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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

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Roguish Women Part 42

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 42: Tommy needs Kate’s assistance to find out where Alfie stands during the vendetta

“Kate.” A few days later, Tommy tried to wake up his fiancée.

“Mm, what?” She groaned, still half asleep.

“Time to get up.” He went back to getting dressed.

Kate rolled over in the small bed and grabbed his watch off the night table. She scoffed at the time. “Might be time for you to get up, Thomas, but you’ll never find me awake at this godforsaken hour.” She replied, hellbent on staying in bed. “Polly says I need rest.”

“I need your help with something,” Tommy answered and walked back over to the bed after he finished buttoning his shirt.

“Help with what?” She yawned, pulling the quilt back over herself.

“I’ll tell you when you get up.”

“Ha, think I’d fall for that trick.” She reached up to grab his shirt collar and pulled him towards her.

Tommy wasn’t exactly weak, but when it came to Kate showing him affection, he could cave in pretty easily. Maybe it was because they had gone years knowing each other, but never being able to show their genuine feelings. Now, no matter how long they’d been together, every touch felt like a gift. He knew what it was like to be without her, and that was basically hell for him. So, to have her in his arms, showering him with affection? Well, there weren’t many things that could pull him away.

Kate successfully got him back into bed, which may or may not have been her intention all along. She straddled his waist and kissed his neck, reveling in the small noises he made for her and the way his fingers dug into her hips.

“I bet you wish you could do this every morning. Start your day off with a good fuck.” She murmured against his collarbone. “Shame you wake up so early. If you slept in a little, maybe we could make this more of a regular thing.” Her hands traveled down to his trousers.

He chuckled deeply and kissed her. No one else had such an intoxicating presence. Within moments he completely forgot why they were even having the conversation, to begin with.

Then, a loud car horn from outside interrupted their little early morning fun. And everything came back to Tommy.

“Fuck.” He sighed. “That’ll be Alfie, then.”

Kate looked disappointed but relented. Alfie was the last person to wait patiently for anything. “Alright, give me a minute to be dressed, I’ll be out in a moment.” She rolled off Tommy and stood up to go to the dresser.

Tommy righted himself, making sure he didn’t appear disheveled, and grabbed his coat off the chair. As he left, he paused, getting a good look of Kate as she slipped off her nightgown.

Another horn from outside, a bit longer this time, traveled in through the window. “For fuck’s sake.” He muttered Why couldn’t he have told Alfie to come later?

Kate felt his eyes on her. “He’ll only keep going, you better get down there.” She replied.

Tommy grumbled a few expletives before shutting the bedroom door. When he hit the stairs, the car horn sounded again, but it seemed unending. He trotted down the stairs and went out the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside, he found Alfie pressing the horn relentlessly, with his pocket watch out. He didn’t give up until Tommy was across the street and right in front of him.

“Morning, Alfie.”

“You know, Tommy mate, if you need an extra hour to get dressed up to look like a prick, then you ought to schedule that in. Bit rude to be late, innit?” Alfie glanced over Tommy’s shoulder. “Where’s your other half then, aye? Said she’d be here. Since you lot have imprisoned yourselves, I’ve had to handle all of her responsibilities with shipments.”

“She’ll be down in a moment. I’m sure she wishes she could go back to London.” He replied as diplomatically as he could. That’s when he noticed the large young man standing a few feet behind Alfie. “This must be Goliath.”

“Yeah, mate. So, have we got a match set up, or what? Y’know coming all the way out here because of a possibility really ain’t something I usually do. S’a gesture of friendship, innit?” Alfie placed a hand over his chest. “That I’d be willing to come to fucking Small Heath, which apparently is hell on Earth if I’ve ever seen it, risk being shot by fucking Italians, all to be nice.”

Tommy was about to make a glib comment but was interrupted by Kate coming outside. “Was that you making all that noise, Alfie?” She smiled.

“Your fiancée, right, can’t keep his appointments well, love. It’s all about being punctual.” Alfie replied though he seemed to be happy to see her.

“It was my fault, I kept him.”

“Shall we then?” Tommy stepped in before Alfie could make a brash comment about what Kate was doing to hold him up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate hadn’t yet seen the gin being distilled in the basement of one of the properties Tommy owned on Watery Lane. She had meant to after he told her why he was asking Alfie over telegram about the liquor. Like everything Tommy did, it was no small operation.

While he and Alfie talked, Kate made herself at home taking a seat at the table toward the back of the basement. She uncorked one of the bottles to smell it.

“Now we ain’t here to talk ‘bout sides or any of that nonsense.” Alfie made his way over to the table alongside Tommy. “What good will that do, aye? I’m on me own side, right? I don’t fuck about with all this labeling and such.”

“You know he needs to know that you won’t betray us, Alfie,” Kate spoke up. “You know how vendettas work. It’s never just about two sides.”

“Well, that’s the question, ain’t it? But what kind of world is it to raise your children when your own mate can ask that sort of question. Hm?” Alfie tutted.

“I think we’ll do alright.”

Tommy cleared his throat. There was no need for speculating over Kate’s pregnancy. Alfie was perceptive enough to pick up on subtle hints. “You’re not allied with the Italians.”

“Fuck no.”

“You have ties to the Forty Elephants who are very close to us as well. I would say that lumps you in with our side, Alfie.”

“Well, that is just a foolish thing to assume.” Alfie took a bottle of gin off the table. He inspected the label as he spoke. “I know who I should or shouldn’t bother with. The Forty Elephants, they’re-well fuck you know them well enough-but they’re like fucking demons they are. Cut a man’s balls off just for looking at them. Would I rather be on their good side? ‘Course, makes me life a lot fucking easier. But I ain’t looking out for their best interest if it conflicts with my best interest.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not that cold.” Kate protested. She was wondering if the vendetta had pushed the Camden Town man back a bit. Of course, he always looked out to preserve himself. That hadn’t changed. But Kate knew that he could be fond of people and wanted to help them from time to time. Maybe he was worried that during a vendetta, being kind could be misconstrued as weakness.

“We’re all selfish creatures, sweetheart. It’s just a matter of survival in this day and age.” He glanced around the room. “Besides, I don’t see the Forty Elephants here. So, what kind of allies are they really?”

“They’re carrying out business for us in London,” Kate replied, instantly coming to the defense of the women she considered good friends.

“And we have a kestrel,” Tommy added.

“Yeah? What’d you reckon, Kate?” Alfie turned back to her. “You’ve known him longer than I have. What made him change?”

“Change?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When I first heard about Tommy Shelby, right, big bad man who killed Billy Kimber, I assumed he was the kind of man who did his own dirty work.” A coy smile played on Alfie’s lips. There was nothing he loved more than to make fun of Tommy. He didn’t get to do it enough those days. “Now he’s sending out contract killings like some sort of aristocrat. Can’t be arsed to get his hands bloody.”

“I don’t think aristocrats hire contract killers, Alfie.” Kate wasn’t really planning on indulging him by teasing Tommy.

“Don’t be naïve, love.”

“Time’s are tough.” Tommy shrugged. “I have a family to protect and I can’t protect them if I’m dead.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the difference between bachelors and the betrothed, innit?” Alfie lightened up a little, apparently satisfied that he’d poked enough fun. “When is the wedding then, aye?”

“Sometime when we’re not being hunted like sport, Alfie,” Kate replied.

“Well, I better be invited. Figure I earned that invitation a long time ago.” Alfie muttered and set the gin down.

Tommy and Kate shared a small smile. She leaned back in the rickety chair and gave her friend a playful smile. “I’ll give you a plus one to the wedding if you want to bring someone along.”

Alfie’s brow furrowed heavily over his blue eyes. “Who the hell would I bring, Ollie? You could try but I don’t think his wife would take too kindly to the idea. If that boy ever has a day off, she insists he spends it at home taking care of their heap of kids. Which, ain’t a day off in me opinion. I swear that lad has a new kid every time I turn ‘round. Can’t fucking keep track of them. I go over for Sabbath and I’m tackled by like thirty kids. Don’t know where the hell they come from.”

Kate stifled a laugh. “Alfie, I’m talking about a date! A nice woman, not your poor assistant.”

Alfie paused, apparently the idea had never crossed his mind. “Oh, dear, I don’t think you could find a good Jewish woman who would ever want to put up with me.” He replied.

“Don’t challenge her,” Tommy warned. “If you tell her she can’t do something, she’s going to go out and do it.”

“Tell ya what then. If all you Shelbys make it out of this alive, I’ll let Kate do whatever she pleases.”

Kate looked very pleased with herself as she stood up. “Then I have my work cut out for me.”

“You certainly do,” Tommy mumbled under his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy and Kate settled in for another night spent in Tommy’s old bedroom. There weren’t many remnants of his days as a teenager. A dirt poor, hand-me-down-wearing, rebellious young man who loved horses more than anything and had bright dreams. There were a few nicks in the wall or cracks in the ceiling that had been there as long as he could remember. There was a cross on the wall. Tommy couldn’t remember who put it there. Most likely it was Polly, but it might have even been his mother.

Tommy didn’t have the heart to remove it, even if he was doubtful of God’s existence.

In his desk, he had a few old letters, mostly from Greta Jurossi or cousins who were on the road. Mixed among the letters were some of Arthur’s old sketches of horses they once had. When he flipped through them, Tommy could name the horse his brother had drawn. The details were so precise.

“What was that about, aye?” Tommy wondered as Kate began to undress to take a bath. The water was already steaming in the old bathtub.

“What was what about?” She asked, pulling her hair up in a top bun.

“With Alfie. You really think that man could ever have a normal relationship?” Tommy sat down at the desk, pulling his bracers off his shoulders to let them hang loosely by his hips.

“Plenty of people would say the same thing about you.” She replied, stepping into the bath. “And yet here I am.”

Tommy chuckled. Seeing her concerned about something as superfluous as Alfie’s love life. He lit up a cigarette and shook his head.

“You don’t think there’s someone out there for him? There’s someone out there for everyone.” She argued, sinking into the warm water.

“Hm.” He didn’t agree but he didn’t disagree either. He stood up and pulled up his chair to the edge of the tub.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Thomas Shelby, I can read you better than anyone. You don’t need to say anything to me, I already know what you’re thinking.” She replied confidently. “And you cannot argue that.”

He smiled. Only she could lure his mind away from the worrying thoughts of threats to his family. Only she could convince him that everything could be alright even just for one night. Only she could quiet his mind so well. “What am I thinking now, then?” He asked coyly.

“How you wish I would get out of this tub and into your bed.” She replied. “So that you can finish what I started this morning.”

“Aye? Making me late this morning, that’s what you did.”

She giggled and grabbed his shirt to pull him closer. Water bled into the starchy fabric of his shirt cuff. Tommy felt like he was melting as he kissed her. The steamy warmth from the bath radiated from her skin. It felt like she was cleansing his entire being.

“But I’m going to take my time in here.” She murmured against his lips. “So, you could wait, or just get in with me.”

It was a game and Tommy knew that. Kate was banking on his tendency to be impatient when it came to her. He had wasted so much time without her. So, he groaned as if he was inconvenienced and stood up to start stripping off his clothing.

Kate leaned forward so he could sink into the bath behind her. When she leaned back against his chest, she sighed. “That’s more like it.”

He chuckled. “Always gets what she wants, aye?” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

She only hummed in agreement, letting her eyes slip close. Her fingers entwined with his and she rested his palm flat against her stomach. “Think there’s a difference? I haven’t been able to tell.”

Tommy knew Kate’s body better than anyone, maybe even herself. Perhaps he was just imagining things, but he swore he could feel a slight swell of her abdomen. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“You think?” She beamed. He looked at her with such fondness in his eyes that her cheeks flushed. “They’re lucky to have you as their dad.”

Tommy paused for a long while, dissecting what she was telling him in a cryptic fashion. “They?”

Kate watched his expression change from confusion, to realization, to shock. She giggled softly. “Polly said it’ll be twins.”

For a moment, he just stared at her. He wasn’t sure there had ever been an instance of twins in his family, at least not in a few generations. One baby was one thing, but two? He let out a nervous laugh. “Fuck, well you’ve never done anything half-way have you? ‘Course the first time you get pregnant it’s twins.” He teased. “Surprised it’s not triplets.”

She grinned. “Well, I wasn’t planning on having more than one at once, you know. Remember I passed out when Ada was giving birth? Now I’ve got to do it myself and I have to do it twice over.”

Tommy couldn’t stop smiling. Twins were no easy task, he could imagine. But there was nothing else he could be but happy

“You’ll be alright.” He promised. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

She kissed him softly. “You’re sweet.”

“Did Pol say what the genders were?”

“Two boys.”

Tommy closed his eyes and let out a little laugh. “Christ. Two more Shelby boys. I’m surprised Polly didn’t up and leave when she told you. She barely survived us growing up.”

“She was very happy,” Kate informed him. “Besides, they’ll be my sons too. At least half the time they’ll be well behaved.”

“Love, you’ve never been well behaved a day in your life.”

There was no arguing that. “They may be terrors but they’ll be lovely. They’ll be beautiful, I know they will. With your blue eyes and maybe your hair.”

“What if they’re identical?” Tommy circled his thumb around her hip bone as the water began to become cooler. “Won’t be able to tell ‘em apart.”

“I’m sure we will. At least I will. Mother’s intuition, right?”

He laughed and stood up to grab Kate’s towel. He offered her a hand to help her up and into the warm embrace of a towel that had been heating up by the fire. “I guess we can only hope so.” It was nice to share such a moment with her. Especially since the next day, he was planning to go to war.

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelbyxofc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #alfie solomons #Season 4 #polly gray #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy fanfiction #tom hardy

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kestrelvylbrand · 4 years

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Nonagenarian

FFXIV Write 2020

07 Nonagenarian

It was late. Too late for the insistent knocks on Argent’s door, and yet it persisted until he groggily had stumbled out of bed and flung the door open.

”What?” he snapped.

Kestrel held a bottle out towards him with a cheeky grin, a faint dimple on one side. Had that always been there?

She pulled the bottle back a little, eyeing him up and down. “Were you sleeping?” she asked, as if the fact that he was only wearing pants and a shirt, hastily pulled over his arms but left open, hadn’t already given her the answer.

