of them exchanging glances with one another.

However, they couldn't figure out who it could have been.

It had been a week ago.

"The marks made on a living body and the marks made on a dead body are different—but in my case, I was still living while dead, and still dead while living. It was a rather simple matter to disguise at what point in time the traces of the rope were actually left. In fact, that's the true essence of the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi'."

Haruzemi spoke eloquently.

"Although, I never thought you would bury me just like that, but that in itself was rather entertaining. I thought I would try spending another week or so while dead. If I was dead, I figured I might be able to hear your true thoughts regarding me."

And then.

Then, Maniwa Haruzemi made a joke that was quite unlike something that Maniwa Haruzemi would do.

"Oh my, what's the matter? You fellows, you all look like you've seen a ghost."

—In any case.

Maniwa Haruzemi's demonstration of his ninpou had ended up in such a state—so it was just a matter of time before he was recommended to be one of the Twelve Chiefs. Despite him treating the concept of life as his plaything, in the end, it was only his life that he treated as his plaything, so there was no room to complain.

Under those circumstances.

After Maniwa Houou, Maniwa Koumori, Maniwa Kyouken, Maniwa Kuizame, Maniwa Kamakiri, and Maniwa Umigame, as the seventh person to be named as a candidate for one of the Twelve Chiefs, Maniwa Haruzemi's name propagated throughout the village, stronger than ever—

◇　　　◇

"Oi... What are you getting at, Haruzemi."

Just like that.

That night, Maniwa Koumori was called out to from behind.

They were at the village square.

A hole had already been dug into the ground.

It was late—a dark night with no moon.

In order to lure his prey out, Koumori had spent the whole night at the square—but he was relieved that someone had called out to him, the form he'd taken, earlier than expected, and casually turned around.

Standing there was a young man that he remembered.

He'd worked with him before.

His name—if he remembered correctly—was Maniwa Matsuzemi.

"Oi, say something, will you? What are you getting at that you'd tell such a huge lie? Are you trying to cover for me? If so, that must mean you're looking down on me, huh. Or, is there something else that you're plotting?"

"......"

"Oi! Haruzemi!"

The young man—Matsuzemi—yelled in anger.

At Koumori.

As if—he was speaking to Haruzemi.

But that was completely reasonable of him—because at that moment, Koumori had made himself look exactly like Maniwa Haruzemi.

"So it was you, huh,"

said Koumori quietly.

Sounding disappointed, just a little.

"Huh? What are you talking about—"

Stopping Matsuzemi, who was about to flare up even more, with a raised hand, Koumori took his opposite hand and began to massage his face—and as he did.

The face of Maniwa Haruzemi vanished.

And the face of Maniwa Koumori returned to its usual place.

"Eh..... Aah....!?"

In astonishment, he pulled back his body that had leaned forward, but it ended up throwing him off balance, and Matsuzemi fell on his behind in quite the unsightly manner.

And with a contemptuous glance—

"—Even though we've worked together a number of times, I guess I never showed you this ninpou, huh. Well, according to Kyouken, ninpou aren't something to be taught, but something to be learned—but I'll treat today as a special case and teach you about mine,"

said Koumori.

"The ninpou 'Kotsuniku Zaiku'—by manipulating your skin and muscle and physique, you can turn into anybody, any person you think of. That's my, Maniwa Koumori's, unique ninpou."

Yes.

Maniwa Haruzemi—was indeed dead.

The Haruzemi that had returned from outside the village had simply been an impostor, impersonated by Koumori using his ninpou. The original Haruzemi had been dug up and carefully examined to produce the copy.

Calling it a simple disguise wouldn't even come close to describing it.

It was truly a ninpou unique to Koumori himself.

Of course, he hadn't forgotten to move the original Haruzemi's body to a different location—

"Ko—"

Matsuzemi choked.

"—Koumori-senpai, wh, wh, why did you—"

"That's what I'd like to ask you, Matsuzemi,"

Koumori said to Matsuzemi, who was still on his behind.

"Why did you kill Haruzemi?"

"......"

"Well, that was just something I wanted to ask, since I can more or less predict the response—I've pretty much figured out the method and the motive for the crime. The only thing I couldn't figure out was the criminal. But I never thought it'd be you—"

As far as Koumori remembered about the man named Maniwa Matsuzemi, he was a very serious and honest ninja. In a different way from Koumori, he was a rare existence in the Maniwa village, being the kind of man that treasured the harmony between his peers.