He grunted and walked back into the apartment, leaving the door open for her. She followed him in, pushing the door closed with her hip, then once again held the bottle out towards him. It was a whiskey bottle, square in shape, with a very old, handwritten label on it. Argent squinted at it.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Kestrel shrugged. “Dunno. I found it in my underwear drawer. Figured you’d be the one to answer.” She looked at the bottle, then pulled off the cork and took a big drink. “It seems like your kind of stuff,” she said.

He plucked the bottle from her hand. About a third of it was missing already, and based on the way Kestrel threw herself onto his couch, almost upside down with one leg draped over the back of it, he had a pretty good idea where it had gone.

He studied the label. Then looked at Kestrel. Then looked at the label again.

“Why was this in your underwear drawer?” he asked incredulously. Kestrel shrugged. “Beats me,” she said. “Is it good?”

Argent breathed in very slowly and closed his eyes. “It’s a 99-year Black Belly Whisky.” When she didn’t answer, he added in a snappy tone, “Yes, it’s very good.” He held up the bottle. “Have you been drinking this straight from the bottle?”

Kestrel’s foot bopped at the top of the couch, like there was some sort of music that only she could hear.

“Yeah, why not?” she asks, her eyes closed, hands under her head. Her hat was tipped forward slightly, almost falling off, but not quite.

Argent sighed, placing the bottle on the table. Then he walked over to his makeshift bar, a writing desk that had been converted to fit his collection, as well as where he always composed. He flipped up the accordion cover, then grabbed a couple of whiskey glasses and a pipette. Then he walked into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.

He placed the two glasses on the table, then he pulled the bottle from her hand with a disapproving shake of his head. “Whiskys,” he said as he poured the amber liquid into two glasses, “are like people. Their experience matters, it shapes their flavor.”

Kestrel lounged on his couch, watching him with an amused smile as he grabbed the pipette, dipped it into the glass of water, and pressed gently on the glass cylinder. He then dropped one bead of water into each glass.

“Just a single drop of water to unlock the flavor and smooth out the edges,” he said, grabbing one of the glasses and handing it to her, though before she could grab it, he pulled it back. “Get up,” he ordered, tapping lightly at her boot. “I’m not going to let you spill this.” Kestrel groaned and rolled her eyes. Then she swung her leg down and sat up, holding out her hand with an arched brow and an expression that clearly said “You’re being ridiculous.” Argent handed her one glass, then swirled the other one in his hand, watching the liquid inside.

“See, this is a beautiful, sophisticated lady. You need to savor her, give her the respect her experience deserves. Take your time to explore what she… Did you just empty your glass??”

Kestrel looked innocently at him, the empty glass in her hand. “What?” she said, smiling sideways. Once again, that dang dimple. Argent groaned. “You’re impossible,” he said. She grinned, and then in one smooth step she stood up, her eyes on the bottle on the table. He saw it too, and reached for it, but she was faster, grabbing it just as his fingers brushed against it.

“Mmm,” she mused thoughtfully, swirling the bottle in her hand. “If Whiskys are like people, then what kind of whisky am I?”

Argent watched the amber liquid slosh around in the bottle, the legs of the whisky slide slowly down the glass. Argent snorted. “You’re a Qiqirn Firewater, fucks you up and leaves you with one hell of a hang-over.”

Kestrel laughed. Then she took another drink from the bottle, knowing full well it would drive him crazy that she kept drinking it like that. She washed it around in her mouth, and purposefully left a couple of golden drops on her lips. Argent watched her, pretending not to.

“Funny, then,” she said, arching a brow at him, a challenge in her eyes. “How I taste exactly like I’m a 90-year-old luxury.”

He laughed and grabbed her around the waist to pull her close. He lowered his head, tasting her lips, then her mouth. It was true. She did.

Featuring @argentrenard, who also edited, thank you for the help!

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #final fantasy 14 #shady fox and murder bird #whisky #argent #kestrel

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thaisibir · 4 years

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La Vie en Rose (Bede and young!Opal time travel fic)

La Vie en Rose (Life in Pink) Rating: T (for character deaths and language) Chapter 6/10 - One Fell Swoop (length: ~4k words) Summary: Bede doesn’t get why that loony old bat Opal wants him to be the next Fairy-type Gym Leader. To help him understand, Opal has Celebi take Bede back to the time of her youth.

(For other chapters, look up the tag “pokemon la vie en rose” or go to my profile)

Bede thought that he would have to sit through a funeral next, but Celebi took him back to Ballonlea Town instead, specifically back inside Opal’s house. Bede was able to figure out how much time passed by noticing the calendar pinned up on the kitchen wall. He jumped a week ahead.

Life seemed to return to normal very quickly for Opal’s family. She was reading and acting out a bedtime story to Jasper—The Three Little Tepigs, by the sound of it—while Roger was editing a script on the dinner table. Several loud raps at the front door startled the three. Jasper stopped giggling at his mother’s impression of the Big Bad Lycanroc and clung to her nightgown. No one moved, but the knocking persisted.

Opal frowned. “Who on earth could be banging on the door this late at night?”

“I’ll get it, my dear.” Roger ran up to the door. Mightyena and Obstagoon quickly joined their Trainer’s side, ready to defend the family from a dangerous, unwanted visitor. Roger cracked open the door, and an inquisitive male voice slipped through the crack.

“Hello, is this Opal’s house?” Roger neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead he asked tersely, “Who are you? What do you want? It’s late.” “I know, I’m sorry. I just flew in from Unova. I’m Kestrel Roy, Opal’s younger brother.” That prompted Opal to shut the book, gently detach herself from her son’s grip, and leave his bedside to join her husband at the door. “Kes? Is that really you?” She scrutinized the man with narrowed eyes, then she gasped. “It is you.” She opened the door wider. “Come in. You look exhausted.” Kestrel didn’t come alone. He came with his Pokemon. A Corviknight, a Staraptor, and a Pidgeot followed him into the house, their heads hung low and feathers ruffled in apparent fatigue. Like his siblings, Kestrel had curly dark hair and blue eyes, but he had a stubble while Randall was clean-shaven. Opal quieted down the tide of curious questions from Jasper and had Roger send him to bed, so that only she and Kestrel occupied the kitchen. Not counting Bede and Celebi, of course. Opal made tea for her brother and fed his three bird Pokemon. Her hospitality, however, ended there. “Dad died last week. Where were you?” She snapped. Kestrel shrank in his seat at the dinner table. “I had no idea until I heard about Dad from the international news. I flew back here with my Pokemon as fast as I could.” “Yes, well, flying overseas still makes ‘fast’ a long time.”

His face sank at her barbed reply. “I’m so sorry, Opal.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Randy.”

“I tried going to him first. He didn’t want to talk to me.” Kestrel’s downcast gaze settled on his cup of tea. “Pyroar and Boltund wouldn’t let me near him. They almost bit my hands off. I wasn’t allowed inside the very house I grew up in.”

“I could excuse you for not coming to my wedding. I can’t excuse you for being a no-show when Randy called for you. You weren’t there when he needed you.”

Kestrel squeezed his eyes shut. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been terrible.”

“Terrible is a bit of an understatement.” Opal drew in a deep breath before going on, “First you wasted family money on throwing huge parties at the mansion, whenever Dad went out of town for business. Then you went hopping to every bar and casino in sight, from job to job, wasting your own money on drinks and women. Then you dropped off the radar, went hopping from region to region, and none of us had heard anything from you since.”

Kestrel’s fingers went white over the sides of the teacup. “You don’t have to remind me on how much of a screwup I’ve been,” he said in a strained voice. “I think about that every day.”

Opal spared no pity for her brother in what must have been years worth of frustration and anger, all packed into seconds now. Her stern harshness took Bede aback.

She wouldn’t meet Kestrel’s eyes. She kept her gaze fixed to the tile floor, while he pinned pleading eyes on her, pleading for her to look back at him.

“I’ve tried really hard to patch my life back together,” he said. “I took up Pokemon battling again and saved up enough for therapy. I’ve been sober for three years. I haven’t spent a coin since the Mauville Game Corner in Hoenn shut down five years ago.” A tinge of pride slipped into his voice. ”I’ve been killing it in Unova, Opal. My Pokemon team and I were good enough to challenge the Elite Four.” Dismay then drained what little pride he had showed. “I dropped out of the challenge when I heard about Dad. I came back here as soon as I could. Please, Opal. Please don’t kick me out like Randy did. You two are all I have left.”

Opal’s eyes softened, and finally she tipped up her chin at him. “I’m glad you came back, Kes,” she murmured. “This is the first time in a while that I don’t smell alcohol on you.”

Emboldened by the slightest hint of forgiveness, Kestrel made a resolute fist on the tabletop. “I want to make things right. Please let me stay here for a bit. At least until I can find a job.”

Opal paused to consider—probably remembering how Roger had been in nearly the same position when they had met. She even glanced at where he must be now, behind the bedroom door. Then she said, “All right. You can stay. But you had better get back on your feet soon.”

“Thanks so much, Opal. I won’t let you down.”

She didn’t smile and nod in reassurance at that. Her blank expression implied skepticism, as if Kestrel had let her down too many times already. But she made no comment about that. Instead she said, “Dad was really proud of you, you know. He would be thrilled to hear that you were going to take on the Elite Four.”

Kestrel’s eyes grew wet with tears. “I know.”

Opal closed the gap between them to rest a hand on his shoulder, letting him weep and properly grieve since he returned to Galar. They shared a period of somber silence, then Kestrel broke it.

“You’re married and you have a kid now...I can’t believe it. I’ve really been missing out.”

That made her smile at him for the first time since he arrived. “I’ll introduce you to them tomorrow.”

The next morning, Roger left for the theatre early to manage rehearsal of the play he wrote, and Jasper barely ate his cereal as he ogled at Kestrel over the dinner table. Finally, he looked over at Opal to say, “You never told me that I had another uncle, Mummy.”

Despite his innocent remark without accusation, she averted her gaze. “I wasn’t sure if he was ever going to come back home, darling.”

Kestrel saved his sister from her awkward guilt as he grinned at his nephew. “Well, I’m here now. Say, Jasper, have you ever wanted to fly?”

The boy gasped and nodded.

“Let’s take a ride around town with my Pokemon, shall we?”

“Yay!” Jasper jumped out of his chair and was a hyperactive ball of excitement as he followed Kestrel out of the house.

Opal trailed behind with alarm and less enthusiasm. “You’re doing what, now? Wait just a minute.”

Kestrel already led Jasper out by the hand to the front yard. He gestured to his bird Pokemon assembled outside. “Staraptor is too small for the two of us to fit on his back, so you’ll have to choose between Corviknight and Pidgeot. Which will it be?”

“I want to ride that one!” Jasper pointed at Corviknight.

Opal raised her voice now. “Oh no, you don’t. Absolutely not.” She looked aghast at Kestrel. “My son’s not getting on that thing.”

“It’ll be fine, Opal. Corviknight is as stout and sturdy as any good Steel type Pokemon.” Kestrel rapped his knuckles on the Pokemon’s solid-sounding chest.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

Kestrel chuckled. “Oh, right. That’s the Gym Leader in you talking, Opal.”

She didn’t return his amusement. “Jasper is not going on that Corviknight. Period.”

Bede knew that Opal wasn’t fond of Corviknights. They tended to give her Fairy type Pokemon the greatest challenge and hardest time during Gym matches, and it didn’t help that they were hulking, mean-looking bird Pokemon. Apparently her dislike of them went way back. And apparently, Kestrel’s Corviknight didn’t appreciate being called a “thing,” as it stared her down with intense red eyes.

Jasper pouted, and Kestrel said, “How about Pidgeot, then?” He smoothed back its long yellow and red plumage. “See all the harnesses? I’d strap in for a flight and I’m perfectly safe every time. I’ve flown overseas with her, and I survived.”

Hands propped on her hips, Opal sized up the Pidgeot with no-nonsense scrutiny. “That’s a bit better than your Corviknight, I suppose,” she admitted.

“Give me the chance to be a good uncle,” Kestrel pleaded. “I just want Jasper to have a bit of fun. I’ll keep my eye on him at all times. No fancy tricks like nosedives and loop-the-loops. I won’t let your boy fall, I swear.”

Jasper tugged at Opal’s long black skirt. “Please, Mummy, I want to fly with Uncle Kes.”

Opal looked between her younger brother and only child for several moments, then she let her hands fall from her hips in resignation. “Oh, all right.”

Kestrel and Jasper beamed and shared a high five.

“But don’t fly over the treetops so I can still see you,” she added.

Jasper threw himself into a hug around her legs. “I love you, Mummy!”

She folded arms across her chest and allowed a small smile as Kestrel lifted Jasper onto his Pidgeot and strapped him into place.

At Kestrel’s command, the Pokemon gently took off into the air. Jasper’s delighted laughter could be heard even above the sound of Pidgeot’s beating wings. Opal craned her neck back, keeping her sights trained on them, and the small smile grew into a wide grin.

Later that day, Kestrel treated Jasper to ice cream. Roger finished rehearsal to join the rest of the family on a stroll to the Stow-On-Side end of Glimwood Tangle, so they could catch the famous Stow-On-Side sunset. Kestrel and Roger spent that stroll getting acquainted, sharing many stories on their roaming adventures across many regions.

Unbeknownst to the family, Bede had been taking the stroll with them. It was clear to him that Kestrel adored his nephew. They had been chatting nonstop since morning.

“Do you want any brothers or sisters, Jasper?” Kestrel asked.

“Lots!”

Kestrel’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Lots? Wow, you want a big family, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” Jasper had thrown his hands wide in response to Kestrel’s question, to show him just how many brothers and sisters he wanted.

“And what do your mum and dad have to say about that?”

Opal’s cheeks took on a bright shade of pink that Bede could see even during a sunset. “Roger and I have been trying for a second.”

Kestrel beamed. “Are you? That’s great.” He winked at the couple. “Keep up the good work.”

Finally tired from running and jumping around and spending all his ice cream-fueled energy, Jasper flopped onto Opal’s lap. “Mummy, can Uncle Kes stay with us forever?”

She smoothed out the sweaty tangles in his hair with her fingers, and her answer came out carefully worded. “Well, darling, that depends on what kind of job he can get. His job might take him somewhere else.”

Jasper’s little face sank. “I don’t want him to go.”

Kestrel reached out to pat his head. “I’ll try to get a job that lets me see you a lot. I think I might have an idea of where to look.”

“You do? Sounds promising,” Opal remarked.

“I want a fixed salary, but I don’t want to give up my sense of adventure. I think I’ve found a job that perfectly combines both.” As Kestrel said this, only Bede noticed that he glanced at his Corviknight roosting nearby.

Time traveling with Celebi, and becoming a passive observer of the past, Bede found that he noticed all sorts of things he wouldn’t have when living in the present moment.

For example, he noticed that over the past few days since Kestrel’s arrival, Opal had been hiding all the alcohol in the house, locking them away with a key only she kept with her at all times. She even stopped by the Dancing Impidimp to warn the manager about Kestrel, to keep him from drinking the town’s only bar dry.

“Kestrel’s drinking problem must have been pretty bad,” Bede remarked to Celebi. His own parents didn’t have that problem, but he knew plenty of other boys and girls in the orphanage whose parents were too drunk to even function and take care of their own kids. Bede snuck in a sip of beer once on a dare and hated it. He couldn’t understand how adults could not only chug down mugs full of that stuff, but get addicted to it. There was a lot about the world that he didn’t understand.

Oddly enough, Kestrel never asked for a drink since he stayed with his sister, so she never had to tell him that he couldn’t have any. Instead, all of his attention was on Jasper—playing with him, talking to him, making him smile and laugh. The rides on his Pidgeot became routine. The boy seemed to be a bright ball of sunshine that Kestrel desperately needed in his life.

Opal noticed, of course. After many occasions of monitoring her son’s escapades with Kestrel on his Pidgeot, she became less uptight and protective. Since her father’s death, she had been talking more to Randall over the phone, checking in on him to make sure that business in Wynwall was going smoothly, and always, at the end, talk about Kestrel.

“Listen, Randy, I really think that Kes has turned over a new leaf,” Opal murmured into the phone late one night. “You’ve heard enough about how much fun he’s having with Jasper. I think it’s time you see that for yourself. Will you let him come up to Wynwall again?” She paused for Randall’s response, which Bede couldn’t hear, but the man on the other end must have said yes, because Opal smiled. “Wonderful. He’ll be thrilled to hear it.”

The next day, she broke the news to Kestrel over breakfast. “So, Kes, I convinced Randy to let you come up and visit him,” she said brightly. “How’s that for a good start to your day?”

Kestrel blinked in disbelief, then he grinned. “Th-that’s great. Actually, I’ve got news for you, too. I wanted to surprise you after breakfast.”

Opal raised her dark eyebrows, draining her cup of morning tea in a single go instead of sipping at it. “Sounds like good news,” she said after dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “I better see what that is.”

Kestrel led her family to the front yard, then let out a whistle. A Corviknight descended through the treetops, gripping a dark carriage in its talons. Under the Corviknight’s careful flying, the carriage settled onto the ground with a soft thud instead of a crash

Jasper let out a long “oooh.”

“A Flying Taxi,” Roger exclaimed.

Opal blinked many times in disbelief. “Isn’t that your Corviknight, Kes?”

Her brother beamed at them. “It is. I got a job as a cabbie!”

Her mouth dropped open. “Kes, that’s...that’s marvelous. It suits you and your Pokemon.” Then she grinned. “And I believe it pays well to boot. Good job, Kes.”

He winked. “I got hired weeks ago. It was hard keeping my training a secret. I wanted to surprise you once I became a full-fledged cabbie. And to top it off, I owe Randy a visit.” He rested a hand on the carriage, then his face lit up like the anglers of a Chinchou. “Hey, it’s not a proper family reunion without all of us there. Let’s go together. I’ll give you a ride—free of charge, of course—right on my Corviknight!”

That proposal dampened Opal’s celebratory mood in an instant. “Kes, I’ve already made arrangements for a chauffeur to drive us to Wynwall.”

“Call Randy to cancel it,” Kestrel replied with a wave of his hand. “Take a Flying Taxi instead. It’s so much better for the environment. You know how much gas you put into the air with a car?”

”No, I don’t. Still, I’d rather take the car.” Opal frowned up at the carriage, and at Kestrel’s Corviknight perched on top. “Maybe other people are willing to take the risk, but I wouldn’t. This Flying Taxi service is still so new. It doesn’t look very safe.”

“I’ve been to Motostoke, Circhester, Spikemuth, and back with no problem,” Kestrel replied, unfazed by his sister’s doubts. “I picked up and dropped off every passenger in one piece. Everyone got where they needed to be just fine, and so will you.”

“I’m interested in hitching a ride,” Roger said.

Opal shot her husband a shocked, wide-eyed look. “You’re taking his side?” “It might not be so bad as you’re making it out to be, dear.” He kept his tone reasonable and gentle, in an attempt to smooth down Opal’s ruffled feathers. “We’ve seen for ourselves how much Kestrel has been taking Jasper around on his Pidgeot, and he was just fine every time. I trust your brother. Don’t you, Opal?”

“Well, I want to, but...” She trailed off as she eyed the carriage like it was a bomb about to go off any second.

Kestrel walked up to her and took her hands into his. “Come on, Opal, let me prove to you again that I can make things right. We’ll make it to Wynwall and back, then I’ll be out of your hair and your house with this job.”

She sighed and gently pulled her hands away. “I...I’ll think about it. Give me a day.”

“Okay, Opal. But I’m counting on that yes.”

Bede peered closer at the carriage. The Flying Taxi back then didn’t look the same as the one he knew in his time. Besides the more antiquated design, this one was a lot bigger, with just enough room for two adults and a small child. The Flying Taxi he was familiar with seated just one passenger.

Opal later went about her Gym Leader duties being quite distracted as she mulled over the decision. Jasper asked her every five minutes if they could all take a ride with Uncle Kes and his Corviknight.

The next day, Opal caved in and agreed to have Kestrel fly her family to Wynwall. But not without being extremely cautious and wary in the process. She hiked up her skirt with both hands and gingerly climbed into the carriage after Jasper. “This thing has seat belts, doesn’t it?”

“Of course,” Kestrel replied, cutting a smart figure in his cabbie jacket and fur cap with ear flaps. “Wouldn’t want you to go flying off on the way.”

She tensed, and he quickly added, “I’m just joking. Come on, Opal, don’t bail out on me now.”

“I’m not. I just really want to make sure that this is safe.” She tugged at the seat belt across her chest for good measure.

Sitting by the other window, Roger took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be such a Worry Wartortle. We’ll be fine.”

His touch calmed her down a bit. Between his parents, Jasper wiggled in his seat with barely contained excitement. Kestrel shut the doors tight, and the carriage squeaked under his weight as he climbed over its back to mount Corviknight. He took a long swig of the large canteen strapped to his hip, then tucked it under the flap of his jacket.

“Off to Wynwall we go,” he called. “Off to see Randy!”

Corviknight signaled its launch with a loud caw, and whipped up a cloud of dust as it beat its wings.

Bede stared after the ascending carriage, rooted to the ground. “Are we supposed to follow them?” He asked Celebi. “There wasn’t enough room in the taxi for me.” Then a blue glow formed around the outline of his body, startling him.

Celebi lifted its arms, lifting Bede off the ground by telekinesis. He yelped and kicked his legs in the air several times before he uprighted and steadied himself. Celebi giggled, and with its kind wide eyes seemed to say, “Don’t worry, let me handle all the work.” Bede tried to imitate Celebi’s pose by keeping his arms and legs outstretched, and thanks to its psychic powers, he glided along effortlessly with it. Celebi and Bede closed the gap between themselves and the Flying Taxi, soaring up with it over the treetops and towards a cloudless sky.

Heart pounding and blood rushing through him like a Hydro Pump, Bede couldn’t resist smiling and letting out a whoop. He was level with Opal’s family in the carriage now, and he could catch a glimpse of their reactions through the glass windows.

Jasper laughed, held up both hands high, and let out a long “wheee!”

Opal was even paler than her usual pale, tense in her seat and with her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to look up or down.

Roger was a mix between the two, torn between wonder and nervousness as he put an arm around Jasper to both join in the laughter and keep his son away from the windows.

“Look, Mummy, we’re flying so high!”

Her voice quivered as she attempted to reply, “I don’t think I’d like to take a look, Jasper, darling.”

The trees and the famous Ballonlea mushrooms dwindled to a size that Bede could pretend to pinch between his fingers, and at that point, Kestrel’s Corviknight didn’t climb any farther and shifted to flying in a straight course over the sprawling Galarian landscape.

“The worst part’s over,” Kestrel called from above. “It’s smooth sailing from here. You can open your eyes now, Opal.”

She blinked them open, and after several seconds, she let out the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, that’s much better. I don’t think I mind this.” Then she smirked and called out so Kestrel could hear over the wind, “How did you know that I had my eyes closed?”

“You’re my sister,” he replied with a laugh. “Of course I would know you well.”

Opal further relaxed in her seat, enjoying the bird’s eye view of a clear sky for the first time.

Kestrel guided his Corviknight towards the mountains that surrounded Route 10. Opal and her family had come prepared with coats and scarves for the flight through chilly alpine air. Gray overcast clouds quickly overtook the blue sky above them. Opal was fitting the scarf she had knitted tighter around Jasper’s neck when the carriage shook. One of her hands flew for the grip on the door.

Roger placed a comforting grip on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s just turbulence.”

She leaned toward his embrace, edging as far away from the window as she could.

Despite Roger’s attempt to assure her, the turbulence didn’t let up. Instead, the updraft continued to shake the carriage to the point of buffeting it back and forth.

“Is it supposed to be this windy?” Opal called out.

A flurry of snow assaulted the carriage along with the wind. Bede squinted, trying to make out the Flying Taxi ahead of him and Celebi, despite the snow not getting into his eyes. A full-blown snowstorm soon descended upon them. Though Kestrel’s Corviknight kept an iron grip on the carriage, it suddenly dipped several feet at one horrifying second. Bede’s heart dropped with them. Startled cries came from the carriage and Kestrel uttered a swear. Bede caught a glimpse of Opal and Roger clutching at each other, with Jasper squeezed in between them and crying. He peered closer at the man steering his Corviknight to notice that he was doing a poor job of it. Kestrel scrambled for control, red-faced and angling his body this way and that on the saddle in attempt to direct his Pokemon to the way out of the storm. Corviknight pumped its wings furiously against the gale, squawking in mingled exertion and confusion.

The direction Kestrel ended up choosing didn’t pull them away from the chaos. Instead they dove even deeper into it. A surging current of wind suddenly overtook Corviknight from its right, a current so powerful that it wrenched off the Pokemon’s hold on the carriage. Kestrel and his Corviknight flew into a tumbling downward spiral, while the carriage plummeted straight to earth. The Flying Taxi, now a falling one, struck the side of a mountain first. And again, and again, and again. Each time a sickening, metallic crunch. Bede’s stomach turned at each impact.

On the third one, Bede saw Opal get hurtled through the glass window headfirst. She sprawled into the snow, while the carriage flew in a long arc ahead of her. It struck a boulder in a great rend of caved in metal and shattered glass.

Opal stirred with a groan Bede almost couldn’t hear amid the wind. She lifted her face from the snow. Small shards of glass had cut bright red gashes through her cheeks, forehead, and chin. She curled her hands into fists, pushing herself off the snow. Or tried to. She fell back onto her stomach and blood trickled down her lip as she cried out in pain. Her left hand could make a fist, but her right remained open and trembling in the frigid, snowy air.

Bede choked back a gasp of horror. A huge long shard of glass, sharp on both ends, had run through her right palm. Blood almost formed a sort of glove over her hand. He knew, from many years later, exactly what kind of scar it would leave.

Corviknight had crashed nearby. Its hard, lustrous feathers served well. The Pokemon unfurled itself to reveal that it had protected Kestrel from the brunt of the fall. He staggered to the mangled carriage and peered through the broken window. His face was ashen as he drew back.

Another cry of pain from Opal alerted him of her presence. “Stay where you are,” he called. “Don’t come over here.”

“Kes,” she groaned. “Roger, Jasper, where are they? Are they okay?”

“Stay put, Opal,” he said, and his voice shook. “I’ll get help.”

She gritted red teeth and drove her left fist down into the snow. “Damn it, Kes, tell me if they’re okay.”

His face was drawn in tight as he nodded at his Corviknight. At the wordless command, the hulking bird Pokemon flew over to Opal and gently yet firmly pressed a foot over her back to keep her from getting up. Opal ignored the warning caw from Corviknight. She struggled helplessly against the weight, joining her screams of agony and rage with the howling wind.

Bede hated to see Opal so hurt and covered in so much blood. He felt like on the verge of passing out. He couldn’t stop his body and voice from shaking. “Celebi, get me out of this. I can’t watch anymore.”

To his immense relief, Celebi took his hands and granted his request. Light replaced the tears in his eyes.

#pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #swsh bede #swsh opal #pokemon bede #pokemon opal #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon fic #bede pokemon #opal pokemon #pokemon la vie en rose

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unspectacularmarvels · 4 years

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Star Trek: Voyager - the missing episodes: series two, volume three

The crew hold a bake sale in the hope of making new alien friends in the sector via the medium of cake. Neelix undertakes the challenge of baking a Sporidian soufflé (or something), whilst Tuvok breaks out his ‘legendary’ Vulcan mild-tasting nutritional baked oblongs. Unbeknownst to anyone aboard Voyager, however, the whole affair soon comes to the attention of Gastrus: the bitchiest food critic in the quadrant. If Janeway and co. can’t impress him, they face imminent destruction. Guest stars Loyd Grossman.

Paris is put on report after he’s caught doing inappropriate things to a gel pack. Meanwhile, the replicators start dispensing nothing but Flumps. Under Chakotay’s guidance, Janeway finally makes contact with her spirit guide: Big Bird.

(Well, we’ll say a provisional Big Bird…or, I dunno: a kestrel with the voice of Ethel Merman. Whatever.)