To think—such a guy would resort to killing.

"...If I've been exposed, then I suppose there's nothing I can do."

As expected, Maniwa Matsuzemi.

Said as such—without making any excuses or struggling in vain.

"So basically, I was successfully brought out by Koumori-senpai... I'm still pretty immature, aren't I. Even though I could have probably seen through it if I'd just thought about it—no, there was no way I could have seen through it. With the way you turned into such a perfect copy—I didn't have a chance, even though I used to be Haruzemi's closest friend. For you to be able to deceive even my eyes—"

"You were—his friend?"

"Yes. I used to be. In the past tense,"

said Matsuzemi.

With a bitter smile on his face.

"However, Koumori-senpai. How did you figure it out? You're giving off the feeling that you managed to see through everything..."

"Eh. In general, it just happened to come to mind. And it happened to fit perfectly. Well, even so—if I had to say, it would be because Haruzemi's demonstration of his new ninpou was all too unnatural."

"......"

"Of course, he probably did have the ambition to become elected as one of the newly-established Twelve Chiefs. But even so, I could hardly think that he would go as far as putting on such a large-scale production to gather so much attention—"

Koumori looked at Matsuzemi as he spoke.

"Whether it's new or old, ninpou aren't something that are meant to be exposed to people—after all, to ninja, ninpou are their lifeline. They're not something you spread to others. Whether it's your enemies or your allies. But if there was a reason for him to do that... I was thinking that maybe Haruzemi wanted to make something an established fact."

"An established fact,"

repeated Matsuzemi with a pained expression.

"Yes—that's exactly right. What he wanted was for the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi'—to be recognized as his unique *ninpou, his and his alone*."

"......"

"*Even though—I was in pursuit of the same *ninpou."

They—used to be friends.

That was what it meant.

Koumori came to a profound realization.

And then.

He thought, that must be why—this incident had occurred.

"Well, it's not hard to figure out the rest after that—if you assume that the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi', a ninpou that improved upon the doton-no-jutsu, did exist, then you could simply use it to kill Haruzemi underground by strangling him—"

That was—the method of the crime.

If anything, that was all it was.

Maniwa Matsuzemi had dug further underground than Maniwa Haruzemi, who had hidden in the ground with the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi'—and then he had strangled him.

For Haruzemi, who was busy paying attention to the matters aboveground, he surely didn't think that anyone would have approached him from behind.

"However, Matsuzemi—ninpou development is supposed to be a fair competition, you know? It's like we're all hunting for treasure together. To go off and kill him just because he got ahead of you... Isn't that unjustified resentment?"

"That's not it! That guy... In order for him to demonstrate his ninpou before me, he went an announced an incomplete version of 'Moguri Sanagi'... Just to get ahead of me!"

"An incomplete version, huh."

Even so.

It seemed like a valid ninpou.

"However, well, it's true that the ability to freely move underground—your ninpou maybe has a higher degree of completion."

"Right!?"

"However."

Koumori stopped Matsuzemi, who had unthinkingly raised his voice.

"You could say that's why Haruzemi had gotten impatient and tried to set up his demonstration earlier than he should have. A treasure hunt isn't always first come, first served, but considering the circumstances in the village, being even one step behind could have been deadly. I would say even being able to hide in the earth without a breathing tube is a fine ninjutsu in itself—kind of ironic, really. You two were supposed to be good friends that were training your ninpou—and rivals that encouraged each other in pursuit of the same ninpou."

That was—the motive for the crime.

After saying it—if anything, that was all it was.

"If you simply wanted to block Haruzemi from becoming one of the Twelve Chiefs, then there was no reason for you to kill him—it was just that you held a personal grudge against him for being beaten to the punch while aiming for the same ninpou."

"He didn't beat me to the punch! He stole a march on me! Haruzemi, it's all because that guy tried to demonstrate an incomplete 'Moguri Sanagi'! Do you know how much of a disgrace that would've been for me? There's no way it makes sense for me to be late just because I cared more about completing my ninpou! H-his actions—they're a rejection of the ninpou development that I poured my heart and soul into!"