Rumours abound of an episode filmed almost entirely on the fly as the result of an altercation on set. The story goes that, during a take, a disgruntled extra on the bridge referred to Kate Mulgrew as ‘Moody Mulgy’ just a little too loudly. Mulgrew then leapt like a crazed wolverine onto the unfortunate background actor; Robert Beltran tried to intervene, only to wind up grappling with the livid Mulgrew. After a good few minutes of them rolling and flailing across the floor of the bridge, Tim Russ allegedly leapt down and successfully administered the Vulcan neck-pinch to both parties (others say he just bitch-slapped the pair of them into unconsciousness).

Unable to stall for time, the production team simply made-up a story on the spot, where Janeway and Chakotay contract space scurvy and go nuts.

Kes wakes up aboard what appears to be an orbital convent, with no memory of how she got there. Before she can make sense of her situation she is packed off, space guitar(?) in hand, by the Mother Superior to minister to a close-knit alien race known as the Voen’tr’aaps.

At least she’s got the haircut for it… Harry has to vacuum all the carpets after failing to get out of Janeway’s headlock…again. Unbeknownst to him however, Voyager’s only-surviving Hoover has been reprogrammed by the Vidiians to sabotage the ship whenever the young ensign isn’t looking. Someone gets in trouble for something they didn’t do on a hitherto friendly alien world. Again. That’s, like, five times now… Janeway, Kes, Tuvok and the Doctor find themselves inhabiting the bodies of ABBA. It’s Harry and B’Elanna’s turn to babysit Kes whilst the rest of the senior staff attends a diplomatic soiree on the planet below. Ensign Snugglebunny is just a little bit gwumpy, however, because she’s a big girl now and doesn’t need looking after. B’Elanna couldn’t really give a flying f**k, so leaves it to Harry to try and look after the fussy little madam, who leads him into all sorts of hilarious (and for him, painful) misadventures in the process. Think Baby’s Day Out – except nothing like it. Tom and Harry both get spud guns and compete to see who can be the first to hit both of Janeway’s [ahem]…twin moons, without her noticing. You know I’m talking about her butt, right? It’s her butt. Paris sets a trail of gummy bears leading from Kes’s quarters to his, where he sits naked on the bed in the dark, with his balls soaked in jelly (that is, Jell-O). Tuvok finds them first, however. Curious. Voyager encounters The Space Fonz. Voyager’s outer hull is breached during a fierce fire-fight with the Kazon Nistrim (a.k.a. the ‘I can’t believe they’re not Klingons!’). With materials for repairs running low, Harry is sent down to hammer large pieces of crooked wood across the hole and Sellotape the gaps – but sparingly, young ensign: that stuff has got to last, like, sixty-nine years. Chakotay has a vision of a man called Robert Beltran who didn’t accept a role in a science-fiction television series and whose life seems to be all-the-better for it. Meanwhile in sickbay, the Doctor substitutes the large wooden mallet he ‘just found’ for the anaesthetic spray pen that just so happens to have ‘gone missing’... When nobody senior to Harry can get to the bridge to answer the hail of an unknown ship, the young ensign takes a deep breath, stands squarely in the centre of the bridge, and opens the visual link: ‘This is Ensign Hairy Quim of the USS Vagina.’ (If only he hadn’t been flicking through that copy of Space Playboy beforehand…) The Doctor rigs-up an ingenious contraption in sickbay that catapults stem bolts into the groin of anyone who walks through the door. Ensign Suder, in an effort to prove he’s not-that-insane anymore, presents the crew with his latest creation: a mixed-media portrait of Captain Janeway…stark naked: a coffee cup in one hand; an Irish Setter puppy in the other. And – if you look really closely – you can see Voyager, pointing downward. Oh, Mr. Suder: you so cray-zeh.

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dregstrash · 5 years

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Zoyalai- In a Week by Hozier??? -wafflesandkruge

Hey there friend! Thanks for the ask (and for feeding the Hozier + Zoyalai addiction). Everyone give my lovely mutual @wafflesandkruge a follow.

Fun fact: the location of this alcove is based on a real life place and its my favorite place in the world

Tagging: @kestrel-of-herran

We lay here for years or for hours

What do you get a man who takes controls of armies? What do you buy him when he has a country? What do you give him when he insists that he doesn’t need any presents?

It was a conundrum that has circulated through Zoya’s mind for months, and now that Nikolai’s impending birthday party drew closer she was getting rather desperate. Out of all the men that have proposed to her, she just had to say yes to the man who was impossible to get a present for.

She couldn’t buy Nikolai anything. She couldn’t paint or draw him anything. Maybe if her pride wasn’t made of iron, she would have asked Genya for help.

Nikolai was even less helpful.

“I know exactly what you can give me.”

He smirked and made a point of sidling up to her. She flicked his forehead out of annoyance.

The lacy lingerie was obviously a given, but she’s also never had a chance to get anyone a real present before. And she wanted to do it right.

Two days before the party, Zoya managed to have a complete list of things that everyone else was getting him (an engraved watch from David, a golden brush in the shape of a fox from Genya, a book of poems from Tolya, a bow and arrow set from Tamar, etc.), but still she had nothing.

Up until she looked out into the waves and saw in her mind’s eye the ship with its sails sailing into the horizon with its three stars charting its course.

For the next forty-eight hours, she was nowhere to be seen. A fact that only caused Nikolai to worry and for Genya to fume (she was getting really tired of Zoya disappearing when there were important party decisions to be made).

The morning of Nikolai’s birthday came, and the king himself was woken up by a fully dressed Zoya.

“Good morning,” She said brightly, “Get dressed.”

Nikolai blinked up confused, but did as she asked. He stumbled into some pants, and made the quick observation that it was still dark outside.

“Where are we going, love?” Nikolai mumbled as Zoya tugged on his hand. His brain was still lingering on his warm sheets, and the rather pleasant state of sleep.

“It’s a surprise.” Was the last thing she said. Her silence was pointed and by the time Nikolai was conscious enough to start to pester her, she had pushed him onto his horse, and she led her own stallion at a pace that discouraged conversation.

The cold morning air woke his senses and he breathed in the country side as they rode further away from the castle. Except for the thundering sound of horse hooves, all was still and quiet. That is until the coast came into view and bobbing with the waves was a small boat, its sails drawn out and looking ready for a voyage.

“Zoya, what is this?” Nikolai said as he dismounted his horse. He stared in awe at the beautiful dark wood that made up the hull, the beige sails that flapped gently in the winds, and even more his mouth hung a little more open when he noted the name painted on its side: The Clever Fox

“I can’t sail this by myself,” She said ignoring his question, “I’ll guide you where you need to go.”

Too mystified by the boat and the strange determination of his wife Nikolai just agreed.

The breeze he felt when he as riding was nothing compared the sea air that whipped through his clothes and his hair. The sharp scent of salt and fish filled his lungs in a sweeping familiarity that felt like home. The rocking of the waves was a dance he knew well, and with the rough wood of the wheel under his hands Nikolai felt a forgotten elation bubble to the surface of his heart. He hadn’t had much occasion to sail with everything that was going on, and he almost called himself a fool for not doing it sooner.

It took Zoya dragging him out of bed to get him to the water, and his happiness only swelled twice its size when he watched her from the helm. Her hair pushed back in a rush of wind. Her eyes closed, soaking in the sea spray and the rising sun.

“Where to?” He called out to her. His voice almost pitching to his Sturmhound persona.

“Follow the cliff wall until you see the stars!” She yelled back with just a hint of a smile.

Nikolai wanted to prod and question further. He wanted to point out that the stars were fading with each second they were sailing, but there was something delicious about the mystery of it all, especially when that mystery was being orchestrated by his wife. He wanted to relish in all of it.

He followed her direction. Enjoying the challenge of avoiding coral reefs, and hidden sandbars, all the while guiding the small boat along the curved cliffside. They must have been sailing for half an hour when he spotted the stars.

Or at least the three stars etched into the rough stone. Nikolai’s eyes widened as he noticed the small tongue of land that led into a small and secluded cove.

Before Nikola could change the boat’s course, the water seemed to do it for him, and the wind that was filling the sails seemed to change direction on its own. He laughed as he watched Zoya manipulate the boat to dock safely.

He hopped off the vessel and caught Zoya in his arms before settling her down on the rocky shore.

“C’mon.” She urged, grasping his hand and leading him to a cave that was directly under the carving of the stars. If Nikolai thought that the surprise of the out of sight alcove was enough, he was not ready for the spread laid out before him when he ducked his head and entered the secluded space.

The alcove had another opening to the ocean and the waves lightly lapped against the rocky shore. Further up was a blanket, and a basket of food.

“Happy Birthday, Nikolai.” Zoya said smiling up at him. The light that was filtering in through the opening made her glow warmly. “I-I couldn’t think what to get you, but when I was younger my aunt and I used to say we would follow the stars and get away from everything and I thought--”

She was cut off when Nikolai brought her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers. Nikolai didn’t need the explanation. He didn’t need the reason of why she didn’t buy him anything. He just needed to tell Zoya his gratitude in a way that words couldn’t properly express. He poured everything into that kiss. He told her how beautiful he thought this present was. He moved his mouth sweetly in to convey the depth of how much he loved her at this very moment. He kissed and kissed and kissed until he couldn’t breathe, because that’s how she made him feel: breathless and overwhelmed.

“Thank you, Zoya. I love you.” He exhaled, his mouth still on her lips. “It will take a thousand lifetimes, if not more, for me to convey that sentiment.”

She laughed, and pulled away and tugged him towards the blanket “I’m just glad you like it because there was no way I could top the present Kirgin was planning to give you.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes and groaned playfully as he pulled Zoya down beside him, “Please tell me it’s something tasteful and won’t further prove how much of a rake he actually is.”

Zoya reached over him to the basket at his side and pulled out fruit and sandwiches. “This is Kirgin we’re talking about.”

He laughed at that, and allowed Zoya to lay their breakfast out before pulling her on top of him and kissing her soundly.

He didn’t know how long they stayed in that small sanctuary, away from everyone and everything. In between the food, the small talks, the comfortable silence filled with the push and pull of the ocean, and the sweet kisses exchanged, he felt like the whole world could have ended in this space.

Nikolai used the basket as a cushion for his head as he lay down, and Zoya curled into his side with her head on his chest. The pair of them content to listen to the ocean for days, for hours, for forever.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x zoya #king of scars #kos

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paladin-andric · 5 years

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Heatwave

Hey folks. Thought I’d hammer out a story for everyone real quick, what with the lack of activity and all. This is yet another short set in the modern setting of the world of Deaco, about two pals trying to cope with the worst summer has to offer. This one’s got some Mood Music! Not the mood of the setting per se, but rather the music coming from the TV as the two play the game.

This was definitely not inspired by any personal events, and the video game described is absolutely NOT just a ripoff of Earth Defense Force. Short below the cut.

This is also a bit of an exercise to get back into writing from scratch. I haven’t done much more than edit and rewrite recently.

“For the love of God…”

Michael wiped another sheen of sweat from his forehead, moving it onto his plain white t-shirt, which was already soaked. The young man was sitting in a bedroom, on the floor in front of a large TV. His hair was mopped with sweat, and his eyes were narrowed as he focused on the TV.

The clicking of buttons became louder as he desperately tried to keep up with the challenge in the game. On the screen of the television, two human soldiers with assault rifles and rocket launchers were running through a city, fighting off hordes of dragons and kobolds. Gunfire, explosions and screaming filled the otherwise quiet room.

Beside Michael, a koutu lay in his bed, eyes glazed over. The bird was patterned after a kestrel, with plumage of varying shades of orange, white, black and brown. This was Yawel. Although he looked half-dead, he too was holding a controller, being the other player of this split-screen game of Deacan Defense Force.

There was a third player, but they were found online. The pair were the only ones in the room at the moment. The online player had been cut off and surrounded by a giant horde and was losing health quickly.

“Help me!”

One of the shoutouts available to players, the stranger looked to be near death as his character cried out for aid.

“I’m on my way!”

Michael picked the option from the list of shoutouts and began sprinting through crowds of kobolds, only stopping to turn and fire a few rockets on the way to thin out the hordes.

Yawel groaned audibly, slumped over on his back and lying sideways on his bed. He still looked like he was in a stupor, and Michael could hardly blame him.

The heatwave that had torn through the continent had been especially brutal in the hottest months of summer, and now temperatures were well over a hundred degrees. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, as the friends had an air conditioner in their bedroom.

Of course, that’s why it just had to break.

The pair had been such good friends throughout their school years that once they graduated, they decided to move out and become roommates. Logic stated that as long as they both had jobs and shared accommodations, they’d save money.

They did of course, but finding work had been pretty tough as of late. Both of them were only able to land jobs as grocers for the time being, so there wasn’t much left over they could afford to waste. That was why they had to share only one air conditioner, and why it was left in the bedroom so that they could keep cool while they played video games.

Now, without that AC, the temperature in the normally comfortable bedroom was bordering on unsafe.

“How about you save ME?” Yawel muttered, barely able to keep playing.

“Huh? You’re good,” Michael responded plainly, continuing to run towards the other player, fighting his way to where the stranger was making their last stand.

“Good?! You call this GOOD?!” the koutu squawked, “I feel like a turkey in the oven!”

A plume of fire swept across the map as one of the dragons attacked the other player. His character let out a wail as he collapsed, last of his health gone.

“Oh, I thought you meant...nevermind. Just hang on, I gotta revive this guy.”

“Aaah, God...how does Rangal live like this?! Shaggy bastard would die!”

A wolfman the pair knew. The three of them were good friends. He lived on the bare essentials. His house lacked many luxuries...including air and heating.

“I actually texted him. He’s in the tub with cold water. That’s how he manages the summers apparently.”

Yawel shook his head. “Nutty. Dunno why he doesn’t just spring for an AC.”

A ping from the game let everyone know Michael had successfully revived the other player. His character was a sallik, one of the lizardmen from the desert land of the far south.

Bet he’s doing just fine in this heat, Michael thought jealously.

Of course he could have just picked a sallik, but Michael tended to assume people picked their actual race when they created characters in these kind of games.

The fact that Yawel played as a human threw that theory for a bit of a loop. He’d always secretly wondered why that was, but ended up deciding he probably liked the stat bonuses better or something.

“I owe you!” the other player shouted, now back on their feet. Michael smirked and opened the quick chat again.

“No man left behind!”

The ingame radio blared to live with a burst of static.

“Where are the fighters?!” a commander shouted in frustration, “They’re getting chewed up out there!”

“The air force has been intercepted by dragons,” an officer explained, “We’re trying to slip a force through, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“God, damn it!” the commander cried, “Thunder Team! The jets are tied down dogfighting the dragons. You have to hold on a little longer! Stay strong!”

“Are you kidding?!” Yawel croaked, “It’s really not over?!”

Neither of them had gotten this far yet. This mission was so difficult that they’d abandoned their initial goal of beating it together and set up an online lobby to get more players.

Between the blistering heat and knowledge that this length mission still had time to go, Michael felt some resolve sapped from him. “Oh God...this really sucks…”

All the while, the trio were blasting and shooting their way through more hordes of dragons, desperately diving and running behind a new building when the last one got destroyed.

“Where the hell’s Ginit?” Yawel asked, “I’m dying…”

“Should be here really soon,” the human answered.

Ginit was a pseudodragon local to town. She, like most pseudodragons, loved to go around helping out where she could. When the air conditioner broke and the temperature inside quickly leaped into the hundreds, Michael texted a friend of hers and told them his plight.

He thought with her knowing all kinds of magic that there was something she could do. The friend only vaguely answered back that Ginit could help and she’d come over right after she was done delivering a package for someone.

Pseudodragons were natural couriers, with their instinctive spark of joy, desire to help, and ability of flight. Ginit was no different.

“Hopefully she’s done soon,” Michael said with a sigh. The heat was so bad he could swear he saw the air waving in front of the TV slightly.

“Ugghhh...save us…” the koutu grumbled.

Michael wiped another bunch of sweat from his face, some of it sticking to the controller. He made a mental note to wipe the thing down later.

The entire area seemed to radiate heat, and they didn’t have any substitutes for the air conditioner.

“Next paycheck,” the human offered, “We gotta get a fan.”

“Faaaaan? You think a faaaaaan can help with this?”

“Better than nothing.”

“Whatever. I hate this. Once this mission’s over I’m done.”

Michael frowned. “Come on man, I wanna beat the story.” “Naaaaaaw. I’m followin’ ol’ furbutt’s lead and napping in the baaaaaaath.”

The human felt a pang of pity. Poor Yawel sounded delirious, slurring his words with his eyes half closed. The heat must have been even worse with feathers or fur...maybe he was lucky after all…

“Alright man, you do you. Just hang tough for this level, alright?”

“Alright.”

The muted reply made Michael feel even worse. Yawel sounded...defeated. Like he was just doing this because he wanted to help his friend.

“We’re nearly there. I bet this is the last wave.”

The soldiers, two human and one lizard, gathered up and began shooting at the massive swarm of dragons in the sky. As the behemoths flew at them, dozens and dozens of kobolds rushed through the city streets right at them.

In the game, there were so many hordes. Shots and fire were sent the defenders’ way as the sheer volume of creatures overwhelmed them. There were so many the game could barely keep up, dropping frames every second.

“No way. They don’t really expect us to do this, right?!” Michael complained as he lost half his health in a few moments.

Yawel’s soldier fell over dead, hit by dozens of shots from several different angles. He dropped the controller on the bed and sighed.

“It’s impossible.”

“We’re so close...we can’t lose now…”

Just as the human mumbled that, there was a sudden roar overhead. A group of stealth bombers flew by, dropping countless explosive warheads right into the center of the crowded horde of enemies.

Inspiring music began to swell as a massive portion of the enemy army was wiped out immediately. Another soldier came onto the radio.

“Hey there, Thunder Team! Thought we’d drop by and give you a hand.”

“This is Valor Two, entering mission area. We’ll cover you!” another voice called out. As jet fighters began to do strafing runs against the enemies, a fresh squad of AI soldiers moved into the map to reinforce the players.

As all of this was happening, the pair heard a knocking sound behind them. Michael shot up, eyes moving to curtains at the back of the room.

“O-oh, shit, hang on…”

Michael quickly revived Yawel before leaping up and running to the curtains, drawing them away and revealing a massive pair of windows.

Such oversized windows wouldn’t be considered proper for their humble home, especially for their bedroom of all places...but there was a really good reason why they were this way.

So the pseudodragon behind them could get through.

Ginit leaned against the window, the copper-scaled dragon’s snout pressed against the glass as she grinned at the human.

He threw the windows open without a moment's hesitation, returning a grin of his own.

“Michael! Yawel!”

“Ginit!” the human exclaimed, “You’re here!”

“Yes I am!” she beamed, “May I?”

“Please, please, come in!”

The human moved back to his position in front of the TV, sitting down and returning to the game. He didn’t want to be rude to the other player by abandoning them, after all.

“I heard you have AC troubles,” she teased in a sing-song voice. The pseudodragon hopped into the room and jumped onto a plush chair, laying down with her tail hanging over the edge and coming down to the floor.

“Please,” Yawel muttered, “Help us…”

“You can do something about this, right?” Michael asked with a hint of desperation.

“I sure can! Tell me, how long until this issue is resolved?”

“The repairman can’t come until tomorrow,” Michael admitted, “It’s gonna be hell.”

“Not anymore! Check this out…”

Ginit willed out the magic flowing through her, until it filled the room. In a flash, something in the air changed. At first, Michael couldn’t tell what it was, until he noticed something peculiar.

“...it’s getting cooler.”

The temperature kept dropping, and dropping, until it felt downright cold, like the AC was on full blast.

“A-ah, God. It’s so cool…”

Yawel seemed to spring back to life, eyes shooting wide open as he took a deep breath.

“I-it’s amazing! Ginit, what are you doing?!”

“Just a little spell that lets me control the temperature around me!” the pseudodragon said with a big smile, “Now it’s like you don’t even need the air conditioner!”

A loud explosion signaled the death of the last dragon, the city in the game now completely free of enemies. The players all spammed chat commands as the mission complete screen popped up.

“DDF! DDF!”

“We did it!”

“Great work!”

All the soldiers cheered and celebrated as the harrowing mission at last came to a close. Now Michael and Yawin could finally continue with the campaign.

The game was over, and the trio sitting in the room basked in the coolness of the air. Michael said goodbye to the other player and turned the game off. He closed the windows and sat back down.

For the next hour or so, they could just relax. Get all that sweat and heat off and gone while they recovered from the heatwave.

Yawel looked over at Ginit. “Hey...how long can you stay?”

“You said the repairman will come tomorrow, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well then...I’ll stay the night! Until it’s all fixed up!”

“W-what?!”

“Yeah! It’s been too long since we’ve met, anyway! I’ve been looking forward to spending some time with my friends!”

Michael smiled. “Ah, hell. You’re a lifesaver, Ginit.”

“Don’t mention it!”

For the rest of the day, and into the night, the blistering heatwave was but a faint memory. The trio talked, ate and laughed, swapping tall tales and playing guessing games together.

For a moment, all the troubles of the world ceased. There was only home, comfort, and the unbroken bonds of friendship forged to last a lifetime.

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae

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celtics534 · 5 years

Text

Natural Chapter 15

Ready for some excitement? May I present chapter 15 of Natural.

Also read on: FF.net or AO3

Harry looped around the pitch for the sixth time, praying to spot any glint of gold. He wanted this damn practice to be over so he could get home to his wife. It was their second wedding anniversary, damn it! His plan for the day had not included anything other than his bed and his wife -- well, and maybe a nice dinner out -- but then it was supposed to be right back to just bed and wife.

Instead, Harry’s coach (in his infinite wisdom) had called an emergency practice to prepare for the Kenmare Kestrels, who had been undefeated in their last five games. It shouldn’t have been so bad. Cara had called the meeting for ten in the morning, which made Harry think he would get home with plenty of time to at least do dinner, dessert, and then dessert. But no! Cara had been working them from ten to ten. They had turned on the stadium lights just to be able to see.

Harry had called Ginny on the last fifteen-minute break to tell her to eat without him. That had been four hours ago.

Gold! Harry spotted gold by Bastille’s left ankle. He sped towards his teammate, eyes never wavering from the little ball. Bastille looked over at Harry barreling towards him, his eyes becoming the size of saucers. Moving quickly, Bastille flew straight up, allowing Harry to make the catch without any obstacles. His fingers closed around the snitch, his stomach dancing in triumph.

Harry heard the whistle and descended to the grass with nothing less than pure joy filling his veins.

“Potter, that was a tricky snitch.” Cara stood in the middle of the pitch, waiting for Harry to get closer. Once Harry landed, Cara wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “It stayed near players. I’d never seen one do that before. It’s like it was heat seeking, targeting body warmth. But now we know for next week's match, right? Look at players more.”

Harry wanted to scream. Honestly, he was too tired and hungry to care about next week's match. All he wanted was to go home.

Wood came over to their little powwow, still hovering a few feet from the ground. “That was a rough one, Harry.”

Having accepted his fate, Harry nodded and sighed. “Yeah, I didn't think it would spend the entire game by you lot. Typically they don’t stick to players.”

“You’re right.” Oliver rubbed his chin. “That was rather odd.”

“Yeah.” Harry gave the men a moment to think about snitches and their ability to seek out bitches before turning to Cara. “Sir, do you plan on having a practice tomorrow?” Harry prayed the answer was no. When he had made that earlier floo call to Ginny he had placated her with the idea of them going to do karaoke in the next few days. His wife was still a huge fan of the muggle activity.

“Eh?” Cara shook his head. “I’m not a monster, Potter. You guys deserve tomorrow off. But.” He held up a hand before the team could cheer. “Bright and early on Sunday, alright?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry didn’t even bother to shower. He headed straight home. As he stepped out of his sitting room grate, his eyes instantly fell onto his wife. Even after two years of marriage, she still made his heart race. Ginny was sitting in the little nook in the corner of the room, a book resting on her raised knees.

Ginny turned to the sound of the floo. “Ah, is that my dear husband? I wasn’t sure he’d ever return from the war.”

“I wasn’t sure, either.” Harry set his bag beside the sofa and headed over to kiss her.

When he started to lean in, Ginny scrunched her nose and hopped up to get out of his reach. “Nope! You need a shower before you get anything tonight.”

“I thought you liked it when I make things dirty.”

“There's dirty and then there's dirty, and you, sir, are the wrong kind of filthy right now.” Ginny made a shooing gesture. “Now go.”

Harry grumbled good-naturedly as he walked away from her. It didn’t take him long to strip off his nasty, sweaty clothing and get into the shower stall. The moment the hot spray of the shower contacted with his muscles, Harry groaned in ecstasy. He hadn't realized how tight his body was. As she often reminded those around her, Ginny was always right.

He spent more time than he wanted to admit just standing under the water with his hand resting on the shower wall, his body relaxing, his muscles being massaged by the pounding pressure.

The creak of the shower door opening didn’t even register with Harry, but the cold air on his backside did. “When I said take a shower.” Ginny's arms banded around his middle. “I meant for you to take two seconds to clean off the mud, then meet me in the bedroom. I wanted to show you what the right kind of filthy is, but I guess my presentation will work in here.”

Harry whirled around and took his wife in his arms before spinning back around to press her body into the wall. His lips connected with her neck before exploring south. “They do say it's good to learn new things.”

“Then let me show you a few things, Mr. Potter.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“So.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows at Harry. “How was the anniversary?”

Harry fought to control his blush. “It was great.”

“I bet it was.”

“Down boy.” Harry couldn’t contain his grin. “We went out to a karaoke bar.”

“Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

“That's not - Sirius, really?”

His godfather gave him a wolfish smile. “I’m sure she made you sing your lungs out.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just go hump a pillow and get it out of your system, you old dog.”

Sirius placed his hand over his heart. “Excuse me for wanting my godson to get the most out of his night.”

“There’s more to life than sex.”

“Yeah, food is rather good. And don’t get me started on that new song from Taylor Swift.”

Harry blinked rapidly. “New Taylor Swift song?”

Sirius shrugged. “I’m a Swiftie. I just relate to her, alright.”

“Right.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Anyways. Ginny and I had a good night.” His mind replayed the moment they’d walked into their little cottage after their night of drinking and singing. The way Ginny’s hands had pushed him back against the door. Then how she’d unbuttoned his jeans and lowered herself to her knees and -

Harry cleared his throat, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt, but based on the look Sirius was giving him…

“So,” Sirius turned towards the stove, flicking his wand to make the kettle land on the back burner. “How’s training going? You guys still tied for the lead with the Harpies?”

Sighing in relief, Harry took one of the biscuits Sirius summoned over. “Yeah, though the Kestrels are giving us a run for our money. We’ve got a real challenge on our hands against them on Sunday.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“This season has been wild hasn’t it, Dan?” Mothers asked his friend. “I mean between the Kestrels coming out of nowhere to make it into the final four and the injury to Diana Goldman from the Magpies that basically knocked them for the season. It’s been mad!”

“No doubt, Phil.” Gregory took a sip from his water. “You forgot to mention Potter’s incredible catch against Portree. Merlin! I’d never seen any seeker weave in and out his teammates like that! The agility!”

“And if you mention Harry Potter you’ve got to mention his wife, Ginny Potter, who has led the season in assist and steals. In other words, the Potters are unstoppable. Imagine when those two have kids. The quidditch world will never be the same.”

“And they’ll be cute as buttons to boot, but let's not start baby talks.” Dan laughed. “I can’t wait to see what they have in store for us today. I always look forward to Harpies and Puddlemere games.”

“I heard a rumor that our favorite couple has made a bet on the outcome of the game,” Mothers stage whispered.

“Oh? What are the conditions?”

“I don’t know all of it, but I hear the forfeit has select outfits at a certain award show.”

Dan laughed. “Just another reason to look forward to tonight's game. Which will be starting after a quick word from Madam Malkin’s.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry zipped up his trousers as Ginny straightened her robes. “I love our pre-game ritual.” They were in a small maintenance closet in the Holyhead stadium, which had become their own little getaway.

“Well, we didn’t have time this morning, so I figured…” Harry could feel Ginny’s body shift as her lips moved onto his neck. “Why not make a little time while everyone else was preoccupied?”

“Genius. I knew I married you for a reason.”

“And here I thought it was just for my money.”