I couldn't.

I couldn't forgive him—said Matsuzemi, with all of his might.

"Rather than him,"

he said.

"Rather than him, it should be me—I'm the one that's more fitting to be one of the Twelve Chiefs!"

"......"

He was—a hostile force.

Although, since they were friends, and rivals pursuing the same ninpou—it wasn't clear if he'd be recognized by those around him as a hostile force.

However—so such normal motives existed.

Or so Koumori thought.

He would go that far—because he wanted it that much?

He wanted to stand on top of others that much?

Koumori didn't understand it one bit.

Neither the feelings of Maniwa Haruzemi, who wanted a seat on the Twelve Chiefs so bad that he'd demonstrate an incomplete ninpou—nor the feelings of Maniwa Matsuzemi, who would go as far as killing his friend, who'd overtaken him in their bout of friendly rivalry.

"You wouldn't understand,"

said Matsuzemi.

As if having seen through Koumori's inner thoughts.

"For someone like you, Koumori-senpai—who had been chosen from the beginning—you wouldn't understand at all."

"...Were you thinking about performing the demonstration yourself, after Haruzemi failed? Did you think you'd be able to get a seat on the Twelve Chiefs after that?"

"I haven't thought that far. If you ask me, I'd still say that the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi' was still incomplete. It's still not something that can be shown to others—"

Matsuzemi snickered.

"But, I just wanted to kill him. Because I couldn't forgive him. Because of how frustrated I was."

"......"

He didn't dare to nod in understanding, but Koumori judged that those his true feelings. Otherwise, he wouldn't have gone for a method as haphazard as strangulation—he would have picked something more effective. By killing via such a method, it made it clear that Haruzemi had not died due to the failure of his new ninpou—that he had died at someone else's hands.

It was practically out of desperation.

When Koumori imitated Haruzemi and appeared in the village—he must have been quite shocked. It hadn't made sense to Koumori, who had known that it would be a trap, but Matsuzemi had appeared so quickly at the village square with good reason.

Koumori didn't know Haruzemi very well.

As such, no matter how superior the ninpou 'Kotsuniku Zaiku' was as a ninjutsu, there had certainly been an element of unnaturalness added to it—and for Matsuzemi, who had been his friend, perhaps he had been able to sense that bit of unnaturalness.

And yet, he hadn't been aware that, in that moment, all his tricks would be revealed.

That was also—the result of his desperation.

"...So."

Matsuzemi—picked himself back up in a rather relaxed manner.

"So, what are you going to do to me now—Koumori-senpai?"

"...Eh."

With a low voice, Koumori responded to Matsuzemi's question.

"We're ninja, after all—the one to get killed is the one that's more of an idiot. That's what I think, basically. I'm repeating Kyouken's words here, but—a person that gets taken out by one of their comrades pretty much didn't have the disposition to lead others in the first place. If Haruzemi actually had the capacity to be one of the Twelve Chiefs—then no matter how much you wanted to kill him, he probably wouldn't have gotten killed."

"......"

At the very least, Haruzemi should have taken some precautions.

Against the possibility that his friend might come to kill him.

"We're shinobi, after all. No matter what anyone says, we're just short-lived goods with mean and dirty work as our main selling point. Our lives are our own to protect. Killing a comrade may be a serious crime—but I don't really care about delivering judgment on it, or telling anyone else, either."

At present, the one and only chief, Maniwa Houou.

Had perhaps suddenly brought up the Twelve Chiefs plan in order to smoke out people like Maniwa Matsuzemi, or so Kyouken had said—and Koumori couldn't help but think that that Houou really would do that—

But that was a different story.

As long as it hadn't been clearly decreed, it wasn't an order.

"Plus, I'm a little impressed—if anything. Well, not just impressed at you, but including Haruzemi, too. Stealing a march on your friend, and then getting your revenge, all for the sake of your ambitions... I guess those sorts of desires are pretty common. But I don't have anything like that—no ambitions or goals, nothing like that. I just can't think about things in the same way you guys do. Really—it's amazing."

"...It all just sounds like sarcasm to me, Koumori-senpai,"

said Matsuzemi—while taking a step back.

It seemed he was breaking out in a cold sweat.

"Well, it's fine... I didn't expect Koumori-senpai to understand me, anyway. But basically, you're just going to let me off, right? From that serious crime of killing a comrade—"

"Yeah. Killing a comrade is totally fine,"

he said.

And in that instant.

He must have predicted it in advance, because when Maniwa Matsuzemi jumped back to run away—Maniwa Koumori spat out bo-shuriken from inside his mouth even faster, piercing Matsuzemi's windpipe.

"That's why—it's fine if I kill you, too."

He spoke quietly.

As if trying to persuade him.

"This ain't one of Houou's orders—but I don't care if he predicted this happening. Maniwa Matsuzemi. Out of my own will, I'm gonna kill you."

It wasn't clear if that voice of Koumori's had been heard or not.

Matsuzemi flapped his mouth open and shut, as if trying to say something—but, without being able to say anything, he tumbled to the ground.

His dying face was quite far removed from a tranquil one.

As Koumori looked down at Matsuzemi's body for a moment—

"Is it over?"

spoke a voice from behind him. And towards where he sensed that presence from, he said,

"Yeah,"

in response.

This time, without turning around.

It was Maniwa Kyouken.

As a precaution, he'd explained the situation to her and asked her to keep watch—naturally, Kyouken had been there, listening to the entire conversation between Maniwa Koumori and Maniwa Matsuzemi, without missing a single word.

However, it was as expected of a self-proclaimed observer of the village.

She had—the same arrogant smirk on her face as always.

"Well,"

said Kyouken.

"It is what it is."

That was.

Maniwa Kyouken's sole, official stance on the matter.

That's really like you, said Koumori with a bitter smile.

It was really like her, as someone who, more than anyone, thought about this village—who, more than anyone, respected the lives of her comrades.

"But, well, thanks to this, the truth behind the ninpou 'Moguri Sanagi' will forever be unknown, huh—that whole suspended animation and whatnot that you were preaching about was just a lie you made up on the spot, right?"

"Like I had a choice. Ninpou are something to be learned—right?"

"That's true."

"Maybe it actually did use the logic behind cicada grubs."

"Ha."

"Hey, Kyouken."

As if looking up at the moonless night, Koumori spoke.

"I—decided to try becoming one of the Twelve Chiefs."

"...Well, whether you liked it or not, I figured you'd become one in the end."

"I'm saying, I decided to try liking it."

"Why?"

"So that idiots like those—"

The only thing in his line of sight was Maniwa Matsuzemi's body.

But it seemed Koumori was including Haruzemi as well.

"So that idiots like those don't appear in this village again."

"I see. Well, you may as well try it."

She accepted it with a tone of voice that implied it didn't really matter to her.

"By the way? What should we do? About Matsuzemi-chan's corpse,"

she said.

"I don't think you'll be able to go public about the fact that you killed him."

"You're right. May as well dig up a hole and bury him."

◇　　　◇

After this, as had been expected by many, Maniwa Koumori would come to be praised as officially one of the Maniwa Ninja Corps's Twelve Chiefs, and, as had been expected by many, he left behind a great number of glorious military exploits. As a result, his name would be inherited again about two hundred years later.

[ancientwastedlores]

The Support System (Ch: 5)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Find this chapter on AO3 here. Feedback and fic requests totally welcome. 

AO3: The Support System  Tumblr:  Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter: 5/? Warnings: Rough fighting.   Audience: general.

______________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 5:

Once in the training room, he looks at the wall with all the weapons. You naturally gravitate towards the katanas, which he spots you pick up.

‘Is that…?’ ‘Yes!’ you show him the handles. ‘Odin stealing poetry from the Jotuns’. ‘How do you know!?’ ‘I grew up reading those stories’.

His eyes widen, undoubtedly the possibility of you knowing stories about him as well running through his mind. You figure it out, but say nothing.

‘The katanas are your favourite?' he asks.  ‘I wouldn’t say that, but I do find myself getting really good with these lately. I’ve considered taking these on the mission’.

Loki turns away to inspect the other weapons on the wall. You strap the harness on and place the katanas in. ‘Whenever you’re ready’.

‘Oh, I’m ready’ he walks to the middle of the room. ‘You don’t have any weapons’. ‘I don’t need any’ he gives you a devilish grin. ‘No magic’ you warn. ‘We didn’t agree on that. Come on’. ‘No!’ ‘Are we scared?’