“Well.” Harry let his word drawl, causing Ginny to smack him on the arm. He smiled and pressed his lips to hers. “I love you, Gin.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Ginny’s smile pressed against his one final time. “I love you too. Now it’s time for me to destroy you, my dear husband.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry surveyed the pitch looking for any glint of the snitch. The match had been going on for three hours already and the score was still tied. No matter how many times Devlin made it past the Harpies keeper, Ginny came back to match. Two-hundred to two-hundred was not making their coaches happy.

As he flew around the Harpies’ goal post, Harry noticed it. The snitch was flying low, near Coleman (who had replaced Morgan this year). It was across the entire field, so Harry lay low to the broom handle and sped towards the winged ball.

Everything moved in slow motion as Harry hurried across the distance, he watched Coleman swing at a bludger while the snitch flew up. The bludger flew fast right in the direction of Ginny, who didn’t have time to roll or dodge. With a sickening crack, the bludger collided with her chest.

Harry watched in horror as Ginny fell backward. Almost as if in slow motion, she slid clean off her broom, her body in a free fall to the ground. Without a second thought, Harry dove, the snitch becoming a distant memory. Ginny was going down fast, too fast. Harry pushed the limits of his broom, only one word pounding through his head: No!

Harry’s shoes skimmed the grass as he pulled out of the dive, Ginny caught in his arms. Miraculously, he’d reached her with just enough time to avoid colliding with the hard ground. It had been hard to control the landing, and he had hurt his ankle hopping of his broom without completely stopping, but none that mattered because he had her.

Ginny was breathing heavily, pain evident in her dark eyes. “Harry.” She let out a moan.

“I got you, love.” Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead. A medical wizard ran over to them yelling at Harry to gently lower Ginny to the ground.

Harry watched every move the healer made. After a quick preliminary examination, the healer determined Ginny was fine but should go to St Mungo's to have her lungs checked due to her labored breathing.

“Will you be going, Mr. Potter?” The healer asked as he reached into his bag looking for his transport portkey. Harry glanced over at his coach and the rest of his team. They were all watching him. A silent conversation passed between Harry and Cara. Harry would be going with his wife, no matter what Cara said.

But Cara simply nodded, seeming to agree with Harry's decision. Harry turned back to the medic. “Yes, I will be.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“How do you feel, Mrs. Potter?” Trainee Jackson asked while taking her vitals. Ginny had been admitted over two hours ago. The healer's official conclusion stated multiple rib fractures, bruised lung, and an extremely bruised chest, but overall Ginny came out much better than she could have, thanks to Harry.

“Better.” Ginny tried to sit up, but Harry gently pushed her back into her pillow.

“That's good. We are just running a few final tests, but I'd say we can get you out of here before dinner time.” Jackson scribbled a few notes down on his parchment. “Healer Bones will be in soon. Do you need anything before I leave?”

Ginny shook her head. Jackson nodded at her than Harry before leaving the examination room. Once the door closed Ginny turned to Harry grabbing his hand. She had noticed his tense posture. “You okay?”

Harry gave her a loving smile. “You're the one who fell fifty feet, and yet you're asking me if I'm okay?”

“Well, I know I'm fine, but I don't know about you.”

He leaned down and kissed her temple, letting his lips linger. “That was the worst moment of my life. I thought…” He trailed off, choking up.

Ginny grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips. “Harry, I'm okay because you got to me in time.”

“But what if I hadn't?” His voice was barely over a whisper as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “What if I hadn't?”

Ginny didn't know what to say. She wouldn’t sugarcoat it for him. It would have been bad if he hadn’t seen her fall. Hell, best case scenario she would have probably be knocked out cold, with a lot more than problems breathing.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “Harry, look at me.”

He did, after a moment's hesitation. His eyes were brighter than normal and she could see a tear track down his left cheek. She used his hand to pull him closer to her, his chair scraping on the tile flooring.

“Don’t think about what ifs, Harry.” Ginny moved her hand to his neck, applying pressure, so his face came into close contact with hers. “You got to me and that’s all that matters, not the what ifs.”

When she kissed him, she felt his body slump in relief. When they separated, Harry rested his head on her forearm as she ran her fingers through his hair.

They stayed like that until a knock on the door made Harry raise his head. Healer Bones walked in, clipboard and quill in hand. “Mrs. Potter, how do you feel?”

“It’s like a broken record,” Harry muttered as Bones waved her wand to retake vitals.

Ginny snorted but said in a calm voice, “Much better.”

“Good.” Bones wrote down the most recent numbers. “Now, just a few things left to discuss.” Bones took a little rolling stool from the corner and took a seat next to the bed. She placed her clipboard and quill on the side table. “As you know, I’ve already mended your ribs and I’ve started concocting the potion that will help your lungs.”

Bones took a deep breath as if steeling herself. “Mrs. Potter, did you know you’re pregnant?”

The sound of a needle hitting the floor could have easily been heard in the silence that followed this question. Ginny felt her jaw drop as she stared at Bones. Blood pounded in her ears. Maybe I heard her wrong, Ginny thought. She turned to look at Harry and saw pure shock on his face. Okay, so maybe I heard her right.

Ginny looked back at Healer Bones who waited patiently. This was something she probably dealt with on a daily basis: Giving people unexpected news.

“How long?” Harry’s voice sounded as if he’d swallowed a bucket of sand.

“About five weeks,” Bones assured them. “It’s still early stages, but everything seems to be progressing well.”

“Did - is -” Ginny couldn’t get her mouth to work properly, but fortunately Bones understood what she was trying to ask.

“The bludger didn’t harm the baby, but you should make an appointment with your family healer to discuss a plan for playing while pregnant.”

The door opened and healer Jackson entered with three vials of a green liquid. “The potions for Mrs. Potter.”

“Great, thank you, Markus.” Bones gestured for the potions to be placed on the bedside table. She turned her attention back to Ginny. “Now you take one vial a day and you are grounded for the next three days. No heavy lifting or extreme physical activity.” Bones stood from her stool. “If I may suggest, take one of these days off and visit your healer. And let me be the first to say, congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Potter.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny sat down hard on the sofa as Harry took their coats and hung them on two of the pegs they had put on the wall near the fireplace. They had only just gotten back from her normal healer, Padma Patil, who had confirmed Healer Bones’ assertion: Ginny was pregnant.

Harry took the empty cushion beside her, his arm curling around her shoulders. Ginny moved into his side, her nose pressing into his neck. After all this time, Ginny could still get drunk off his scent.

“A baby,” Harry muttered for the fifth time that day. Repeating the phrase over and over seemed to be his way of making it real. For Ginny, it had been hearing the heartbeat of their child. The quick thud-thud-thud rhythm had filled her mind for over an hour. She had only half listened to Padma’s spiel about eating well and remembering to take her daily prenatal potions. However, Ginny had been fully alert when quidditch was mentioned.

“Typically I advise women to stop playing around the three-month mark. However, with the end of the season so close, that shouldn’t be an issue for you, Ginny. But next season will be out of the question.” Padma gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know how much you love quidditch, but it just won’t be safe.”

Ginny had agreed without any argument. There had been no debate in her mind. There still wasn’t. Her baby was coming first. Yes, she loved quidditch, her teammates, and everything being a Harpie meant, but fuck, this was her child. Hers and Harry’s.

“You know,” Ginny spoke into the silence of their sitting room. “I still don’t get how I got pregnant.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. “If you don’t know how I’ve managed to knock you up, then I’ve done something wrong. But I remember you being there, my name being chant -”

Ginny knocked her elbow into his ribs, cutting him off. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m referring to the fact that I’m on the potion, you git!”

“Oh!” Harry smirked at her, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “I must just have super-powers.” He twisted so his body was facing her before he moved his hands to her back. His fingers slid underneath the hem of her shirt to brush bare skin.

“So modest.” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck as his lips moved across her body, first her cheeks then neck, down to her collarbone, and finally back up to her lips.

After a few minutes of letting their conversation lull, and their bodies humming in happy anticipation, Harry pushed Ginny onto her back to hover over her. “I know - we didn’t - plan it,” He spoke in between kisses “But - I’m so - happy, Gin.”

Ginny shifted so Harry lay between her hips, appreciating the feeling of him. She ran her hands through the messy hair and looked into the eyes she had instantly fallen for. “Me too, Harry. More than I can say.”

#hinny #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny #hinny fanfic #hinny fic #natural

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ship-trek · 1 year

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I think there is exactly one current constant in how Nerys views me:

Her: WHY do you do that???

(spends 5 minutes with my parents)

Her: Oh. point retracted

#nerys tag tbd #kestrel go to bed challenge

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vespertine-legacy · 5 years

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15 Day OC Challenge

@wolfboywarmachine ‘s 15 day swtor OC challenge

10. Sleep.

What are your OC’s sleeping habits like? Healthy? Terrible? With someone else?

Ember - (I’ve neglected her too much to really have any headcanons about Ember’s sleeping habits; if she’s anything like me though, it is...not good.)

Kestrel - Usually only sleeps for a couple hours at a time, and almost always has nightmares. Often, she stays with Senya instead of in her own quarters. Even though she is tall enough to rest her chin on top of Senya’s head, Senya is the only person in the Alliance who makes her feel small (in a good way), and whenever Kestrel knocks at night, Senya always welcomes her into the bed and allows Kestrel to curl up beside her. Sometimes Senya sings to her, sometimes she just holds her, but always she comforts her. Senya is the only person Kestrel has ever allowed to touch her lekku, which she sometimes does to soothe her. Senya used to love holding Vaylin and smoothing her hair to help her fall asleep, so the gesture is just too natural for her; Kestrel hasn’t told Senya that Vaylin is still in her head, and at this point she’s scared she’s waited too long - it was too hard for them to get to this point after Kestrel had to kill Vaylin (there is a story here my brain wants me to write, but I don’t know if I have it in me). Maybe Senya already knows. Regardless, the gesture is sometimes the only thing that can quiet the demons enough for Vaylin and Kestrel to rest.

Mena - Generally healthy sleep habits, as long as you consider the fact that she sleeps with her lightsabers in hand healthy. Typically sleeps in kind of strange positions, so the easiest way to tell if she’s faking sleep is if she looks like a normal person in the bed. She doesn’t usually actually sleep if one of her conquests is still in her bed, much preferring that they go their separate ways when they’re done. But Jaesa is a cuddler (and also not a conquest), so once they stop being idiots and realize that the thing they’re feeling for each other is actually affection and attraction, Mena allows Jaesa to regularly stay the night in her bed. Mena is the big spoon (aka the jetpack, since she is smol). When Jaesa is a guest in her bed, her sabers are not in her hands, but still in easy reach while she sleeps.

Sija - What the fuck is sleep? She usually rests more so than she sleeps. She was a terrible sleeper before the carbonite nap, and after that she kind of figures she’s slept enough. She sleeps better in Lana’s bed than anywhere else, but a lot of nights/mornings, Lana will wake up to find Sija’s side of the bed is cold because she’s gotten up in the middle of the night (which sent Lana’s brain to not good places in the early days of their relationship) and on Odessen she’ll usually be able to find her out by either the waterfall or in the clearing overlooking the Fury. Some nights, Lana will sit outside with her and hold her until she falls asleep; other nights they’ll just stargaze together until the sun rises.

#swtor #swtor15 #oc backstory #swtor oc ember #swtor oc kestrel #swtor oc mena #swtor oc sija

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whispersafterdusk · 5 years

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The Master’s Apprentice - ch 9

He was still alive. And he was still winning.

Thankfully they hadn't turned that disgusting room into his "permanent" residence - they painstakingly escorted him to and from every day. After three days of fighting against Varea's attempts to remove Kestrel's spell they had left Onmund back in his room with a meal and a tub of hot (well...warmer than warm, but not really hot) water, and a change of clothing. He felt a little awkward stripping down knowing that his doorway was wide open but the desire to scrub the grime and grit off overpowered his need for modesty. ((Continued below cut))

It was still a bit weird to be eating food after a year of not touching it but the sensation of something warm in his gut was a welcome one that he hadn't realized he'd missed; first it had been that tea and those potions, and then a proper meal later -- at the time he'd wondered how his body would handle having food and drink in it again but everything seemed to be working like it should be...and, he knew he couldn't go without food or drink without arousing suspicion. It was bad enough they didn't believe him now - or seem to care - about his claims of what the spell did...if he wasn't eating that would no doubt make them even less inclined to believe him about anything else and that was the last thing he needed right now -- he did NOT want to give anyone any additional reasons to believe Varea over him.

Something about Varea bothered him; she was too...nice. Too helpful. Too determined to do the "right thing." Admittedly Onmund only had Ancano and rumor to compare her to but the Thalmor were always haughty and vain, secure in their belief that Mer was superior to Man in all aspects. Ancano had barely kept his disdain for the college and its inhabitants in check and the only stories Onmund had heard from anyone else were never pleasant -- their business of eradicating Talos worship meant they "disposed" of the guilty and the suspected guilty with indifferent and frighteningly swift impunity...Varea seemed to be the exact opposite of that, from what he could see. She had certainly gotten angry with him challenging her and he knew he deeply frustrated her with his resistance but she'd yet to be openly cruel or rude and from what he could see and overhear she was always polite to Tolfdir and the others.

...something about it just seemed so off, though he could admit that maybe it was a mistake to paint all of a people in one broad stroke...but considering his current situation he couldn't manage to shake the feeling of something not being quite right. Why would a Thalmor be so determined to help someone else when it didn't benefit them in any way? It's not like she could have had orders prior to meeting him -- she'd admitted herself that she'd been expecting a corpse, not a man. Was it a question of pride? Of wanting to show off her skill? Was he merely some kind of a test subject for her to dissect? It just did not make sense to him.

So it went for the next two weeks: early mornings, escorted down into the Midden, and left in Varea's "care" for the day. Her spells were growing in strength - like she was starting at one end of a relative scale and working her way up - but Onmund was still able to foil everything she tried (and he was thankful that his mental defenses required no verbal or somatic components to function - all of it was solely inward, and all it needed was his concentration). At the end of each day Varea had seemed ready to pull her own hair out and had given him quite the variety of sour, ugly looks as they carted him back up to his room and left him to wait out the paralyze spell.