You raise an eyebrow. You will not be challenged. You take your place at the centre as well. ‘Don’t be offended if I stab you’

‘It wouldn’t make a difference’.

With flourish, you remove the katanas from behind you. You charge at him then jump, and you expect him to block you. He merely disappears and you fall flat on your face. You get up and look behind you, where he stands, grinning again.

Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it.  

You charge at him again, jump again, and he disappears. You expect it and promptly take one of your katanas and stab the air behind you. It hits its mark. You turn to see the katana pierce his abdomen. You look at his face, but he’s still grinning. You feel a strong pair of hands grab your neck from behind and choke you and the Loki next to you disappears. You realise it’s an illusion again. You roll your eyes, drop your katanas, and break from Loki’s grip by flipping him over your body so he’s now on the floor. You smirk at him and go to pick up the katanas you dropped, except another pair of hands circle your stomach and pull you back, then throw you against the wall.

You fall, stunned. You didn’t expect him to be so rough on you. Oh well. You know he’s just going to keep using illusions, but at least it will tire you out, something no agent or Nat has managed to do. 

You continue fighting. At some point you stopped using the katanas and resorted to a gun after being frustrated. You manage to corner him and hold him at gun point. A clone comes up behind you to grab the gun, but you expect it now and just throw an elbow behind you, giving the clone a fake bloody nose. You smile at Loki.

‘Oh, there’s more back there’. ‘I’ve fought of three bad guys while still holding onto a baby’ you brag.

He looks amused at that, ‘I still suggest you turn around’.

You roll your eyes and turn around, expecting something ridiculous like a whole room of Lokis. You’re greeted by a frost giant.

‘What the…’ ‘Meet Angr’ he says.

The Frost Giant, Angr, whose height is about the height of the room, moves like a cat. He ducks and grabs your leg, pulls you to the ground and disarms you.

‘You play dirty’ you accuse Loki. ‘You asked me to fight’ he says, and you can hear the arrogance in his voice.

You're actually out of breath and quite tired, also something no agent has managed to do. You stand up and stare down Angr, which is not an easy feat since he towers over you.

‘Size doesn’t matter’ you mutter to yourself.

Behind you, Loki chuckles.

You’re quick too. Your gloves, provided by the kind Princess of Wakanda, are made of Vibranium and have claws. You use these to claw into Angr’s ice skin and climb up; you get to his head and mount it, his neck between your legs, and you position the claws at his neck.

‘Only an illusion, right?’ you ask. ‘Of course’ Loki says.

You take a deep breath, and as a final gesture, you reach forward to grab Angr’s neck, then pull, expecting blood to go everywhere. But Loki has had enough of indulging you, and just makes the giant disappear, causing you to fall. You somersault in the air and manage to safely land on your feet. 

You laugh and lie down on the floor to catch your breath. Loki keeps standing in his corner, now dead silent.

‘Oh god, THAT was a workout’ you announce. ‘That was amazing, why haven’t I been training with you all this time?’ you jump on your feet to pick up the weapons you dropped.

He keeps silent. You pick up the knives, guns, katanas and a few other things you grabbed from the walls to fight. You’ve never felt the need to resort to all of them. You place them back on the wall neatly, while seeing your reflection in the clean metal. You’re actually bruised.

You don’t mind, but hope it clears up before you have to go.

You’re still a bit startled by how rough Loki played, though. You’ve had serious sparring sessions with Natasha and Maria Hill, who both at one point, lightly stabbed you and then told you to walk it off. Even new recruits who didn’t know how to control their strength caused you an injury or too without meaning to, which you recovered from. But with Loki, it felt like he knew exactly what he was doing, and didn’t want to stop.

It somehow it didn’t feel like a good natured fight, now that you think about it.

You decide not to bring it up immediately, though. It’s been about two hours, and you’re drenched in sweat. But you do want to bring it up when you’re watching Doctor Who later in the night.

xx

After sitting locked up in your room for the next few hours, nursing your wounds on your face, arms, and back, showering, and reading a few research papers, you leave your room for dinner. 