Tonight was no different -- they dumped him onto his bed and left and once the paralyze wore off Onmund rolled himself into his blankets and laid there as his muscles ached and quivered.

The whisper from his door seemed like part of a dream; he was already half asleep when he heard the "hsst" noise -- he couldn't figure out what it was or where it had come from at first, but it repeated two more times as he sat up and looked around. There was a shadow at his doorway - a hooded figure - and once his mind realized what it was looking at he stood up, wards at the ready.

"Who's there?"

"It's...it's me."

Brelyna's voice was just above a whisper and she poked herself out into full view of the doorway; most of the magelights and torches were burned out or dimmed (he was thankful for that little comfort) so he couldn't see her clearly -- he immediately grew suspicious, then just as quickly felt foolish as she conjured a tiny magelight of her own and he could see her face beneath the hood. She looked...uneasy. Scared, even. In one hand she held a small wooden plate that had a square of - from here it looked like a cut of some kind of cake or sweet, and she sat it on the floor and very carefully slid it across the threshold of the doorway.

The magical barrier there rippled but held and also allowed the plate to pass; Onmund cautiously padded over to stand over it, and over her, looking between both curiously.

"What's this?"

"A treat... I can't stay long, but I wanted to check on you."

Onmund bent and picked up the plate (whatever was on it smelled strongly of honey and was dusted with finely ground sugar) and gestured at himself with his empty hand. "Still alive, despite that damned Thalmor."

Brelyna nodded; she crept closer to the doorway and knelt there, nervously glancing over her shoulder. "Has she...said, or done anything to you? Anything...odd?"

"She's been doing her damnedest to remove the spell on me, and I won't let her."

"Well yes, I assumed she was doing that. But she's not...done anything else, right?"

"No...why?"

Again Brelyna glanced over her shoulder to the stairs. "It's - it's weird. No one here..."

Onmund stepped back and sat the plate on his bed then came back over to sit cross-legged in the doorway. "No one what?"

"No one here disagrees with her...no one here believes YOU. Not even slightly. Like, no one can even consider the fact that you might be right."

He gently rocked back and forth where he sat, silent a moment; he'd at least hoped SOMEONE would believe him on some level...but no one? "You're sure? Not a single person? Everyone's on her side?"

Brelyna nodded. "Everyone. I've been... I've been avoiding her, myself, but I've also been asking after you as carefully as I can. Everyone is convinced she's right and that you're some poor soul enslaved to someone else. It's weird. You'd think someone, even if just a little bit, would be worried that what she's doing will kill you like you say...but not a single person I've asked has said otherwise, and I asked everyone but Tolfdir but he's been letting her do whatever she wants with you so I don't think I need to ask to know what he thinks."

Onmund frowned. "That IS weird. And...not exactly the best news for me."

"I don't know what to do about it, Onmund. I don't think there's anything I CAN do."

"Do YOU believe me?"

Brelyna was silent a long moment; Onmund felt his heart sink - if she was right, and if she didn't believe him either, then he didn't have a single ally within the College.

And then, "Yes...I at least think there's a possibility you're telling the truth."

He let out his breath in a noisy huff. "Oh, good...I was worried for a moment there."

She managed a weak smile. "That still doesn't help you any."

"No, it's helpful to know I have at least one person who doesn't think I'm a liar or a slave."

"You weren't a liar before you disappeared...and, and yes, I can't confirm one way or another if you're a liar or slave now, but I... I don't know. I feel like something strange is going on."

Onmund bit his lower lip, looking at her; he wanted to tell her that yes, something WAS going on - he wanted to tell her all about the crown and what the spell actually did, and all about Kestrel and her goals and what he'd been learning while he was gone...but what would Kestrel do to her if he told her everything? And why was he even considering it in the first place? He didn't know too much about Brelyna...she was very tight lipped about her family and why she'd come to the College. She'd mentioned that she enjoyed learning at her own pace, that she came from a family of powerful mages, and she had a love of books...if she wasn't practicing her casting or asleep Onmund had always found her with her nose buried in a book.

He thought of Kestrel's library, and wondered what Brelyna would think of it...and for a wild moment he found himself wondering if Kestrel would take a second apprentice -- Brelyna definitely didn't seem like the overtly ambitious sort, and he knew she had talent (probably more than he did, and look at what Kestrel had done with him!) But...that would also mean she'd be isolated. She'd have to give up everything (at least until they came up with a solution for that crown). Onmund hadn't been given much of a choice and Brelyna would be in the exact same position as he was if he told her everything...no. No, he couldn't do that to her.

...not unless he had to, perhaps. His denying Varea was as much for his safety as it was everyone else's - there weren't words to describe the terror he'd felt after just a glimpse of that crown and learning that someone was looking for it...someone who would easily harm anyone that may get in their way, whether that person meant to get in the way or not. He felt like an ass even thinking it but maybe sacrificing one or two was acceptable (since it would technically be temporary isolation...just until the crown was taken care of) if it meant thousands more would be saved. And, while he didn't want to force this on Brelyna, maybe she'd be the mind that Kestrel needed to help figure out how to destroy the crown.

He blew out a sigh that trailed into a growl, rubbing his hands down his face -- the biggest problem was there wasn't any way to tell her anything and still let her have a choice.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered quickly. "Listen...I do find it really strange that everyone is just wholly agreeing with Varea. I have no idea what you've learned while I was gone but maybe see if you can find any traces of her using magic on anyone."

Brelyna raised an eyebrow. "You think she's...bespelling the others? Tricking them into believing her?"

"She said her career is built on breaking things like possession and control, it wouldn't be much of a stretch for her to reverse that for her own ends. I just don't understand why she'd be so fixated on stripping this spell off me without anyone stopping her..."

"Maybe she's embarrassed."

Onmund nodded. "Maybe. She's definitely not happy with me, I know that much."

Brelyna glanced again to the stairs, then back to him. "I should go before I get caught." Her gaze moved around the edge of the doorway. "I'm at least glad the plate went through."

Nodding again he stood and retrieved the plate with its sweet and went to shove it back through the barrier; it hit and almost fell out of his hand -- so, things could pass through to him but not back out of the sphere he was trapped in. Good to know.

Brelyna didn't look too surprised at the result. "I'll see what I can do...and I'll come back to check on you."

"Just be careful...if she IS using magic on the others somehow, you don't want her getting to you too."

Brelyna pressed her lips into a thin line - he hoped she'd thought of that before he'd thought to say something but he couldn't read her expression - and nodded to him with a weak smile before creeping away and back down the stairs.

He watched her go and once he was certain she was gone he quickly ate the little honey cake and then dropped the plate onto a chair next to the ward robe -- he of course wasn't hungry but it did make him feel a bit better to know that Brelyna was on his side (sort of) and cared enough to bring him the treat. Of course, it also made him feel terrible to know he'd considered trapping her with him...he tried not to think about that half of it (or about the possibility that Varea wasn't so honest as she presented herself to be) and climbed back into bed.

#The Master's Apprentice #tma #The Master's Apprentice - ch 9 #Onmund #Brelyna #AU #Skyrim

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sussex-nature-lover · 4 years

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Thursday 18th June 2020

Lockdown Day #87 Bit of a Slump Here

Yesterday was one of those days. A nothing kind of a day, of the sort we all have. There were apparently some awful storms around the country from Tuesday night, which we missed, but it was humid and overcast and there were some massive black clouds, so for the second day running we didn’t go out for a walk. I missed it and also feel kind of guilty. In addition to that though I’ve heard more traffic in the lane and I’m not looking forward to walking having to brave that free for all without a verge or pavement. I want to go up to the pond, to the further ponds that aren’t accessible lately (cattle in the field and I don’t like walking through a field with cattle) I want to go to the woods, to Linnet Bridge and to the Hop Field, but I don’t want there to be people out in the world and traffic. I don’t think it’s just me either, but it’s selfish because life has to get back to ‘normal’ On that note, it was Bin Day. It was Rubbish. The fortnightly collection alternates with Recyling and remembering where we are with that is becoming a challenge, but I have to say that throughout the Lockdown the service hasn’t faltered, so big thank you to everyone involved with that essential service.

It’s dull today, very dull. It rained last night and it’s raining now, which will do the garden some good, I’m glad I took a few photos around the garden when there was some light. This is how the Delphinium’s coming along and the Copper Bowl - I’ve moved the tub with the small Conifer and Hostas, which is how I had it last year.

This is the little Christmas Tree that’s still in a tub. Look at all the new growth

What else did I do? I had Whatsapp and email conversations with friends and caught up with news. I spotted a Father’s Day card in our postbox in the porch and then a parcel too - they’ve gone in our quarantine bay for now. I browsed Twitter and saw a photo of SEVEN young Kestrels in a nest somewhere in Belgium - amazing and chatted with Twitter friends about gardens and birds and other stuff. Strangely I didn’t chat with anyone about football until much later and even then I didn’t have much to say. It was live from Villa Park against Sheffield United and then Man City -v- Arsenal was 8.15pm...don’t the schedulers know we have beds to get to these days! The Villa match ended 0-0 and the most interesting thing about it, apart from a standard VAR controversy was (as reported) Man City, as predicted, won.

Premier League players and officials ‘took a knee’ in a Black Lives Matter salute for the first ten seconds of the first match back tonight, as the Premier League restarted after coronavirus lockdown. As referee Michael Oliver blew the whistle to start the Aston Villa v Sheffield United game, he and both teams immediately dropped to one knee before a ball had been kicked, in memory of George Floyd, the man killed by police in Minneapolis last month sparking global protests. Players also wore ‘Black Lives Matter’ in place of their names on their shirts. After the pause, the match began in earnest, the first of almost 100 games crammed into six weeks as professional sport returns following the lockdown. Moments before the BLM salute, in the traditional slot for pre-match tributes, players and officials at Villa Park had stood in silence to remember the victims of coronavirus

Roll on Sunday.

Back to Nature.

While we were sitting at the kitchen table I once again saw a furious flash of activity and the Sparrowhawk passed by the feeders. I think he took something. It all happens so quickly, blink and you miss it. All I can tell so far is that this isn’t a bird I’m familiar with. It seems quite a light beige-grey rather than the more usual steel grey of an adult male. I haven’t seen it perch anywhere so it’s hard to tell. It looks a good size though.

NESTWATCH:

First off, you know I like to get my excuses and apologies in, spelling, quality of pictures etc. etc. so take all that as read please, with the addition of dirty windows. Actually OH cleaned most of the windows yesterday, including climbing out on a sloping roof for access, without telling me <cross> but for obvious reasons the Daisy Waldron window is filthy and not likely to change any time soon. Add to that the reflections from inside and the maker’s sign that all the glass carries and we’re struggling here chaps.

But, excuses well primed, hands up who’s seen an actual baby Wood Pigeon before? No? Well you have now and you can carry that gift with you for all time

One sleepy Squab

Two cosy Squabs side by side

I used the enhance filter just because it makes the birds show up a bit better than they otherwise would. I watched one of them having a peck and pull at some of the twigs. They must be bored. The only other thing I have to report is that Daisy Waldron spent a bit of time perched outside the nest. Maybe it was a little bit warm in there in the afternoon, or maybe it was Dad. I’d assumed that with the regurgitation feeding it would only be the female sorting out meal times, but apparently both parents feed their young, so who knows, they all look identical to me.

In other Youth News, more dulcet tones in the garden as the Jackdaws are bringing babies now.

Oh and so after being rather meh! most of yesterday, just shy of 8pm there was an exciting sighting. Eagle eyed readers will know straight off, but I’ll type it all up for the next blog. After all I’ve got to have something ready going forward especially if it keeps on raining - I blame OH and his window cleaning. Tempting fate that was.

Foot Note: announced this morning the death of Dame Vera Lynn at the age of 103. Vera was the original ‘Forces Sweetheart’ and had been on TV a lot recently looking good for her age.

E & O E

Please note outside links in bold are not affiliated with this Blog

#nature birds lovewhereyoulive

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transtrendhumanity · 6 years

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well it has now been closer to three weeks since roll call but uh, here it is.

your host today is cilla, i think casey is going to follow me around and say hello to everyone.

echo gives us a sleepy greeting in the main house, and tells casey to behave themself. casey says she will, and then gives me an exaggerated wink. amelia and floret are sitting close together on the couch, drinking tea. it seems like rayn’s aquarium is finally done! it seems to be sleeping right now, but it’s nice that it can be indoors. perien is standing against the wall by vex’s door. there’s room for kyr to sit on the couch but amelia and floret are giving off such a coupley vibe i guess kye feels awkward about getting in their space. gabbi is preparing tea in the kitchen.

nitexx seems to be charging in zir back room.

vex, for once, is asleep at eir desk. jace motions at me to shush when i open the door. i try to move quietly past eir to visit venic and vaccine.

venic is still sprawled dramatically on the couch, muttering sinisterly. vaccine is standing on the other side of the table, staring at kyr harshly. they nod to me in greeting, but their expression doesn’t change. i nod back and flee the room.

heading upstairs... remm seems to also be asleep, gentle dim lighting coming out from behind vir cracked open door. haze glares and mutters at me when i check on er room. e looks a bit different from usual but i don’t really want to think too hard about the implications of it.

riley and nessie are sort of piled onto the bed, but they seem to be dissociating moreso than sleeping. i think they’re bored of fire emblem but callon is on a quest to beat them all (or at least all the popular ones) so, sorry guys.

out into the cold. it’s not nearly as cold in headspace as it is irl, sort of a crisp november feeling, despite the snow on the ground. i can see my breath. casey pulls their borrowed jacket closed.

we head up to the treehouse. yacinthe greets us warmly, and cer and casey hug. i guess they’ve been hanging out here a fair bit while we weren’t paying attention. they hug vite too, and then try to hug nero, but get shoved away. kei is farther away, so they only get an enthusiastic wave. one of the boys challenges casey to a round of mario kart, and they take them up on it. the four of them sit down to play while kei watches. kitt is also half-watching, but mostly dozing. e seems peaceful.

i hop out of the treehouse, and find tyto waiting for me. ey offers to escort me to skye’s cabin, and i gratefully accept. eir owl form is still mostly shadows, even with eir paler appearance as of late.

skye seems a bit surprised to see me. aloe hides in faer hair. i apologize for being so late, and fae tells me not to worry about it, would i like a mint leaf to munch on? i decline politely. tyto offers me a lift to corian’s cabin.

ey drops me through the window into the loft, instead of taking me to the front door. ethan is flipping through some magazines, but seems very tired. i tell them that i’m sure they’d be allowed to sleep in nika’s room, if they’re so inclined.

i head downstairs. corian smiles at me, and as usual, offers some tea. i decline. today is just a short visit, and we’re already munching on cookies. elster is here today, nine draped around hir shoulders. ze complains that ze had thought hir setting to be quite original, but the nohrian capital is actually quite similar to it. i jokingly ask if ze might end up kinning someone from there, and ze groans at me.

kestrel walks in, looking very dignified. ae has adopted the kinshi rider halo, with some degree of smugness. ae says our recent success in the game is thanks largely to aer and ailecent’s efforts, but i am not so sure about it. it seems like it’s mainly been callon, to me. although then again, it’s always a struggle to tell when kestrel is cofronting. ae huffs at my skepticism. ailecent seems to be on the roof. despite aer icy appearance, the snow around aer has melted from just aer body heat, leaving the roof mostly cleared. thick icicles hang from the eves.

i feel for a moment that i sense the presence of someone else, but the feeling passes quickly.

nika is out by the pond, sitting on the bench and looking pensive. i take a moment to ask if sie’s ok. sie smiles at me, a smile that doesn’t reach sier eyes, and says sie’s fine. i don’t press it.

azdien’s mansion is the last major stop on our tour. i’m a bit nervous to go inside. as i expected, as soon as i set foot in the lobby, azdien is waiting for me, and has some stern words to spare. i apologize, but we both know i’m not backing down. vae’s not pleased about it, but returns to vaer reading room nonetheless. tobias peers at me from the hallway. darion is sitting in the dining room, as usual, but looks somewhat concerned, or even sad, about azdien’s mood. drohen, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying it. jody doesn’t seem to be affected either way, and shares some gossip with micah, who is still in snake form, but out of their room. seeing a snake sitting calmly at the fancy dining table is a bit funny, tbh. trysten is in sier room, in bed. it’s hard to tell if sie’s sleeping or just sulking.

aren is also in his room, but he’s hard at work on some sort of tech project, as is usually the case. vyrn is sleeping in a cabinet in azdien’s kitchen, and honestly seems more comfortable there than in xyr own room, despite xyr wings not fitting very well. kisoquine is standing nearby, seeming a bit confused as to why vyrn isn’t up for hanging out with xyr. xyr levels of detachment from humanoid norms are astounding sometimes.

raliel is still out by the cliffs. it’s a little bit stormy out here, cold rain falling. wav doesn’t seem to mind. wav doesn’t acknowledge my presence, either.

gail is prowling the woods nearby.

the tall ship is back in headspace waters, but i can’t reach it to tell if it’s inhabited or not. i wouldn’t be surprised if cyrren was back, but if ae is, ae doesn’t want to admit it.

our connection to ooze ocean today is very limited.

i realize at the last minute that i didn’t notice kayden around. before i can grow concerned about it, vite tells me that he’s up in the treehouse with them. kayden huffs about being left out, but doesn’t put much heart into it.

callon is tapping eir foot impatiently, ready to get back to fire emblems.

#[roll call]

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solarbird · 7 years

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and just like that, she was down, chapter 2: i sure hope you remember me

Surprise! Guess what has a Chapter 2. And a Chapter 3, already a complete first draft. I did not know about any of this until the most words I have ever written in a single day (I think) came pouring out of my brain yesterday.

Is there even a ship name for Emily and Widowmaker? [eta: there is now! gingerspider]

[AO3 link]

[Two months later. Watchpoint Gibraltar.]

With a tooth-shatteringly loud screech, the outer wall of the medical bay peeled away and fell towards the ocean, just as Dr. Ziegler's nurse assistants finished prepping the Widowmaker's first treatment.

"Sorry, luv," Tracer shouted, appearing in the void, one pistol aimed straight at the doctor, as the ringing, clanging metal fell, its sounds fading in the distance. "Can't let y'do that. We made a promise. Back off."

"Lena," said Angela, half-deafened, clinging to her composure, thinking, this shouldn't be happening, but backing away carefully towards her staff. "You lost this argument. I know how you feel about what's going on, but it's better than a death sentence. Do not do this."

"Can't not. I keep my promises, you know that." She fired a shot over the doctor's shoulder. "And stop moving towards your staff. Can't have that, either. What's she on?"

"A twilight sleep sedative, voluntary muscle paralysis, and saline I.V., that's all. We wanted her partially responsive and were about to administer the first dose of treatment. Lena, you do not know what you're doing, this is not a..."

"Stow it. I know she didn't consent and I know this ain't right." Tracer glanced at the closer nurse assistant. "Pull her off the drip. Right now." The assistant looked nervously at Dr. Ziegler, and Tracer decided to make it less optional by shooting the saline unit with her other pistol. "I said now, luv," and the nurse moved to work.

"She can't consent," said the combat medic. "She will murder you in your sleep, and that's if you are very, very lucky."

Kestrel swooped in, a wary eye still attentive to the skies outside. "What's the hold up? We don't have time for chats."

"I have this under control, can you get her up off the table?"

Kestrel waved her gravity blade at the nurse assistant - Odion, she thought - who moved away quite rapidly. Stepping forward, she snapped her fingers in front of Widowmaker's half-closed eyes, and saw those eyes track her fingers, just a little - somebody was in there. "Widowmaker, I'm Kestrel, I sure hope you remember me, we're getting you out of here, just like we said we would, back in London." She pulled the blue woman off the scanning bed, and onto her back. "Let's go, while we still can."

"Emily," warned the doctor, as the flying agent carried the Talon assassin towards the light transport hovering outside, "reconsider. You can't come back from this."

The flying agent paused at the gap, and nodded grimly in return, watching as Tracer backed slowly towards her, one pistol still aimed at the doctor, the other at the two assistants. "Neither can you."

Buggery hell, this isn't how I wanted this to go, thought Lena. "Sorry, doc. Just how it has to be, I guess."

The flyer's loading door closed in front of her as she stepped onto the main deck. She could see Angela diving for the alarms before it sealed, and teleported to the pilot's seat as Kestrel got Widowmaker into the crash couch. "CLEAR!" the flying agent shouted, bracing herself for evac - and Tracer lit the engines up bright.

-----

Widowmaker opened her eyes, but not too much, examining the ceiling. Another Overwatch transport, she thought. Not the same one back from Egypt. Smaller. I am no longer at Gibraltar. How long have I been unconscious? Other than a deep legsrthy, she did not feel different - but then, how would she know? She compared her thoughts, and how they felt, to memories of previous thoughts, and how they felt, and they seemed very much the same, very much unlike Amélie's, her only other reference. It would have to do, for now.

She struggled with half-aware half-memories of being in a... medical unit? And being prepped for something. And voices, some unfamiliar, some... not.

"We've lost the last of 'em," she heard Tracer say. Tracer, who had not been in Egypt, who had not been at Gibraltar... or had she been, at the end? "I'm gonna keep us in the soup, but it should be smooth enough 'till we change ships at Iwik."

Change ships? Iwik? Why would they need to...

"I'm going to check on Widowmaker." Another voice, the flying one, Kestrel, who had also been missing when she'd been taken, taken again, this time, by Overwatch, no doubt to be remade yet again, if not just killed, but whose voice she knew...

"Widowmaker, can you hear me?" The assassin heard the voice, but could not see its source - keeping some distance, perhaps. She let herself smirk, internally. Even sedated, she invoked fear. Good. "You're safe, and you're unchanged. We kept our promise. We broke you out before Ziegler could do anything. You're safe."

What?! The assassin's eyes popped open, all the way open, all at once acutely aware of her situation, before her mind snapped back to promises made some weeks ago in London, promises she did not want to believe, but couldn't quite not. Then Kestrel's face appeared over her, and she was talking, saying, "Hi. We've kept our word. Do you remember being captured in Egypt? We got you out of the Watchpoint. You're safe. Well, as safe as any of us are, now - we're all in real trouble, but since when's that new?"

The words confused her, memory of promises or not. Is it a... no, it makes no sense, this cannot be a trap, they already have me, why would they... She did her best to move, but her arms, so heavy, why...

"Oh," Kestrel breathed, "you're definitely awake now, aren't you? Probably a little panicky, too. I'm sorry, it's the muscle relaxant. They had you pretty well sedated before we reached you, but that's all, as far as we know - they were still prepping the first course of reconditioning meds when I ripped the medbay's walls open."

Widowmaker's eyes locked on Kestrel's, and she shivered, an involuntary action, and the flying agent saw it, and reached to touch, to comfort - but thought better of it. "I... wish I knew whether you found touch comforting."

I wish I did too, thought the spider, a little dismayed by her own reactions as they span round and round in her head. You... kept... your... you... kept your... you kept your... you...

"We've just got away from pursuit craft, and we're heading towards a little nature reserve in Mauritania, where we'll be swapping ships."

"...ah..." Widowmaker managed, and she remained locked on Kestrel, Kestrel, who she barely knew, Kestrel, who'd kept her word, Kestrel, who had... saved... her...

"You're tearing up a bit, can you blink for... oh, good, there y'go. Can you follow my fingers with your eyes?" Widowmaker looked at the Kestrel's fingertips and watched them trace a rectangle, slowly, around her field of vision. They were strong hands, solid, a little square, chunky, much like the rest of the hawk. Strong, and unexpectedly beautiful. Well, I suppose I know who is more butch in their arrangement, she thought, and a "heh" popped out, to as much her surprise as Kestrel's.

"She just laugh?" she heard Tracer say from outside her field of vision. "Hey, luv, you just laugh a little?"

"I think she did, yeah."

"Well, tell her after this, we're headed towards... oh, bugger..."

"What?"

"It's official. Bulletin just went out. We're listed."

"Surprised it took this long. Can they shut down the transport?"

"Nah, I changed the codes and blew the interlock, we'll be fine."

Widowmaker grimaced. Intentionally. And it worked. She tried moving her mouth, and managed, focus back on Kestrel's face, "...liffsted?"

Kestrel sighed, and sat, next to Widow's bunk, leaning close. "Word's gone out. Our personal IFF codes have been invalidated. Overwatch may be illegal, but we had a few privileges within it to revoke... we're now 'foe', not 'friend'."

"Ah." said the blue assassin. Slowly, carefully, she looked into Kestrel's eyes, and whispered, "Je... regrette."

"Don't," replied the hawk. "If Overwatch is gonna start doing things like this, I can't be a part of it anymore anyway."

"And just so y'know," called Tracer, "Talon put a termination order out on your head once Overwatch got y'to Gibraltar. No goin' back there, either."

"...how?"

"Friend of yours let us know. We'll be seein' her in a bit."

"...big mouth...?"

Tracer laughed. "Yeah, she said you called her that."

The spider tested her arms. A little movement at the shoulder, not much yet. But fingers - yes, those, those were free. She tapped at the bed, experimentally, and saw Kestrel smile when she noticed, bright like cloudbreak. "It is, then..." managed the spider, "...us, against the world?" She tried her wrists. Yes. Wrists. More quickly, now. Almost to the elbow.

Us, Kestrel thought. Already? "Sounds like."

A louder heh, and the spider found she could move her head. "Then... a challenge. Good." She gave Kestrel a fierce look; it excited the flying agent in ways she did not expect, as did the spider unexpectedly - if weakly - taking her hand in her own. "We will destroy them both, cherie," the assassin said, with utter conviction. "We cannot lose."

-----

"As far as she knew," said the Swiss doctor, some hours later, "it was just sedation." Power had not yet been restored to the medbay, but the wall had, at least, been braced and covered, and structural stability insured. She sat at a small table in medbay's small consultation room.

"So you told her nothing about the enhanced receptivity effects?" asked the hirsute scientist sitting opposite and to her right, snacking on his favourite peanut butter, with oatmeal cookies and lactose-free milk. Hoisting girders about - that was heavy labour. He deserved a treat.

"Of course not," said the doctor, sipping her coffee. "But I didn't lie, we hadn't undone anything Talon did - and it really was a sedative, just one that leaves patients a little more..." she waved one hand back and forth, "...open to ideas, while under its influence. It would've helped with our treatments of her, helped her return to who she really was."

"Nicely played," said Jack Morrison, nursing a judicious amount of Tennessee bourbon. "Hope this doesn't come back to bite us on the ass any more than it already has."

Dr. Ziegler smiled warmly at her old friend, sitting opposite and to her left. "I'd suspected Lena might do something she'd come to regret. I'd hoped she wouldn't, or if she did, I'd hoped I could talk her down. But if push came to shove... she might as well have that thin chance." She shuddered. "I think she has made a grave mistake. I do not think that... construct... is a person or can be reformed, and I wasn't lying about being killed in her sleep, either."

"You did what you could," said the soldier. He put down his glass and rubbed at his eyes. "She's always been impulsive, but this is another level. If they come at us... we'll have to assume the worst. They might as well be Talon." He put the drink down, and rubbed his eyes.

"That will not be difficult," smirked Angela. "I am quite angry, both about being held at gunpoint, and at losing my best chance to recover Amélie. And Kestrel," the doctor snorted, "she made a strongly negative impression on Gina and Odion. Gossip will insure everyone knows."

"I know their hearts are in the right place," Winston insisted. "Particularly Lena's. I think they're both being extremely foolish - but do not doubt their hearts."

"Just their judgements. And maybe their sanity," said the soldier.

The three sat quietly, for some moments, letting what happened today finally settle in as the sun went down. Morrison, thinking maybe they should've just handed the Widowmaker over to legal authorities; Winston, wishing he'd found a middle way, something to keep everyone happy, while knowing no such path existed; and Ziegler, angry, but still afraid for the two women who had, to her mind, made such a terrible mistake.

"To absent friends," Winston lifted his glass of water. "May they not become present enemies."

"I'll drink to that," said Morrison, raising the last of his bourbon.

Angela lifted her coffee cup, touching it against her friends' drinks. "To absent friends," she echoed. May they not be dead come morning.

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