‘JESUS kid, what happened to you?’ Tony exclaims, as you walk into the dining room. ‘Well, I finally met my match’ you laugh, pointing at Loki. ‘I haven’t bruised like that since my first month training with Natasha’.

Tony glares at Loki, obviously interpreting you incorrectly.

‘No, I asked him to fight me. It’s not his fault!' you jump to his defense. Well, it is a little bit, but you decide to keep that to yourself and confront him later. ‘Uhuh’ Tony says, not totally convinced. ‘Sure. Sit down, we got your favourite’.

You take your seat across from Loki’s, who is avoiding looking at you and staring only at his plate. Everyone wants to ask about your sparring session with Loki, more out of concern than anything else.

You assure them it was fun, and the bruises don’t hurt that much, and you’ll be fine within the week.

‘We don’t have to have our session tomorrow’ Natasha says. ‘No, I’m good, really’. ‘Kid, you’re going to get yourself killed’ Tony warns. ‘I’m fine, reall…’ ‘You’re taking an off tomorrow. That’s an order’ his tone is final.

You know not to argue with that.

Conversation continues as usual. You keep trying to make eye contact with Loki, who only stares at his plate. You let it go and let your mind wander to the techniques you used to fight Loki’s illusions, trying to store them in memory.

xx

It wasn’t just you who had a rough day. Tony and Bruce got tired of not getting anywhere with the Reality Gem, and moved to a new project for the time being. Bruce didn’t want to share yet what he was up to, but Tony threw himself into upgrading weapons for the extraction mission. Nat spent the day inspecting the S.H.I.E.L.D agents chaperoning them for the mission along with Hill. Sam Wilson was also asked to join, so he spent the day trying out the upgraded weapons for Tony in his lab.

Everyone agreed they wanted a drink, but you decide to just go to bed, since you’re tired. You do, however, take a few beers to your room. Bruce asks you to sit with them, but you really want to just sit in bed and watch TV and drink them. You bid good night to everyone and head to your room.

Loki’s in there with the season 5 DVD in his hand, sitting on a chair. You smile at him and show him the beers you got. ‘Dranks’.

He laughs.

You open a can and set the rest of the cans down on the floor. ‘So now that I have you alone’ you say. ‘What was that fighting all about?' ‘You asked me to’. ‘No, I know, but you went AT it. Like you were actually trying to hurt me’. ‘You’re being dramatic’ Loki says, avoiding your eyes as he gets up to go the DVD player. You grab his arm and make him turn to face you. ‘No, actually, I’m pretty sure I’m not. I’ve had intense sessions, and then there was whatever the hell you were doing. I’m asking nicely. Don’t make me ask again’.

His lips purse, and he studies you. There is no anger in your eyes. It does terrify him a little that you’re keeping calm.

‘Okay, fine, I don’t want you to go’ he confesses. ‘So you were trying to what, give me a fracture?’ ‘I just wanted to show you how dangerous it can be out there so you would change your mind about leaving’. ‘What!’ you start to laugh loudly. ‘You actually thought that would happen?’ ‘I don’t know. I thought it was worth a shot’ he furrows his brows. ‘You don’t have to laugh’. ‘Loki, you could literally kill me and I’d still get up and go’. ‘WHY?’ ‘Because I want to’ you say firmly. ‘You can’t stop me. If it troubles you, I won’t ask you to fight with me again. But don’t try and stop me’.

You let go of his arm, and it drops to his side, his shoulders slumping. He looks at you sadly.

‘Loki... what is it?’ you ask. ‘I’ve only just begun to feel like I belong, I can’t have you leave and maybe not come back’. ‘I haven’t even left, and you’ve gone and assumed me dead?’ this sounds so much like your mother, who had already assumed the worst case scenario before you even sent in your application to S.H.I.E.L.D.

‘It’s purely selfish’ he admits, ‘but I don’t want you to go. Please…’ he grabs your shoulders, ‘…reconsider’. ‘Loki, Tony wants me to go. But you have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine’. ‘I know you will be’ he lets go of you. ‘I hate to admit it, but you did a great job today, which is why I stopped’.

You inwardly congratulate yourself for impressing the God of Mischief, but a smile does escape you. He sees it.

‘Don’t get used to the compliments’ he chuckles. ‘I’ll put on the DVD. You can get into bed’.

______________________________________________________________

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